Deep Lacerations: Chapter 16
A/N: So, I'm back in the Eastern time zone, which means better posting times (Hawaii time was killing me). Unfortunately, it means I've gone from Hawaii back to the land of cold and snow. How sad for me. Anyway, I hope you continue to enjoy!
"Well, that was certainly painful," Special Agent Tony DiNozzo commented as he stepped off the elevator, turning a glare toward his partner.
"Do not blame me, Tony," Officer Ziva David shot back, just as annoyed. "It was Army Intelligence that held out that conference."
"Held up," DiNozzo said emphatically. "And, about that, what did you do in your past life with Mossad to piss them off so much?"
"Why do you assume that it was me who pissed them off, and not the other way around?"
"Um, because it was them who stopped the task force meeting as soon as you introduced yourself so they could check out your dossier."
She smirked involuntarily at that. "And they did not find anything," she said confidently. He snorted in reply.
"Right. That's why they asked you to leave, and when you didn't, kept looking over at you before saying anything."
"Are you jealous, Tony?" she teased. He rolled his eyes.
"I'm just saying, the whole thing would have gone much smoother if they weren't questioning Mossad's presence every five minutes."
"The case involves terrorists in the Middle East. They should have assumed Mossad would be interested. They should have been grateful that we were making our interest known, in fact."
"You weren't making Mossad's interest known, you were just there because you're here," he pointed out. He frowned. "What does Mossad usually do when you're interested?"
She laughed as she turned away, returning to her desk. "You two done arguing about who pissed off Intelligence this time?" Special Agent Gibbs asked rhetorically, appearing from the elevator, Special Agent Sonja Gracy in tow. "I need you to recreate Major Gracy's deployment—every mission, every person talked to, everything."
"Which Major Gracy, Boss?" DiNozzo asked, glancing over at Agent Gracy. Gibbs reached over to hit him in the back of the head, hard.
"The one who's been deployed, DiNozzo." He turned and studied Gracy for a moment before speaking. "We can use your help on his background."
Knowing that he was asking if she could stay a couple of hours late, she nodded. "Just let me call the au pair and let her know," she said.
"'Au pair'?" Gibbs echoed. She rolled her eyes as she dialed the phone.
"It's French for 'highly overpaid live-in baby-sitter from Europe who was only hired because she speaks fluent German and doesn't smoke'. Angelika, hallo, hier Sonja." She turned her back to the group as she spoke rapid-fire German, occasionally glaring into space at what the nanny was saying. "Wertloses Mädchen," she muttered as she hung up the phone. Ziva smiled slightly at the words. "Yeah, I can stay a bit," the CID agent said to Gibbs. He nodded in reply.
"Help them," he said, pointing at DiNozzo and David before heading up the stairs without explanation. Beginning to see how things worked around Gibbs, Gracy only looked confused for a second before giving the two remaining agents her full attention.
Gibbs had been gone for less than half an hour before the three younger agents heard his voice over the railing from the balcony. "It's gonna be a late night," he said. "I'm ordering Chinese. You want anything?"
"That sounds good, Boss," DiNozzo replied, perking up.
"I wasn't asking you, DiNozzo."
Gracy gave the NCIS agent a quick victorious grin before tilting her head toward the balcony. "I'm not picky. Just get me something spicy." Gibbs gave half a nod before disappearing again.
Another twenty minutes passed Gibbs reappeared again, this time from the elevators, with a bag of Chinese takeaway. "Conference room," he said as he headed toward the bullpen. Gracy frowned.
"The elevator?"
"No, that's the office," DiNozzo explained. "There actually is a conference room, upstairs." She nodded her understanding and jumped up. Gibbs watched her ascend the stairs toward the balcony, suddenly aware that she had removed her uniform blouse, leaving a long-sleeved sand-colored Under Armor shirt tight enough that he could see the outline of her dog tags, among other things. He quickly looked away before she could notice him staring.
"So what'd you bring me?" Gracy asked, rubbing her hands together in anticipation as she walked into the conference room. Gibbs wordlessly handed her a white carton of takeout food, which she opened as soon as she sat down. "Mm, kung pao shrimp, my favorite," she said with approval.
"And for you, mi lady," he said with a flourish, dramatically handing her the already-leaking carton of takeout.
"Ah, kung pao shrimp. Scott Gracy, you are my new favorite person."
He frowned in mock consternation. "And may I ask, Miss Herzlich, who your old favorite person was?"
"The last guy to bring me two dollar Chinese food from that sketchy place just off campus."
"Can I have a fork?" she asked, staring into the open carton, trying not to think about Scott. Gibbs wordlessly handed her a package of chopsticks. "Huh. Not a fork. You do realize, Gibbs, that I was raised in southern Florida by German immigrants. I didn't exactly grow up using these things."
"Not too difficult," he replied. He watched her struggle with the wooden sticks for a moment before he said, "Might be easier if you lose the wrist brace."
She grumbled as she unfastened the Velcro brace, but it did little to help her technique. "Gibbs," she said, exasperated. He chuckled.
"You're holding them wrong. Here." He reached over to reposition the sticks, moving her fingers in the right motions. She started laughing at the situation, making him grin.
She cut herself off, her grin falling abruptly as she straightened in her chair. Knowing what she was thinking, Gibbs quietly said, "It's okay to be happy every once in awhile."
She nodded, her eyes still fixed on her food as she attempted to pick up another piece of shrimp. "I don't know how you did it," she finally said, her eyes lifting to meet his. "If I didn't have Maddie and Nate to look after…I don't want to think about what I would have done."
He didn't ask how she knew about his past, nor did he tell her that he did know what she would have done. He had read about how her service pistol had been taken from her possession, just as he had seen the lengthy psych evaluation before CID issued her a new one after she completed her initial training as a special agent. "It was close," he finally said. He had never said this to anyone, not even during the mandatory visits with the unit shrinks. "I don't know how many hours I was sitting on the beach thinking about it."
"Service pistol?"
"Yeah." She nodded slowly.
"Did you know that female physicians are more than sixteen times more likely to complete suicide than female non-physicians?" She didn't give him a chance to respond. "It's not that we're that much more likely to attempt suicide, it's just that we know how to do it. Most women try pills, but that's not the way to go. Beretta M9, right to the temple." She held her fingers to the side of head, as if holding a gun. She shook her head. "If your psychiatrists were half as annoying as mine, they gave you all sorts of crap about letting yourself grieve and honoring their memories."
He couldn't help but chuckle. "All the time."
She nodded again. "Never really had much time for that," she said, almost off-handedly. "Never really had much time for anything. I had a three-year-old and traumatized five-year-old to look after. I kept—keep—replaying it in my mind. Scott's body over there," she said, gesturing vaguely. "Maddie sobbing over there, a revolver to her head. The last thing I wanted to do was make her watch while I dissected her father. Hell, the last thing I wanted to do was that autopsy under any circumstance, but then I heard that click of the hammer…" Her voice trailed off. "I would do anything to keep my kids safe. Anything."
"Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if Kelly hadn't died," Gibbs heard himself saying. Again, this was something he had never before vocalized. "And then I'd realize I hadn't wondered the same thing about Shannon, as if it were a given that she'd die that day. And I feel guilty, like I cared more about my daughter than my wife."
She nodded her understanding, and Gibbs knew that she did understand, the way that only somebody who had lost a spouse, and almost a daughter, could. "Evolution dictates that we will always do more to protect our offspring than our mates. It's a constant throughout nature. We are here, on this planet, for continuation of the species." She shook her head slightly, an almost amused expression on her face. "Knowing the biological imperative doesn't make that knowledge any easier. If Scott had still been alive that night, if those terrorists had held guns to both of their heads and made me chose, I would save Maddie every time, and I hate myself for thinking that, but Scott was an Army officer, and Maddie's a kid—my kid, and Scott's kid. He knew the risks, she didn't." She absently stirred her food with her chopsticks. "But believe me, that fact doesn't give any solace."
He nodded, knowing she was speaking the truth. "Time helps," he finally said.
"How much time?" she asked, her head tilted slightly to the side with the question. "How long will it be before everything reminds me of him, before every time I think of Scott, I see him lying on my dining room table? How much longer will it be before I get to see my daughter smile again?"
"A while," he admitted. They were both silent for several minutes, trying desperately to put the conversation behind them. "Ducky says you had a promising career in front of you," he finally said.
"Yeah, I did," she replied. Her voice carried no hint of bragging, just confirming the truth. "But it's hard to continue to perform autopsies when I can't touch a scalpel without hearing Maddie sobbing."
"We'll get these guys, Sonja." She glanced up at him and met his gaze, seeing the honest determination in those blue eyes before nodding slowly.
"I know."