A/N- Sorry for the tardiness again. Haha, it seems like I'm perpetually apologizing for it, and that's because I really am sorry. It wasn't quite as hectic this time around, but as summer starts to end, my class is wrapping up and I have to get ready for next semester-it makes for not a lot of time. If I had it my way, I'd be writing nonstop, with a new chapter up at least every week. But that's an ideal world, where I also am a well known writer just playing around on here under an alias and also happen to have a pet dolphin. As it is, I spent most of my time between chapters doing everything I needed to do for the fall semester, and then really getting to know Abby as a character so I could do her justice. I hope you enjoy her in this chapter!
I need to fix one thing before I go ahead. In my intro before chapter one, I know I said time wasn't a construct or concern from either fandom, but reading back over what I've got in all my notes, I realize I need to fix that. Time still isn't of importance from the NCIS side of things, except for the fact that it's a laterish season (yeah, I know, really specific haha). But on the Young Justice side of things, I've come to realize that I can work out a timeline for things so it's a little more linear. McGee mentioning that it had been seven years since they last saw Robin was kind of my way of incorporating it, but I also wanted to make it clear here (without giving too much away). When the NCIS team met the Young Justice team, it was sometime during the first year of the team forming. Robin then proceeded to send Gibbs Christmas gifts for five years. Now it's seven years after their initial meeting, and Dick isn't a part of Young Justice anymore (for…reasons. Hehe). So there ya have it – a general gist of the timeline without me giving away any spoilers ;)
Thank you to all of you lovely people who reviewed- Cindar, TheAsterousAuthor, starletzrose, lilnudger82, R'D'JG-W, Chise Sakamoto, mah-nom-in-ah, shattered rainbow, and 2 guests. You guys rock!
Chapter 6
Dick settled behind Tony and Tim as they appeared moments later into the elevator.
Fwwwsh. Ding.
Dick wasn't stupid. In fact, he was far from it. On top of natural inquisitiveness and a sharp mind, he'd been trained by none other than THE Batman, the world's foremost investigator and detective. He could see clues and trails where the general population would see nothing but coincidences and luck, and he could run laps around most police detectives.
It didn't matter. Right now, he could be a first grader and still pick up on the tension emanating from DiNozzo and McGee, exuding from the two agents like toxic fumes, filling the elevator and choking them all with awkwardness. Tim's clenched fists, Tony's hunched shoulders, both of their taut jaws—it didn't take a genius to piece together the fact that the little chat they just had had not exactly ended on a friendly note. Dick knew Ziva beside him was also picking up on the strained nature between the two. Her dark eyes flitted between the pair and then narrowed, but she stayed silent.
Dick also happened to know the brief discussion that had just occurred was about him. Between the glares that had Dick wanting to check for singed clothing and the muttering under his breath, McGee had made it pretty obvious that the young cop was number one right now on his shit list. As crystal clear as that was, Dick just couldn't figure out why. One minute he'd been talking with McGee about security systems, and he'd been very amiable, and the next he'd been getting a stinkeye to rival all others. What had he done to gain McGee's sudden hostility?
The elevator dinged again, and the doors slid open to reveal a long hallway. The team made their way down the industrial gray carpeting to a door labeled Forensics on yellowing paper. Opening the door, they all jumped back when they were met with a loud, piercing screech and a female "Come on!". Previous tension momentarily forgotten, Tim and Tony exchanged loaded looks.
Dick couldn't help but smile. The others were apprehensive, but Dick only had room for excitement. He was about to meet the last piece of the puzzle that was Gibbs' team, the only member left that he hadn't met. Abigail Sciuto, the adopted forensic scientist who had the most interesting credit card bill he had ever seen. Who knew one person could rack up such a charge on Caf Pows and a website named Gothic Topic? He couldn't wait to meet her.
Suffice to say, he was not disappointed. The first word that came to mind was black. Between her dyed black hair (complete with straight bangs and high pigtails), black combat boots, black choker collar, white and black checkered pants and her black eye makeup, Dick was suddenly reminded of a modern Morticia Addams. The outfit was complete with a long white lab coat and (oh my god) a black tshirt with a golden Batman symbol on it. Dick almost choked when he saw it. I love her already. Just wait until I tell Bruce about this. Oh, this is too good!
"Abby? What's the matter?" Dick snapped his attention back to the team as DiNozzo's voice invaded his thoughts.
Abby fixed an incensed glare on what appeared to be an older stereo leaning up against the wood paneled walls. "This. This is the matter Tony. This prehistoric piece of crap is rejecting my CD. It's rejecting my CD and I don't know why." Her voice was lower and rougher than most girls', like rocks on a gravel driveway.
DiNozzo looked a tad uncomfortable. "Oh, sorry Abs."
The goth heaved a sigh theatrically. "Yeah, me too. All I wanted to do was play some Android Lust and pretend I was back in my lab in DC, surrounded by my faithful machines. Here they don't speak to me, you know?" She chewed on her red lips in agitation. Dick wanted to suppress a snort of laughter—she was actually serious about this, wasn't she?
McGee glanced around. "Is that what those are for?" He gestured to black bat streamers hung from various corners of machines and furniture haphazardly.
She looked up. "Oh yeah. Those make it feel a little more homey, you know, more Abby. I was deciding between the black cats and the bats and I decided the bats totally match my superhero theme, what with my Batman shirt and my—" Her focus swung back to the group, and Dick saw the moment her large eyes honed in on him. "Who are you?" Her attention span bounced like a rubber ball off of the walls and all over the room.
Dick stepped out from behind the NCIS agents and outstretched a hand. "Dick Grayson. It's nice to meet you, the famous Abigail Sciuto. Nice shirt by the way." They shook, and Abby never took her eyes off of Dicks'. For a moment, he thought maybe she knew who he was—Richard Grayson, ward of the famously rich playboy Bruce Wayne. He hoped not. He was enjoying the anonymity of being a simple new cop that no one knew, that no one had figured out.
Abby blinked a few times at him. Dick watched as a smile slowly spread across her blood red lips. "Ok, for one, famous? I don't know about famous, but let me just tell you, if there is a right way to sweet talk a girl, that is totally it. For two, I know right? My friend prints them back in DC, and he's got a whole line going for all the superheroes. A Justice League collection, you know? He just put out a new one, and I brought it just for Bludhaven—" A gruff voice interrupted her.
"Hey Abs. What do we got?" Gibbs sidled into the room, stopping beside Richard as he stared not unkindly at Abby.
She smiled at him hopefully. "Caf Pow?" While she spoke, her hands were forming different motions and figures, like an intricate dance. It took a moment for Dick to realize that Abby was signing to Gibbs something completely different than what she was saying aloud. Who's the male model? If you tell me he's here to assist me, I swear I'll throw him off the roof myself. And I'm not above considering disemboweling. Dick smirked. Keep in mind—never offer to assist her.
Gibbs shook his head. "Sorry, couldn't find any on the way in." Dick watched with amusement as his fingers started moving through the air. Put the surgical equipment away. He's not a male model or assistant, just the police officer on scene last night who shot Fernandez. Focus Abby. It was like listening in on a conversation he knew he shouldn't be listening to, but Dick didn't feel the slightest bit guilty. According to them, your average police officer in training doesn't know ASL. Too bad for them he wasn't the average police officer in training. And he didn't feel guilty at all in listening in to the conversation if it was being broadcasted. Guess he really was a troll.
Abby snuck a quick look back at Dick, and he could feel the brief evaluation taking place. He sure hoped he was meeting expectations.
"Hey, ya know, some of us here don't understand your super special secret code. 'Secrets, secrets are no fun', and all that," Tony said with a flippant tone of voice.
"I love you Tony, but that is so not my problem." Abby flipped her attention to a computer screen on the other side of her, much like a child with a new toy as she slid into a computer chair. "Ok, first, I ran all the samples of heroin through Mass Spec, one from every case and on the pavement at the scene, and they were definitely all made from the same batch. Chemical matchup is a 95 percent match."
Tim approached the computer, taking in the charts and numbers with a practiced eye. "So we're looking at hundreds of pounds of heroin in one batch, for one operation."
Abby turned in her chair to face the group, a satisfied gleam in her eye. Dick knew that look—heck, he was a master at that look. That was the face of someone who knew the information before everyone else, and reveled in it. "Oh no. It's sooo much more than that McGee. We're looking at 422.8 pounds of heroin. And this is not your average smack. We're talking high powered, kill-your-neighbors-for-the-next-hit heroin." Somewhere along her excited diatribe, Abby had started gesturing with her hands. "This stuff will have you sweating for more in hours after the first hit. Kind of like my Aunt Gert at Thanksgiving after too much vodka and gin."
Tony stared off into space, obviously picturing Aunt Gert, and his face twisted in disgust. Ziva glanced at him and back at Abby. "What would that look like in a person over a two week period of time?"
Abby delivered a knowing smile Ziva's way. "Exactly where I was headed Ziva. I ran the blood samples from Nicholas and Fernandez. Fernandez's blood was clean of heroin except for trace amounts, but Nicholas…Nicholas' blood was swimming in the stuff. It's no wonder Ducky was so confused—the blood tells us Nicholas' body is an addict, but his body doesn't. Somehow someone upped the addictive quality, like, tenfold. Nicholas had barely been taking in the stuff for two weeks, but he was already shutting down."
"So why bother to kill him? He was already dying—why not let the drug finish him off," Gibbs pondered.
"Maybe he stole some of the supply. He was getting desperate going through the withdrawal symptoms, which he'd probably never experienced before," Tony postulated.
"It's possible, but I somehow doubt it. There wasn't enough heroin there on the pavement for him to have actually stole any significant amount," said Abby.
Dick smiled to himself. The strings of clues were dangling on the ceiling all around them, and Dick was tracing his finger to the center where everything came together at the heart of the crime. The truth. His favorite part.
He spoke up. "He could've been trying to flip on them, and they caught up to him before he could warn anyone. I mean, he is a well-liked, celebrated marine officer, right? So chances are he's an upstanding citizen concerned about the morally right thing to do; he'd end up trying to do what his conscience told him was right. He wouldn't sit by as other people got injected with this stuff, especially not after he went through it."
Ziva looked at him thoughtfully. "That makes sense to me. They would have needed to clean up loose ends, and if Nicholas was a liability to them, they would have had no qualms about silencing him to keep him from alerting officials to their plans."
Abby shoved the rolling chair along the counter, bringing herself to a halt in front of a microscope and a plastic tray. "Speaking of silencing, I ran tests on the knife from the crime scene." She took the knife from the tray, and held it with gloved hands so everyone could see. The silver knife looked even more foreign and strange surrounded by Abby's technology, a relic among (semi) modern science. It looked like it belonged in a museum display case being adored by ten year old boys. "Did I mention how absolutely awesome this thing is? This is like Prince of Persia cool. I can totally picture some badass ninja using it to defeat his foes, battling for his country against sieges of enemies, laying waste to the hordes around him…". She glanced at the surprised faces around her, and shrugged. "What? I'm like a queen on Dungeon Mists MMORPG."
"The knife, Abs," Gibbs intoned. He reminded Dick of a patient father…or grandfather. Bruce and Alfred's face flashed before his eyes, and he forced himself to look back at the knife. Now wasn't the time.
"Oh. Right. Knife." She turned her focus back to the blade. "I pulled Nicholas's blood off of it, so it was definitely what stabbed him in the stomach. Thing is, his wasn't the only blood there. In the space between the blade and the handle there were minuscule traces of blood particles—not enough to get matches on any of the other victims, but enough to tell me there were over 20 other people."
Ziva pursed her lips. "Then we are certainly dealing with an assassin or serial killer of some sort." Dick didn't miss the roll of Tim's eyes, but he wish he had. It was my idea, so of course McGee can't get behind it. Totally putting the dis in disdain dude.
Abby settled the knife back into the tray and rolled back to the computer, where fingerprints were running rapid fire across the screen. "I managed to pull a few partials off of the blade. They're only partials, and they were kind of marred by the grain of the wood, so I'm not expecting anything solid back on those any time—". She was interrupted by the beeping of the computer screen as it displayed 'Matches Found' across the top.
"Well…I stand corrected." She bent over the screen. "They match identical partials found at two other different crime scenes. One is from Montana in 2005, a double homicide where husband and wife Tracy and Dan Stewart were found dead in their living room. Stabbed in the stomach. The other was Tyler Keaton in Gotham, found dead in his car on his way to work a year later. Same MO."
Dick stiffened at the name Tyler Keaton. He remembered that case, not because he had worked it, but because Batman had. Tyler Keaton had worked for a small genetics lab there in Gotham, and it was rumored that he had something big in the works. He had died before the project ever saw completion, or at least that was the theory—his work was gone when others went to search for it. That file was in a small (yet still too large) pile with other unsolved cases from Batman's career, and served as an unspoken reminder to all. And somehow it tied in now with the assassin…but how?
Tony seemed to be in the same frame of mind as Dick. "Are those related somehow? Are we looking at some spiderweb, everything-connects sort of thing?"
Silence enveloped the team as their brains churned, lost in thinking of the implications of the potential for a larger, more complicated plot. Even Dick had to admit, this was starting to look like more than a simple, open and closed case that would end in a matter of days. Drugs were one thing, and not something out of the ordinary for Bludhaven at all, but with the addition of a modified drug, they were now playing with more fire than he'd initially thought…And just when he thought he knew what to expect from Bludhaven.
"Not necessarily. Assassins are often for hire by different individuals and groups that they don't necessarily share ties with. It doesn't mean these people are connected by one plot," reasoned Ziva.
Dick was still and silent as the group continued the conversation around him, and he could hear ideas and theories being bounced around. What Ziva said was true—just because there were people out there like the League of Assassins didn't mean they always exclusively worked for their mentors and colleagues. In general, assassins went where the pay was best and jobs were forthcoming. They didn't ask questions or complicate situations. In and out—that was their way.
Something about this was just giving him a bad feeling. Maybe it was the assassins tied to a drug case, or Tyler Keaton's manila case file on top of Batman's unsolved pile, or even the ever paranoid part of him that had been drilled and trained extensively by Batman, but this case was starting to feel like something more in line with what Young Justice had dealt with. The weird, freaky, supernatural, super-powered problems were all up that alley, and had been something he'd dealt with everyday while with his old team. But this was different. This wasn't Young Justice anymore. This was being presented to him while he was a normal, everyday cop, and there were federal civilians involved. If this ended up being something far more than a drug case…the last thing he wanted was for anyone to get hurt.
The others were still talking around him, and he was sure valid probabilities were being discussed, but the words just weren't penetrating his skull far enough to be translated to English and processed to mean something to him. It was like gnats were buzzing around his ears—there and audible, but not decipherable.
His eyes darted around the room, for what he didn't know, and stopped on something to his left. To the side of the group was a long table laden with plastic evidence bags. On large white labels covering the front of the bags careful Sharpie handwriting detailed the contents of the bag and where it came from, with loopy scrawl indicating a signature for chain of custody. Whoever it was, they were thorough. Bags from both apartments were crowding the long table, and Dick could see everything from a computer to toothbrushes to random sets of key rings. Everything but the kitchen sink.
Dick started rummaging through the bags, examining pieces of mail and little desk bobble heads. Conan. Not bad dude. He didn't know what he was looking for, or even if he was looking for anything at all. Right now, he was just searching, shifting through the scraps they had, waiting for something to click or inspiration to hit. What with everything they'd pulled from Fernandez's house alone, they had to have something. A picture, an address, a piece of paper detailing the entire dastardly plan—whatever it took to figure out what was the next step to take before Bludhaven suffered a hit it couldn't recover from. Dick was far too invested to let that happen.
The next bag he opened was a myriad of cards. Dick shifted through credit cards registered to various names, licenses…What did he need here, a membership card to Villians Incorporated (with 20% off all villainous purchases when you sign up!). No, as nice as that would be, he only needed something that didn't fit, something that didn't belong.
On that thought, he caught sight of a bright neon green card in the pile. He picked it up, and turning it back to the front, he saw that it wasn't a credit card, but an entry card to a company that manufactured fake grass. They had a building down in the industrial district, but as far as Dick knew, they were closed.
He turned around to look at the group conversing behind him. "Hey guys?" Words died on the tip of Tony's tongue as they all looked at him. He waved the neon green card in the air. "Do we happen to have a job history on Mr. Fernandez?" Tony and Ziva gave him curious looks as he tossed the card Abby's way.
Spinning back in her chair, she had a browser pulled up in seconds. "Well, according to his background check, he's never worked for StayGreen Grass, that's for sure." There was more tapping as her fingers blurred across the keyboard. "Actually, the place is just downtown, and it's been closed five years. No reason to keep a security card around that long, right?"
"Not unless he was still using it," Gibbs replied grimly.
"You think we have a potential base of operations? Because an abandoned grass warehouse sounds like drug cartel heaven to me," DiNozzo said.
"To me also," Ziva intoned. McGee nodded, his face surly again now that Dick had rejoined the conversation.
Gibbs gave a single nod. "Alright. Gear up." He quickly marched out of the room, with Tim and Ziva right on his heels. On his way to the door Tony clapped him on the shoulder and sent a jaunty grin his way. "Nice going on the find, kid." And he was out the door.
Dick stared at where everyone had disappeared through, his body frozen. He didn't think Gibbs command also extended to him—it was only through luck and polite courtesy that they'd allowed him to tag along this far. He may have found them evidence and taken down a bad guy (forgive me, Bruce), but he wasn't part of their team. They already had a family, a unit; they didn't need anyone else. It was simply a matter of time before his 'police liaison' status expired, as did his usefulness to them. They already had their base, right? They'd be gone before he knew it.
"Dick?" At Abby's voice, he spun around to face the goth. She was staring intently at him, her eyes wide and eager. Abby was the picture of pure excitement.
"Yeah Abby?"
"Are you Richard Grayson? As in Bruce Wayne's son?" Dick's eyes widened fractionally. Damn it. He knew none of them knowing who he was was almost too good to be true. Figures it would be Abby to figure it out too.
He let out a weak laugh. "Ha…Surprise. You got me." His smile was forced, and he could feel its fakeness poisoning his mood.
Abby let loose a toothy grin and her hands flew loose as she started gesturing. "Seriously? That is so cool! I was actually invited to interview there at Wayne Enterprises for some tech job, and I was seriously considering it because your dad is like one of my major idols. I mean, if it were up to me, I'd have nothing but Wayne tech, but unfortunately I also have a budget assigned to me. You know, I'd seen pictures of you in the papers with your dad, but I also wasn't sure if it was you, because you were a lot younger in the pictures and it's different seeing you in a police officers outfit, not that it looks bad—". Her monologue skidded to a halt as she looked at him again. "Sorry. I do that a lot. I kind of talk when I get nervous."
Dick sent her a small smile. "Really? I hadn't noticed."
She heaved a little sigh. "Yeah. Sorry about that. But seriously. What was it like growing up with Bruce Wayne?" He must have made a small face that Abby interpreted as confusion, because she hastily continued, "Because, I mean, I know you were adopted. It's ok, I was too." Yeah, I know Abby. "Sorry, I'm being insensitive aren't I?"
It's just…wow, he was not expecting this today. "No, no, you're ok, really. Sometimes I just forget that people out there know all about me." Which was stupid, really. Talk about a major lapse in vigilance.
She shrugged. "Everyone has an origin story." At that Dick had to choke back a laugh. You have no idea. She continued on with a smirk. "Most people just don't have theirs on Wikipedia."
Dick's smile unfroze and his laugh was more genuine as he chuckled at Abby. "It's crazy, right? I used to go on there and put random things just to see what I could get away with. For about two months it said my role model was Squidward and my dream job was finding out how to make peanut butter explode, until Bruce found out."
Abby laughed along with him, until her face took on that curious, cautious expression that Dick had come to avoid at all costs. "So really. What is he like? What was it like living with him?"
Thanks Bruce. These were the times he wished Bruce wasn't the posterchild for airhead billionaires. He felt like defending the man who was like a father to him, but at the same time, it was a cover. Bruce felt he had to be seen that way. So it came down to a balancing act of doing him justice and telling people what they expected. "He's honestly pretty normal. I know the papers made him out to be some playboy, but he is pretty great. We play basketball, and spent a lot of time together when I was younger. He's not the ditz everybody thinks he is."
Abby blinked a few times, and the next words out of her mouth he wasn't expecting at all. "Oh I know. Bruce Wayne is a genius, there's no denying that."
All Dick could manage was a confused, "Huh?" Since when did anyone not in the know think that?
She looked at him as if to say of course. "I know that's what people say, but no way. I did my research when they invited me to come work there, and I was impressed. Wayne Foods produces specialized products like ecological foods, and natural lines with no additives, which is super cool, Wayne Tech had gadgets that make my head want to explode just thinking about them, and Wayne Industries was rated the cleanest industrial division in the world. That's not even mentioning the Wayne Foundation, which donates hundreds of millions more than LexCorp every year and helps so many people. Your dad may not own the company, but he does own a majority of the shares, and I think it's not a coincidence his company flourishes."
He was a little shell shocked, but he tried to play it off as smoothly as he could. "Huh. Yeah, when you put it that way…" When you put it that way, how could anyone ever think Bruce was anything less than a brilliant business tycoon? Leave it to Abby to cut right to the facts.
She tilted her head slightly and Dick watched as her pigtails stayed parallel. "Everyone here must be so jealous."
He internally groaned. Yes, everyone would probably be insanely jealous. And that was exactly why he hadn't told. This was his own life, and if no one knew who he was before, then that was that. Here he was a cop, and not the son of a billionaire. He conceded with a half shrug. "Ha, yeah, they probably would be if they knew."
Abby's face, with wide eyes and open mouth, resembled a goldfish. A very, very gothic goldfish. "How can they not know? Why didn't you tell them? They're your teammates, your comrades, your men in arms, your—". She paused and held up her hand, and Dick waited as she seemed to process an idea through her Abby circuitry. When she put her hand back at her side, she scrunched her mouth to one side. "You didn't tell them did you? You kept it a secret from them."
Dick shook his head. "No. It's easier to be my own person this way. No one thinks they already know me based off of what they read in the paper or online. I love Bruce, but right now I'd rather be known as Dick Grayson, cop extraordinaire. He understands that."
Abby nodded thoughtfully, then looked sharply back at him, her eyes alert. "Gibbs and the team don't know, do they?" Dick shook his head no. Abby gave him long look. "You don't want me to tell them, do you?"
Dick internally gulped in a deep breath of fresh air. She really, finally got it. She understood. He flashed her a grateful smile. "If you could keep it between you and me, I'd really appreciate it."
She mimed zipping her lips shut. "Your secret is safe with me. Although, for the record, I don't think it matters. Where you come from is just as important as where you are now. And family is family, no matter who they are or where they're from." Dick's expression froze on his face at that.
"Dick." Gibbs voice came from behind him, and turning, he saw the silver haired man standing in the doorway. "You coming?"
Dick grinned as he followed Gibbs through the door. Time to join his new family.
TBC-
Thank you again for all who've reviewed! It always makes me smile when I see new reviews – I just love reading your opinions on characters, plot, etc, your questions, and ideas you might have. They're what keep me going, and I don't think I can thank you guys enough!
