Consequences of Love and War: Chapter 44
Ziva David wondered if she should be concerned about the Marine escort from the gate or if it was standard procedure while the base was under lockdown. Either way, the young private first class wasn't saying anything, despite her best efforts to get him to talk. She was beginning to think that Gibbs' silence was more a function of his Marine training than any personality trait.
"This way, ma'am," the private first class said, nodding toward the road to the hospital. Ziva quirked an eyebrow as she hitched her small duffle bag further up on her shoulder; she was hoping that meant that they were taking her to see Dr. Aachen, as opposed to checking into the Hotel Detainee.
They crossed through the entry—Ziva couldn't bring herself to call it a 'door', as the entire hospital was a series of interconnected and air-conditioned tents—of the large-ish Combat Support Hospital, where the private first class straightened to attention. "Sir," he said to the Navy medical service corps officer, "Mossad Officer Ziva David."
"Lieutenant Chris Crosslin," he greeted, offering his hand and dismissing the Marine with a nod of his head. "And before you say anything, no, I haven't forgiven my parents for that name." She frowned and made a mental note to ask Tony if that was some sort of pop culture reference. "Thanks for coming, and sorry about the necessity of the guard. The base was attacked a couple of hours ago, although we have yet to find any damage, with the exception of a couple of holes in the wall."
"I am sorry to hear that," Ziva replied, hoping that she only imagined the slight smirk in her voice.
"Yeah," Crosslin replied. "Seems to be a common occurrence these days. Anyway, while the MPs were investigating the attack, they came across Dr. Aachen, being held in an empty hutmet. Talk about your happy coincidences."
"Yes," Ziva said with a nod, hoping that he didn't make a Gibbs-like realization that he didn't believe in coincidences. "How is Dr. Aachen?"
"Surprisingly well," the lieutenant informed her. "Her biggest complaint was a headache, believe it or not. I understand that you've been working on her case from DC?"
"Yes," she said again, deciding not to get into how they recently found evidence that the physician was being held on base but General de la Cruz refused to believe it.
"The doctors are holding her in the treatment bay overnight, just to be safe," Crosslin continued. "Her husband is with her now and suggested that we give you a call to let you know about the development." They stopped outside the open treatment bay, where Crosslin nodded toward the one occupied cot and the man sitting watch next to it. "You can go in and say hi, if you want."
"No," Ziva replied softly, her eyes still on the couple. "I do not want to wake her." And risk her recognizing my voice, she thought but didn't vocalize. Kirkan still hadn't looked up, probably not even realizing that Ziva was there, he was that focused on his wife. He had a slight smile on his face as he watched her sleep, probably still not believing that after every thing that had happened over the last week, after all the dead ends and empty leads, that she was not only found, but found almost entirely unharmed.
There was something about Kirkan's vigil that reminded her of the one thing she still had to do before she could go back home. "May I use your phone?" she asked, removing her eyes from Kirkan and Aachen and turning toward Crosslin. She had her cell phone, of course, but even with her international SIM card, reception in Afghanistan was shaky at best.
"It's DSN only," the MSC officer said as he gestured toward a small office area, where Ziva dialed the DSN for NCIS headquarters from memory, following it up with Tony's extension when the line connected. She had no idea what time it was in Washington, nor did she care enough to figure it out; she knew that Tony would be there.
"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," he greeted, somehow sounding fatigued and worried in those four words.
"Hello, Tony," she said. She could see him at his desk, leaning over his keyboard as he tried to find something to do to keep his mind occupied while she was off playing vigilante on the other side of the world.
"Ziva," he replied, and now she pictured him straightening quickly, probably hitting his head on something or nearly tumbling out of his chair as he did so, and she smirked slightly. "Good news?" She could hear the next part of his question without him saying it—"or do you need someone to bail you out?"—and felt a guilty pang at what she had put him through.
"Dr. Aachen was found," she reported, knowing that LT Crosslin could hear her and was trying to pretend that he couldn't. She ignored him. "She is at the hospital now and is doing well."
"Good," Tony replied with obvious relief. "Kirkan with her? They get Jenkins and his accomplice?"
"Yes, and I do not know," she replied. She almost slipped up and identified the other kidnapper as HM2 Stemplinski before remembering that she wasn't supposed to know that. "They have not told me."
Her words were met with a long stretch of silence. "Okay," he finally said. "You sticking around until you find out, or are you coming home?"
"Burley and his agents can take it from here," she said. "I will be home as soon as I can arrange transport." She paused for a second before adding, "Get some sleep, Tony. It is over."
"Yeah," he replied, and she knew from his tone that sleep was probably the last thing he'll be doing. She just hoped that he'd be able to focus his insomnia on something constructive, like getting the reports finished so she wouldn't have to deal them when she got home. He cleared his throat. "I'm glad you're okay."
In her peripheral vision, she saw Kirkan lean forward in his chair and press his lips briefly to his wife's forehead before righting himself. "Me, too."
---
The squad room was darkened for the evening, the only sounds coming from the vacuums of the night cleaning crew, the dysrhythmic clicking of two keyboards, and the lilting voice of the ZNN reporter coming from the plasma screen. "Naval authorities have confirmed the arrest of Navy Hospital Corpsman Second Class Jason Stemplinski and Army Specialist Adam Jenkins in the abduction of Dr. Alyse Aachen, a Navy physician deployed to Afghanistan and the wife of reporter and novelist Peter Kirkan. Both were enlisted medical personnel who had worked with Dr. Aachen at Camp Phoenix, outside Kabul, Afghanistan. There is no word yet as to why Stemplinski and Jenkins held Dr. Aachen hostage, although it is rumored that it has to do with her husband's success as a novelist. Ironically, the two medics were not arrested as a result of the investigation into Dr. Aachen's kidnapping, but were found incidentally during a search of the base after it came under attack. The Navy's Judge Advocate General Corps has not yet formally charged the two medics, but Mark Coldren, our correspondent in Afghanistan, is sure that both are facing dishonorable discharge and life imprisonment in a federal penitentiary. Dr. Aachen is reported to be unharmed and is taking two weeks of R&R leave at an undisclosed location with her husband before she returns to her duties at Camp Phoenix. Reporting from ZNN headquarters, this is Alexa Dias."
"Naval authorities," DiNozzo scoffed as he hung up the phone and rose from his chair. "Why is 'Naval Criminal Investigative Service' so hard for these people?"
"Could be worse," Gibbs replied, not looking up from his computer screen. "They could have given credit to the FBI."
"Guess that's a good point, Boss." Gibbs finally looked up, and frowned at the sight of his senior field hefting a large duffle bag onto his shoulder.
"Going somewhere, DiNozzo?"
"Just got word that the medical transport lands at Andrews in fifteen minutes," he replied. Ziva had called him from Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany to inform him of her travel plans—ironically, the fastest way home was also the least direct; she caught a MEDEVAC flight from Kabul to Landstuhl, and then hopped on a critical care transport flight with injured soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines bound for the various military hospitals in Washington, DC.
"And it takes luggage to pick Ziva up from the airfield?"
Now it was DiNozzo's turn to frown, then grinned as he realized the piece of information Gibbs was missing. "Both sets of leave documents are in your email," he informed the older man. He never would have thought it would be that easy, but Vance signed the forms without question, stating that since both Tony and Ziva missed their leave for the case, that it was only fair they get it back. The airlines had been similarly accepting of the circumstances and issued new tickets with only a slight fee.
He paused in front of Gibbs' desk for a moment, a small piece of paper in his hand. "Military physicians and former scout snipers…stranger things have happened." Gibbs rolled his eyes, knowing was DiNozzo was hinting. The younger agent's eyes fell to that card he was holding before handing it over to his boss. "Mail service put this in my box by mistake," DiNozzo said as an explanation. "Never did understand why the Army would paint one of their hospitals pink, even if it is in Hawaii." He let that comment sink in for a second before giving the briefest of smiles. "See you next week, Boss."
DiNozzo was in the elevator before Gibbs allowed himself to look down at the postcard in his hand. He flipped it over and read the brief message there, scrawled in a familiar penmanship, before opening his desk drawer and dropping it in, where the card with the image of a hospital thousands of miles away joined two years worth of similar pieces of mail.
He closed the drawer before reaching down and collecting his bag, taking a moment to pack everything he needed for home into it. Without another glance back, he turned off his desk lamp and headed for the elevator. The case was over; it was time to go home.