Lethal Fractures: Chapter 7
A/N: Just a pre-emptive note about Army uniforms before I get reviews saying "Aren't Army service uniforms green?" or something to that effect: yes, the current US Army service uniform is green, but they are combining them with the dress blue uniform, so that'll be the new class A service uniform. Just means it's something else I have to spend money on...
Major Sonja Gracy slowed her car to a stop at the red light before she glanced into the rearview mirror into the backseat. She smiled slightly, not at all surprised by what she saw. Maddie, as always, had her head down, her attention focused on the open book on her lap. Nate, who couldn't read in the car because he got carsick, had a bored and slightly mischievous expression on his face as he glanced over at his sister before looking down at his lap. Gracy didn't know what he held there, but figured he was up to no good. "Don't even think about it, Nathanael," she warned. He jumped slightly, a guilty expression on his face, and she had to smirk as she knew he was wondering how she knew what he was planning on doing. She'd go on letting him think that his mother had mind-reading powers for a couple more years yet.
Traffic had just started moving again when she heard the familiar beeping sound of her phone, currently routed through the car's built-in Bluetooth system, a feature she deemed necessary when shopping for a car more than two years before. Her beloved BMW SUV, which she had driven since graduating from medical school, hadn't made the move to Hawaii, where fuel-efficiency was the most desirable feature in a vehicle. "Gracy," she said after pressing a button on her steering wheel.
"It's Gibbs," the disembodied voice replied through the car's speakers. In the backseat, Maddie's head snapped up with sudden interest. Although she had only spent a brief period of time in his presence, Maddie had taken an instant liking to the NCIS special agent for reasons that Sonja could never quite explain. Maybe it was because of his role in capturing her father's killer—her own personal Butzemann—and thus ending the nightmare that the child had been in for over a year. Or maybe she had sensed a loss in him that mirrored her own: a daughter without a father, a father without a daughter.
"Hi, Agent Gibbs!" she said brightly. "It's Maddie."
There was a brief pause, followed by a subtle change in his usual no-nonsense manner. "Hello, Maddie. How are you?"
"Good," she replied. Getting used to talking on the phone without a phone being present had taken Sonja awhile to get used to, but it never seemed to bother her children. The benefits of growing up with the technology, she figured. "Mom just picked us up from swim practice. I got to swim with the eleven and twelve years today. I'm the only nine-year-old who got to swim with them." Her voice was full of pride at that fact. Ah, to be nine and to have that be your only concern, Sonja mused.
"Maddie, I don't think Agent Gibbs called to ask you about swim practice," she said patiently. "Something I can do for you, Gibbs?"
"We were wondering if you'd be able to come in." She stifled a sigh at the request, which she had half-suspected since answering the phone, and involuntarily glanced at her watch. Time with her children, limited as it already was, was something she didn't like wasting.
"We're on our way over to Henderson Hall to stop by the MCX for some back to school shopping and pick up a few things for the house," she told him. She didn't think there was an Exchange in the world to rival the Navy Exchange at Pearl Harbor, but the Marine Corps Exchange just outside Arlington National Cemetery was by far the best around. She didn't mention the planned stop by the cemetery before heading home. Some things went without saying.
"We'll try not to take too much of your time," he replied. This time, she did sigh; not only was the Navy Yard completely out of their way on the other side of the District, but she had spent enough time around criminal investigations to know that 'not taking too much time' invariably meant she'd lose a precious few hours. And with it being Monday afternoon and school starting on Wednesday, those hours were quickly dwindling.
"Gibbs, I've got the kids in the car, and—"
"Bring them in. It won't be a problem."
"Please, Mom?" Maddie asked, giving her mother a wide-eyed pleading look.
"The last time Nate was at NCIS, he was running around completely uncontrolled," Gracy reminded the NCIS agent.
"I was not!" the almost-seven-year-old protested indignantly.
"Yes, you were," Maddie patiently contradicted.
"Was not!"
"Were too!"
"Ruhe!" Gracy barked at both of them, commanding them to be quiet in German. They both stopped talking. She sighed again as she flipped on her turn signal to change lanes. "Fine, Gibbs, we're coming in, but it better just be a short visit. And if anyone complains about not being able to get any work done, don't say I didn't warn you."
---
Almost as soon as the elevator doors opened, two children came pouring out, followed by a tall woman wearing a blue uniform and unamused expression.
Although it had been more than two and a half years since she had been in the building, Maddie Gracy confidently made her way toward the grouping of desks closest to the stairs leading to the lofted area above. "Hi, Agent DiNozzo," she said with the polite air of a child who had been taught the importance of respecting adults.
"Hello, Miss Gracy," he replied just as formally, which made her grin. "You're a lot taller than you were last time I saw you." She was also more tanned and had more freckles, but the long black hair and surprisingly blue eyes were the same.
"I was only seven then," she said with a serious nod. "Now I'm nine and a half. And I'm starting the fourth grade on Wednesday."
"Fourth grade, huh?" he said, putting on a falsely thoughtful expression. "That's when you learn about calculus and world politics and start learning French, isn't it?"
"I don't know what calculus is," she replied. "And I don't know French. But Mariana, our new nanny, she's from the Dominican Republic, so she's going to be teaching us Spanish. At least, that's what Mom says she supposed to do, but Mom says she's a bit of a flake."
"French is easy to learn," Ziva declared as she approached from the lounge. She had skipped lunch and finally gotten hungry enough to justify a trip to the vending machine. "Although it is quite different from German."
"I also learned Arabic," the girl declared proudly to the Mossad officer. "Jadda was living with us while Mom was deployed, so that's what we spoke with her." She rattled off a long sentence in Arabic, ending it with a grin on her face. As the Jordanian dialect Maddie had spoken was similar to the Palestinian Arabic Ziva grew up with, she found it easy for them to converse.
"You let your kids learn a language you don't speak while you were gone?" DiNozzo asked Major Gracy, amused. "And what's with the uniform? You just get out a meeting at the Pentagon or something?"
She did have to admit that the dark blue service uniform she was wearing was quite the change from the civilian clothes the NCIS agents had mostly seen her in during the three months she worked with them, with the gold leaves of her rank against the maroon shoulder tabs of the medical corps, the neat rows of ribbons and shiny pins, the thin gold and maroon stripes near her wrists. Maybe because the uniform change had been so recent, but it still felt a lot more formal to her than the old green service uniforms that just went out of issue. It was pretty hot, too, especially for an August afternoon. "Actually, I learned quite a lot of Arabic while I was in Iraq," she commented, "although Iraqi Arabic is a bit different from the Jordanian variety. And as far as the uniform, we were on our way over to Arlington." Although the uniform was, by no means, a requirement at the National Cemetery—especially considering the numbers of tourists in tank-tops and shorts she would see—she always did it out of a sign of respect. "Where's Gibbs, anyway? He asked us to come by, then doesn't even make an appearance?"
"I'm right behind you, Gracy." She spun quickly at the voice, finding herself face-to-face—she had a bit more height in her black pumps than her combat boots—with NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. "I see you finally got your Combat Medical Badge."
She glanced down at the shiny silver pin attached to her chest and smiled slightly. "That's right," she said with a nod. "Finally got to replace my Expert Field Medical Badge. Our convoy was under attack one night. I really confused some Iraqi insurgent—I don't think he was expecting the soldier who shot him to start rendering first aid. So, what do you need me for?"
He nodded slightly, but she didn't know if that was at the story or to acknowledge the question. "You recognize this logo?" He handed over a photo, an enlarged image of the hospital patch that had been on Staff Sergeant Jasper's shirt.
"Of course. That's FH-3. It was on my route. I was usually there every other Tuesday. Why?"
"That was on Sergeant Jasper's shirt. He was deployed from September 2009 to October 2010."
"You think I might have known him?" she asked with a frown. He shook his head.
"Doubt it. He was an engineering sergeant. The shirt's from a race. The—"
"Midnight half-marathon?" she guessed, a small smile on her lips. "That was the most popular sporting event around. More of a social activity, really—people signed up so they could meet up with friends stationed at other bases. I ran it with a couple of other doctors from Ibn Sina. If you're asking if I saw him there, the answer is maybe, but there's no way to be sure. There were hundreds of runners from all services and branches."
"Actually, I was wondering if you remembered Captain Rodriguez. We think she might have been there, too."
She frowned, trying to remember, before giving an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, Gibbs, I couldn't tell you. Maybe if I had known she was an Army captain, she would have made more of an impression, but it was one of those 'we are all equal' type of events. You left your rank at home." She thought for a moment before remembering something. "All of the finishers got an email with the results—everyone's finishing time and place overall and by age and gender group. I think I saved mine. I can forward it to you so you can see if Rodriguez really was there. And if she finished with roughly the same time as Jasper, maybe they ran together for awhile. Could be where they met." She frowned slightly. "Is that all?"
"Actually, Abby found something on Jasper's clothing that you might want to take a look at."
As she followed him toward the elevator, she glanced back at her children. "Be good for Agents DiNozzo and McGee and Officer David," she ordered. She heard two obedient "Yes, Mom"s in reply.
"Come on, I'll show you something," she heard DiNozzo say as the elevator doors closed. She turned to Gibbs.
"Please tell me he's not to be teaching them how to make farting noises with their armpits or something."
Gibbs smiled at the thought before saying, "Nah. He's probably just going to teach them how to steal from the vending machine."
She thought about that for a moment before she shrugged. "Well, at least it's a useful skill."