Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who's continued on with this story - it's so lovely to see new subscriptions and alerts appearing.
As always, enjoy!
Chapter Twelve - Twelve More Days
December started on a low note, with the double whammy of failure to get to the bottom of the stolen WAIT funds and Abby's countdown calendar now beginning to number in the days. Charlie, in particular, took a while to shake off the gloom, not being so used to having a case taken away without success, coupled with her parent's wedding anniversary falling early in the month to add a reminder of just how much she'd lost. Tony, meanwhile, was still brooding over the confrontation with his father, although he'd reached a sort of uneasy acceptance of the situation. The first week was spent largely in silence, simply beginning to finalise reports and prepare for the rapidly approaching changes. They were quiet and worked slowly, realising that when all of these loose ends were tied up, the team as they'd known it for the last seven or eight years would never be quite the same again. In a totally unprecedented move, the areas over which they had jurisdiction displayed a previously unknown ability to abide by the law and did not provide a new case to break the doldrums.
They healed in time and the mood eventually lifted. It started with Hanukkah, bringing some calm at least to Ziva and, by extension, Tony. They had marked Hanukkah every year they'd been together, but with Schmiel's impending visit, Ziva spent every spare moment she had cleaning, decorating and cooking for the occasion, fussing over small details and taking a lot of pride in observing this holiday with someone who shared her faith in her own home for the first time.
Schmiel arrived as promised, clucking over 'his' Ziva with great affection and allowing her to talk in long stretches of Hebrew about books, politics and poetry for the first time in months. He also told Tony as many stories about Ziva as a small child that he could get away with, some as proud as any grandparent, she'd graduated high school with the highest marks of her entire class. Others were designed to amuse Tony and mortify Ziva; at almost four and in a fit of pique with her very pregnant mother, she climbed some twenty feet up a tree, got stuck and had to be rescued by the teen boy next door and at seven, when she had first learned the English idiom 'raining cats and dogs' she had been disappointed to tears that the next downpour had not brought the pet she'd longed for.
But, between Tony's laughter and Ziva's horrified but insincere pleading for Schmiel to stop talking, sunset brought more serious moments. Although Tony had been willing to step back and let her and her guest enjoy the season for themselves, they were quick to include him, translating the readings and prayers, explaining the significance of each gesture and generally making sure that even though he did not participate, that he never felt unwelcome. Shabbat fell twice during Schmeil's stay too, another new experience for him. Ziva often embraced as many aspects as she could but had never really practised in full in the time they'd lived together but the opportunity to share the event with an old friend changed how seriously she observed. Once again, the importance of the day of rest and how Ziva and Schmiel would conduct themselves was explained without any expectation that he joined in, but curiosity (not to mention the simple explanation that his favourite place to be was wherever she was) meant that he followed along, albeit imperfectly. Stillness did not come naturally to Tony, and he found himself growing twitchy at intervals, but learned he could recenter himself simply by watching Ziva and the gentle, softer way she moved on those days, and trying to breathe in the peace that seemed to settle over her. To his surprise, when the larger candles were extinguished in the evening to mark the end of Shabbat and the menorah lit once more, his first instinct was not to head for the TV, but to linger by the smaller twinkling flames and just soak in the quiet joy and serene space a little while longer.
Schmiel departed late in the evening the day after Hannukah had ended and they both saw him off at the airport. He shook Tony's hand, thanked him for the hospitality and added a whispered reminder to ask Ziva about how she handled school bullies when she was twelve. Then he turned to Ziva, cupping her cheek with one hand and laying the other on her belly, murmuring a few lines in Hebrew. From how Ziva's cheeks rose in a soft smile, Tony understood it was a blessing for her and the baby.
"Toda raba," Ziva responded, one of her hands over each of Schmiel's. "I will miss you, my friend."
The old man's face crinkled in a warm smile. "It will not be so long, perhaps you can bring the baby to see me when she is old enough to travel... to let her see the country where she began?" The affection in his smile turned to humour with the last sentence.
"Schmiel!" Ziva protested. She added something scolding in Hebrew, for which Tony did not know the exact translation, but the frequency of the phrase appearing immediately following one of the Ziva-as-a-child tales suggested that it meant something to the effect of "Shut up, you're embarrassing me."
"I may be an old man, but not a stupid one, Zivike, I can count backwards too," he chuckled. "After all, was it not eight months ago almost to the day since you brought your Tony to meet me in Tel Aviv?"
Ziva shook her head, amused but still looking reproving. "Still, there are some things..."
His hands landed on her shoulders with another laugh. "Hush, just tell me you will bring her some time, yes?"
She bobbed her head, neither a yes nor a no. "Perhaps, when the memories do not hurt so much."
He made an understanding sort of clucking sound. "Ahh, my Ziva. You have always been so quick to take flight, to get as far away from where you were as possible. There has always been a part of me that wished you would come back to Israel to settle. But I see now why you could not, it is only here that you have truly found a place to roost." The boarding for his flight was announced then, and he drew her close for a hug. "Go on back to your nest, little bird, and enjoy all that is to come."
Tony slid his arm around Ziva's back as they made their way back to the parking lot. "Are you okay? You're not homesick or anything?"
"I am home," she answered simply, cuddling against him as they walked. "I may want to visit, in time. But right now, this is the only place I feel called to be. To see what comes next for us."
He fished for his keys and held the door for her. "What comes next is coming awfully soon..."
Ziva nodded. "It is. Two more weeks till I start my leave... and two more after that..." her voice grew tighter. "I have to have a baby, Tony," she breathed with a nervous, disbelieving laugh.
"Yeah, it's a bit late to rethink that one, huh?" He started the engine, turned the heater to high and checked his mirrors, stalling for a better response. "Okay, let's just focus on the next... what is it today, the 18th? It's not even two weeks. Twelve days. We finish up the paperwork, we have Christmas and we go on leave. We've done most of that before. Easy, right? We won't even worry about afterwards till we've gotten through the next twelve days."
She fished in her purse for the ticket to let them out of the lot and passed it to him. "Twelve days? Like that Christmas song with all the birds?"
"That's the one, but the only little bird I want to hear singing on Christmas morning is you. No swans or French hens." A flirty smile brightened the dim interior of the car briefly. "We got this, Ninja. What could happen in twelve days?"
As it turned out, a lot.
The next day, Wednesday, a temporary lab technician was installed to begin training to cover Abby during her honeymoon. However, rather than bringing him up to meet everyone, she had sent out an email and several reminder texts that she had drawn up a schedule for all of the field teams to meet Jase in appointed timeframes. When Tim had asked why, she had gone on a long and detailed explanation about acclimatising goldfish by putting their travel bag into the tank for a while before releasing them which seemed to have little to do with inducting a new colleague.
Team Gibbs was the first in line and her chatter about gradual exposure made sense. Jase made the version of McGee Tony and Gibbs had met ten years earlier seem positively suave and confident by comparison. He barely made eye contact, remained largely mute and stumbled over every other word when he did speak. He was nervous to the point that before letting anyone into her lab to meet him, Abby brought out her traditional threat of killing them and leaving no trace if anyone attempted the usual newbie hazing tactics. However, for all he lacked in pizazz, he was exceptionally trained and Abby trusted him to use her equipment in her absence. Despite her heavy upselling of his talent as a forensic scientist, they were all glad when the awkward interviews were done so they could go back upstairs after watching Abby lay down one more X on her calendar.
"I thought I was bad my first day!" Charlie laughed as they returned to the bullpen and settled back to yet more paperwork. "I honestly thought he was going to pass out when he realised I'm Charlie." Jase had addressed her as Agent DiNozzo and Tony as Agent Delaney, then became hopelessly flustered trying to explain he had wrongly assumed Charlie was a male name and Toni a female one. Matters got worse when Tony added that there was technically a female agent DiNozzo in the room, just not the woman he'd expected. He'd clammed up after that and left Abby to give them a comprehensive verbal history of his training.
"It was the badges that did it," Tony said. He shuffled papers as he spoke, given that they were effectively tied to their desks with no active case, Gibbs didn't seem to mind if they chatted, as long as they kept working at the same time, and was presently busy at his desk, apparently tuning them out, but in reality, catching every word. "I don't think he's ever worked in a Federal office before this. Where'd Abs find this guy anyway?"
McGee shrugged at the question. "It's Abs, you know how she collects people when she likes them." There was an understanding nod all around, each intimately familiar with being 'collected' by the quirky scientist. "They met at a ballistics seminar a couple of years back, I think she said. She didn't even bother updating her Abby's Lab For Dummies manual, so he obviously knows his stuff," he added, dropping his voice as Gibbs answered a call.
As far as signs of Abby's confidence in Jase went, not making him run through the manual they were all acquainted with was one of the highest commendations on offer. "Whoa, he must be good," Tony whistled, impressed. "What'd you make of him, Zi?"
"He seemed nice enough, even if he was nervous," she said. When informed that Ziva would be on leave soon, so they wouldn't be working together for long, Jase offered a quiet but genuine congratulations and asked no further questions. Polite and non-invasive scored highly with her, whatever the motivation. "But if Abby says he is good at his job, then I trust her judgement."
"Well, we're about to find out how good he is." They all knew what Gibbs' interjection meant and reached for their field kits before the order was given.
"Well... when he said the 'body' was over there..." McGee glanced between the mangled car and the shack that doubled as an office in the Norfolk junkyard they had just spent three hours on the road to reach. "Must've been industry jargon."
"Oh, there was definitely a body." Charlie pointed with her pen. "Two or three days ago - look, you can see where they cut the A-pillar to get them out, but it's already rusting a little. This didn't happen this morning."
McGee leaned closer, peering into the interior of the wreck. "The blood is dried too. Did Gibbs say anything other besides that Norfolk PD called us in and told him we'd want to see this?" As was standard, Gibbs had taken the sedan, leaving Tony, McGee and Charlie to the crime scene van. When they arrived, the police were nowhere to be seen. The yard manager had been found eating lunch in his dingy little room and pointed them towards the car they now studied. Gibbs had taken one look, rolled his eyes and told Tony to get on the phone and find out where the police were. Tony had walked back to the gate in search of better cell service and Gibbs to the office to squeeze any further details out of the man inside.
Charlie paused, snapped a photo thoughtfully and considered this. "You know what? He didn't. Just gave us the address. We assumed there was going to be a body."
"Would explain why we didn't see Ducky and Palmer getting ready to go," he agreed. "Whatever this guy hit, he hit hard," he finished, with a wince at the impact point.
She nodded her agreement and took another photo. "Well, let's run the plate. We both know Gibbs isn't going to take 'the cops disappeared' as an excuse for knowing nothing at all."
A half-hour later, the police had returned and filled in the gaps. The car had been delivered to the yard and declared a write-off following a serious accident on Sunday evening. One of the tyres had blown suddenly and the driver lost control, spun, and scraped along an embankment for several yards before coming to a halt against a power pole, bending the car to an almost 90-degree angle just behind the driver's seat. Emergency crews had attended and hauled the driver out alive but in a bad way. The wreck had been towed from the scene and spent the night in a holding yard before coming to rest in the junkyard on Monday. That morning, the yard owner had alerted police when he'd discovered a box full of cash in the trunk. The police, who'd written the situation off as purely accidental returned for a closer look and when they'd checked the onboard GPS, they discovered the driver had programmed Captain Walker's address into the system before he'd set off. A search for Walker had pinged the warrant that had been placed back when his link to Bennett's murder was uncovered and they'd brought NCIS back into the picture.
Several long and busy hours followed, with the evidence at the car already compromised by first responders, the tow truck operator, and then two days exposed to the elements at the junkyard, they set about swabbing and testing for anything that was left, as well as conducting a more formal interview with the manager, who despite his original underwhelming impression, turned out to be entirely above board. He emptied vehicles on their arrival as a standard practice, stripping the chassis of all non-metal materials before what was left could be recycled. Undamaged parts like seats and steering wheels were sold for spares, however almost every car also came with forgotten personal items. These, he filed away, meticulously labelling and dating them in the hope that the previous owner would come back for them. Hats and other clothing were common, as were CDs and jewellery but he mentioned a surprisingly high number of false teeth and one prosthetic eyeball that had been retrieved by its owner some three years after the car had been crushed into a cube. He explained he'd barely touched this suspect vehicle, popping the trunk and finding the cash within the first thirty seconds of starting work. The box had turned over in the accident and split open and as soon as he'd seen it, had called for backup. He even offered up the gloves he was wearing that day for fibre comparison before anyone had even asked for them.
Looking into the collision itself, it appeared to be a pure accident. They drove out to the scene, retracing the steps, taking more photos and comparing the reports from road patrol sending them (along with the mystery money and the car itself) back to Abby and Jase for further analysis and confirmation. However, the potholes which had shaken everyone almost to the point of nausea, and the shredded rubber that still remained in the gravel on the side of the road spoke clearly enough. Details were also phoned back to Ziva to begin a more thorough background on the driver. He was ID'd as Cameron Muir, a college senior, with no apparent ties to Bennett, Walker, WAIT or the Navy in general, but they already knew the car was his own and he had no previous criminal activity to his name.
They split up after a while, Tony and Charlie detouring to his college with mostly dead ends as many of the staff and students had already departed for their holiday breaks. McGee and Gibbs headed to the hospital to be similarly stonewalled; the duty nurse informed them Cameron would remain in a medically induced coma for several more days. When asked about Cameron's next of kin, she said they had contacted his parents who had travelled to London for the holidays and were doing their best to get a flight home as soon as possible. Frustrated and knowing they would likely end up back in Norfolk the following day, they decided to cut their losses, make the long drive back to DC and see what the evidence would reveal.
Four tired and cold people were very grateful to see that Ziva had not been snoozing in their absence. The moment the elevator doors slid open, a rich, warm scent met their noses. There was a unanimous sigh of relief, hot food was the first thing on everyone's mind.
"I've got five on felafel," Charlie murmured, familiar now with Ziva's takeout of choice when left to her own devices. "Anyone in?"
McGee shook his head. "Nope, that's a losing bet if I ever heard one. Tony?"
Tony paused, inhaled deeply and shook his head. "I'll put ten on - ouch!" The smile that had been widening on his face disappeared instantly at the solid slap that connected with the back of his skull. "What was that for?"
Gibbs stepped around him with a glare. "Trying to play your teammates with inside knowledge." McGee and Charlie shared a puzzled look, but the meaning of Gibbs' words became clear as they approached their desks. Three out of four held a steaming tub of an obviously home-cooked chicken and potato dish, although Ziva herself was invisible. She appeared a moment later, the final portion having just completed its turn in the breakroom microwave and landing on Tony's desk, delivered with an affectionate smile.
"I knew I knew that smell." He sighed with relief, picking up his fork. "Babe, you are incredible... aren't you eating?"
"I did a little while earlier, and do not call me babe." She settled back at her desk, amidst grateful nods as they set into the food.
Tony grinned apologetically. "Sweetheart, princess, love of my life, bringer of all things good..." He speared a piece of potato and ceased eloquence.
"Shut up and eat, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled. "How'd you manage this?"
"I have been cooking ahead and freezing it for when the baby is born," she explained, sipping the tea she had brought with her. "But I thought that after a day like yours, a few servings of sofrito would not be missed at home. I had time to go and collect them after lunch."
"That was really thoughtful Ziva, thanks." Charlie smiled. Although picky and easily grossed out over food, she'd visited Casa De Tiva to alter Ziva's bridesmaid dress and had seen enough of the kitchen and Ziva's cooking process to trust eating things she had produced.
"Yeah, thanks, this beats pizza for sure," McGee agreed. "Seen Abs this evening?"
She nodded. "I took food down to the evidence locker about an hour ago. She and Jase are crawling all over what's left of that car as we speak. I had to stand there and hold the fork in front of her mouth every few minutes so she ate something."
"What about Jase?" Tony asked with a grin.
Ziva chuckled too. "I did not spoonfeed him if that is what you are asking. He thanked me and then stared at Abby with a pained expression until she told him to go and eat at the desk. How she got to know him well enough to recommend him for the position I may never understand."
They understood soon enough. After dinner, they made their way to the evidence garage to see what Abby and Jase had discovered in the interim.
Abby took the lead, with Jase lingering awkwardly in the background, walking them briefly through the car wreck, and agreeing the initial road patrol assessment was correct.
"Between the road and his tyres, I'd say it's a miracle that he only had one blowout, only I don't believe in miracles... unless Gibbs is behind them, you weren't in Norfolk two nights ago looking out for this kid, were you?" She shot him a suspicious look and bounced back to the topic before he could tell her to hurry up. "So no, it doesn't look like someone was trying to stop him getting to Walker. It was just a college student with a car that should've been deemed unfit for road use a couple of months ago."
Gibbs nodded. "Where'd he go before heading to Walker's? Can we work out where he got the money?"
Abby shrugged, pigtails bobbing with her. "The GPS only saves the last five trips in the unit. Trying to see if there's more in a cloud somewhere. I gave the addresses we did get to Ziva," she said.
"A grocery store, two residential addresses, his college dorm and an isolated gas station," Ziva took the cue. "It seems Cameron made money by doing courier work and small handyman jobs. I spoke with the residents at both addresses, he put up Christmas lights for one and removed a dead rat from the attic space of the other. You had already left the area by the time I knew about the gas station, so if they do not send me their security footage as promised, that will have to be your first stop tomorrow. Assuming this was another courier job, he may have met the person who gave him the money there."
"What else have we got? Fingerprints? DNA? Anything?" Gibbs pressed.
Abby shrugged. "This kid's got no reason to be on AFIS, and Virginia licensing doesn't store prints either. No hits anywhere. Every set we could find, steering wheel, gear shift, doors, seatbelt, they're all the same person. Unless we can compare them with Cameron himself, we can't be sure, but all signs point to them being his. But when we looked at that box of money that was recovered too, that's where it gets interesting... take it away Jase, this was your find!" she declared with a sudden, sweeping gesture in his direction, like a game show attendant showcasing the grand prize.
Jase looked alarmed for a moment, gulped and began. "Well, the outside of the box had no useful fingerprints on it. But only... uh... a few smudges, whoever had it first must've worn gloves. But you know how the box was split when, uh... the car, uh..." he made an awkward twirling motion with his hand. "Spun out, right? It slid into that step ladder Cameron had in the trunk? Well, it tipped over when it hit and part of the tape sealing the box wasn't pressed down right. It got smushed..."
"Smushed?" Tony whispered to McGee with a grin. The guy stammering before them was in his mid-30s and sounded like a kid. The next sound Tony made was a yelp as Abby's elbow connected with his ribs and she glared at him before nodding Jase on encouragingly.
"The exposed tape was pressed into the carpet that lined the trunk," he continued, still talking slowly and softly. "So when someone removed it, fibres from the carpet came too. I realised that the outside of the tape was no good, but maybe the inside would be."
"What did you find?" Charlie asked gently, understanding how he felt all too well. "I might not have been here long, but I know that when the evidence tells you to look, you usually find something.
It seemed to help and he grew a little more confident. "Whoever taped the box shut cut themselves... just a little, I'd guess on that serrated edge of a tape dispenser, you know, like on Saran Wrap? Uh.. anyway, it's a tiny amount, just a few skin cells and droplets of blood and the glue has damaged the sample," he paused and took a deep breath.
"Just like a seminar," Abby whispered.
At this, Jace seemed to change before their eyes. He stood up straighter, pushed his hair off his face and addressed them all like he was presenting to an audience, making eye contact with each one in turn. "But there's still hope. Despite the challenges this degraded sample poses, I am working on a complex multistep process to determine the origins. It starts by separating the biological matter from the synthetic glue, then breaking into the cell membranes, and purifying and isolating the DNA within. Once that step is completed, we can use a Polymerase Chain Reaction to amplify and replicate the DNA chains and create a sample substantial enough that we can compare it to the driver of the vehicle and, if necessary with wider databases. For the record, I believe cross-referencing will be necessary," he finished, voice still steady.
His confident delivery startled them all, Tony, Ziva, McGee and Charlie exchanged looks of absolute confusion. Abby was grinning ear to ear and clapping softly.
Only Gibbs was a slightly harder sell. "What makes you think that?" he asked.
The new question didn't even faze him and he nodded as though he'd expected this. "As well as the biological material on the underside of the tape, I was able to locate a few fibres in other areas of the box that had been properly sealed, suggesting they were present at the time of application. This was supported when comparing them to the lining of the trunk and the gloves provided by the witness who located the box. Neither one of those matched. However, further analysis of the fibres reveals it to be a cotton-poly blend in a deep navy. Specifically, the exact fabric used by the US Navy in the manufacture of its dress blues."
"Dress blues?" McGee repeated, presently the only member of the team who wasn't looking totally blindsided. "So whoever packed the box is Navy?"
"Or was wearing the uniform, yes, Agent McGee, that's exactly what I'm saying," Jase confirmed with another nod. "I've compared it to every known fibre available in Abby's database. There are dozens of similar ones, Agent David's sweater for example." He gestured to Ziva, wearing the same top from Thanksgiving morning, now washed and bearing no trace of the baking mishap. "Or Agent Gibbs' blazer. Either one would pass at first glance with the naked eye. However, I have analysed the thickness of the fibres, the penetration depth of the dye as well as the precise saturation and hue of the colour, and even the tension in the way the fibre has been spun. I assure you that it has come from a Navy uniform," he finished and then just as quickly deflated again, shrinking back into himself now that he'd run out of scripted lines.
Ziva recovered first this time. "And now I understand," she murmured.
Gibbs cleared his throat. "How long till we know on the DNA?'
"A few hours, Gibbs." Abby took over again, beaming proudly at Jase. "We're still isolating and replicating the DNA strands we can find in those skin cells. We can wait till that's done and get the database search running, but we probably won't have an answer till morning. The fibres let us know to narrow it down to Navy personnel but still... you know how many there are in Virginia, over 80,000 at Norfolk Base alone."
"Yeah, I know." The urge to tell them to hurry up was barely suppressed in Gibbs' voice. "Anything we can work with tonight?"
She shook her head firmly. "Nope. Let Jase and I do our thing. We'll be out by midnight at the latest." She presented her cheek expectantly. "We'll get those tests running, get home and then we'll come back bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to give you all the answers you're looking for."
He pressed a kiss to her face. "No later than midnight, you hear?" he warned softly, then addressed his team. "Alright, you heard her. Round up and go home."
"See ya, Abs." Charlie ducked out quickly with a wave, seeing what was coming next as Abby stationed herself by the door as they left to make sure everyone delivered a farewell hug. Jase watched the proceedings for a second, shrugged nervously and disappeared back behind the wrecked car.
"It's Tuesday, McClockwork, that means Abby drove in today. You want a ride instead of waiting for her?" Tony offered, currently on the receiving end of his own dose of Abby's affection.
McGee nodded gratefully after checking with Abby in a quick glance. "That would be great if Ziva doesn't mind?"
Ziva grimaced a little. The detour to Dupont Circle would add almost an hour before they returned to Casa De Tiva and bed. "Gibbs?" she asked instead.
Gibbs made a show of rolling his eyes, even though they all knew he would have offered to drive her home if she hadn't asked. "Fine. Parking lot in 10," he sighed, then paused and turned back to the two scientists, still hard at work. "And Jase... good work today," he called over his shoulder.
The only response from Jase was a sort of choking sound.
"Okay, Madam People-Reader, what's Jase's deal?" Tony asked the second he saw Charlie the next morning. With another Norfolk drive and Abby's results ahead of them, Tony and Ziva had driven in early and crossed paths with her in the parking lot. McGee's ride was a few spots away, he would have arrived even earlier, whenever Abby had decided to come to check on her results.
Charlie scoffed and held an imaginary conversation in response to his sudden opening. "Yes, good morning, it is cold, isn't it? Thanks, I like my coat too, another thrift haul last spring." she laughed, tightening her scarf around her neck. The temperature was dropping, already promising a properly white Christmas and they'd all dressed to insulate against the weather. Despite her penchant for stylish jackets, Ziva had opted for a single new purchase that season, one that was large enough to close over her belly. Charlie, on the other hand, had foregone the orange one that reminded them all of the bullpen walls but was still unique as ever; the tweedy belted thing she wore seemed to have fallen straight out of the 1950s.
Tony chuckled and gave a better greeting as Ziva and Charlie exchanged an amused eye-roll and their own hellos. "Well you're the mind reader here... Hey!" He broke off, distracted as Ziva quickened her pace, eager to get out of the wind. "Nice try, Ninja, but that's not flying." He reached forward, caught Ziva's elbow and gently tugged her back into step next to him.
"I am pregnant, not broken," she sighed. Despite the grumble, the pleased smile as she settled to match his stride was unmistakable.
No kissing at work seemed not to apply in the parking lot as he brushed his lips on her hair with an affectionate chuckle. "Lose your footing on this and you might get broken. I'm not taking any chances," he said, indicating the damp, slightly icy asphalt under their feet. "Want an elbow, Ms Delaney? You can fill us in about Jase on the way, it was like a whole other person there for a second, what gives?" He held his other arm out to Charlie as she locked her car.
Charlie pulled a face, she was far less tactile than the rest of the team and decided she'd take her chances with balance over touching anyone she didn't have to. "I'm good, thanks," she declined as they walked toward the building. "So, Jase... At first glance, I want to say massive social anxiety and an impostor complex. He could talk to us just fine when Abby told him to think of a conference. He put on a mask and became Doctor... what is his last name anyway?"
"Abby never said, she has only ever called him Jase," Ziva said thoughtfully, hitting the call button for the elevator. "Even Gibbs did."
Charlie shrugged. "Well, Doctor Jase then. So, he's learned to cope with speaking in a professional setting by being very sure of his work and developing a different persona. Doctor Jase, the keynote speaker, doesn't feel nervous. Only Jase, the individual, does. Small talk and socialising aren't so predictable, and he doesn't know how to react, so he shuts down and waits for everyone else to let him be so he can do what he does best."
"Ahhh." Tony nodded understandingly. It also made sense why Abby was so protective and patient with him, she'd obviously worked out his quirks long ago and knew the usual intensity that came with a Team Gibbs visit to her lab would fall well outside Jase's comfort levels.
"I also suspect he has an exceptional, if not eidetic memory. I don't think he needed to analyse those fibres to know they came from a uniform. He did, of course, because that's the proper scientific process, but something tells me he recognised them without it," Charlie added as they reached the squad room floor. "I'm not qualified to diagnose, but let's just say he ticks some boxes in a big way."
Although she'd shed some light on the strange newcomer, he quickly left their minds as they reached their floor. It was clear something was up, Gibbs was at his desk listening to his phone with a serious expression. McGee was in his space too, tired but already rattling away at his keyboard. He looked over as they approached, glancing down at his field kit, packed and ready to go by the corner of his desk, telling them without words what to expect next, then turned back to his screen.
"Road trip time again," Charlie sighed, making a path to her own desk to trade her satchel for her field bag. Gibbs shot her a warning look to be quiet, still with his phone to his ear.
"And you're sure this is our guy?" he was saying. He winced and held the phone away from his ear a little, Abby's voice piping through, not quite loud enough to hear her exact words, but the excited, indignant tone was quite clear. He didn't bother with thanks or praise, just ending the call and facing the team.
"We got him, Boss?" Tony wasn't waiting for an answer, already prepping to go. They'd all shifted gears the second they'd realised what was going on and the small space was bustling with activity.
Gibbs nodded curtly in the affirmative. "DNA hit to Rear Admiral Gordon Channing, he's in Norfolk..."
"He is a board member for WAIT, the Norfolk chapter!" Ziva announced, she dropped into her desk, coat and all and turned on her computer. "He came in for an interview, he knew nothing. He was seated on the other side of the room. We already have a full background on him. He is due to retire soon from memory. I will send you everything I know as soon as I can." She drummed her fingers on the desk impatiently as she waited for her screen to load.
McGee seemed to know he was next and spoke before Gibbs asked. "One more second Boss... just letting the trace finish now... he's at home." He looked away from his screen to scribble an address down hurriedly. "And you're not going to believe this, he's had several incoming calls from the Walker residence since the Captain was fired by his lawyer. Mrs Walker's still at home."
"Oh, I'd believe it McGee... where's he gonna be?"
McGee was back on his screen, clicking and shifting displays. "He's due on base at 8 am today." With the long drive ahead of them, it would be closer to 9 by the time they arrived.
"Right." Gibbs nodded, processing the information quickly and coming up with a plan on the spot. "DiNozzo, Delaney -"
"Bring up cars from the motor pool," Tony filled in, drawing the same conclusion. "Sedans. We're going in quiet, no crime scene vans. Let's go Probette." Charlie swept her backpack up and followed quickly in his wake.
"Exactly. David, I want..."
Ziva was helping herself to the sticky note McGee had jotted the address on. "Coordinating with Norfolk PD and the security team at the Navy Base. Already on it."
"Good, and Ziva..."
She nodded, phone already under her ear. "I know. This is just an interview for now. No one touches him but you. He will be tailed but not picked up. I'll know exactly where he is every second until you get there. McGee, leave the trace program open for me."
"Here, I'll do you one better," he said. A few quick keystrokes and the information was displayed on the plasma screen. "It's a live feed. The minute he moves, you'll see it."
Ziva smiled, grateful. McGee had been very observant of how much the physical back and forth was wearing on her lately, and with this setup, she didn't even have to leave her desk. The were a couple more moments of hurried action, McGee finalising a few digital details and Gibbs holstering his weapon and throwing on outdoor gear before Tony reappeared from the elevator.
"Cars are ready to go, Boss, pulled 'em in behind the Autopsy truck. Charlie's on guard duty. The engines are running and the heaters are on full. We're ready when you are." He paused at Ziva's desk as Gibbs breezed past him. "See ya round, Ninja, I love you," he added softly.
She tucked the phone under her ear and covered the mouthpiece of the phone with her hand. "I love you too, and neshama..." Her other hand landed on his wrist for a second before he turned to go and looked up at him, her expression serious. "This one feels important."
He bent, dropping his head lower than the partition so Gibbs couldn't see the reassuring kiss he brushed across her knuckles. "I know, your last case. Don't worry, I'll make sure you finish with it closed."
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs hollered impatiently. Tony flashed one more smile and sprinted after his boss.
They didn't need Charlie's people reading skills to know that Admiral Channing was worried when Gibbs strolled up to him in the breakroom of Norfolk Naval Base a few hours later and asked if he had time for a chat. His eyes darted to the door nearest him, only to find himself staring down Charlie, her arms crossed and giving her head a tiny warning shake. He tried the exit on the other side of the room next and discovered McGee had taken up residence in front of that one, leaning against the doorframe, one hand in his pants pocket, making his blazer ride up just far enough to reveal the badge on his hip. The door to the men's room was a last, desperate shot, but the second he laid eyes on it, it swung open and Tony appeared.
"Three hours on the road, sorry about that guys... " he declared with a relieved sigh, making a show of adjusting his belt and the badge attached. Without missing a beat, his eyes locked onto Channing's. "Oh, you found him. Is the Admiral up for a little talk?"
Gibbs rolled his eyes, blocking the exits and being quietly intimidating had been one thing, but Tony's showmanship was overkill. He turned back to the portly older man. "Admiral Channing, is there somewhere quieter we can take this?"
"Uh... yes... of course," he only choked a little before recovering. "My office is available. This way."
Even though they knew he knew why they were there, he put on a show of welcoming hospitality, offering coffee which they all declined, calling a nearby Petty Officer to bring in extra chairs, commenting on the wintry weather and receiving frostier responses before finally settling behind his desk.
"Admiral Channing," Gibbs began before the man opposite him could segue into another tangent.
"No, no," he cut in with a disarming smile. "If you're only here for a chat, there's no reason to stand on ceremony. You can call me Gordon...?" Here he faded off with a little gesture prompting Gibbs to fill the blank with his own name.
The hard blue eyes showed absolutely no reaction to the affable tone. "Gibbs."
Channing blinked for a second, thrown by the blunt reply. "Of course, Gibbs. What can I do for you?"
"We're following up on the death of Commander Jason Bennett at the WAIT fundraiser last month," Gibbs cut to the chase.
The greying head bowed respectfully for a second. "Such a tragic situation. You feel the loss of one of your own, no matter the circumstances." Gibbs leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, unimpressed by the display but willing to let him ramble if only to catch inconsistencies as the conversation continued. "I never served with Bennett personally, but you hear stories. He was a good soldier. He spoke at the dinner that night, too. The amount of time he committed to supporting the charity was... well, it made the rest of us pale by comparison. I drove to DC to give my witness statement a few days after the awful news. I told your agent at the time I knew nothing that would help. Lovely girl though. I felt bad I couldn't tell her more. You probably know her if you're looking into this. I can't think of her name now, but she was very attractive, dark hair, baby on the way, pretty accent?"
"Agent David happens to be one of our best. With all due respect, Admiral Channing, you can keep any opinions about her to yourself," Charlie cut in quickly, spotting the annoyed twitch in Tony's jaw. Until they had something more incriminating to go off, everyone needed to keep their cool and treat it like an interview, Tony jumping to Ziva's defence would not help the situation.
Channing held his hands up innocently. "Oh, no offence meant, of course. My apologies," he did his best to laugh it off. "But as I told Agent Day-vid, I didn't even speak with Bennett that evening, so I'm not sure how I can help you any further, Agent Gibbs."
So far, for all the bluster, this much was true. Bennett and Channing had led separate Naval careers. Although Channing had attended the WAIT fundraiser, he had had nothing to do with Bennett that evening, appearing to neither seek him out nor avoid him. Although they were both involved with the charity, Bennett had localised his involvement to the DC area, while Channing had been based in Norfolk, and while aware of each other, their paths had crossed surprisingly little.
"What did the Commander speak about that evening?" Gibbs prompted.
Channing's brow wrinkled in thought. "Several things, increasing the community profile and awareness of the charity to make sure people in need know where to go and..." Something like disdain flashed across his face for a moment. "Improving the integrity and security of the funds raised, something about ensuring they only went towards their intended purpose."
They all caught the uncomfortable expression, although Gibbs acted as though he hadn't noticed. "Did you happen to speak with Captain Aaron Walker that evening? He was sitting beside Bennett that night."
"Of course, I know Captain Walker, he's an excellent fellow officer." Gibbs' eyes narrowed at the deflection, and he repeated the question, emphasising the night of the WAIT event. Channing's jaw tightened uncomfortably at the continued probing. "It was six weeks ago, Agent Gibbs. Of course, I don't remember everyone I spoke to that night." Again, he spoke the truth, Ziva had confirmed with a text message during their drive to Norfolk that there was no video evidence of Channing and Walker interacting at the fundraiser, despite their prior connections.
"What about Mrs Walker?" Gibbs asked in a tone that suggested he already knew.
There was a long pause, Channing had answered truthfully to this point and he was obviously considering what would qualify as honest given the question. "The event did not allow for plus-one invitations," he responded, careful to avoid any references to Mrs Walker's calls since her husband's arrest. "Otherwise, I would have brought my lovely wife along as well," he said, nodding to a picture frame on his desk.
Gibbs glanced at it quickly, seeing the usual extended family portrait. It was easy enough to interpret; the standard three generations posed in front of a nondescript watercolour background of a mall photography business. Admiral Channing and his wife were central, the couple sandwiched between a series of younger adults, presumably their children and spouses, and a row of grandchildren in front. "Lovely family," he offered with an impartial nod.
"Thank you," Channing replied, now clearly more guarded. "Getting to spend more time with them when I retire will make all these years of service so much more worthwhile."
At that moment, all four of the agents' phones chimed and the younger three immediately pulled them open to check the message. Only Gibbs ignored this, not taking his eyes off the Admiral.
"The younger generation, they've always got to be connected," Channing remarked with a chuckle. Gibbs did not sympathise. "It's so different nowadays, first there were fax machines, then computers, and now cell phones..." he went on as McGee leaned over, holding his phone out to Gibbs and murmuring something in a low voice.
Gibbs nodded. "And security cameras," he said, squinting at the screen. "Including at gas stations."
The friendly, open demeanour dropped and Channing grew tense, his tone sharpening. "Look, Agent Gibbs. I do have work to do today, so if you don't have any further questions for me..." he said, standing and gesturing towards the door.
"I don't." Gibbs held his hands up, apparently in resignation, but actually a signal to his team. "But they do."
"Don't you even want to know how we ended up here?" Tony began with feigned confusion. "It's such a good story too... it starts with a car wreck that lands an innocent kid in the hospital and ends with you being the last known contact between him and a murder suspect?"
McGee took his turn now. "Did you know, Admiral, that Commander Bennett's death is now being investigated as a murder? And that the man responsible just so happens to live at the address Mr Muir had entered into his GPS immediately after meeting you?"
"Well, he used to live there anyway - his current address is Truesdale Detention Centre, Alexandria. We never did find a motive, but the murder itself was cut and dried," Tony paused and glanced at the Admiral. "I wonder if Santa makes prison visits?"
"The kid lived, by the way, not that you asked," Charlie added. "He's pretty messed up, but if the swelling on his brain goes down he should make a full recovery. That's good news, isn't it?"
Channing seemed to be able to answer this question, at least. "Y-yes, of course." However, even that didn't sound as assured as he had been initially.
"Well, at least we can agree on that much," Tony replied, deadpan. "Still, you were the last person he spoke to before the crash, and his next destination was Captain Walker's home address, who, by your own admission, you've worked with in the past, not to mention the multiple phone calls his wife has made to you since he was incarcerated..."
Channing leaned forward on the desk, resting on his hands and bringing himself to eye level with the team. "An unlikely set of coincidences, I'm sure. Now if there are no actual questions for me..."
"Just one," Tony cut in, nodding downwards, drawing their attention to his hands. He pointed at a small, dried scab on the back of Channing's right thumb. "How'd you get that?"
Channing straightened up, tucking his thumb under his other hand. "Oh that? Just a little accident with a tape dispenser a few days ago, nothing serious. Nine grandchildren... it's a lot of gifts, you know," he chuckled nervously and indicated the photo again. "Mrs Channing needs my help getting all the wrapping done this time of year." From his previous carefully crafted answers, they surmised that he had at least helped with wrapping gifts, even if that was not where he'd obtained the injury.
"Are you sure it wasn't when you packed the box of cash we found in Cameron Muir's trunk?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. "I told you it was an interesting story how we ended up here. Our forensic scientist found blood and skin cells on the tape used to seal it - they matched your DNA profile. Unless you've got an identical twin brother we don't know about, that's one heck of a coincidence if you ask me."
The Admiral said nothing, although his jaw set tightly. Charlie snapped her fingers, as though suddenly enlightened. "Don't forget the fabric fibres, Tony," she added.
"Oh, right the fibres," he chuckled in response. "A perfect match for Naval dress blues, weren't they? Let's see... the crash was on Sunday, and where was our good Director headed Sunday night, McGee?"
"The Naval Annual Holiday Gala," McGee filled in instantly.
"Hmm, sounds like a pretty good reason to be wearing your blues if you ask me. Don't suppose you happened to be there that evening as well, Admiral?" He didn't wait for an answer. The growing anger on Channing's face spoke clearly enough. "Let's see... you get ready after lunch, pack the box, say.. 3pm... sorry, I'll put that in your words, 1500 hours... make the drive to the gas station just in time to show up on their security footage at 1617, back in time to pick up Mrs Channing and get to the party by the time pre-drinks start at 1830. Meanwhile, poor Mr Muir's just had a tyre blowout and is having to be revived on the side of the road while you're dancing your heart out with your wife."
This hit a nerve. "Well, I didn't know that he was going to crash, did I?" Channing retorted, pushing his chair back and springing to his feet, his face turning an unpleasant shade of puce. No one flinched, staying seated as he tried to stare them all down, breathing hard.
"Relax, Admiral," Tony scoffed as though the outburst was overkill. "We can put your mind at ease there. The wreck was pure bad luck - although you're Mr Muir's last known contact, you're not liable for the accident in any way. The kid should never have taken that car on the road. What we do want to know is why you were using him to secretly send a large amount of money to the man responsible for Commander Bennett's murder?"
As he had when confronted in the break room, Channing's eyes darted quickly around, looking for an escape route, this time the desk and Team Gibbs stood between him and the only exit. Now they moved, the four of them stood up in a single motion and all spreading out slightly, Charlie and McGee who were on either end of the row stepping sideways, to block the space on either side of the desk.
"Easy, Channing," Gibbs warned, his voice level and his eyes trained on the seething man before him. "I think we need to take this conversation back to NCIS and have your lawyer meet us there."
This seemed seemed to be the final straw and whatever control Channing had left over his courtly facade disappeared entirely. "You have no right to arrest me!" he shouted, sweeping everything off his desk, scattering various files and the family photo he'd pointed to so proudly shattering against the wall.
The next moment happened both in slow motion and in the blink of an eye all at once. Channing sidestepped his desk, lunging towards the door and swinging at whoever was in his path. The whole room seemed to surge sideways, everyone moving to intercept him, just as Charlie who'd been first in line, staggered backwards from his sudden, vicious shove. She regained her balance and before any of the men had a chance to react, she clenched, aligned her wrist just like Ziva had been teaching her and swung at Channing's face. There was a dull, meaty crunch as she made contact, Charlie yelped and recoiled, cradling her hand and Channing roared with pain, stopping in his tracks and doubled over, cupping his nose.
A few minutes later, order had been restored. Base security had materialised at the sounds of a fight but their presence was unneeded. Gibbs and Tony had a hold of him before he'd recovered from the punch subduing him while McGee got Charlie clear of the situation in case he tried to retaliate. He didn't, and after providing the requested first aid items - something to mop up Channing's nose and an icepack for Charlie's rapidly bruising knuckles - they were relegated to standing outside the door preventing any further witnesses to the debacle.
"That was assault!" Channing muttered thickly. Although much of his fight had dissipated as quickly as it had flared up, and he was now slumped regretfully in one of the chairs, dabbing carefully at the tender, bloody mess that sat in the centre of his face, he still had a few choice words for them all. "Arresting me under false pretences and then assaulting me. I'll have all of your badges!"
"I only saw Agent Delaney acting in self-defence," Gibbs shrugged. He'd let Channing keep the use of his hands for the time being to tend to his face, but they weren't taking any chances, Gibbs and Tony stood on either side of him, each with a hand on his shoulder, ready to prevent any further attempts at freedom. "Right, DiNozzo?"
"Right," Tony agreed. "You made contact with her first. And I don't recall anyone saying the word arrest except you. The problem is now, we know you've got something to hide, no one who's worried about being proven innocent reacts like that. I guess whether or not we slap you with assaulting a Federal Agent as well all depends on how generous Gibbs feels today."
Channing slumped further, realising he'd done himself in by misinterpreting Gibbs' request to continue their conversation elsewhere. "Look, I think this all got a bit out of hand," he began, trying to regain some of the genial nonchalance he'd assumed on their arrival. The effect was less convincing as his voice was heavily muffled between his clogged, misshapen nose and the bloody wad of tissue he still held to his face. "There's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this..."
"Which we'll be perfectly happy to hear back in DC," Tony finished, interrupted by his ringtone. "Oh, hang on, I better grab this one, Boss." He stopped and answered the call, turning away from the room, still keeping a heavy hand on Channing's shoulder.
"Tell you what," Gibbs said. "I'm feeling generous. You come quietly now and answer the rest of our questions about your involvement in Bennett's murder and I'll forget the part where I saw you put your hands on one of my agents. Do we have a deal?"
Channing hesitated, then glanced at Charlie, still icing her hand, then to McGee who, at a signal from Tony, opened something on his phone with a triumphant grin and back to Gibbs' unrelenting, steady gaze. "I won't say a word until my lawyer is present," he agreed grudgingly.
"We'll call them on the way," Gibbs said as though Channing had asked for nothing more complicated than to stop for food en route. "What's going on, DiNozzo?" he raised his voice, indicating Tony needed to hurry up and end the call.
"Ciao, Bella. Nice work." He hung up the phone and faced the room again. "It's a good thing you've agreed to come with us now Channing, because, after this point, you wouldn't have had any choice in the matter. Agent David has just sent McGee a copy of the expedited subpoena summoning you for a recorded interview that she filed as soon as she had the security footage placing you at the gas station with Cameron Muir."
Gibbs almost smiled. "No sense in waiting any longer, Channing, let's hit the road."
"But wait, there's more," Tony said with a grin. "She's also spoken to Mrs Walker who's agreed to come in and tell everything she knows about the whole situation too, there's an agent already on the way to her address to escort her to NCIS."
Channing deflated further, obviously predicting that whatever Mrs Walker had to say would not paint him in a favourable light. "How'd Agent Day-vid get all that done so fast?" he mumbled quietly in disbelief, struggling to his feet still flanked by Gibbs and Tony.
"Dah-veed," McGee stressed the correct pronunciation as he held the door open for them. "We already told you she was one of our best."
"And that she was more than just a lovely girl," Charlie commented, tossing her icepack in the trash and falling into formation beside McGee. "Still, it's the lovely ones you've got to watch out for... who do you think taught me to swing like that?" she added, inspecting her swollen hand with the casual air of displaying a new manicure.
"She is lovely, though," Tony added with a grin as they led Channing to the cars. "So lovely I married her."
A/N: I began writing some of these scenes before the world situation became what it was and thought for a long time about editing or removing them when the news broke. However, the fact remains that Ziva is by canon, an Israeli Jew. I will continue to represent not only Judaism but any other religions I write about with love and respect.
All portrayals of Hanukkah and Shabbat in this chapter, including Tony's participation as a non-believer and Ziva's flexibility to practise only the areas that are convenient or fulfilling to my interpretation of her have been proofread and approved by a practising Jew.
My comment section is not open to political or religious commentary. My only wish is that peace is found as soon as possible and no more lives are lost.
The next chapter is all proofread and ready to go and will wrap up this arc next week!
Feel free to follow me on Tumblr mrsmungus for more updates, scene snippets, and general rambling.
A reminder for you all that I am far more active on AO3 (same username) with extra stories and post publish editing that make the whole thing a much better experience. Guest readers are always welcome!
Much love, M xx