Consequences of Love and War: Chapter 2
A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and well-wishes from the opening chapter! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. As for me, I'm currently exhausted from being at the hospital for far too long dealing with patients that are far too sick (seriously, I don't see how anyone would consider critical care for a career), but there is good news: tomorrow is a day off, which means I get to clean my place, relax, and most importantly, write! Hopefully my muse agrees with that plan.
There are some things about this chapter that may seem a little confusing, but hopefully things will straighten themselves out in the next couple of chapters. Enjoy!
NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee walked into the middle of a battle. Not a literal battle, of course; there were no bullets flying through the air, no soldiers in camouflage uniforms loading weapons, no tanks rolling by. No, this was something much more innocuous, and unfortunately for McGee, much more common.
"I told you not to touch my stapler!" Special Agent Tony DiNozzo raged, waving his Mighty Mouse stapler as if it were the most precious thing in the world. "You know that it requires a special touch, and now the damned thing is so screwed up it won't even close all the way!"
"For the fourth time, Tony, I did not touch your stapler," Mossad Officer Ziva David replied forcefully. She picked up her own stapler, a standard black Swingline that she had probably found with her desk. "I have my own stapler, and it was not made for the 'back to school' section at Target!"
"And you were complaining yesterday that it was out of staples," DiNozzo shot back. "You got here two hours early this morning—how do I know that you didn't have something to staple and just reached for the nearest loaded stapler—mine!"
"I got here two hours early because I had a call in MTAC and had to come in to do the job for which I am paid," Ziva replied, her voice cold. "You should know that, because you could not stop complaining about it last night. I did not need to use another stapler, because mine is full." She tore the black stapler open to show him the line of unused staples. "Unlike some people, I do know how to refill a stapler!"
"Well, if it wasn't you, then who was it?" Tony demanded. McGee settled in and leaned back, enjoying the show. He wondered if there was something behind the argument, or if it was their usual arguing for the sake of arguing. He wondered how two people who had managed to perfect the art of fighting remained in a relationship—or even in a working relationship, for that manner—for so long without killing each other.
"I do not know, Tony!" Ziva exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in her frustration. "I was not assigned to your Mickey Mouse stapler's security detail this week!"
"Mighty Mouse," DiNozzo corrected through clenched teeth. The two continued to glare at each other across their respective desktops, ignoring the glances of curious on-lookers.
"You two need to get a room," McGee muttered under his breath. At least, he thought it was under his breath until they both turned their glares at him. As one, they both began to move slowly toward his position. Great, he thought, swallowing nervously, they're frustrated and taking it out on me. Good thinking, McGee. No wonder they still call you 'Probie' after so many years as a field agent.
"What was that, McGiggle?" DiNozzo demanded.
"Uh, I just think that, uh—"
"Stand down, DiNozzo. I'm not helping you two hide the body." All three straightened as Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs strode into the bullpen, his timing impeccable and his cup of coffee still steaming. "By the way, DiNozzo, your stapler doesn't work right. Think the damned thing's broken." Ziva smiled triumphantly as she returned to her desk. Tony gave her another brief glare before taking a seat behind his own. "What've you got?" His demand was met with silence from all three field agents. "Well?" he asked harshly.
"Uh, Boss?" DiNozzo said tentatively. "On what? We don't have a case." Gibbs just glared at him as if he should know better before leaving just as abruptly as he arrived, his three agents all watching him walk away with confused expressions on their faces.
"Is there some sort of 'career-building' or 'interpersonal-relations' seminar today that we don't know about?" Tony finally asked. "Does he want us to find a case?"
"I do not know, but I think that is a good idea. I would not want to be us if we are expected to and do not," Ziva replied, turning to her computer. McGee nodded his silent agreement as he similarly checked the list of open cases on the NCIS database. Stolen digital camera at the Henderson-Hall MCX… not worth enough. Sailor UA from Pearl Harbor… it has potential, but definitely someone else's jurisdiction. Bar fight outside Quantico… Damn. Slow week of Navy crime. He wondered when that nagging guilt about wanting someone dead to make his working day easier stopped, well, nagging.
He glanced up in time to see a man being escorted from the elevator toward the stairs leading to the loft and frowned. There was something familiar about the lean man in his late thirties or early forties, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. He had no distinguishing marks or features, he was built similarly to countless Marines and sailors his age, wearing well-fitted clothes that weren't over-the-top or obviously tailored. His expression was one of not-quite-concealed concern; he didn't look like he was being brought in for any sort of crime. He frowned as it hit him. "Hey, guys, is that Gregory Aachen?"
Both Tony and Ziva glanced at the man before looking back at McGee. "The novelist?" Ziva finally asked.
"Yes! We have the same publisher. I think we met at some sort of writer's meeting a year or so ago." He frowned, trying to match the image of the man he had met with the one who had just walked by. They could be the same guy, but he wouldn't swear on it.
"Why is a novelist at NCIS?" Ziva asked, vocalizing the question he had been asking himself. DiNozzo just snorted.
"I ask myself that every day I have to work with McGemcity here," he said, bolting a thumb in McGee's direction, who just rolled his eyes.
"It might not be him," McGee said helpfully. "I just talked to him for a few minutes, and that was a year ago."
"Well, there is a way to find out." Both DiNozzo and McGee turned toward Ziva, who had opened a new search on her computer. "Authors have websites, yes? Maybe Aachen's will mention a connection to the Navy."
"Good thinking," Tony commented as he moved to the other side of her desk, taking up position right Ziva, resting his chin on her shoulder. "How did people get any work done before Google?"
"They had to use their imaginations to figure out how to do searches, Tony, although I'm guessing that's a concept you're not familiar with," McGee said dryly. DiNozzo shot him a brief glare before returning his attention to the computer screen. McGee had to admit, if only to himself, that he was impressed that Ziva thought about looking up Aachen. He also moved to where he could see the monitor, but unlike Tony, kept his distance from Ziva's chair.
"I'd say that's the same guy, McGiggle," Tony commented as the home page of Gregory Aachen's fan club came up. Sure enough, the man they had seen crossing the squad room was sitting at a long table with a microphone. The caption read: Gregory Aachen makes a rare appearance at a local writer's workshop. He pointed at the words. "Do we know where 'local' is?"
"Let me see…" Ziva's voice trailed off as she quickly skimmed the page. She triumphantly pointed. "The workshop was in Rockville."
"So by 'local', they mean local," Tony said thoughtfully. "Lots of military in the metro DC area."
"Doesn't mean he's one of them, Tony," McGee pointed out. "Ziva, click on that. The 'about Aachen' link." She dutifully clicked and the three read the page silently. Most of the information seemed to be fans' speculation, mostly pulling together information from a few random interviews and public appearances, as he apparently valued his privacy and never did anything to jeopardize that. There was even quite a lot of speculation about whether or not 'Gregory Aachen' existed. There were some who claimed that he was real and that his name really was Gregory Aachen, citing random sightings or childhood memories with the man as proof, but most, including the three agents reading the fan site, believed that it was pseudonym, although only a few hazarded guesses as to where it came from or what it meant. Along those lines, there were some rumors of where his real-life employment was, or even if he had another job, as well as speculation about past military history. One fan claimed to have served in the Marine Corps with the real-life version of 'Gregory Aachen', but refused to identify which unit they served in or the author's real name.
"One of his novels was about an enlisted Army soldier who had an affair with a military physician during the Vietnam conflict," Ziva said suddenly, remembering the book she read a year or two before. "He is married. Maybe his wife is a physician in the Navy."
Tony frowned and turned to face her. "How do you know he's married?"
"He had a ring on his finger, Tony."
"I'm going to pretend not to be worried that you checked."
A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. "I am observant, Tony. It is my job."
"DiNozzo!" They all looked up to see Director Leon Vance standing next to the author in question against the railing. "Where's Gibbs?"
Tony shrugged. "No idea. He did a fly-by and left. I'd check the coffee shop."
"He had coffee, Tony."
"You think he couldn't have drained that already, McState-The-Obvious?"
Vance grunted as he began to descend the stairs, the guest following close behind. "Tell him to come to my office when he reappears. In the meantime, I have an assignment for you." They all grabbed paper and held their pens ready to jot down any information they might need. "Lt. Alyse Aachen, MD. Stationed at Camp Phoenix, Afghanistan."
Their eyes all went to the novelist standing silently by their director's side before returning to Vance. "What about her, Director?" DiNozzo finally asked.
"She went missing this morning—well, this morning in Afghanistan. Nobody's seen her since. You need to find her. Consider it top priority."
Again, they all lapsed into silence, not wanting to ask what they were all wondering with the unknown man standing there. DiNozzo, as the senior field agent, was the one who finally vocalized it. "It's only been a few hours, Director. How do we know she didn't just wander off? She could be back already for all we know."
"She's not." They directed their attention at the previously-silent man standing by Vance. "And she didn't just 'wander off'. I was talking to her via the webcam in her office when she was abducted." He looked down to pull something from his black shoulder bag, completely missing the surprised looks on the NCIS agents' faces. He pulled out a small USB jump drive. "I have the video, if it'll help you believe me."
They all continued to stare as Vance and the man they knew as Gregory Aachen descended the stairs. "McGee, take the video down to Ms. Sciuto's lab. See what you can get from it. DiNozzo, David, work with Mr. Kirkan up here. He'll explain everything."
"Ordering my team around, Leon?" Gibbs returned from places unknown, coffee still in hand. There was no way of knowing if it was the same cup as before, or if Tony's speculation was correct in that he had drained the previous one already.
"Someone had to do it, and I didn't see you around," Vance replied dryly. Gibbs ignored him and turned to the man Vance had identified as Kirkan.
"Called some people in Kabul. Still no leads."
Kirkan nodded. "I understand."
"We'll find her."
An almost sad smile crossed Kirkan's face. "I know, Gunny. Why do you think I called you instead of the NCIS switchboard? The only question, what condition is she going to be in when we do?" He set his jaw as he glanced away, clearly not wanting to consider the possibilities. "Alyse is everything to me. If something happens…" his voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought. A hard look appeared in Gibbs' eyes.
"I'm not going to let anything happen, Marine. You have my word." He stared at Kirkan for a long minute. Without changing his gaze, he began barking out orders. "McGee, the video to Abby. Ziva, DiNozzo, I want to know everything about Dr. Aachen's deployment, everything she did and everyone she talked to, every day of those six months. Kirkan, you're with me."
"Gunny, I can—"
"Now you start standing up for yourself?" The writer flushed at the words, but when Gibbs waved him toward the elevators, he followed obediently. DiNozzo waited until the elevator doors closed before turning to his teammates.
"What was that about?" he asked in wonder. Ziva and McGee just looked at each other before turning toward their desks. Neither bothered attempting to answer him.