Okay. This chapter is slightly longer than the others, and that's half the reason that this wasn't updated over the weekend. the other half is the fact that I had to write a paper for my comp class. (Another reason why I like college so much: I got to write a paper on Batman)
And I was watching the new Twilight trailer like, four hundred thousand times.
Oh, and wanna know something totally random? I was in the grocery store looking for pasta sauces and there was this red sauce that was totally labeled 'Vodka Sauce'. I almost got it...just so when my mother called and asked what I made myself for dinner I could say I had vodka noodles...heehee.
Small things amuse me, as you can see.
Okay. Done rambling on about nothing. You can read the chapter now...
I was sitting in my desk the next day when McGee walked in with the two Marines. I could see that they were confused and angry, having been abruptly hauled back to America with no explanations.
"What are we doing here, Agent McGee?" the first one asked. "Are we suspected of some sort of crime?"
"No, sir," McGee said, and I could tell that he was struggling with Gibbs' orders not to say anything. I decided to step in and relieve the younger agent.
"I'll take it from here, McGee," I said, getting up from my desk and walking over to intercept them. Probie flashed me a grateful look and walked over to his desk and sat down. I saw him pick up his phone, and I guessed he was calling Abby. "Please follow me, gentlemen," I said, dropping into formalities, trying hard to remain passive. I did not envy Gibbs and Vance's duty on this one; I would not want to be the one to tell someone that the love of their life was dead. As I walked up the stairs, I caught Ziva's eye. Her face was contorted in chagrin and sorrow, the exact mirror image of McGee's.
Gibbs was waiting outside Conference Room 1. "In here, Lance Corporals," I said quietly, gesturing through the open doors. Gibbs and I followed them in, but as I made to leave and shut the door behind me, he stopped me.
"Sit down, DiNozzo," he said softly.
Damn it!
I sat down next to Gibbs and across from the pissed Marines, dreading what was about to happen with every fiber of my being.
"What's this about, sir?" Lance Corporal Anderson asked. "We haven't been told anything but 'pack your bags' since we left Iraq! Why did you have us dragged all the way home?"
"Can we at least call our wives and tell them we're stateside?" Baker added.
"You can see your wives in a minute," Gibbs said.
"They're here?" Anderson asked incredulously. "I didn't see them when we walked in."
"They're downstairs…two days ago we found them murdered in your living room, Lance Corporal Baker."
There was a complete and total silence that lasted almost ten seconds―ten agonizing seconds in which the two young Marines digested the terrible information.
"W-what?" Baker said, his voice thick. "No…"
"I'm sorry for your loss," I said quietly, wanting to say something…anything…that could comfort them.
"How did it happen?" Anderson asked.
"We're still working on it, but the cause of death is multiple gunshot wounds to the chest," Gibbs said, slowly. "We brought you back so we could tell you in person and offer our condolences."
"Do you have any idea who could have done this?" Baker demanded, having switched into the 'blind anger' stage of grief extremely quickly. I got the feeling he was a generally hotheaded person.
"Not yet. Did you or your wives have any enemies? Anyone you would suspect?"
"No…Lisa and Debbie were liked everywhere they went," Anderson said quietly. He seemed to be less aggressive than his friend. "I can't think of anyone that would want to…to…"
"Murder them."
"Yeah."
"What about you? Anyone with a grudge against you?"
Anderson thought for a moment. "Well, yeah, but I don't think any of them are extreme enough to commit murder, and most of them haven't even met Lisa or Debbie."
"I'm going to need a list," Gibbs said, sliding a notepad and pen forward.
"I want to see her," Baker demanded.
"After you make the list."
"No! Now! And then I want to kill the bastard that did this."
"Chuck…calm down. This is NCIS," Anderson said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "They'll find who did this. It's their job."
"He's right," Gibbs added. "We will find who did this. We will bring them to justice―you have my word as a Marine."
"You were a Marine, sir?" Baker asked.
"Gunnery Sergeant."
"Desert Storm?"
"Wow…he guessed correctly!" I said, my shock barreling over my promise to myself to keep my damn mouth shut.
All three men turned and stared at me. "It's just…most people want to say Vietnam." Gibbs fixed me with one of his Stares…complete with a capital 'S'. "It's the grey hair, boss…" I trailed off, regaining control of the part of my brain that controlled the shut-the-hell-up function.
"DiNozzo…stay in here with them. When they're done with that list, take them down to Ducky."
"Yes, boss."
To say it was awkward in there would be an understatement. I finally had to stand up and walk to the window, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. I couldn't even imagine what those two Marines were going through right now; mostly because I had never had anyone like that in my life before. I had come close, though. I tried to imagine how I would feel if Jeanne had been killed while I had been undercover, or if…Ziva was killed now.
The knife-shredding-my-insides feeling that came up when I thought about it was not pleasant, and I hurriedly tried to think of something else. Movies. College escapades. Practical jokes to test out on McGee. Anything. Everything. Something.
I don't know how long it was that I stood at the window before Lance Corporal Anderson called my name.
"We have a list, sir," he said. "But I don't want to suspect any of these people."
"I understand, but we need something to go on," I explained, picking up the list of names off the table. "Even the wrong lead is better than no lead at all."
I had totally just made that up, trying to make them feel better, but looking back I guess I've decided that's more or less true. Getting all the wrong people could be frustrating, sure, but not as frustrating as having no one and letting a murder case run cold.
"Can we see our wives now?" Baker asked quietly, seeming to have calmed down some.
If I was a mob boss, I would be putting Gibbs on my hit list after this.
"Right this way," I said, opening the door and leading them to the elevator, stopping only to drop the suspect list on Ziva's desk.
…
Autopsy was silent. Ducky and I stood, detached, over by his desk while the two Marines had some time with the bodies of their wives. Palmer was still absent.
"I hate this part," Ducky said to me. "It's the one aspect of my job that I absolutely despise."
"Mine too," I responded. "It makes me feel like I've failed, somehow."
"In what way, Tony?"
"Well…isn't it our job to make sure this doesn't happen?"
"Your job is to make sure that those Marines get justice, to track down the man who did this and put him behind bars."
Leave it to someone else to have to remind me what I did for a living.
Gibbs walked in then, ever-present coffee in his hand. "Did you get a list?" he asked me quietly.
"Yes boss. Gave it to Ziva. It's mostly just people they got into fights with; they don't believe that any of them actually did it."
"Agent Gibbs?"
"Yes, Lance Corporal Baker?"
"Will you tell us when you catch the bastard?" he asked gruffly.
"You will be kept informed of our progress," Gibbs replied simply.
"I want to kill him."
"You will do nothing of the sort."
"Do you know what it's like to have to live with the knowledge that the one person you could every feel truly happy with is gone forever, never to smile, never to laugh, never to call you in the middle of the night just to hear your voice?" Baker asked. "That is gone for us, Agent Gibbs! I want revenge on the bastard that did this!" His emotions were getting the best of him; his tough Marine wall was breaking down.
Gibbs walked forward to him. I thought that he was going to say that he did understand what they were going through, explain to them about Shannon and Kelly…but he just stared at him silently for a moment before turning and walking out of the room.
Well, I guess I should have expected it. He wasn't Gibbs if he wasn't mysterious, annoying, and silent.
Anderson spoke. "Is he always this―"
"Yes," Ducky and I said at the same time.
"But he seemed so―"
"I know."
"And you work―"
"You get used to it."
…
When I went back up to the squad room, Gibbs and McGeek were nowhere to be seen.
"They are in Abby's lab," Ziva answered my unspoken question as I sat down at my desk.
"Oh."
One of those awkward silences ensued, like in the movies where both sides have the urge to say something, but neither have the courage to say it.
"How did it go?" she asked me quietly, speaking first, her large brown eyes piercing my soul as she look me straight in the eyes for the first time since the team had been reunited.
"It could have been worse," I replied. "Do you have anything from the suspect list?"
"I've narrowed it down to one person," she said, clicking a button and pulling the picture up on the plasma. "The others have alibis at the time of the victims' death."
"What leads you to this guy?" I asked.
"I called the convenience store where he works, and apparently he disappeared five days ago. Did not show up for work, has not been returning any calls."
I dialed Gibbs' number and brought him up to speed. "Ziva and I will get started, boss," I said. "We'll meet you there."
"Address?"
"On your desk, boss."
I heard him hang up. "Let's go, Ziva," I said, grabbing my backpack from behind my desk. She followed me to the elevator.
…
The warehouse that the address had led us to was deserted; no sign of anyone. No tire tracks, no trash, no car... The only sound I could hear came from the seagulls and the crashing of the waves against the docks. Ziva and I walked up carefully to the door.
"NCIS," I announced, knocking. "We're here to speak to a Jared Ryan…?"
No answer.
I knocked again. "Hello?"
"He is not answering, Tony," Ziva said.
"Great detective work, David," I said, a little more sarcastic than I meant. "Though there is the possibility that he's just not here."
"Why don't we just check then?"
"Because we can't," I replied. "As usual, Gibbs didn't feel like waiting for a warrant. We probably wouldn't get it anyway because we don't have a 'probable cause' to nail the guy with."
"But―"
"He could be in there, planning his next move or something and we can't even do anything about it."
"If he is even guilty. Remember, he is just a―"
"Who's there?" A voice called out loudly. "I can hear your voices!"
"Special Agents DiNozzo and David, NCIS," I called back. "We just need to ask you a couple of questions. Are we speaking to Jared Ryan?"
There was no answer.
"Mr. Ryan?"
The door opened, and a man came into view. His eyes unsettled me; they were wide, bloodshot, and had a tint of craziness around the edges, like Jack Nicholson as the Joker in Batman.
"I take it you're here about the two dead Marine wives, right?" he asked.
That was a suspicious move on his part. The deaths hadn't been announced to anyone but Baker and Anderson this morning.
"How did you know about them?" Ziva asked, shifting her weight nervously, her hand slowly reaching for her gun.
"Lucky guess." Jared's hand fidgeted around in his pocket.
Ziva and I both pulled out our guns at the same time, pointing them at him.
"So it's true when they say cops are extremely jumpy," he laughed.
"Hands out where we can see them!" I shouted.
He smiled, and looking back I decided that then would have been a good time to just drop everything and run away. Everything about him was off; he wasn't trying to conceal anything or lead us off the track. He seemed to know and even take delight in the fact that we suspected him. I guess some people were just sickos, taking pleasure in being creepy and homicidal. I suddenly felt like Keanu Reeves in Speed, being faced with Dennis Hopper.
The feeling increased when Jared pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.
I didn't need Ziva's sharp intake of breath to tell me that cell phone wasn't normal.
"I'd run if I were you," Jared said calmly.
"Where is the bomb?" I asked, tightening my hold on my gun. Like it would be any help anyway; it was just comforting to hold it in this tense situation.
"Behind me," he said, stepping slightly to the side so Ziva and I could see inside the warehouse.
There was enough C4 in the middle of the empty building to blow a hole in the world.
"You have ten seconds," Jared said, dialing a couple numbers on the phone in his hand.
I saw something light up.
Without thinking, I grabbed Ziva's hand and began to sprint. The car wasn't safe, there was too much C4 for it to be safely out of range. So I ran straight for the dock, bright neon numbers counting down in my head.
Eight…seven…
"Where are you going, Tony?" Ziva shouted as we ran. I didn't answer. She would figure it out soon enough.
Six…five…
I kept heading for the dock and the Atlantic Ocean.
Four…
Just a little bit farther…
Three…two…
In the second before the explosion, everything was eerily silent. No birds, no cars, no voices…nothing.
One.
Behind us, the world ripped apart. The noise was deafening, and the shock as the force rippled through the earth almost caused me to fall. I could feel the heat behind me as I ran and the wind as the warehouse was forced outward. I leapt off the dock, pulling Ziva behind me, never letting go of her hand.
The water was cold, but I hardly noticed. After being initially submersed we came up for air. Debris followed us out into the water, and I pulled Ziva under the dock and pressed her up against one of the concrete pillars, shielding her with my body. The water came up to the vicinity of our shoulders and was chilly, but the blazing heat from the explosion above us nullified that.
All that I could do know was wait and pray that we had enough cover as chunks of wood and metal continued to rain down on us.
Soooooooo...I totally watched this freaking awesome movie called The Prestige last night and OMG. I'm like, freaking out about it. It was so good. Like amazing. Christian Bale plus Hugh Jackman plus David Bowie? even if the movie wasn't completely awesome I still would have watched it just to stare at them.