Gibbs expected DiNozzo to return to work with the same kind of fanfare he had every other morning since he had started at NCIS, arriving at the last possible minute, distributing breakfast and bonhomie from the moment he stepped off the elevator. So, when he came in on the third day to see his junior agent already installed in his desk, head bowed as he worked his way silently through a pile of requisition requests, he narrowed his eyes slightly. Slipping unseen back into the elevator, Gibbs figured a small detour was in order.
Fifteen minutes later, he returned bearing a large brown paper bag. He put a large coffee and a steak sandwich on his own desk before making a bee-line for DiNozzo. Pulling out a hot tea and one of those breakfast burritos he liked, he watched as the younger man took in the peace offering before looking up at him, eyes wide with grateful surprise. Gibbs gave him a small smile, just enough to let him know he had been missed.
"Don't get used to it." He warned.
"Wouldn't dream of it." Tony assured him.
"Gibbs brought breakfast?" Roberts asked, as she arrived, taking in the Styrofoam cups and paper wrapped packages at each of their places, before looking at her conspicuously empty desk. "Hey, where's mine?"
"You're late," Gibbs pointed out, as he settled himself at his desk. "You get your own breakfast."
"One minute," Roberts protested. "I had to wait for the elevator."
"So," Gibbs was unrepentant. "Take the stairs."
After that, the day proceeded as normal, until they finally got a call that took them out to the woods at Quantico. Gibbs remained tight lipped and expressionless as he surveyed the crime scene. The young Marine lay sprawled on his back, his eyes staring sightlessly upward as the dried blood from various wounds and abrasions tainted the air with a copper tang.
"Time of death, Duck?"
"Honestly, Jethro, I've only just got here," Mallard protested. "I'm not even sure that the poor boy was murdered yet. His injuries, while most unpleasant are hardly enough to explain his demise."
"There could be any number of causes," DiNozzo suggested. "Blood loss, gross trauma, internal injuries, cardiac arrest .."
"You think he died of fright?" Dawn scoffed, causing Tony's eyes to narrow dangerously. "DiNozzo, this kid was a Marine, they don't scare easily. And Matthews had already survived two tours in the gulf. Sniper training at Quantico should have been a walk in the park for him."
"Well, something obviously killed him," Tony shot back. "I don't know how Homicide works here in DC but back in Baltimore we usually took the dead body as a pretty good starting point."
"Ducky already said he needed more time to establish cause of death." Dawn protested.
"Well, we can rule some things out, he wasn't hit by a tree, mauled by bears, caught in a forest fire, eaten alive by termites, drowned a brook, lost in quick sand, or struck by lightening. Of course, he could have been bitten by a snake, poisoned by berries, .." DiNozzo trailed off as Gibbs stepped up right up into his personal space and fixed him with a steady look. "I'll stop now."
"You do that." Gibbs agreed.
"There's no sign of any vehicle," Roberts looked around the area in vain for any sign of tyre tracks. "How did he get out here?"
"He ran." Gibbs deduced. This part of the woods was more isolated but the trails were still passable for those wanting to push their fitness to the next level.
"Maybe he saw something he shouldn't," Roberts wondered at a motive. "Or maybe someone was chasing him?"
"Those don't look like the sort of bruises you'd get from a random attack," Tony observed.
"Indeed not," Mallard acknowledged. "There's not a mark on his face or arms. Whoever did this was being remarkably careful for such a frenzied beating."
"Some sort of hazing, Duck?" Gibbs asked.
"Perhaps," Mallard frowned. "Although, given the number and severity of the bruising I might suggest some sort of chastisement. Perhaps, the poor boy didn't live up to someone's expectations."
"If that's the case, he probably wouldn't be the only one, for someone with his record to screw up the bar must have been set pretty high." Dawn observed. She frowned as she looked through her notes. "According to his jacket he recently put in a request for a transfer. Guess he wasn't happy about something."
"He got any family?" Gibbs asked.
"Next of kin is his wife Carol Matthews," Roberts told him. "They've been married for three years. She just gave birth to their first child."
Gibbs didn't need to look at DiNozzo to feel him flinch. It had only been a few weeks since he had buried his partner, his heavily pregnant wife at the graveside. He watched with pride and no small degree of sympathy as the former detective pushed aside his own feelings to focus on the case.
"Sniper training at Quantico is led by a Captain Daniel Connors. According, to the Base Commander the men have nothing but respect for his leadership style," Tony reported, not even glancing at his notes. "I guess laying down the law with your fists and your belt could do that for a man."
Gibbs gave him a sharp look, but DiNozzo was looking at the body and didn't see his concern. He wanted to believe the former detective was drawing on his experiences as a beat-cop, but given what he had already discovered about David DiNozzo he couldn't help but wonder if the real truth lay closer to home.
"Dawn, photos," He ordered. "DiNozzo, you laser and sketch."
"On it," Tony acknowledged to his already retreating back. "And what are you going to be doing?"
His back still turned, Gibbs grinned a little at the audacity of his newest Agent. It was good to know DiNozzo's suspension hadn't dented his confidence too much. Gibbs wanted to raise him up right not crush his spirit. Without bothering to turn around he tossed over his shoulder.
"Getting coffee."
It took most of the morning to process the crime scene. Then Gibbs sent DiNozzo and Roberts off to the base to question the other members of Matthews' unit whilst he headed back to NCIS in the hope that his physical presence might be enough to persuade Mallard to part with at least some initial findings. As he entered the room to see his own cadaver largely untouched he looked enquiringly at the MD.
"I'm afraid you are just going to have to be patient," Mallard greeted him. "I had to give Agent Pacci's case priority I was just getting to our poor unfortunate Corporal Matthews now."
"Can you give me anything, Duck?"
"Well," Mallard pursed his lips as he looked at the body. "Very little I'm afraid. As far as I can tell under all those bruises there is no obvious indication of any fatal injury. He wasn't a smoker and his weight was well within healthy limits. According to his last physical, he had no hereditary or congenital abnormalities. All in all, this was a young man in excellent physical shape."
"You mean, apart from being dead?" Gibbs clarified.
"Quite," Mallard looked thoughtfully at the body. "If you want my 'gut feeling' Jethro, our healthy young Marine died of a heart attack."
"A little young for that, isn't he, Duck?"
"The human body is a remarkable machine but even the most finely tuned examples are not infallible. Given the recent heat wave and the fairly obvious signs of dehydration and blood loss any prolonged activity could put an intolerable strain on the healthiest of hearts."
"Someone pushed him to his limits and left him to die?" Gibbs surmised.
"Indeed." Mallard looked grim. "Of course, I'll know more once I've opened him up."
"Roberts and DiNozzo are at the base now questioning the CO and the rest of Matthews' unit. If there's anything to be found there, they'll find it."
"And how is young Anthony doing?" Mallard asked with a calculated disinterest that didn't fool Gibbs for an instant. Something about DiNozzo was bothering the MD. He straightened slightly, weighing his next words carefully as he watched his old friend for a reaction.
"Abby thinks he's lonely."
"That's because our Abigail is a very astute judge of character." Ducky agreed. "Think about it Jethro, in the last few weeks that poor boy has had his whole life ripped away from him. Everything he knew and held dear gone forever, we can only imagine how difficult that must be for him."
"He's had some practice, Duck." Gibbs said cryptically.
According to his background checks, DiNozzo had not only lost his mother aged ten and been disinherited by his father at twelve, but was subsequently sent away to boarding school at fourteen, managed to get himself expelled and had to start over at a new school at sixteen. After graduating he'd had a few decent years at College before starting a pretty rootless career as a cop, moving from Peoria, to Philly and then Baltimore, never staying in the same place longer than a couple of years.
"Do any of us ever truly become accustomed to loss?" Ducky wondered.
Gibbs was saved from having to answer that by the ringing of his cell. Pulling it out of his pocket, he nodded at the MD and headed out towards the elevator as he answered in his customary style.
"Yeah, Gibbs."