Morgan twisted and turned under the sheets, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and brows pinched in pain. The nightmares were worse now and she didn't have Russell with her to help wake her up and deal with them. She'd left him with the farm owner for the week while she was on vacation. Though some vacation it was turning out to be.
She jolted awake, sucking in a sharp breath of air and immediately reaching for her pistol from her bedside table. It wasn't there. Panic welled up in her and she felt nausea roll through her gut at the unfamiliarity of the bedroom. She wasn't at home. She rushed to her feet and forced herself to try and push past the memories, the pain. She faltered and hit her shoulder against the wall trying to walk. Her body felt like it was on fire, every scar burning as though it were fresh and she was right back in that hell.
She stumbled into the bathroom and fell to her knees before the toilet, vomiting and heaving until her muscles ached and her stomach throbbed. She dropped her forehead down against the cool porcelain, trying to catch her breath and calm down. She'd not been this bad in a while but it was almost expected. The fight with Gibbs had brought those memories straight to the forefront of her mind and making the decision to step away from NICS for a bit until Gibbs could decide what to do, hadn't helped matters.
She needed to be busy. She needed the structure of the military or the job. Without it, her mind stagnates and falls, tumbling into what happened during that year when no one gave a shit about some missing female soldier who'd worked her ass off for her country. She'd been tossed aside so quickly that her entire life had been thrown upside down in the process. Finally getting rescued—Or was she dumped by Al-Qaeda when they weren't getting what they wanted? She couldn't remember anything past the pain—Then, ending up hospitalized and having to fight through the memories and the anger and agony winding through her body. Not a single get-well card, no visitors, and too gruff to make friends with any of the nurses. Then, finally seeing the result of her work, of her pain… Just… words.
"You're lucky you weren't dishonorably discharged."
"You should be glad you're still here."
"They could have completely blotted out your record and abandoned you, you know."
Standing in the apartment she had to find and purchase outside the military base she'd always called home, and listening to the silence that echoed that dark room she'd been held in. The screams in her ears that she hadn't managed to get rid of for years. They still came back. All of it came back on bad days like this.
She forced herself to her feet and moved to the sink, keeping her gaze turned downward and not wanting to see the pale face that would stare back. The dark bags under her eyes from sleepless nights—she'd not filled out her prescription before running off—the way her scars stuck out as pale white slashes across her lightly tanned skin. She dragged a shaking hand through her hair, looking around and finally being aware enough to notice where she was. Not home, but a hotel. Things were slowly coming back and edging the nightmarish memories away.
In the hopes of clearing the fog further, she stripped off her loose shirt, shorts, and underwear and stepped into the shower. The hot water fell onto her toned back and shoulders, rolling over black ink etched across her ribs. The winged serpent was twisted around, linking some of the scars on her body in a vain attempt to hide some of the worst ones. The ones that reminded her all too easily of the blade between her ribs and a tight-gripped hand on her thigh.
The water turned ice-cold at the thought, her teeth grit tightly and her hand on the knob that had turned it that way in a white-knuckled grip. The shower was done now, spoiled by the memories and she moved into the bedroom once more to dig through her suitcase for her clothes. She couldn't stay here much longer or she'd end up breaking something. She needed to get out and burn off the adrenaline. More than that, she needed somewhere else to consider what she would do if Gibbs never brought her back.
The team had become somewhat awkward when news got out that Morgan had requested time off after that last case. Everyone knew that Gibbs had stormed into the elevator with her and they'd had some sort of fight; putting a damper on the running bet they'd come up with. What they didn't know was what the fight was about. Gibbs wasn't about to talk to anyone and Morgan wasn't answering any calls or texts. The most anyone had gotten was Ziva had spoken to the Director very briefly about whether they should be concerned and the response given was that she would talk with Gibbs.
Said talk didn't exactly go well either. The Director wasn't pleased that one of their best agents had suddenly asked for time off looking as though she were about to resign. Upon telling Gibbs again that Morgan had just been trying to help and that he needed to put aside his personal feelings when it came to his decision, he'd just stormed out. It wasn't the best thing to say but the Director wasn't daft. She could tell that there had been something going on between Gibbs and Morgan. More on his side than hers but it was enough that she, as his ex, could see the interest Gibbs was displaying… had been displaying. It made her jealous but she knew at this point that it was unlikely Gibbs was going to try again with her. Knowing that she'd been the one to cause this by not keeping her mouth shut just made it worse. She would have to make it up to Morgan when she returned.
Gibbs, on the other hand, was well aware of the talk going around about his falling out with Morgan. He saw the looks his own team was giving him and after the talk with the Director, he was still holding onto those bitter feelings regarding the whole incident. However, a part of him was rebelling against it as well. His gut told him Morgan was a good person and despite her shortcomings, she wouldn't have meant any harm by doing what she did. She'd explained it in the elevator and reinforced the idea that—much like him—she would have kept the information to herself without mentioning it if she could.
It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he concluded. Hell, he trusted her more than anyone with that information. What bothered him was that she felt she had to dig into his personal life to help him. That, because he couldn't even remember her, she considered herself so untrustworthy that she'd expected him to fire her for trying to help. It wasn't about her so much as it was about him, but that initial anger had clouded his judgment and at the time, all he wanted to do was get as far away from her as possible to sort himself out and decide what to do. As a team leader, a breach of privacy like that was something deserving of punishment. Desk work seemed apt.
As a companion, a friend of hers though… It hurt that she'd looked into it without asking but it was understandable given the circumstances. Unlike how he'd looked at her files when she'd joined the team, she'd not done it out of curiosity or trying to work him out. She'd done it to try and help him work through what kept him in that coma because she'd not had anyone do that for her and she didn't want him to end up the same way.
His anger had cooled significantly the more time went on and the team had a brief distraction with a case on Halloween involving a shot Staff Sergeant, a distraught wife, and a missing little girl. When they'd dealt with everything and got the girl back, Gibbs couldn't help but think of his own little girl and his wife whom he'd lost. The thought had dragged his mind back to Morgan, whose help would've been useful on the case but whose presence alone had been missed.
He had blown up, had made a mistake in doing so, and in turn, had caused her to jump to the wrong conclusions and give him space. She was preparing to be abandoned and the fact that she'd expected it so readily had earned Gibbs a few sleepless nights himself. She was messed up, very much so, but of no fault of her own. The army had abandoned her. Her team, her squad, whoever she'd been with had left her to Al-Qaeda and she'd been forced to deal with her entire life on her own. She might not come off as kind-hearted with her gruff attitude but she did her best and he'd noticed that. He'd forgotten it in his fit of anger and now he had to fix things.
He just wasn't sure how. How does someone fix something like this with someone like… well, Morgan? He couldn't just walk in with dinner and flowers like he could with someone like Director Shepard. That, and they weren't that close yet. Might not even end up that way with how he'd screwed this up. Morgan just seemed more… practical. She wouldn't want flowers. She'd just want a quiet night at home. Maybe drinks? He could do drinks. Would she want to stay and have a drink with him though? They'd just fought so he'd need some sort of apology first, then drinks.
He frowned lightly, mentally noting that he'd never found women to be this hard before. Morgan being such a simple, seemingly easy-to-please person had just proven all his deductions about her completely wrong. If anything, she was the most complicated woman he's had to deal with yet. He cracked a small smile, picking up his morning coffee and heading into NCIS. Always did like a challenge. He took a sip of his coffee as he stepped out of the elevator and was mildly surprised to see the team enjoying themselves while playing with Russell. Has it been a week already?
Russell must have heard him coming as well, for the dog pulled away from the others and bounded toward him. He braced for impact, half expecting the dog to jump on him and knock his coffee to the ground. Instead, Russell pulled to a stop right in front of him, mouth agape as he whined and his entire body wiggled around to show his excitement. Relieved he wasn't about to clean up a mess, he relaxed his shoulders and reached down to give the dog a pet.
"Nice to see you again too, Rus."
Already he could feel the eyes of his team on him and he pointedly ignored them as he went to his desk and took off his coat.
"Where's Frost?" He asked calmly and looks were exchanged before Tony spoke up.
"With Dr. McNeil, boss. Went there right after meeting with the Director."
Gibbs hummed and settled down at his desk, starting his computer to work. He could wait.
"You look tired."
Morgan shot Dr. McNeil a scowl. "Good morning to you too."
McNeil ignored the spiteful tone, keeping a small smile on her face as she went on. "Apologies. How was your vacation?"
"Fine," Morgan grumbled, arms folded over her chest and fingers drumming the crook of her arm. "I went rock climbing."
McNeil hummed, making a note. "I can see that. I heard the vacation was rather abrupt." She glanced at Morgan, seeing the woman across from her clench her teeth. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"No."
"Okay, so we won't talk about how you and Special Agent Gibbs were seen having a discussion in the elevator and then storming out. That must have nothing to do with you suddenly asking for a vacation when you were adamant about returning to work the day after you got shot," McNeil replied, knowing she was getting under her skin. "I know. Let's talk about the fact that instead of having a nice, relaxing vacation you decided to spend it heavily working out; a coping mechanism you've displayed before when you're—"
"What do you want?" Morgan snapped, cutting her off.
"The truth," McNeil said calmly, setting her notes down and clasping her hands together on her desk.
Morgan shifted uneasily, knowing this was unavoidable and—much like the last session—could potentially cause more issues later. Not to mention, she was going to have to walk out that door and go back to work like nothing was wrong. If Gibbs still wanted her on the team.
"I fucked up," she muttered as McNeil silently listened for the moment. "When Gibbs had lost his memory, I went and looked into his past and handed that information to the Director so she could help him."
"So, he was upset you dug into his personal life."
"Yes," she answered simply. "I thought…"
"Go on."
Morgan reached up and dragged a hand through her hair, closing her eyes in frustration. "I thought knowing his past better would help once he was out of the coma. The doctor said he was in a coma in the first place because he was stuck in his own head."
"Like you were after being rescued from Al-Qaeda," McNeil concluded and Morgan nodded.
"I didn't have anyone to help me through things after what happened. He did, so if they understood whatever it was that was bothering him—"
"Then, he could get the help he needed and remember things quicker. You were trying to help and he misunderstood."
"No. He understood. What's there to misunderstand?" Morgan argued, letting a hint of the frustration and hurt leak through. "I broke any trust he had in me by digging through his past that he was keeping hidden. I also shared that information with the Director who probably told others. I said I was fine with whatever punishment he gave me. I expect to be fired."
McNeil raised a brow. "You think he would fire you because you tried to help him?"
Morgan groaned, dropping her head back against the seat. "I don't know. How am I supposed to know how he thinks?"
"So, why do you think you'll be fired?"
"Because I would fire someone if they went and did that to me," she admitted, dropping her head in her hand. "If I had a subordinate dig into my life and find out about what happened in Al-Qaeda, then tell people about it, I'd be furious. I would kick them from my team because they're a liability. What they found could cause issues with our teamwork and knowing that they knew could cause issues with me working with them. Logically, it would make sense if that were the next step."
"Can I make a suggestion?" McNeil asked, drawing her gaze. "Gibbs has been an agent for a long time. Do you think he's not had others find out about things he tried to keep secret? Better yet, do you think he's never had his trust broken by a team member?"
Morgan didn't reply and McNeil continued.
"Gibbs has done a lot of things. He's refused teammates, broken rules, and tested boundaries. Do you consider yourself so small in his eyes that he would fire you over a breach of privacy?"
"He couldn't even remember me," she muttered and McNeil sighed softly.
"The human mind is a fickle thing. You'd only been on his team for a year and unlike Agent David—who has saved his life and solidified her position in his mind even after a year—you haven't had the chance. Tell me. Why were you shot?"
Morgan frowned lightly in confusion at the topic change. "Because I was doing my job and protecting a key witness to—"
"Are you sure it wasn't because Mike Franks was an important friend to Gibbs?" She cut her off, making her turn her gaze to the ground. "Morgan, you are always putting on a strong face around others. You are gruff and bitter and dealing with a lot that has caused your outlook on things to turn dark. That doesn't mean you aren't kind and thoughtful in ways people wouldn't expect. Gibbs would see that."
"What if he doesn't?" Morgan pressed and McNeil raised a brow.
"Gibbs sees through a lot. It might take time but he is good at reading people. I don't think he would miss it."
Morgan was quiet and McNeil reopened her notes, marking a few things down.
"Now, let's try this again. How was your vacation?"
The session went on with a slightly better note, letting Morgan think about things other than the man she was going to have to face outside the door for a bit. Her sleeping medication was changed again since the old medication wasn't working as well, and the discussion had drifted toward her nightmares and how to deal with the aftereffects. Given the circumstances surrounding her vacation, there wasn't much she could help. Not having Russell meant she'd had no support and while her excessive exercising was a better coping mechanism than, say, alcohol or drugs, it still wasn't good for her in the long run. It was worse when Morgan did it until exhaustion too.
The session ended with Morgan begrudgingly taking a card for a personal trainer who would manage her exercising better and who had experience working with veterans. McNeil had refused her excuses about not having a scheduled routine for exercising and knowing her limits when she wasn't stressed, ensuring she didn't leave without it. When Morgan reached the door though, she paused.
"What do I do?" She asked quietly, shoulders hunched a little defensively and McNeil came up behind her and lightly placed her hand on her shoulder.
"Let him talk to you. He's the one who needs to explain what your relationship will be like from now on. If what happened caused issues, then both of you will need to work on how to fix them. But he needs to be the one to say whether there's a problem or not. You just need to worry about yourself right now and be patient."
Morgan nodded and took a breath, straightening up and stepping out into the hall. She gave McNeil a nod of thanks and moved toward the bullpen, unable to help the quickening of her heart at the sight of Gibbs's silver hair at his desk beside hers. She swallowed thickly—stealing her resolve—and headed for her desk, relaxing slightly when Russell bounded to her side happily and settled his head in her lap the moment she sat down. She carded her fingers through his fur, squishing his happy face as his tongue lolled out in joy. She resisted the urge to jump when Gibbs suddenly slipped out from behind his desk but he headed upstairs where the Director had waved him up.
"Hey, Morgan," Tony called out, drawing her attention before her hand snapped up to catch the can he'd tossed to her. "Welcome back."
She accepted the energy drink with a small nod of thanks, cracking it open in relief given how exhausted she was right now. Between the lack of sleep, the stress, and dealing with the therapy session right after, she could do with the caffeine. She paused though, mid-sip, at the sight of Tony seemingly pouring over half the container of sugar into his coffee. He wasn't the only one either and Tony finally addressed the look he was getting from McGee.
"One and a half teaspoons is not sweet, McGee. I've seen my people pour three ounces of sugar into a one-ounce espresso."
"Your people being Long Islanders?" McGee questioned.
"Romans," Tony corrected as Morgan shook her head and simply settled back to watch the show. "Inventors of the grain harvester, the arch, modern plumbing."
"Plumbing? Oh, every time I flush I will think of you, Tony. You and your people," McGee quipped.
"I would ask you to explain that, but I really don't want to know," Ziva chimed to McGee before looking at Tony shaking a packet of creamer. "And I definitely don't want to know what you're doing."
"Making cappuccino, Ziva," Tony explained anyway. "And educating Probie as to what Italy has contributed to the world. Oration, Italian chima, sports cars."
"Gold chains and chest hairs?" Ziva added.
"And pasta, in all its sexy shapes and sizes."
"The Chinese invented pasta," Morgan informed him, making him pause. "3000 BC. Italy didn't have it until the 4th century."
"Communist-era propaganda," Tony argued, frowning. "How did you know that?"
"History channel," Morgan replied. "It was the only thing on at the hotel."
"Where'd you go?" Ziva asked curiously, knowing better than to step on a landmine like her argument with Gibbs.
"Lake Tahoe," Morgan replied. "I went rock climbing."
"I thought you looked a little cooked," Tony hummed, not missing the toned muscles in her arms either. "Didn't know you were into rock climbing."
"I like to exercise," Morgan said with a shrug and he went to question her about something else when Gibbs headed downstairs and interrupted.
"Let's go. Bombing at the Army-Navy Club. One dead, one injured. Colonel Cooper and his son."
"Terrorist attack?" Ziva asked, grabbing her things as Morgan hesitated.
"Probably," Gibbs responded. "High-value target. Threat level has been raised to orange and the Army might already be there. Move."
He grabbed his things from his desk and glanced up when he saw Morgan standing but hesitating to speak.
"Well?"
She opened her mouth and paused, before trying again. "I thought I was to be on desk duty."
He moved up beside her desk, placing her service arm and badge down and lowering his voice. "That was before I pulled my head out of my ass. You're fine, Morgan. Come on."
She nodded, eyeing him but taking her things and having Russell by her side as well. Once in the elevator that the others were holding for them, Gibbs continued to hand out instructions.
"McGee, I want you calling up Ducky. Let him know where to go. Fastest route possible. Don't need anyone else taking this body before we do."
"Yes, boss."
"Second we get there, I want people spread out looking for parts. Morgan, you've got the dog. Use him."
She nodded and he eyed her for a moment before she managed to properly respond. "Yes, boss."
"Good. You're with me," he said, making the rest of the team stay in the elevator for a second as he stepped out into the parking garage; everyone wondering if they'd heard him right. "Move, Frost!"
"Good luck," Tony offered, giving Morgan a pat on the shoulder before hastily removing his hand and holding it up in surrender at the sharp look she gave him.
"Nice one, Tony," Ziva hissed when she'd gone after Gibbs.
"Well, someone had to say it… Think they'll fix whatever happened last time?"
"Never know," McGee hummed as they climbed into the van and he pulled out his phone to call Ducky. "With how much she's like Gibbs, it could be a while."
"Yeah, I'd rather not given we're teaming up with the army this time around. What are the chances she knows someone?"
"Minimal," Ziva replied, giving him a look. "Do you really think she spent her time in the military making friends?"
"Well, no, but enemies?"
"...Good point."
The car ride to the golf course started off eerily quiet. Morgan wasn't willing to breach the topic of their fight and was doing her best to try and remind patient, but it was easier said than done. Already, Russell could tell she was uneasy and rested his head in her lap; an action Gibbs didn't miss.
"Do we have a problem?" He asked, drawing Morgan's gaze and before she could question him, he glanced at Russell; letting her know the dog had given away her anxiety.
Morgan pointedly looked out the window. "I don't know. Do we?"
"Do you want there to be a problem?"
Morgan closed her eyes and took in a slow breath, annoyed with the roundabout way of speaking. "No."
"Then, there's no problem," he declared simply, frustrating her immediately.
"How is there no problem?" She questioned, shooting him a glare. "I dug into your personal life and shared it with someone else."
"To help me," he reminded her. "While I'm not happy about what happened, I get it. So, let's drop it and move on."
"Just like that?" She muttered, suspicious at how easy it was.
"Just like that," he confirmed. "We've got a job to do."
Morgan mulled over that for a moment before slowly nodding and relaxing. Gibbs gave her one last glance to make sure but they were both simple people. It was easier to just move past something like this than dwell on it and make extravagant apologies. Apologies they both knew were just words more than anything.
"Let me know if any of the people there are people you know," Gibbs added, turning the discussion toward work. "Good or bad."
Morgan snorted, cracking a hint of a smile. "I didn't exactly make friends in the army, you know."
"Oh, I know but if you caught someone's interest, then we know what to expect."
They pulled up to the golf course and already there were army personnel scattered all over the green.
"Looks like we're late for the party," Tony commented as the team met up and Gibbs called out his orders and showed his ID to the soldiers standing by.
"Assume a hundred-meter blast radius from the sand trap."
"It's called a bunker, boss, not a sand trap," Tony corrected before shifting uneasily at Gibbs's look. "Blast radius a hundred meters! Got it, boss! Probie, you got the woods. I've got the far side."
McGee hesitated but Morgan spoke up as she started to hook Russell up to her long line.
"I'll take the woods, McGee. Russell can navigate through there better than we could anyway."
McGee let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Morgan. There's poison ivy, so be careful. I look at the stuff and I break out."
"Don't look then," Gibbs said, turning to Morgan. "I want you to start from the bunker and move outward. Give Russell a better chance at catching a scent."
McGee grimaced, really not wanting to take the forest but Gibbs's orders were absolute. So, begrudgingly, he stepped away to head toward the woods while Morgan finished adjusting the long line in her hands.
"The Zaka would be busy today," Ziva chimed as she, Gibbs, and Morgan headed for the bunker.
"Zaka?"
"Orthodox Jews who volunteer to collect body parts from terror attacks," Ziva explained and Gibbs knelt down to check a nearby crime scene marker as Morgan moved Russell toward the edge of the bunker where he could get a whiff of the bomb site.
He was having a good day, thankfully, and was ignoring the scattered bits of remains among the grass.
"Agent Gibbs?" Someone chimed and Morgan turned in mild surprise as Gibbs greeted the woman who'd come to greet him; shaking hands. "Lieutenant Colonel Hollis Mann, Army CID. I believe your Director called."
"She did," he confirmed, gesturing to Ziva. "Officer Ziva David—"
"Ziva David," Mann said with a nod. "Yes, I know. Army Criminal Investigative Division has excellent intel."
"Good. You can use it to support our investigation," Gibbs said, seeing the intent here and Mann cracked a small, tight smile.
"Our joint investigation, with Army in the lead. This isn't the Navy-Army Club, it's the Army-Navy Club."
"Yeah? That is a dead Marine at the Army-Navy Club," Gibbs pointed out, starting to walk away when the woman spotted Morgan.
"Ah, and if it isn't First Sergeant Frost," Mann greeted, glancing at Russell who perked up instantly and turned toward them. "And Sergeant Major Russell."
Morgan snapped to attention and saluted. "Lieutenant Colonel Mann."
Mann rolled her eyes and saluted back, though far more relaxed. "As crisp as ever, Morgan."
Morgan relaxed, giving Russell a command that let him head over to meet her, only to flinch slightly when Gibbs spoke up.
"You know her?"
"Yes, we've…" Morgan glanced at Mann as she smiled and ruffled Russell's fur. "...worked together for a few things."
Gibbs grunted, eyeing Mann for a moment before Russell headed back over and Morgan sent him to return to work.
"I had EOD sweep the rest of the sand traps," Mann informed them, giving Morgan a small smile when she glanced over. "Though you're welcome to let Russell have a sniff around. It's all been photographed so if you need to go into the sand trap, that's fine."
"Bunkers," Gibbs corrected her suddenly, making Mann raise a brow.
"Excuse me?"
"They're called bunkers, not sand traps."
Mann took a breath but ignored the correction. "The Colonel's son said he saw what he thought was a spider web in the bunker."
"Tripwire?" Ziva questioned, having been watching the exchange from where she was knelt on the grass.
"Possibly. There's not much to go on with this one. Of course, we've got a lot of land to cover. Morgan and Russell will make that easier, I'm sure."
Morgan grunted, frowning lightly as Russell sniffed around the grass; slowly drifting further away from the bomb site. "If he can catch a scent. We're not getting much right now which could be for any number of reasons."
"How so?" Gibbs asked.
"Could be environmental distractions, could be what was used in the bomb isn't the usual that Russell can easily identify, or…"
"Or?"
Morgan hesitated, rubbing the back of her neck. "Or Russell is having a bad day. He was keen and eager to search though, so I don't think—"
"Frost."
"Yes, boss," she muttered and he nodded toward Russell, who was at the end of the long line still snuffling in the grass.
"Keep searching."
"Right."
She hurried off and Gibbs lightly shook his head, not seeing Mann eyeing the interaction curiously.
"Eighteen holes on a golf course," he chimed and she nodded.
"Yeah. You want to divide them up?"
"Sure. We'll take the crime scene. You and your people can take the other seventeen holes," Gibbs quipped, making Mann crack a small smile.
"You're not taking away my crime scene. End of story. But if you ask nicely, I might just give you the body."
"Well, I don't really have to ask seeing as my M.E. got here first," he pointed out, spotting Ducky getting out of his vehicle.
"Okay," Mann gave in, folding her arms in front of her chest. "If this is going to be a pissing match, you'd better bring an umbrella."
Ziva had been watching this unfold herself, eyes bouncing between the ever-stubborn Gibbs and the newest challenge when Tony called out from not too far off.
"Oh-ho! I've got some good news, boss!" He bounded over and paused at the sight of Gibbs and Mann eyeing one another. "Did I miss something?"
"Gibbs just found his fourth ex-wife," Ziva informed him as he approached, turning to glance at where Morgan was in the distance with Russell; none the wiser.
"What do you got, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked and Tony stepped over with the piece he found. "I found this off the next tee. It was outside the blast radius. The wind must have carried it. Looks like part of a detonator."
"I checked the neighboring tees myself," Mann countered.
"Well, maybe you should have checked the trash cans. Looks like a hole-in-one, boss."
"Nice work."
"Thanks," Tony said with a smile.
"I'll update my people," Mann hummed, unbothered by the showing off that was happening but Gibbs stopped her.
"Who are you?" He asked, earning a raised brow until he clarified. "To Morgan."
Mann cracked a small smirk. "I could ask you the same thing. Not many people can make her nervous like that."
"There was a problem and we resolved it recently, that's all," he defended and she hummed, starting to walk off.
"We're friends, though don't expect her to say that. Stay around her long enough and you know how she is. Morgan Frost doesn't have friends."
"Don't I know it," Gibbs murmured, watching Mann go before shifting his gaze to Morgan as she started walking toward the next hole. "Friends, huh?"
Gibbs wasn't thrilled to have Lieutenant Colonel Mann following him around everywhere and sharing information wasn't exactly something he enjoyed doing. Still, he was doing it and perhaps, if things weren't so complicated already, he might have viewed her differently. As it was now, all he could think about was her damn smirk when she told him she and Morgan were friends. It felt like they weren't just having a pissing contest about the case and he wasn't sure what he thought about her yet.
The two stepped out of the elevator into autopsy where Ducky had the body and was currently speaking to it.
"Not nearly as far as you traveled, my friend," he hummed, rattling on as Mann gave Gibbs a look.
"Is he talking to himself?"
"The body," Gibbs informed her as Ducky turned.
"Ah, Colonel, your C.O. just called. Requested copies of my autopsy reports," he informed her before greeting Gibbs. "Gibbs."
"The report?" He pressed.
"Yeah, well, the cause of death appears to be just what you see here. explosive dismemberment."
"Yeah, got that part."
"What we don't have are traceable fragments from that explosion," Mann informed him. "Even Morgan and Russell were having issues and that dog is one of the best."
"Yes, Abby was complaining about the dearth of physical evidence from the crime scene. Present company excepted, of course," he hummed, glancing briefly at the body.
"Bombshell was plastic," Gibbs told him as Mann nodded.
"Which means the fragments disintegrated."
"Yes, but luckily for you, not all of them," Ducky replied. "As the ancients soon discovered, fire and water do not mix. The human body is over two-thirds water. Some of the burning fragments were cooled by the interstitial liquid in the Colonel's tissue before they could disintegrate."
He showed Mann a small bottle of pieces as Gibbs eyed him.
"Get that to Abby."
Ducky watched him as he left, sensing some sort of tension, though for what he wasn't sure. So, he shrugged and went back to work as the two stepped out. Gibbs ended up heading upstairs and left Mann with the rest of the team in the bullpen as she requested McGee to bring up the crime scene photos.
"There it is," McGee hummed, bringing up on the screen the one she requested; showing a man searching the grass with a metal detector and the fence by the parking lot behind him.
"Okay, good. Punch in on that."
McGee zoomed in the photo to a car that was parked. "You can read the entire license plate."
"I'll update the BOLO," Ziva chimed as Tony walked in.
"BOLO for what?"
"The CID vetted everyone as they left the golf course," Morgan informed him as she set down water for Russell. "Everyone but that one."
Mann nodded. "We don't have any record of this '99 Toyota leaving. The owner's a greenskeeper at the club."
"He must have used an old service entrance. Snuck out before we covered them all," McGee told him and Tony hummed.
"Nice catch, McGee."
"Uh, no, it's my catch," Mann corrected him. "Let's see if we can get an address on this."
"It's also possible there's no connection at all," Morgan chimed in, catching the look Mann gave her and frowning lightly. "What? People flee crime scenes all the time and very rarely do they have an immediate connection to it. Some people just don't like cops snooping around their personal business and there's also the chance they committed some other crime they don't want to get caught for."
"Never said there wasn't a chance for that," Mann hummed, heading over and nodding toward her computer. "Look into him, would you? Save us the trouble."
Morgan huffed, starting to type. "I was going to anyway."
"You never did like authority."
She whipped around to Mann who chuckled.
"Go on. Hop to it. Prove me wrong, Morgan."
Morgan frowned at her but didn't argue and got to work only for Gibbs's voice to call out from the second level. Tony had called him to inform him of what was happening but hadn't noticed the man watching them.
"Oh. hey! That's weird because I-I thought you were still in MTAC," Tony offered with a hesitant smile.
"What do you want?" Gibbs asked.
"Um, we—"
"Just found an unaccounted-for vehicle from the Army-Navy Club," Mann informed him and he stepped away, heading for the elevator.
"DiNozzo with me."
"You too, Morgan," Mann chimed, making Morgan glance at Gibbs hesitantly.
Gibbs ground his teeth but nodded and Morgan grabbed her things and called Russell over. They didn't have to go far before Gibbs pulled the car to a halt and nodded for Morgan and Tony to check out the suspect and the vehicle.
"He's already in C.I.D. custody, Agent Gibbs. My people can handle the interrogation," Mann said but Gibbs turned to Tony who was still walking with them.
"What are you doing?"
He turned and headed for the suspect as Mann resisted a sigh. "Divorced, right?"
"Three times," Gibbs informed her.
"Only three. Well, I'll be sure to let my superiors know how you assisted."
A dog started barking and Morgan called out; playing tug with Russell who'd alerted to the trunk of the car.
"Gibbs, I think we found out why he ran. He's got drugs in the car."
"Not a bomb?" Gibbs questioned and Mann glanced at him.
"Russell has been trained to alert differently depending on what it is. Morgan taught him that. He barks once and lays down, it's drugs. For bombs, it's a round of barks and a retreat."
"He whines now though," Morgan informed her, having Russell tucked between her legs as she ran her hands up and down his neck. "Bark, whine, retreat."
"Spoiled him huh?" Mann commented.
"Just didn't feel like scolding him when we're not in service anymore," Morgan hummed. "Don't have to be so strict with him here."
"Well, you've changed," Mann commented, turning Morgan's small smile into a scowl as the soldiers who'd opened the trunk found a large pack of drugs.
"Marijuana," the soldier informed them, leading to a bit of disappointment.
"Okay, drugs. That doesn't mean he didn't plant the bomb," Mann said with a sigh and Gibbs cracked a smug smirk.
"You can have that interrogation. I'll look for who did."
Gibbs was down in his basement that evening after a long day at work hunting for leads. He hadn't expected visitors but given he rarely locked his door, it wasn't entirely surprising when a voice called down to him.
"Agent Gibbs?" Mann appeared at the top of his stairs, hair out of its usual bun and dressed far more casually. "I… I've been ringing your bell for the last three minutes."
"Yeah. Been meaning to fix that," Gibbs hummed, sitting down to work as she descended the stairs.
"Well, the door was unlocked, so…"
"So, this would be trespassing, not breaking and entering."
"Uh-huh," she chimed before seeing the name he was painting on the boat. "Kelly?"
He ignored the question. "There a reason you broke into my house?"
"This is a joint investigation. I thought maybe we could share some information," she replied, though that wasn't the only reason.
"Beer?" He offered, confusing her.
"Beer? I—"
He gestured past the boat and she nodded, stepping over and removing her coat.
"Sure," she muttered, accepting the beer that was waiting on the worktable. "I got the results on the swabs from the Toyota. There were traces of diesel fuel and uh, fertilizer. Same thing that McVeigh used to blow up the Federal Building in Oklahoma."
Gibbs had eyed her from around the boat for a moment, taking her in and idly noting she wasn't bad before returning to work. She did much the same when he wasn't looking as he responded to her findings.
"Yeah. Guy driving the Toyota was a greenskeeper."
"Morgan said the same thing," Mann replied, watching him for a reaction as she walked back around the boat. "He's around fertilizer and diesel fuel all day. She confirmed the marijuana was because he had some small connections with a street gang in the area. We passed him along to narcotics to see what they want to do with him. It was a bad lead." She held her hands up in a shrug. "Anything you'd like to share?"
"I've got some sardines upstairs," he offered jokingly.
"I meant about the case," she pressed. "But then you knew that. Girlfriend," she said then, snapping her fingers. "Is Kelly your girlfriend?"
Gibbs silently shook his head no and seeing there was something Gibbs didn't want to share there, Mann backed off.
"Okay. I know that look," she hummed, drawing a raised brow from Gibbs. "Morgan makes the same one when people try to pry. Thing is, the CID intel did a profile on you for me. I know you flaunt authority, especially in front of a female."
"A female write that, too?" Gibbs asked, earning a smirk from Mann.
"Yup. She also wrote you were a sniper, a good one, but your eyesight's shot. You're injury-prone, if not in a state of near-death-wish fulfillment. And though you're pressured and impatient, you're also passionate and loyal, in spite of the fact that you don't trust anyone."
She started picking at a sliver of wood on the boat but Gibbs reached up and pulled her hand away.
"You are going to have to trust me," Mann pressed and he eyed her with a small frown.
"Is there anything I should know about you before we do this trust thing?"
"You can have NCIS Intel do a profile on me if you'd like," Mann offered.
"Oh, I could," he answered before he sat back down. "But I like surprises."
"Explains why you and Morgan get along," Mann said, making him sigh and turn toward her.
"Is there something going on between you two? You bring her up a lot."
Mann cracked a smile. "Jealous?"
He rolled his eyes, lifting his brush again. "No."
She hummed. "I was bringing her up to get you to talk about her. Except you seem determined not to. Did you have a fight?"
Gibbs was doing his best to hold back his temper. "What do you want?"
"To get to know you," Mann replied, leaning against the boat and sipping her drink. "Not for me, but for her."
Gibbs paused, shooting her a look. "You're playing wingman?"
"More… a concerned friend trying to keep her safe."
"I thought she doesn't have friends."
"She doesn't. I use the term loosely," Mann answered easily. "I consider her a friend. She probably just sees me as someone she can relax around."
"She saluted you," Gibbs pointed out.
"Her whole life revolved around the army. Getting her to abandon those old habits is practically impossible."
Gibbs knew that struggle. She still called him "sir" on occasion and the way she slipped into attention or parade rest was often enough that he wondered if she even recognized she was doing it. Seeing his thoughts had drifted toward a bit of camaraderie with Mann over their connection to Morgan, Gibbs attempted to push back a little.
"She can take care of herself."
"She can," Mann agreed. "Though she's rather clueless about relationships of any kind. You have your work cut out for you."
"No kidding," Gibbs muttered, allowing them to drift into silence for a moment. "Any tips?"
Mann just laughed.