Heading home from the pub a few nights later, Xander had his first introduction to the hidden side of Washington D.C.
He was walking along the street with a casual air, keeping a wary watch on his surroundings as had long ago become habit. He glanced down every alley he passed, even -or especially -the unlit ones, where it was hard to make out anything. As he passed one of them, he saw a familiar figure standing outside a door, smoking. Xander stopped in surprise. There was a single light above the door, shrouding the face in shadows, especially since he was wearing a hat, but he could still make out the paleness of the skin and the lines in which it hung from his face.
"It's rude to stare at people you know, even if they do have a skin condition," the figure said, offended.
"Clem?" Xander asked.
But he'd taken a step forward and could see better now, and no, it wasn't Clem after all. He looked very similar, but he was just another of... well, whatever kind of demon Clem was.
"Sorry, I thought you were someone else," Xander said, turning away.
"Wait, you know Clem?" the demon asked, taking a step towards Xander.
"Knew. A few years ago," Xander replied cautiously. "You?"
"He's my cousin." The demon held out his hand. "I'm Frak."
Xander relaxed and took the offered hand. "Xander."
"Xander? The Xander, from Sunnydale? Oh wow, it's really great to meet you, Clem told me all about you guys! What about the others, uh, Spike, and Buffy, and Willow? Are they here too?" Frak was suddenly grinning and shaking Xander's hand enthusiastically. Xander politely took it back.
"I believe Spike is in L.A.; Buffy and Willow are living in England," he replied. "Clem really told you all about us?"
"Oh yeah, we write every week or so, ever since he and his Mom moved away when we were little. Our clan's originally from Paris, you know."
"France?"
"Kansas. Clem's back home there, you know, now Sunnydale's gone and all."
Xander nodded. Buffy had seen Clem leaving town along with all the sensible humans.
"So what are you doing in D.C.? Just a holiday? Or are you sticking around? You know, either way, I could show you 'round the city, be your own personal tour guide. And, you know, this place," he jerked a thumb at the door behind him, "is one of the better bars in the city for, you know, my kind. Want to get a drink?"
Xander tried to get his head around all the questions and 'you know's.
"I've just moved to D.C., I don't really need a tour, thank you, and I've already had a few drinks tonight," he replied. That covered everything, right?
Frak's face drooped in disappointment. Well, drooped more than usual.
"Look, um..." Xander thought quickly. "How about another night? You can fill me in on what Clem's been up to since Sunnydale."
Frak's face lit up again. He fumbled in his pocket.
"Sure, look, here's my card. Give me a call."
Xander looked at the card. "Sorry, it's Frank, is it? I thought you said 'Frak' before."
"Oh I did, my name is Frak, but Frank, you know, is easier when dealing with humans. Not that I do that too much -I work as a cleaner, so, you know, mostly after hours and stuff."
Xander handed over his own card. Frak whistled in admiration.
"Special Agent, hey? Oh, brilliant! I could be a source, you know?" The demon was practically bouncing with excitement.
"A source?" Xander was getting weary. It'd been a long day, and he needed some decent sleep before another day at work tomorrow. And all the 'you know's were starting to grate on his nerves.
Frak was oblivious.
"Yeah, you know, if you're investigating something that has connections to demon activity, I could get you the inside scoop! Although, there's not actually much crime amongst our kind here, you know?" Frak's enthusiasm waned a little as he thought about it. "It's a political town for humans and demons alike. Everyone tries to blend in and keep, you know, a low profile."
Which was pretty much what Giles had said in his email just the other day. Washington D.C. had it's fair share of demons, primarily those kinds which could easily pass themselves off as human. They were in all levels of politics and government, sometimes as senators or officials, but more often as the people behind the faces. Secretaries, personal assistants, lawyers, consultants. These were demons who wanted to avoid apocalypses, because they enjoyed playing in the world too much to want it destroyed.
"Well, if anything ever comes up, you'll be the first I call, okay?"
Frak seemed satisfied with that, and Xander finally made his escape. He'd call the demon next week, have a couple of drinks, probably hear all about what Clem's doing back home in Kansas. And hopefully leave again without murdering the guy for saying 'you know' one too many times.
After Xander's useful contribution on his first case, he started to get what Tony called the 'full Probie treatment': all the undesirable and thankless tasks on a case. If it was dirty, mouldy, decomposing, or otherwise distasteful, bagging it was Xander's job. If there was 200 hours of boring security footage to watch, it was Xander's job. If there was a smelly, dirty homeless man with really bad breath to get a statement from, it was Xander's job.
Xander moaned and complained to Tony when the senior field agent pulled rank on him, but he only winked at Ziva and never once complained to Gibbs. Really, he didn't mind it. Someone had to do these jobs, and he understood that one day there would be somebody newer than him, and then it would be that person's problem. Besides, it made him part of the team. He had worked in a tight-knit team before, and he missed that. The major difference between this kind of team and the old Scooby Gang was that he was reasonably assured of moving up the ranks one day. With the Scoobies, he would always have been the not-as-strong, not-as-smart, not-as-powerful one.
After several weeks, Xander felt he was starting to get the hang of things. Gibbs didn't hate him and he was starting to learn some of the Rules. He had developed good friendships with Ziva and Abby, and he and Tony could talk movies and trade jokes with ease. He wasn't quite at the point of finishing Gibbs' sentences yet, like his teammates could, but when he'd had lunch with Abby and McGee one day, McGee had reassured him that would take some time.
Then they caught a major case -the kidnapping of a Navy Commander's young daughter, Tara. Gibbs was in a foul mood from the beginning. Tony managed to whisper when they had a moment without Gibbs around, that cases involving children always brought out the worst mood in their boss. Vance was also breathing down their necks to get the case solved -happily -as quickly as they could. The team threw everything they had into finding out who had taken the girl and why.
It took 13 hours and several coffee deliveries, but they figured it out. A low-ranking officer, Seaman Daniel Porter, had served under the Commander in one of his previous roles as Skipper of the USS Mason. Due to late changes to the destroyer's schedule, it arrived back at Norfolk five days late -two days after Porter's six year old daughter had died of leukaemia. Porter had promised to be at her bedside, and he blamed the Commander for costing him their last moments together. His grief had been channelled into anger and a slow-burning hatred, and he had planned his revenge by taking the Commander's now five-year-old daughter away.
Between them, Tony and Xander discovered that Porter had inherited a house in the suburbs eighteen months earlier -and more importantly, that he'd kept that information from his wife. A nonchalant drive past confirmed Porter's car was there. The team geared up. When they arrived, the house was dark. Gibbs ordered Tony and Ziva to the back; he and Xander took the front door. Gibbs quietly picked the lock and whispered into the microphone hidden in his sleeve.
"DiNozzo."
"In position, boss," came the quiet response in their earpieces.
Gibbs looked at Xander, who nodded.
"Quietly, on my count. Three, two, one."
Gibbs nudged the door open and they silently entered. There was a lounge room to their left: empty. Gibbs nodded down the hall. There was a dim light and a low male voice coming from the first bedroom. Gibbs and Xander moved quietly towards the door. On Gibbs' signal, they swung into the room, guns held ready.
"NCIS! Drop your weapon!"
"Stay back! Don't come any closer!" Porter jumped up, holding his own gun out.
Tara, sitting on the bed, immediately burst into tears.
"Put your weapon down!" yelled Gibbs again. Xander stood steadfast beside him. Both their guns were pointed at Porter's head. Porter looked around desperately.
"There's nowhere to go, Porter," Gibbs assured him. "Just put the gun down, don't make this any worse for yourself than it already is."
Porter hesitated, then nodded and pointed his gun at the ceiling to show he was complying. He slowly bent down to place it on the floor. As he began to straighten, his right hand went to his ankle and Xander saw a flash of silver.
The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion. Xander saw the knife. Porter pulled it out and turned towards Tara in one movement. Xander threw himself at the girl, somehow managing to get between her and her attacker. He landed heavily over Tara just as the knife came down and he felt it drive into his right arm. Then Gibbs was pulling Porter off, and Ziva and Tony were there, and time had gone back to normal.
He moved back so he wasn't crushing the crying little girl.
"I'm, I'm sorry," she bawled.
Xander sat beside her and rubbed a comforting hand up and down her back. "Shh, it's okay, you have nothing to be sorry for. You're okay now." He was vaguely aware of the noise behind him as Porter was cuffed and led away, still yelling that he should have been allowed to settle the score. Xander's focus remained on the little girl.
"Daddy says I shouldn't cry, he, he says, brave girls don't cry," Tara sobbed.
Xander frowned. "When did your Daddy say that?"
"When -when I was at the doctors, for, for the needles." Her tears were easing off, and her gulping breaths had turned into hiccups.
Xander smiled at the explanation. "I don't think this is the same thing, kid. You know, I used to know another brave girl called Tara."
"Really? Was -hic! she scared of things?"
"Things like this? She would have been very scared. But that doesn't mean she wasn't brave. It's okay to be afraid, just so long as you keep going anyway."
Xander looked up when Gibbs approached and crouched in front of Tara with a glass of water.
"Have a drink to get rid of those hiccups, and then we'll take you back to our office. Your Mom and Dad are waiting for you," the boss said gently. Tara's eyes lit up and Gibbs smiled at her.
"Come on then," said Xander, as the three of them stood up. Gibbs put a hand on Xander's chest.
"Not you."
Xander frowned in confusion until Gibbs pointed at his arm. Oh yeah. He'd been stabbed. Someone had tied a tourniquet around the wound. When did that happen?
"There's an ambulance out front. DiNozzo will go with you."
Xander nodded and walked out, feeling a bit light-headed now that he was on his feet. Tony met him at the door and steadied him as they walked to the ambulance. The trip to Bethesda was short and Xander was taken aside to be checked over. Tony went to get a coffee.
Xander's wound wasn't urgent and other cases in the Emergency Room were considered higher priority, so it was several hours before he was seen to. The doctor gave him some tablets and stitched it up, advised him to keep his arm immobilised for 48 hours to make sure he didn't pull it open again, and to move his arm on a regular basis for at least two weeks after that, to ensure no permanent muscle damage occurred. Xander nodded absently. The painkilling tablets had been strong and he was still a bit light-headed. But he'd had slashes and knife wounds before, nothing he couldn't handle.
Xander wandered into the hall and almost immediately ran into a very angry Special Agent Gibbs.
"Harris! What the hell did you think you were doing!"
Xander was taken aback. What had he done now? He noticed a frazzled looking Tony sitting a few metres away. Xander was going to ask what was wrong, but a nurse appeared to scold Gibbs for raising his voice in the hospital, and threatened to call security.
Gibbs shook his head and checked that Xander was allowed to go before assuring the nurse it wouldn't be necessary. He appeared to have calmed considerably as he guided his two agents out to the carpark.
"DiNozzo. I had McGee and Ziva tag-team to bring your car over." He chuckled at Tony's panicked look. "Don't worry, I didn't let Ziva drive your car." He handed over the keys and said something quietly to his senior agent, who nodded and headed to his own car. Gibbs turned back to Xander and they went to Gibbs' car.
It took a few minutes for Xander to realise they weren't heading back to the Navy Yard. He sat up properly.
"Boss? Where are we going?"
"My place." Gibbs said it with a tone that brooked no argument. They pulled into the drive and Gibbs showed Xander in, indicating he should take a seat on the couch.
"They give you painkillers at the hospital?"
"Yeah."
"Want a soda?" Gibbs disappeared, presumably to the kitchen.
"Sure," Xander called after him, still mystified by whatever was going on. Gibbs returned with a beer and glass of coke. He saw Xander's look.
"None for you until the painkillers wear off."
Xander sighed and picked up the coke. Gibbs sat down in the single lounge chair.
"Right. Care to explain yourself, Harris?"
Xander thought he might have preferred Yelling Gibbs to this way-too-calm version. "Uh, explain what, exactly?"
Gibbs leaned forward, eyeing the younger man. "Two things. First, you jumped in front of the man with a knife, instead of using the pistol you already had pointed at him."
Oh.
"At the time, I guess I didn't think. It seemed like the best option. I guess, jumping in like that is how I used to do things. Although in retrospect, if I'd fired, it still might not have stopped him from slashing that little girl."
Gibbs nodded. "I know that. It's the first part that bothers me. Your first instinct is to get into a fight physically instead using your firearm. Next time, that might get you killed. Hell, if I'd fired at Porter I might have hit you."
Xander took a deep breath. Gibbs was right. This time it had worked, but if the situation had been different... he'd have to try and keep it in mind. His primary weapon was a gun now; he needed to learn to use it ahead of other options.
"The second explanation, Harris. There are no next-of-kin details and no medical proxy listed in your file."
Xander grimaced. "Don't have anyone to put there."
He knew any of the Scoobies would argue that point, but they were so far away, and pretty much always dealing with their own major events. They were busy trying to run an international agency made up primarily of teenage girls -an impossible notion by itself -and dealing with matters of international importance. He couldn't expect them to come running every time he got in a scrape at work.
"Your parents are still alive," Gibbs commented. Ah, now that was a subject Xander could be certain about.
"I moved out of home as soon as I could and barely had any contact with my parents after that. And there hasn't been any contact at all since Sunnydale collapsed," he admitted.
"Do you realise how dangerous it is to have no details there?" Xander looked up in surprise at the quiet anger in Gibbs' voice. "What if that knife had gone into your chest tonight? What if you get shot tomorrow? There's no one to approve your surgery. No one to let the hospital know of any allergies or other conditions you might have. You could die because you didn't fill a name and a number out on a form!"
Xander gulped. He hadn't thought of it that way. But it didn't change anything. "I don't have anyone to put there," he repeated quietly.
Gibbs visibly stilled and collected himself.
"Yes, you do," he said gruffly. "When we get in to work tomorrow, first thing you do is put down my details as your proxy. Understood?"
Xander was floored. He managed a nod.
"Good."
They heard the front door open and Tony walked in, looking refreshed and sporting his trademark grin.
"Anyone hungry?"
He deposited three pizzas on the coffee table and slung a backpack down beside Gibbs' chair. Xander suddenly discovered he was starving. He eagerly reached forward for the pizza boxes, unintentionally moaning when he pulled on the stitches.
Gibbs chuckled. "Forget already?" He motioned Tony towards the kitchen. "Beer's in the fridge."
"Thanks Boss." Tony headed down the hall to help himself. Xander reached again with only his left arm this time, and discovered a meat lovers, a pepperoni, and a supreme. He grabbed a slice, as did Gibbs and Tony, before Tony settled beside him on the lounge, beer in hand.
Gibbs put the TV on and they caught most of a game, which had Tony yelling at the screen every few minutes.
"Not into sports, Harris?"
"They're fine to watch. I was never a jock though," he answered.
"Really? You never played anything in high school?" Tony was shocked.
"I joined the swim team once. Lasted less than a week." Xander grinned at the horrified look on Tony's face. "You were a jock." It wasn't a question.
"And a Phys Ed major," Tony confirmed.
Xander rolled his eyes. Of course. A jock's jock.
When they were finished, Gibbs cleared the boxes and took everything to the kitchen.
Tony turned to Xander. "You had him worried, you know."
"I did?"
"Yeah. Jumping in there like that. And then realising there was nobody listed on your file." Tony shifted to face Xander properly on the couch. "You ever been part of a family where none of the members were related by blood?"
Xander nodded. Yeah, he'd had one of those. Still sort of had it, but it wasn't the same anymore. He missed them.
"Gibbs' team is his family," Tony went on. "That includes you now. We are family, and we look out for each other, got it?"
Xander nodded again. He was surprised to find himself feeling so moved by the declaration.
"And another thing," Gibbs said. Xander looked up, to find the older man leaning against the doorway. "My door is always unlocked. Any time you need help, or just a friend, you let yourself in."
Xander nodded again, not trusting his voice. Gibbs turned back to the kitchen, but could clearly be heard muttering "Hell, DiNozzo does it all the time."
Tony grinned. "I'll replace those beers, Boss!"
Xander yawned as Gibbs came back out. "Time to go, DiNozzo."
"Sure is, Boss. See you tomorrow, Harris." Tony headed out the door. Xander stood up.
"Uh, so you'll be giving me a lift home, Boss?"
"You're staying here, Harris. DiNozzo dropped off your 'go' bag." He picked up the backpack Tony had brought in earlier, and Xander realised it was indeed his. "Come on, the spare room has your name on it."
A/N: As far as I know, there's no place in Kansas called Paris. There are more than 15 places in the U.S.A. called Paris, but I decided to avoid any potential problems by not referring to a real place...