A/N: Helllooooo! I just might have this up earlier than usual, but you might not want to start expecting it. The only reason this chapter is up quicker is because the computer that I wrote the next chapter of my other story on is currently unavailable for my use. Anyways, enjoy!
I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans, praying that I didn't look as nervous as I felt. I repeated over and over again in my head what I was supposed to say as the director's female assistant stared at me questioningly. Thankfully, I owed her no answers.
"Director Vance will be with you in a just a minute, Sweetie. Is there anything I can get you?" she asked kindly.
"Er, I'm good, thanks," I replied awkwardly. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few endless seconds, until the phone on the desk rang.
"Hello? Yes, sir, I'll send her right in," the director's assistant said into the shiny black desk phone. She nodded to me, signaling that it was okay to enter the office.
Maybe a bit too enthusiastically, I pushed the door open to find Vance, looking as serious and powerful as ever, at his desk. He was leaning back in his black leather chair, with his hands behind his head. On DiNozzo, the action seemed casual and lazy. When Vance did it, it looked more like a dictator overlooking his subjects. Under his confident stare, my stomach churned, and I looked anywhere but into his eyes. In doing this, I spotted something different from the usual case files and desktop on his desk. Three picture frames also decorated his desk. Two of them contained photos of two young children, a boy and a girl, smiling sweetly at the camera. The third was a middle-aged African American woman with kind eyes and a lovely smile.
Vance had a family.
"Max, was there something you wanted to speak to me about?" he asked. I swallowed, trying desperately to hydrate my terribly dry mouth.
"Uh- yes. I'm sure you have heard about the disappearance of your forensic scientist and my two Flock members?" I asked, my voice taking on a cold edge as I remembered why I was here. Relax, Max, I told myself, keep your cool, or the plan won't work. Thankfully, Vance did not seem fazed by my lack of hospitality. He nodded.
"I have," he replied. I waited for him to elaborate, but apparently I would have to be the one to get the ball rolling.
"So, what are you going to do about it? Can't we track them or something?" I asked.
"I already have a team on it," he replied. Doubt it, I thought.
"I'm sorry, let me rephrase my earlier question. What can I do about it? Because if you want a job done right, give it to Max," I said confidently. He stared at me silently, and because I was me, I stared back defiantly.
"Alright, Max. I think I could send you in, but you'll need help." Yes, perfect answer, Vance. I already had a response before the word "help" was out of his mouth.
"I want Gibbs's team to help us," I told him. He scrunched his eyebrows skeptically.
"You seem to have gotten awfully close to Gibbs and his team these past weeks, haven't you? I understand you're not usually one to ask for help," he pointed out. Okay, I had a ready response to that, too. No worries.
"Well, someone close to them was taken, too. It only makes sense for them to be the ones to come with is, doesn't it?" For one horrifying minute, I thought he was going to figure me out. I was never anything close to an actress. But all he did was nod.
"Well, alright. We have a convincing lead on where to find Itex," he told me.
"Excellent. How soon should we set off?" I asked professionally. My confidence had grown with the easy success of our plan.
"As soon as you're ready, I'll have a company car take you as far as they wish, and then you're on your own. That's as much as I can do for you. Are you sure you're up for this, Max?" For a second, his tone sounded sincerely concerned, but I saw the evilly eager glint in his eyes as he said it.
I smiled devilishly. "Hell, yes, sir," I replied.
"Good. You are dismissed," he ordered.
Having gotten what I wanted, I walked out the door and back to autopsy without argument.
"Did he bite?" asked Gibbs, as I entered the cold room. I nodded, smiling victoriously. "Good. Do you think he might be on to us?"
"I don't think so. He still had his good guy act going on," I told him. He nodded.
"Okay, so we know how we're going to get there, but the question is, how do we get in?" asked Tony.
"And get our friends out," added Ziva. I shrugged.
"I figured we'd do what we always do," I said.
"And that would be?" asked Ducky.
"Wing it," Fang supplied for me.
"Wing it? We have to have a general game-plan, don't we? This is a bit too important to mess up," McGee pointed out.
"Oh, don't get you're nerd panties all in a wad, McWorry-Wort. We don't even know what to expect when we get there. We're gonna need to do some on-the-spot-thinkin', anyways," Tony argued.
"When do we leave?" asked Ziva.
"Vance said he'd have a driver for us whenever we were ready. I reckon we give ourselves a night to rest, a day to ready ourselves, and leave tomorrow at noon. We'll strike under the cover of the darkness," I suggested. It was agreed then that we would wait until tomorrow.
"Max, any of you ever shot a gun?" asked Gibbs suddenly.
"What?" I almost yelled.
"From the sound of them, these people play dirty. It'd be best if we were prepared for anything, including a gun-fight," he explained. I frowned. He had a point, but I didn't have to like it.
"I don't trust these kids with guns. Teach me, and I'll cover the rest," I suggested.
"What if you were separated from them? Shouldn't they know how to defend themselves if they find themselves in a dangerous situation?" Gibbs countered.
"Uh-Max?" Gazzy muttered. I ignored him.
"Fine. Teach Fang, too, but an eight-year-old and a seven-year-old don't need to know how to handle guns!" I argued.
"They need to protect themselves!" Gibbs argued.
"Max, can I just say-"
"One minute, Gazzy! If you think for one minute that I'm gonna just let them run around with pistols like the little killing machines that the School wants them to be then you can kiss my a-"
"Max!" Gazzy persisted.
"What do you want, Gazzy?" I asked, a bit too fiercely out of impatience and stress.
"I- uh- I already know how," he said.
"You know how to what?" I demanded.
"I know how to shoot a gun. Jeb taught Iggy and me when we were still livin' in the E-shaped house. I don't need to be taught how to shoot," he told me, as if this were perfectly acceptable. I frowned, chewing my lip and mulling it over.
"Do you think you could teach me?" I asked. He smiled.
"I thought you'd never ask."
A/N: Yeah, I know that there's gonna be some serious mistakes in here, 'cause I didn't edit it and I was watching Firefly while I wrote it, but it's somethin', which is better than nothin'. Plus, it's a filler. So you can see how happy I am with this chapter... Don't worry, the next one will be good. I promise.