Author's Note: This chapter came to me rather suddenly as I thought about the season finale. I decided to put it into my series ahead of the (nearly finished) chapter I had been writing.
Here's a note of special thanks to Motsie of Atlantis, belatedly. They'd given me advice on the previous chapter.
Standard, blanket, disclaimer: I do not own NCIS: LA or its characters. (I didn't when I wrote the previous chapters, either!)
A few days after the submarine case wrapped up, Nell and Eric were in the ops center shutting down the systems after a minor robbery case, when Nell got a text message on her phone.
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"That's weird," she said, as much to her phone as to Eric.
"What's weird?" he asked.
"I just got this text message." She showed him her phone.
Eric booted one of the computers. "Forward it to ops. Let's trace it." Less than a minute later, they had their answer. "Hmm. Arlington, Virginia. The cell tower is in the hotel district."
The pneumatic door hissed open, and Eric pulled the map from his computer screen just in time.
Without preface, Granger started in. "Good, you're here, Beale." He held up a thumb drive. "I just got a file on my secure e-mail server, but it's encrypted. I need you to break in to it." He turned to go, but Nell called him back and held out her phone.
"Assistant Director, I just got this text message. It should be just a minute."
As Nell and Granger watched, Eric typed the key into the decryption software. They double-checked his typing, and then he dragged in the file.
Within seconds, two separate one-page letters covered the big screen, each as large as a movie poster.
The first was Hetty's letter of resignation, complete with several dates hand-written, then crossed out. The second letter, over the signatures of Hetty, Leon Vance and the Secretary of the Navy, was addressed to Nell Jones, and appointed her acting Operations Manager. How one image, of one letter, can suck the air out of a room will never be clear, but it did. As the men stared at the letter, Nell buckled against Eric for support.
Even in the lights of the Ops center, Eric could see the crimson creeping across Granger's forehead. He turned back to the letter, and that's when he noticed one blank line in the signature portion, so he stepped closer to the screen to read it. "Nell Felice Jones." He quickly printed out a copy and brought it from the printer to the table, where he grabbed her a pen. "You ready, Nell?"
"As I'll ever be." She took a breath, grabbed the pen and signed it without looking up. As she dashed off to the secure fax machine, Granger softened briefly, looked at Eric and said, "She'll need all the help you can give, Beale."
"Sir, she's excellent at what she's done. Yes, she'll need help, but anyone stepping into Hetty's role would need help: from all of us."
Granger turned on his heel and left ops, muttering, "God help us!"
When Nell came back, it looked like she'd aged thirty years. "Is he gone?"
"Yes." He thought for a minute. "Earlier today he said something about going to Washington. I wonder if that's still on."
"We'll find out tomorrow."
"I'm afraid you're right, Boss."
Nell recoiled, "No, Eric. Please don't talk like that. I'm still Nell; I still want to be Nell. You never called Hetty 'boss.' "
"Okay, I'm sorry, Nell. What I'm trying to say is that I'm happy for you. Really, I am."
"Thanks. I'm sorry, too. It's just, my world's been tipped sideways, and I need to adjust. I was over-sensitive."
"Got it. Can I walk you to your car, Nell?"
"I've got a lot to do now. There are some files I need to look over. I'll head home later."
"Can I get you anything before I go, Rockstar?"
"Do we have those Oreos around, still?"
"If not, I'll head out to the market."
By the time Eric returned with the treats from his locker, Nell had set up her laptop in the electronics lab and extracted the thumb drive from the back of Hetty's brooch. "Coffee, too?" he asked.
"No, I'll be fine. See you tomorrow, P…Eric."
While Nell sat in the electronics lab reading through the files Hetty had left her, (Training files, sections of the supervisor's handbook, and the précis from one highly-classified, long-running case) Eric tossed and turned in his bed. Finally, unable to sleep, he vented his frustrations on the dusty weight set that had scowled at him from its corner ever since he'd bought it in a fit of optimism four months ago.
"No…two…dating…three…boss…four….Best… five…ever…six…knew…seven… rockstar… eight… partner."
"Why…two…didn't…three…I…four…ask…five…So…six…long…seven…Now…eight…gone…"
About one o'clock they each finished. Nell cautiously stepped into the lot and dragged herself home, while Eric took a quick shower and returned to his bed.
Nell woke early from her restless slumber and easily allowed herself to abandon hope of more sleep. She drank her coffee and ate her breakfast in the inky darkness, then stumbled to her shower. She dressed, then stepped to her mirror and looked into her jewelry box. There it sat, the brooch Hetty had given her. She'd already removed the thumb drive, read Hetty's instructions, and skimmed through most of the case files, but the brooch itself. What to do with the brooch itself? She couldn't ignore the symbolism. It felt like she would be putting on a sheriff's star. At the same time, it felt like usurping, like she didn't deserve to wear it.
An extra cup of coffee distracted her from her routine, and she drank it staring out into the semi-light of the raising day. Finally, she set a deadline for herself: when the shadow of the phone pole cleared the garbage can across the street, she would decide whether to wear the brooch today.
At the appointed time, she finished her coffee, got up, rinsed her mug and set it in sink, and went back to the mirror by the jewelry box.
Early that morning, at least by the agent's standard time, Agent G. Callen limped down the tunnel into ops. Nell rose from the sofa and stepped around its arm, then asked, "Callen, could you join me in the electronics lab when you've got your coffee?"
"Sure, Nell, but why the electronics lab?"
"So you can bring your coffee." They shared a smile.
A minute later, he stepped nervously over the cables and caught sight of the documents Nell had laid out on the desk. "What are these?"
"That one's Hetty's resignation. This one's my appointment as her acting replacement."
"Wow, Nell, congratulations!"
"Please, G., don't congratulate me." She hesitated. "I'll admit, I've thought about this. I may have even wanted it, but not if it cost us Hetty. I didn't even think it would be possible so soon."
"Possible? Nell, it's a natural. You're intelligent, highly trained, successful in the field, and a wizard at analysis! You were our choice, Sam's and mine, when Hetty went to Romania. I can't speak for Eric or Kensi, but I'm sure they were thinking the same thing then. They'll think the same thing now."
"Thanks. But I didn't want it this way. Not like this."
"C'mon, Nell. It's only temporary. Hetty will be back before we know it. Just keep the team functioning like before and keep Granger from bringing in one of his henchmen."
"Like Clookie…." Nell gave a watery chuckle.
"Definitely don't want Clookie." Callen grinned.
Nell drew a breath. "Listen, G. I've been trying to figure out how we'll handle the supervisory dynamics. Let me suggest this. I'll continue up in ops and give the team the analysis like Hetty and I both did before. I'll supervise the team about paperwork, and I'll deal with HQ. But once there's an op, you'll have command."
"Nell, that's not the way it works. As Operations Manager, you're equivalent to Station Chief with the CIA or Special Agent In Charge with the FBI. Until Hetty gets back, you'll be read in to everything she would have been. Because you'll have the clearance and the contact with Washington, you'll have a broader understanding than you had as Intelligence Analyst. You'll watch strategy; I'll run tactics. I'll trust that when you overrule me, you'll have a good reason why. It worked that way with Hetty. You can make it work, too."
"Thanks, Callen," and she stepped in to give him a hug. He held her supportively, but then they recoiled as if they'd both had the same thought at the same time. When she recovered, she continued, "That's another thing. I'd like to keep the team dynamics the same as they were before. There, you weren't hugging your boss; you were giving support to a friend through a challenging time. I'm still the same Little Nell I was before."
" 'Team dynamics,'" Callen quoted. "Does that include the romances?"
"Romance, singular, Callen. And I agree with Hetty. Kensi and Deeks are working well together. I see no reason to split them up."
"Okay, Nell," Callen braced himself, "but I could see Eric curling up in a corner, shutting down, if he thinks your promotion has ended his chances of dating you. You know it hasn't, don't you?"
"Yeah. In her omniscience, Hetty sent me a link to a passage in the supervisor's handbook."
"What, 'Inappropriate Supervisory Contact,' isn't that what they call it?"
"Yes, but how would you know?" She almost gave a knowing smile, but then thought better of it. "Oh, never mind."
"No, it's a fair question, Nell. When Kensi came on board, I—err—entertained the possibility. Hetty sent me to the same passage in the handbook."
"Oh, sorry."
"But that doesn't solve your Eric problem."
Nell brightened, "Could you explain it to him? Man-to-man?"
Callen could only laugh. "Me, your matchmaker? Are you kidding? Not too long ago, Hetty and Sam had to team up to get me on a blind date. I'm the wrong guy to be your cupid!"
"Kensi, Deeks?" There was pleading in her voice.
"Nope: too much opportunity for miscommunication. This is one you'll have to do on your own: 'the head that wears a crown,' as they say. But, yeah, I'm okay with you starting up with Eric, if it happens. And I'll keep the team okay with it, too."
Nell gave an impatient snort, "If."
"Here he comes now. I'll be at the firing range." Callen seemed glad to get out of there.
Had Deeks been there, he would have made a cat-dragged-in joke, or at least asked about a Star Trek marathon. As it was, Nell knew the cause, and felt the sting of knowing, too. "Eric, when you've got your coffee, could you come in here?"
"Umm, yeah. Sure." Trepidation filled every corner of his voice.
When he arrived, a new sheet was on the workbench. "Here, read this. It's from the supervisor's manual." Too tired to object, he simply complied.
13.2.5 Inappropriate Supervisory Contact: NCIS is a small agency with a large mission. Its offices are spread around the world, and it is to be expected that romantic entanglements sometimes can arise, either between supervisor and supervisee, or between people on the same level. While this can complicate the mission, there is no blanket prohibition on romantic relations.
: Supervisor-supervisee: Much turns on the motivation behind each partner. If the supervisor intends to use his/her supervisory role to advance the relationship, or if the supervisee intends to use the relationship to advance his/her career, then one of the partners should be transferred. One example of a healthy relationship would be one that continued its trajectory in spite of the promotion of one of its members.
He looked up, hope in his eyes. "Are you saying…?"
"Eric, all it's saying is that if we started up, it wouldn't get us fired."
"And you? What are you saying," he faltered, "by showing me this?"
"What I'm saying is that I'll need your friendship and the best of your technical abilities, now more than ever."
"You could expect nothing less."
"In short, I'll need you to just be you."
Eric breathed a sigh of relief. "I was so worried." He pulled her in for a hug, and she allowed herself to be enveloped by him, his strength, his scent, his love. "I was so worried."
"Are we interrupting something?"
"Deeks! Leave 'em be!"
"Sorry, Kens."
As she made her way to the coffee pot, she scowled at him. "Don't apologize to me. It's Nell and Eric you embarrassed. Now, apologize properly."
"Sorry, guys," he muttered.
"Thanks."
Then Nell whispered to Eric, "As soon as Sam gets in, we'll have the announcement. You can fire up the ops center, see what's come down the pike for us." She returned to her laptop in the electronics lab to teach herself to understand the daily threat matrix briefing.
As soon as Kensi and Deeks had poured their coffee and they returned to bickering at their desks, Sam arrived. Nell wordlessly left for the shooting range. As she went, she sent Eric a one-word text: Bullpen.
On the way back, Callen suggested, "Hey, as senior agent, should I break the news? I'll introduce you, then you can say what you need to."
"Sounds like the best plan," Nell confirmed. "I didn't know how I'd phrase it."
All eyes were on Nell and Callen as they came down the stairs to the bullpen, so he just started as he walked. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Hetty's still under investigation in Washington, and to protect us all, she resigned. She did work to manage her legacy, to maintain our leadership. So, let me introduce the acting Operations Manager for the Office of Special Projects, Ms. Nell Jones."
Agents and staff throughout the building first startled, but then those passing through the bullpen joined the team in their cheers and applause. Nell, embarrassed, accepted the applause, but then raised her hands to silence it.
"Thanks, everyone. Thanks. I didn't want it like this, but we're stuck with it. I'll work to keep this team at its best. For me, part of that is keeping the same team dynamics Hetty cultured. I don't know how long this is going to last 'til we get Hetty back, but I'll do the best I can to fill her shoes. I'll protect your backs. Understand, though, that I'm not a mind reader like Hetty is," she winked, "so if you've got a problem, let me know."
Callen spoke up. "Can I add something, Nell?" When she nodded, he continued, "Outsiders are going to try to exploit Hetty's absence. We owe it to Hetty, we owe it to Nell, we owe it to each other, to watch out for other agencies trying to put one over on us."
Deeks cell phone rang. "Deeks, get your butt down here. You caught a case," Lieutenant Bates said without preamble.
"Whatever," Deeks said before hanging up. He announced to the team, "You're right already, Callen. That was LAPD, they want me on a case."
Everyone could see how reluctant he was to leave the team while they were still rattled from the submarine case, not to mention Hetty's absence.
Callen bobbed his head ruefully. "Sounds like he caught word that Hetty's in DC."
Sam agreed, "Right, this is Bates testing you. Trying to get more control over Deeks while Hetty's …." He trailed off, for once at a loss for words.
"Just to be clear, Deeks: you don't want this LAPD case?" Nell asked.
"Absolutely not. My home is here, with you guys."
"And we don't think you would have gotten this call if Hetty were here?"
The team gave a chorus of head-shakes.
"Okay, then let me handle it."
Detective Marty Deeks led Nell through the warren of corridors and cube-farms at LAPD headquarters, but then he stood aside so Nell could knock at the door labeled, "Lt. Frank Bates, Detectives." She had been internally steeling herself for precisely this confrontation: it was almost the first thing that came to mind as she read the appointment letter. Now, however, she relaxed into a cheery, fresh-from-school look.
As the petite woman stepped across his threshold, Bates muttered, "Another firecracker."
They exchanged pleasantries for a minute, but then Nell cut to the chase. "I understand you want Detective Deeks to work a case."
"Right, my detective needs to go undercover for about a month with a supremacist organization: nasty bunch. They've decided to go all vigilante on the border."
"That's a problem, but my team just stopped a drug-running cartel with a submarine. The detective needs some time to recover."
"He's my detective, darling. He needs a break when I say he needs a break."
Deeks, who'd been watching the confrontation with growing trepidation, simply thought, "You shouldn't have said that, Frankie. You really should not have said that."
Nell, unperturbed, replied, "Keep in mind that Detective Deeks just led the team that saved two of my agents. They were on an explosives-packed submarine that jihadists were steering through your harbor. We never could tell whether it was headed toward the Queen Mary or the port of Long Beach, but do you want to tell me which you'd prefer they'd have struck?" She paused. "Not only that, the sub had carried in half-a-billion dollars worth of cocaine, and Deeks and the team kept that off your streets."
"Since you cleared that case, the timing couldn't be better. While he's with us, that hot partner of his could take care of the paperwork. From what I hear, she may be lucky to just get desk duty."
While Deeks fumed, Nell sat forward in her chair, paused to neaten the cuff of her sweater, and then turned to Bates, "You should understand that I'm an acting operations manager. One consequence of that is that for cases without a prima facie connection to Navy or Marine Corps interests, I'll have to clear our involvement with supervisors back in DC. It's a nasty stack of paperwork, and with the time difference and all the questions they might have, it could take forty-eight hours to get it cleared for us to get involved—if I want it to. So my question for you is whether I should take initiative like Hetty did, and send agents to a crime scene as soon as you call, or whether I should let headquarters put your request through the ringers while your case gets cold."
"You've made your case, Ms. Jones. I'll send someone else. Deeks, send me a copy of the report on that sub case."
As quickly as the tension came, it left. Bates shook Nell's hand and led them to the door. He muttered to Deeks, "Where do the feds find these little witch mama-bears."
"I'm glad she's on my side." Deeks closed the door.
As they emerged into the warm sunlight, Deeks broke the silence. "What was that, the Henrietta Lange School of Negotiation?"
"I hope she'd approve, Deeks."
"She would, Vel…wait, can I still call you Velma?"
"Sure can, Shaggy! Like I said, I've decided I'll try to keep the same team dynamic we had before this happened. It's temporary anyhow, so I don't want things to be weird when she gets back."
The indefatigable detective let loose, "Woo-hoo! You ripped him a new one, there, Velma!"
"Hang on. No gloating: this could come back to hurt us."
"How?"
Nell answered ominously, "Granger."
AN2: Opinions, friends? Any different challenges Nell would face filling Hetty's shoes?
Memo to the real NCIS, if you're reading: Clookie was just fine.