A/N- Hey guys! I'm back with a new chapter, a little faster than I thought I would too! As promised, this introduces the NCIS family to this crossover, in what I hope is a natural, nonawkward way. There are lots of little things I've had to research to really feel like I know the characters, and it's crazy how much the two universes have to learn separately, let alone together! I'm trying to really get to know all these characters intimately, you know, understand their motives and mannerisms so I can do them justice in this. Otherwise, why write it, right? I also have a few Easter eggs in here, if you can find them :) Enjoy!
Chapter 2
Agent Tony DiNozzo honestly hoped they did nothing at all today. Something about the sound of sitting there, casually doing BS paperwork was so appealing to him. It wasn't just the fact that the warm sun was floating in through the large windows covering the far wall, melting him into his seat and making his tired joints relax. Although that was very nice. It wasn't the fact that it was a Monday after a very long, very arduous case that had left him and his teammates frustrated and exhausted. Although maybe that was a tiny factor.
No, Tony was just a tiny bit hungover. Well, maybe more than a tiny bit. His headache was rocking in the back of his head like a bad 70's rock concert and the fluorescent lights overhead kind of made him feel like he was staring at the sun. He wasn't John Belushi in Animal House drunk, but still, a classic hangover remedy wouldn't do him any harm. Suffice to say, he really didn't want to put his big boy pants on and go shoot at people today. No thank you.
He heard the elevator ding from across the bullpen, and he groaned internally as the sound reverberated a little in his skull. What's wrong with them? Haven't they ever heard of common courtesy in the workplace?
Ziva chuckled from across his desk, and Tony popped one eye open to see her and Tim watching him, matching coffee cups in hand. They even had the gall to look amused. Ugh. Morning people.
Ziva sauntered closer to his desk, her curly brown hair slipping behind her shoulder. "Well, well, well Tony, did we catch you in the middle of a bat nap?" Her chocolate brown eyes were playful and mysterious. And Tony was not in the mood.
"Cat. It's cat nap, Ziva." Did his voice really sound that rough in the morning? He even sounded hungover.
"She's right Tony. You look worse for wear. Spend all night trying to pick up a chick?" When did McGee start sounding so smug? Tony opened eyes, so as to glare more effectively at his annoying teammates.
"Hey there, McSingle, no need to make fun. Sure, I had a lively couple of nights out. Yes, I'm now wishing I had mufflers or a pull out couch so I could sleep it off. But we've all been there. At least I went out this weekend at all. More than some of us can say."
Ziva shrugged, and leaned against her desk nonchalantly as McGee dumped his backpack at his desk. "I did not go out this weekend Tony. In fact, I stayed at home and read a good book. And I do not look like death warmed over." She smiled knowingly.
Tony was tempted to close his eyes and ignore them. "Thank you for that Ziva. It made me feel much, much better." He paused, trying to get his sluggish brain to form words, and then words into sentences. It was like trying to rearrange those big plastic letters on a fridge. "What about you McGoo? Were you moonlighting as ElfLord all weekend?"
"No Tony, I was not. I was actually productive with my weekend. I wrote a little, and Sunday I went to the shooting range."
Tony's head jerked up a little bit at that, and he watched McGee with renewed interest as his teammate innocently logged in at his desk. Consciously averting your eyes – always a sign of hiding something. "Shooting range huh? I didn't know you practiced in your spare time."
Ziva chimed in, obviously trying to save McGee from Tony's razor sharp intuition. "I think it's normal for one to maintain your skills. There's nothing off about wanting to improve or test yourself."
Tony's brain latched on to a word. "Improve, huh? Is this about what happened at the shipyard Friday night?"
Tim's eyes widened fractionally. That's a yes, then. "Tony, I can go to the range if I want. There's nothing wrong with that. It doesn't have anything to do with Friday."
Tony shrugged, wincing a bit as his head resisted the movement. "Sure. There's nothing wrong with it…if there were anyone else. You though…"
Without a sound of warning Gibbs marched into the bullpen, his tan jacket whipping behind him. Tony knew there was no way of knowing when Gibbs would come in – he was a ninja like that, moving under the radar like a ghost in the shadows. Still, sometimes he wished he could sense his boss before he came. That would be a useful ability for the senior field agent to have, right?
"Gear up." His voice, authoritative and clipped as ever, commanded all of them.
"Aw, come on Boss. We just finished with a major case last week. Can't we have a little rest period? A little down time in between? Some more…" Tony's wheedling trailed off as he was fixed with a trademark Gibbs stare. Shit, that could stop a charging rhino in its tracks. He could feel Ziva and McGee's amusement directed at his useless finagling.
"Did that sound like a suggestion to you, DiNozzo?" Gibbs lazer gaze was on him, and Tony was starting to feel the burn.
"Ah, no Boss. I was just expressing my surprise at us already having a case lined up, is all…"
Gibbs was already headed out, his hand double checking that his SIG Sauer P228 was in place. "Get your butt in gear, DiNozzo. We have a dead marine waiting for us."
Tony trailed behind McGee and Ziva, his head pounding in rhythm with the pack slung across his shoulders. "It's gonna be a long day."
Gibbs, Tony, Ziva, and Tim made their way toward the crime scene. Gibbs headed their federal phalanx with an air that commanded respect, and his unquestionable silent authority had them waved under the yellow tape as they approached the homicide scene ahead. Two police cars were stationed in the lot, their respective officers standing in the vicinity, and Tony could see the larger, shorter man of the two practically baking into the pavement under the hot Bludhaven sun. Maybe he'd be happier chowing down on some donuts, Tony thought, bemused.
Tony flipped out his notebook and Tim worked a professional camera out of his case as the sweaty, short officer headed toward their group, hand outstretched. Gibbs met him, a firm handshake shared between him. "You the feds, right? I'm Officer Talbot, and this is my partner Officer Singer." He gestured to a taller, thin man who nodded in acknowledgement. Tony tried to resist laughing – it was like human Bob and Larry from Veggie Tales. The shorter one even had rusty red hair.
"Gibbs, NCIS. This is my team. Can you fill me in on what happened here?" Behind him, Tony heard the snapping of the camera as Tim started working the scene.
"Sure, sure." Talbot turned to face the crime scene, and Gibbs followed his lead. "About 9:30 last night we got reports in of a confrontation not too far from here, with some shots fired. We had two officers arrive on scene, and there was a fire fight. The older cop was shot twice in the shoulder, but the trainee got a shot in the chest to the assailant here. Your marine guy was stabbed in the stomach somehow." He waved a sausage hand toward the scene, his run-through and attitude far too nonchalant.
Tony's eyes followed the hand and took in the bloodbath before him. Because that was what it was – a bloodbath. The marine was laying across a grey car hood, his arms outstretched and eyes wide open. His stomach and the surrounding car hood were bathed in blood so much that it had dripped down the front of the car. There was no mistaking him as a marine; on his bulging bicep was the marine insignia, complete with eagle, globe, and anchor in bold black ink.
In front of the marine, spread on the black pavement, was the other man. He was dark complexioned, clearly Mexican or at least Latino. In the middle of his black shirt was a bullet wound, and from it blood had obviously poured, to the point where it was surrounding him in blood. God. This scene may not have been one of the most gruesome Tony had ever seen, but the sheer amount of blood here was enough to make anyone want to upchuck. He could smell the iron, there was so much of it.
As for the cops rundown of events…it was less than satisfactory. Tony could tell by the narrowing of Gibbs eyes that he thought the same. They were clearly dealing with substandard cops that were simply sent here to keep others away from the grisly scene. That was Bludhaven for you.
"We're all just real surprised this happened, ya know," Talbot remarked. Gibbs glanced back at him.
"Oh? How so," he questioned. His voice was cool, and Tony smirked. Gibbs was obviously angry they were sent to officers that were just babysitting the scene, but was just curious enough that he'd let the cop continue talking.
"Officer Rohrbach is one of our best, senior officers. It's pretty hard to get the drop on her. So her being in the hospital and all, it's kind of a big deal. We're all just lucky her partner was the new kid."
Tony raised an eyebrow at that statement. That was definitely not something you heard everyday. "Really? She was lucky to have a newbie with her, huh?"
Talbot met his eyes and nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah. Can't remember his name…It's like Jason or something like that…Yeah. Anyway, he's a real natural apparently. Passed all the academy tests with flying colors – I actually heard he beat most of the high scores. People are saying he has a real way with it, you know, good instincts. I haven't talked to him or been on a ride along with him myself, but he saved Rohrbach's life, so he can't be all bad, right?" He shrugged.
Tony nodded slowly. "Right. Well… thanks." The cop ambled back to his partner, and Tony turned back to the team. "Well ok then." He walked closer to the crime scene. "What do we got?"
Tim looked up from the camera. "It'd be easier to ask what we don't have. Right now we have a stab victim and an assailant that was shot. He's obviously marine" he gestured to the man sprawled on a car "but the other guy we have no clue on. And clearly the police aren't going to be a great help."
Tony squinted down at the squatting McGee. "Yeah, some great local LEOs are around here. And what's with all this prodigal son scuttlebutt?"
Ziva looked up from her phone. "I think I may have some answers. The marine is ID'd as Sam Nicholas, Marine Lance Corporal who was stationed at Camp Pendleton. He was honorably discharged, and his family lives not too far from here. His mother reported him missing two weeks ago from California." She turned to the man sprawled on the pavement. "And he matches a BOLO for Carlos Fernandez. He's got several warrants out for his arrest, assuming it is him."
"Ok, so why would a guy like Fernandez be after a good-standing Lance Corporal," Tony questioned.
Ziva pocketed the phone. "I do not know. It sounds honky to me."
"Wonky or hinky, Ziva. One of the two."
She waved away the criticism with a flick of her wrist. "Yes, yes. My question is why would a man with a gun stab his victim? He obviously didn't care about being heard, so why the change? And where is the knife now?"
They all looked silently back to the macabre scene, trying to click back the rewind button and see what had really happened that explosive night.
"Sorry I'm late to the party Jethro." Everyone looked up to see Ducky, who ambled in with his familiar pale cap that covered all around and his navy blue NCIS lab coat. He was pulling on a pair of latex gloves as he walked.
"No Palmer today Ducky?" Tim spoke up from beside Fernandez.
"No, not today. Mr. Palmer is on a cruise through the Bahamas this week, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me."
"No such thing Duck. What do you got for us," Gibbs asked, his voice calmly insistent.
"Let me see…" Ducky made his way over to the marine, and leaned over the body, peering through his glasses. "Stab wound to the abdomen…most likely struck the stomach. I'd say he bled out quickly, but I'll need to double check on cause of death." Sticking the corpse quickly, he checked the temperature. "I'd put time of death at… around ten last night."
He moved on to the body of Fernandez, leaning in and examining the bullet wound in the chest. After a moment he settled back on his knees. "As for this man…I can tell you with almost complete certainty what the cause of death was."
"Well yeah, Ducky. Most people don't walk away from a bullet to the chest," Tony quipped.
Dr. Mallard gazed up to look at him. "Not in all cases Tony. It's very possible to simply hit a cavity, or pop a lung and still live. There have been cases of individuals who were shot several times and still lived. I once worked on a man who was shot thirteen times, and walked away four hours later with nothing more than stitches and a prescription for some pain medication. His young son thought the automatic was a toy. Indeed, it all depends on the severity of the case, and the placement of the wound." He paused to look down at the wound in the chest. "And this shot is incredibly well placed."
Tony could have sworn a vein was about to burst in Gibbs skull. "Duck…" The meaning was clear—spell it out for me.
Ducky gave a little sigh. "If I'm correct, and I believe I am, this is a clean shot through the aorta. In the dark, with a moving target, I think that would prove to be a very difficult target to hit. You're probably looking at someone who is extremely lucky or an extremely good sharpshooter. I daresay we're dealing with someone who is possibly as good a shot as you, Jethro."
Gibbs looked at Ducky, his expression on his face indecipherable. After a moment, he turned and walked back to the car, his steps brisk and his stride smooth. Ducky's brows furrowed in confusion, and he glanced at the team. "Something I said?"
"No Ducky, nothing with you. We just found out the shot was from a cop in training, that's all," Tony responded.
Ducky looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Quite the young marksmen, I'd say. Perhaps we have another Simo Hayha on our hands. He was nicknamed the White Death, and for good reason too – he had 705 confirmed deaths on his hands, the highest recorded confirmed kills as a sniper in any war ever. Took out entire battalions by disguising himself in the snow, even had snow in his mouth to keep his breath from condensing! It was in the war between Russia and Finland, the 'Winter War' they used to call it. It was rumored in less than 100 days he was credited with 505 confirmed kills, but some of that was unsubstantiated of course. He ended up with a broken jaw, but he still lived—"
"Ducky." Tony and Tim spoke in unison.
Ducky was shocked out of his anecdote, and Tony could see the moment he landed back on Earth. He glanced between the two men, and nodded. "Right then. Back to work I go." He leaned back over the corpse he was working on, and Tony gave a little shudder as he turned away. Dead people.
"Tony," Ziva called out his name. Turning, he grinned. In Ziva's gloved hand dangled one of the pieces of the puzzle. It was the knife used to stab Nicholas in the stomach – that much was fairly obvious from the dark blood coating the blade all the way up to the hilt. Upon closer inspection, the knife was actually elegant. The silver blade was slightly curved, and the hilt was a hard wood inset with intricate carvings and symbols. It looked priceless.
"Ziva, this is why you're my favorite. Get that bagged and tagged." Tony turned to go back, but Ziva stopped him.
"I found more." He turned to look at what she was pointing at. It was faint, but he could see it – a scattering of white powder on the dark pavement. "What do you think it is?".
He crouched to look closer, but he couldn't see anything more. "I don't know. Might be nothing, might be something. Bag it anyway."
He joined McGee as they stood over the scene. Silently they appraised the bodies being loaded up into the back of the NCIS van, hidden away under black bags.
Tony hoped this would be a calmer case, where the answers came easy and everything would resolve itself naturally. He knew that wasn't part of what they did, wasn't really part of the job description, but he couldn't help it. The last case had been taxing, and he knew he wasn't the only one running on reserves, or wasn't all here. McGee had obviously proved that this morning – he was out shooting at ranges now, trying to step up his game and make sure what had happened Friday never happened again.
As if he had read Tony's mind, McGee spoke up from beside him. "At least we'll get to meet this Jason kid, right?"
Tony turned to look at him, incredulous. "Why is that what you're looking forward to?"
Tim gave him a look before returning to pensiveness. "Obviously we need more information. He was the only one who made it through this thing unharmed, so he's naturally our best bet at getting a reliable picture of what happened here."
Yes but… "You want to know how he does it, don't you? You want to know how he got as scary as Gibbs with a gun, but you don't want to actually ask Gibbs."
Tim met his eyes, and a look passed between them that was pure understanding. "Couldn't hurt, could it?" He walked toward the car, and Tony stared after him.
Yeah, guess it couldn't hurt.
TBC- Thanks all for reading! I have everything in this story mapped out where I want it to go, and now it's just down to doing the actual writing (arguably the hardest part, I know). Things glided better than I thought they would in this chapter actually, and I'm excited for the next! Look forward to the first meeting of the NCIS gang and Dick :)
Please read, review, favorite, and follow- all of those little things that spur my writing to be elaborate, detailed, and faster to update!
