A/N- I'm baaaack! And so, so sorry. It's been almost 3 weeks, and I have nothing but apologies to you guys. One minute I'm posting a chapter online and then life drags me by the scruff of my neck into craziness galore. I know I said no upload schedule, because I wouldn't follow it anyway, but I'm rethinking that...because 3 weeks is pretty inexcusable on my part. Feel free to stone or maim me.
My gosh, the research that is going into this…after learning Ducky went into Eton, I proceeded to spend an hour reading up on the school. It's actually pretty cool—if I wasn't a girl, I'd totally go there. I wish I could add more info that I learned, but it doesn't really correlate. Let me just say now that I will try and make everything in this story as authentic and correct as possible. If I'm going to add in extra information, it's not going to be wrong—I will definitely make sure I know my shit before writing about it, rather than bullshiting anything. The info on police operations and codes, guns, human anatomy, Simo Hayha, security systems, Gibbs' rules, heroin, and all character histories have all been thoroughly researched with care. So who knows, maybe you'll learn a little something on the side. It's just a little something to show I care
I've just realized that there have been a buildup of questions in my review section. First of all, thank you! I love the fact that there are those intrigued/interested enough in my story that they want to know more about the universe it's set in or the characters it revolves around. And I'd hate to not reward people for putting forth these questions. So, from here on out, I'll try my best to not only thank reviewers, but also comment on interesting reviews and answer questions. That being said, there are some questions that I obviously can't answer because it would ruin things for you guys, and that's no fun at all. So for those types… Let your imaginations run wild. Who knows, maybe you'll give me a brain child
Crawcolady- What happened in the last case that has McGee so "down" and working on his shooting? This, I think, will be mentioned later on. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise ;)
Cindar- Why did he stop sending gifts? Will they learn that Robin is now Nightwing? Is the assassin from any big group? First off, let me say that I love your natural inquisitiveness. Uno- This will be revealed at some point. Dos- Also to be revealed, although I can tell you I feel there's something a lot more satisfying about the suspense you get from the team not knowing and Dick keeping this secret life from them. But also, keep in mind there is a distinct difference between learning Robin is Nightwing, Dick is Robin, and Dick is Nightwing ;). It's like the trifecta of hidden identities. Tres- Obviously to be revealed. Hehe.
Cindar- Does the NCIS Team know about other Robins? Good question, mainly because it's a question that's plagued me as well. I have to be honest, I'm not overly fond of the idea of other Robins. Maybe I'm a purest (or whatever you wanna call it), but I honestly believe there is no better Robin than Dick. He is the original Boy Wonder, the Prodigal Son and all that. That being said…I haven't completely made up my mind yet. It would certainly be another fascinating angle to come at it from. If I do write them in, it probably won't be in this book. (I know. I have other books planned out. It's crazy.)
Cindar- I love the fact that they think Dick is Jason... Thank you for catching that! I was actually looking for names that rhymed with Grayson and that came up, and I used it not even thinking about Jason Todd. Unintentional easter eggs for the win, right? Haha, life is funny like that.
Thank you to Cindar, starletzrose, PSML, Virgil1989 the Crossover King, Chise Sakamoto, and TheAsterous Author (love the name!) for your wonderful reviews. You guys are awesome!
Chapter 5
The team reentered the Bludhaven police office together, and headed straight for the elevators. Tony's animated gestures punctuated his words as the elevator dinged its arrival.
"You should have seen it. There had to have been hundreds of pounds of heroin, easy. It was more than I ever saw working Peoria, Philadelphia, or Baltimore combined. We're talking enough to get a blue whale stoned and chasing its tail." Gibbs leveled a look at Tony, and he instantly sobered. "Not that that's even a possibility. Like, ever." McGee and Ziva shared a conspiratorial snicker at Tony's expense.
"At least you had that. Nicholas's house is freakishly clean, other than the heroin and the phone calls. And those may not actually lead us anywhere toward the killer or the heroin. At this point our best bet is Abby or Ducky miraculously finding something we missed," said McGee.
Thank you, McObvious. "Mm, yeah. Hey, do I smell funny to you? I think I may have brought some of that guy's disgusting apartment stench with me…" Tony took a moment to sniff his collar and his pits, turning around in a lopsided circle once.
McGee laughed as the elevator doors slid open. "Sure Tony. It's the apartment. And apparently, it's not necessary to get people stoned to chase their tails." Tony made a face and returned to sniffing.
The group rounded a corner to the morgue entrance and saw the bodies on the slabs waiting for them. Metallic aluminum shone from beneath the fluorescent bulbs, while the corners stayed draped in shadows. The team hesitated once over the morgue threshold, but it wasn't the bodies that had the group slowing down.
"I thought we didn't need him anymore," muttered McGee, whose face had gone from jovial to angry and sullen in a split second. Tony ignored him and looked on with mild curiosity as Dick continued chatted with Ducky, giving no indication that either of them had heard the teams arrival.
"…was a guest speaker in one of their societies once. He always really enjoyed when they put on A Midsummer's Night's Dream." Dick stood next to Ducky in front of the autopsy table, his voice light and conversational.
Ducky nodded his agreement and gave a half smile to the young officer. "A fine choice of Shakespearian works. In my second year we were charged with putting on Hamlet, and this was before they started inviting girls to fill roles. My good friend Anthony played Ophelia, and he was quite good. He never really lived down donning a wig though. Our first night we received a standing ovation; it was quite an exhilarating feeling, and although I never pursued the dramatic arts, because the medical field was forever near and dear to my heart, I have always enjoyed melodramas and the like. My father—"
"Ducky." This time it was Tim who interrupted Ducky in the middle of his long-winded tangent. Tony made note of McGee's clipped tones and poorly concealed disdain. Well alrightee then.
Ducky turned to peer at them through his oval lenses, and Dick turned with him, looking slightly abashed. "Ah yes, there they are. Always on time, or sometimes even early. We are forever eager for information, and always impatient for results. Richard, this is the team I work with back in DC. Agent Tony—."
Dick smiled at Ducky. "Actually, Ducky, we've all met before." His smile grew fractionally at that.
"Is that so? Well good, then we can skip the introductions and proceed straight to my area of expertise." Dick stayed standing still as Ducky moved to the other side of Fernandez. In his peripheral Tony could feel McGee actively trying to burn a hole through the young officer with just his eyes. Ugh, it's a good thing you're not Superman, Probie, because right about now you'd be using your powers for evil. He bumped into Tim and when they made eye contact, the message was clear. Control yourself dude. This isn't the time or place. McGee stared at him for a moment, then gave a slight nod to concede his agreement.
"Mr. Fernandez here," Ducky gestured to the dark naked man on his table, "was a rather noxious individual. While he was not ailing from any particular disease, my guess is that he would be in five, maybe ten years. He is young, and his years in the army have done him well, but his time since has largely been spent immobile, judging from the early state of atrophy in his muscles. He was not one to partake in the belief that his body was a temple, of that I am quite certain. His diet was composed largely of unhealthy starches, fats, sugars, and oils."
"So nothing from Fernandez," Gibbs stated.
"Nothing but compliments on the fine shot by Richard." Everyone's heads swiveled to look at Dick. It was clear the words were nothing but praise from Ducky, but Dick turned a shade of crimson and started sputtering. Tony had never seen him this flustered.
"I…it was…really it was nothing…you don't need to…," Dick stared at his shoes as his speech became more and more warbled and quiet.
Tony saw Tim take a deep breath beside him, and then his partner spoke. "How'd you do it?" The words were blunt and uncaring, especially coming from Tony's sensitive geek of a partner. He wasn't sure where the words had come from, other than Tim's desperate need to know how the young man in front of them had marksmanship skills that rivaled Gibbs, but right now, it was just inappropriate.
Dick stared at McGee for a long moment, a million thoughts seeming to cross his features as he processed the words thrown at him. The articulate young cop that had sat before them just earlier today was gone, replaced with someone who looked downright…shameful? Yes, if Tony had to pick a dominating expression on Dick's face, it would have to be guilt and shame.
Honestly, it made sense to Tony. He'd been in Dick's shoes before. One moment he was a young police officer who was still learning the ropes and the way the world worked, and the next he was a young police officer who'd just shot someone dead. It was necessary and part of the job, but that didn't make it suck any less. It was something that most officers of the law gradually numbed themselves to, convincing themselves that it was for the greater good. Whatever it took to help them sleep at night, because otherwise it would eat them whole. But Dick…Dick was about as green as they got. He obviously hadn't built up defenses and walls against things like this. Odds are this was the first life he had ever taken. No matter the type of man he'd killed or how good of a shot he was, it was still bound to do more than rattle the young man's cage…if he was anything like McGee had been, it would shake his very foundation.
Tony was jerked out of his short reverie by Dick's clear, yet quiet voice. "How'd I do it." Tony wasn't sure if he was asking the team or himself, or just repeating the question aloud. Dick's eyes had been torn from the floor and were now fixated on the wound in Carlos' chest. After Ducky had finished, it was a neat little hole in the middle of his sternum—hardly something that looked like it could do so much damage.
Dick's eyes moved to Ducky's. "How could I do it? I don't know. It wasn't supposed to happen…that gun…" He grimaced. "I never meant to. I never aimed to kill him…never to kill him." Tan fingers moved to touch the back of his hand, ghosting over the skin unconsciously. "I was aiming for his median nerve."
"You weren't aiming to kill him, you were simply aiming to paralyze his hand…to prevent him from shooting. And when he moved, you happened to hit his ascending aorta." Ducky reasoned aloud. Dick nodded slowly, and the doctor exchanged a loaded look with Gibbs that did not go unnoticed by Tony. He could see incredulous wonderment from Ducky, and Gibbs had the look of someone that in the middle of figuring out a complex puzzle.
Even McGee was struggling to maintain his surly disposition; his face kept twitching between a frown and reluctant confused concern.
Ziva, who had remained beyond Tony's vantage point until that moment, walked calmly forward. Dick's wide cerulean orbs flicked to hers, and he seemed to take in her sure stride and her straight figure. "You did nothing wrong. Excuse me for my bluntness, but it is true. In this moment and in this situation, you did absolutely nothing wrong. You shot at a man who not only played a part in killing a man who served his country well, but was also aiming to kill you. And he would have done it without hesitation, without blinking an eye. In my opinion, you more than did your duty—you were calm in the face of danger. I would have done no different." Ziva's confident, assured tone seemed to act as a balm to Dick. Tony saw his shoulders draw back and his chin lift, and his hand floated away from the other that he'd been compulsively rubbing at.
"Ziva is right, you know," said Ducky. "Your intentions were certainly pure, and what happened afterward was simply an intervention of fate, or karma. What occurred that night doesn't make you a bad or evil person, simply one who has had to toe the line between right and wrong. Stand firm with yourself, my boy, and trust that what will be will be."
They all watched on for a moment as Dick filtered through the words of advice slowly. "I know you're right," he replied eventually. "I really do. And I appreciate every word you've said to me. It means a lot, and I'll take it into consideration. I just…It's not that simple. I was raised and taught that no matter the circumstance, no matter the individual and their deeds, killing is never the answer. It's not something I can easily come to terms with right now, or possibly ever." He looked carefully at each of them, and a smile broke through his troubled features like the sun through the clouds. "But seriously, enough about me; we have a case to work on. Ducky, tell us about Nicholas."
Tony narrowed his eyes. It was classic, if obvious, evasion. The doctor took the hint in stride. He moved to the adjacent table, where Sam Nicholas' pale form waited patiently. The group shuffled closer, random eyes still flickering sporadically at Dick, who gave Ducky his undivided attention. Tony knew enough to know the face of someone trying to force things back under lock and key.
"Now Sam Nicholas," Ducky began, "was a fit young man not unlike Carlos Fernandez. This, and their military careers, are where the similarities end however. While Fernandez's body was mostly clean of drugs except for minimal use, Nicholas showed the adverse effects of extreme withdrawal in his system, including extreme sweating, recent vomiting, and sleep deprivation. This would normally coincide with years of intense drug abuse, but I can only find temporary, recent marks of drug use in his system. He has no liver disease, HIV, Hepatitis B or C, collapsed veins, or respiratory depression, which are all indicative of the type of drug use that would cause withdrawal of this magnitude. Heroin is his drug of choice, as Abby will more than likely confirm, but I think we can all agree there's something more at play."
"Have you ever seen anything like this before, Duck?" asked Gibbs.
Ducky scratched the top of his head through his surgical cap. "All the effects of heroin without actually partaking in the habit? No, I've never heard of such a thing."
Tim, who seemed to be getting over his confused emotions at the prospect of a new mystery, spoke up. Good, Tony thought. I hate it when it's his time of month. "What if he's addicted to another substance, and only recently started heroin? Would the same reactions be involved in his body no matter what he was addicted to?"
"A very good idea Timothy. With luck the toxicology report from Abby should answer any questions we have on the matter. I do have suspicions; I see no evidence of long term drug or substance abuse period. I don't even see needle marks for the heroin injections, even though there were needles at the apartment."
Dick leaned closer to the corpse, peering at it curiously. "Did you check the moles?"
"What about moles, Richard," Ducky asked. Ziva was already nodding her head in agreement—to what, Tony had no clue. So what if the guy had moles?
"It's been a common practice around here for a while; I'm actually surprised I didn't think of it before. If a person doesn't want other people to know they're using, they inject the heroin into a mole, so the point of injection isn't noticeable. It's harder to find a vein that way, but still effective. And gross. So dealers have been using it lately to get people hopped up, and then they have to keep coming back to buy more. It's a good way to stay under the radar."
"I say," said Ducky as he moved to inspect the body. "Crime has certainly lost some of its finesse since my day. Now it's all so…boorish."
"Yeah, well, it's not everyday we get to meet arms dealers wearing mustaches and top hats on their private jets," Tony muttered under his breath. Dick gave a little snort next to him.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that Anthony," Ducky said as he peered down at some spots on Nicholas' arm. After a moment, he rose to his full height and fixed his glasses. "Quite intuitive Richard. There do seem to be puncture marks well disguised by moles in several locations." The snort from McGee was almost inaudible, but Tony could see Dick's head turn slightly in his direction. Come on McGoo, what is your problem?
"Well that begs the question, doesn't it? If this has been happening recently in Bludhaven, then this gives us reason to believe that Nicholas was intentionally doped, and then murdered. Possibly by the same people, or we could be looking at two different groups involved," Tony reasoned.
"We can find out later," quipped McGee, who was slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Abby has the toxicology test results back, and she's in the lab upstairs." As Ziva and Dick headed out the morgue door, Tony grabbed Tim's shoulder and held him back briefly.
"You need to stop man. I don't get why you have a problem with this kid, but whatever it is you need to pull it together. Seriously, what has got you so riled up? It's not you," Tony spoke to him in a low voice. McGee gave him a look complete with glowering eyes and a scowl, and stalked off toward the elevator. Tony followed behind him.
"Well this should be fun."
Gibbs watched as the team traipsed out and the morgue grew silent around them. He didn't miss DiNozzo pulling McGee aside or McGee's less than peaceful response; he'd observed Tim's angry behavior and heard Tony's resigned sigh. It wasn't hard to figure out the subject of their disagreement – the ever interesting enigma of a police officer named Dick Grayson.
"Jethro?" Ducky's voice echoed from behind him, and he turned slowly to face their medical examiner, who was watching him with raised eyebrows. "Something you forget?"
Gibbs pulled a tall metal stool against one of the sterile empty metal tables and sat down. "I need a psychological consult Duck."
Giving a single nod, Ducky grabbed a chair to sit alongside Gibbs at the autopsy table. After settling, the doctor turned his magnified eyes back to him. "Who do you need a psych consult for? The man who got away after stabbing Nicholas?"
"Not exactly," Gibbs hedged.
Ducky fixed him with an extended look. "You want me to help you figure out Richard Grayson, don't you?"
Gibbs nodded. It wasn't something he was particularly proud of. He had always prided himself in the fact that he could easily read others and their intentions. It was easy—most people were an open book, with their emotions, thoughts, feelings, and desires worn freely on their sleeve for all to see. He had learned long ago that people were transparent beings who wanted to be seen and heard and felt by those around them, and so often their secrets were low hanging fruit. But Gibbs had seen Dick through the same eyes he saw everyone through, and while to everyone else Dick seemed transparent, he was surprisingly opaque.
Ducky went to remove the surgical cap he always wore. "May I request as to why you're asking me to analyze someone who is clearly not a criminal, or one of your suspects? This certainly takes paranoia to a whole new level, Jethro."
"It's a gut thing Duck. I just want to know what you make of him." He needed to know that he wasn't the only one having trouble with what was supposed to be a simple new cop. Ducky knew how to read people, albeit in a different way, so surely he could shed some light on the man. This belief is what surprised him so much about Ducky's next phrase.
"I may not be able to help you as much as you would like, then. I find him deceivingly baffling." He gave an apologetic smile. "I can tell you what I did ascertain though. We can compare notes, so to speak." Gibbs nodded his agreement at this—if it took him and Ducky putting their heads together to figure out one puzzling kid, he would do it.
"I know he's intelligent and well trained. He was at the top of his graduating academy class, and got high scores on most of his tests. When we interviewed him, he remembered every detail of what happened, and was making deductions that would take my team days to figure out through other channels. Well trained doesn't even being to cover his shooting skills either," said Gibbs.
Ducky gave a low chuckle. "'Deadshot' doesn't seem to quite cover it, does it?"
"No, it doesn't. He and I are comparable now…but I was never that skilled at his age."
"And I bet you weren't quite so frightened with a gun either, were you?" Gibbs brow furrowed in confusion. Ducky raised his eyebrows. "You didn't see it? The young man was talking about what he did and expressing his shame, but it wasn't exclusively shame about killing that man. I think his words were 'that gun'. You see? He's not even willing to take ownership of it. It may be fear, it may be animosity, I'm not sure, but for someone who's such a dead ringer, he's awfully uncomfortable with the weapon in his hand."
Gibbs shook his head in disbelief. "So he's uncomfortable with a weapon he knows how to shoot extremely well?" It made no sense. He was tempted to say Ducky was in the wrong, that he'd gone a step too far with his analysis, but as he thought he realized the man was right. Gibbs had seen the signs himself.
"I had a clear shot on him, and I took it." Dick's face grew dark and cloudy. "I hit him in the chest."
"He also reacted very quickly when he realized I was gunning for him." His fingers froze.
"How could I do it? I don't know. It wasn't supposed to happen…that gun…" He grimaced. "I never meant to. I never aimed to kill him…never to kill him."
Dick had never been outright about his distaste for guns, but he hadn't exactly been subtle either. He'd left clues like breadcrumbs throughout the time Gibbs had known him, and yet the older man was just picking up on it now.
Ducky replied to Gibbs statement he'd made before the mini realization. "The source of his discomfort might not all be the weapon. I think we can both agree that good and innocent people tend to have problems with shooting other people with guns."
Another good point made by Ducky. "He's a good kid. It makes sense."
Ducky nodded thoughtfully. "More than a good kid, I think. He appeared a kind hearted and humble young man with good morals to me, so the qualms he had against shooting the man seem justified. All of that I can certainly bear witness to. He showed an emotional intelligence far beyond his years when I was talking with him. And when I was chatting with him, he also was very comfortable, very relaxed—he assimilates very quickly to social situations and new people. The age difference didn't seem to bother him at all either, which is abnormal in such a young person. My best guess is that he's spent a large amount of time with older individuals."
Gibbs thought back. "He was very comfortable with my team too. Within ten minutes of being here, he was talking to all three of them like he'd known them for years. Which is part of the reason I'm here talking to you about analyzing him."
Ducky smiled teasingly. "Isn't that what we've been doing?"
Gibbs didn't respond back. He'd gotten to the part he wanted to talk to Ducky about—the part that he was the most uncertain, and needed Ducky's intelligence to analyze for him. "When we first arrived at Bludhaven, Dick was the first person we saw at the station. When we met him, he got this…look…when he saw us. It was only there for a split second and he covered it up well, but I know what I saw when I looked at him. It was recognition Duck."
Ducky blinked at him owlishly. "He may have seen you before in passing and remembered. That's not such an awful thing."
"That's not the point. He recognized us, knew we were there as NCIS agents, and the whole time we didn't know who he was. It felt like a covert operation, like…"
"Like he could see you before you could see him. I understand," said Ducky, his expression thoughtful. "It seems to me that Mr. Grayson is far more intelligent than we give him credit for. What he did was level the playing field. He observed you when you weren't expecting it, saw you when your guard was down. Gathering intelligence, I think you would call it. How interesting."
Gibbs glowered at that. "It's not interesting, it's suspicious. What kind of first year cop pulls that stunt on federal agents? I can't tell whether I can trust him or not Duck. Is he hiding something?"
"Those are very different questions," Ducky replied frankly. "Is he hiding something? Yes. Of that I am quite certain. After all, we are all hiding one thing or another. Can you trust him?" He paused. "Yes, I think you can."
Gibbs was quiet for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Thanks Duck." He stood and made his way out of the morgue.
He trusted Ducky's judgment. The doctor was seldom wrong about these things, and could read people almost as well as himself. If Ducky said that Dick was someone who could be trusted…he believed him. But he was also someone who believed in the power of proof. And Dick hadn't proved to him personally that he could be trustworthy. He may be a good detective and a good shot, but he hadn't gained Gibbs' respect.
There was something else eating at Gibbs' mind, and he continued to mull over it as he walked to the elevator. When Dick had seen them, the recognition had been instantaneous. He had them pegged the second he saw them. But as Gibbs had spent time with this kid, he couldn't shake the feeling that he knew Dick from somewhere too. It seemed like he would have recognized that face and those eyes anywhere, but he hadn't. Just something about the way the kid acted…it reminded him of someone, he was sure of it, but he didn't know who. It was like an itch in the back of his mind that he couldn't scratch, and it kept eluding him whenever he pursued it.
TBC- Not one of my favorite chapters, but the next should be fun. I'm sure you all want to see Abby with Dick :)
I love all of your reviews and follows and all that- please continue, because it makes me happy :D
