Bit longer this time and apologies if the... timeline for cases are kinda screwy. I'm sure cases don't take a few days to a week to finish but it's hard to tell time in the series other than when outfits are changed.
Morgan stood outside the bar a little uneasily and Russell leaned heavily into her side for her comfort. She wasn't sure where to go or what to do and hadn't exactly wanted to come to the girl's night that Abby planned but if she didn't, she knew she'd be on the woman's bad side for ages. It was better to just go, enjoy the drinks, and hope that whatever questions they asked weren't too… invasive. I really don't want to talk about my military experience. She ran a hand through her hair before begrudgingly stepping into the bar. Immediately, her name was called out from a table across the bar and she tensed her shoulders before seeing it was Abby.
"Morgan! Over here!"
Ziva was also there and already holding a drink, which she lifted in greeting. Giving one last glance at the workers to ensure they didn't mind Russell, Morgan headed over and slipped into a chair as Russell automatically settled by her feet.
"Did you find the place okay?" Abby asked with a grin. "I wasn't sure how new to the area you were so I hope my directions were alright."
"It's fine," Morgan muttered as Ziva got up.
"I've got the first round. What do you want?"
Morgan didn't plan on getting wasted here and knew her limits well. "Scotch on the rocks."
Ziva nodded, getting Abby's order and heading up to the bar counter to get the drinks.
"I'm sorry, by the way," Abby said then, drawing Morgan's gaze to hers in confusion. "About dragging you out to this. I'm sure you'd much rather have a quiet night in, right?"
"No, it's… fine," Morgan offered, not having expected Abby to have such a good understanding of what she'd prefer already. "My psychiatrist—" Morgan cut herself short, glancing away at the slip-up but pressing on. "She mentioned I should get to know the team better. Even Gibbs said I should come."
"Gibbs did?" Abby questioned in surprise.
"Gibbs did what?" Ziva asked, back with the drinks that she handed out and downing a shot herself.
"Told Morgan to come."
"Huh."
"I would've thought he'd be the first to try and stop me from inviting you," Abby mused, eyes bright with curiosity. "I can get a little carried away."
"Just a bit," Ziva chuckled before glancing at Morgan as she drank. "Though he seems rather fond of you, Morgan. Took ages for me to get on his good side. Has he even given you a Gibbs slap yet?"
"Once," Morgan offered. "When I was late because of my medication. I have to take sleeping meds but I switched to new ones and was called in," she explained to Abby. "Russell woke me up to a bunch of missed calls."
"Ugh, new meds are the worst," she grumbled. "Least you had Russell there to wake you up. He's so well-behaved! Aren't Giant Schnauzers workaholics? Like super active and stuff? He's so relaxed!"
"We go on runs after work and sometimes before," Morgan replied. "Do training and stuff as well. He'll probably start causing problems now that we're not as active as we were in the military. I'll have to see if there are any sporting or bite groups nearby and sign him up for something."
"What sort of work does he do?" Ziva asked, curious herself about the new dog addition to the team.
"A bit of everything. While in the army, I trained him on obedience, locating explosives, and protection. Outside of that, I take him to a farm—when I can—to drive cattle and he became a service dog for me while in the army. He only needed to learn a few things and it was approved of quickly."
She frowned lightly, not mentioning that part of the fast approval was due to the way the army wanted to get rid of her. She finished off her drink and got up to get another, agreeing to grab more for the other two as she headed to the bar. Abby and Ziva exchanged looks when she'd gone and leaned over the table to talk in hushed whispers.
"She doesn't look like she's having fun."
"Well, she's not exactly a party-goer either," Ziva muttered. "We don't know her tolerance for drinks but maybe after a few more she'll open up a bit?"
"I thought talking about Russell would help," Abby said with a pout.
"It did… kinda. I just think she doesn't want to talk about the military. I think something bad happened. On one of the cases, I mentioned something that upset her. I'm pretty sure her experience with the army was shit. So, if we can avoid that—"
"Hasn't she been in the army a while though? What else is there?"
"I don't know. She doesn't talk."
"Well, we've got to get something out of her."
"She's coming back," Ziva said, cracking a false smile in the hopes that Morgan wouldn't be suspicious as she headed back. "Wow, that is… hilarious, Abby."
"I know, right?" Abby said, going along with it and taking her drink from Morgan as she sat back down. "Hey, Morgan. Do you have any hobbies? You know, outside of training Russell and work and stuff."
Ziva snapped her fingers, pointing at her. "Fish! You mentioned fish once."
Morgan eyed them but slowly nodded. "Yeah. I have some fish tanks at home that I take care of, though I wouldn't call it a hobby really. I just occasionally redo the layout of them every year or so and do maintenance every couple of weeks."
"So, you don't like… go fishing?" Abby asked, pulling at straws. "Or sailing? Oh! Maybe camping? Camping can be fun."
"What about sports?" Ziva offered. "Martial arts? Um… painting?"
Morgan shook her head with a wrinkle of her nose as she lifted her drink. "I'm shit at painting."
Ziva gave Abby a pointed look but Abby shrugged back. They weren't getting very far and begrudgingly, they decided to eventually give up on trying to coerce more from her other as they steadily got more and more drunk. After a while, Abby and Ziva were chuckling over some stories they had of Tony and even Morgan had a small smile on her face before Ziva stood up.
"I'm going to go get more drinks," she said, tipping slightly and making Morgan start to stand as she grabbed her elbow to steady her.
"I can get them."
"No, no, no. Stay with Abby. I got this."
Morgan nodded with a small sigh but let her go and Ziva ordered more drinks and a round of vodka shots. She downed hers at the bar but then frowned at the leftover one and the two drinks she had to take back to the table for Abby and Morgan. She couldn't remember who got which drink and just shrugged before dumping the shot into one of them and returning to the table. The women took their drinks from her and it wasn't until an hour later that the mistake began to make itself known.
"Mm, but Tony is annoying and flirts with anything that moves," Morgan drawled, brows furrowed and leaning heavily on her hand—elbow on the table as she prodded at the bar napkin they'd scribbled names on. "He's like… an annoying kid brother who puts boogers on your shirt and laughs."
Ziva snorted, slapping the table relentlessly as she laughed. "T-That's exactly him!"
"Okay, then who does interest you?" Abby asked, squinting at the napkin to try and make out her own handwriting. "I got dibs on McGee."
"Hey, hey. What about Gibbs?" Ziva asked, nudging Morgan with her elbow and making her nearly crack her head against the table when her chin fell out of her hand.
"What? No," Morgan argued, leaning back and catching herself before she could tip her chair. "No, no. He's like… like, um… commanding officer! All 'heel boy' and I really don't like the smacking. And the questions! Does he always question you too?"
"Questions? About what?" Ziva asked as Abby leaned in and toyed with an olive from her drink, curious.
"Just says he's checking in," Morgan huffed, rubbing at her eyes and dragging a hand down her slightly reddened face. "Checking for what? What I'd do that's so damn interesting to him? Is it because I'm fucked up?"
"You're not fucked up!" Abby argued. "You're the… the opposite of fucked up."
"Fucked down," Ziva said with a nod but Morgan waved a hand in front of her face.
"No, no. I'm real messed up. The Army didn't even want me. Kept trying to get rid of me. It's how I got Russell. Thought giving me a dog would make it all better. Said I'm mentally unstable or somethin'. The Director's the only one who offered to take me after that. Dunno what I'd do without work."
"They tried to get rid of you?" Abby questioned, surprised. "But you're great! You're already doing really good work on the cases, right?"
Ziva nodded with a frown of her own. "You do really good work. Even Gibbs treats you like you've been on the team for ages. Don't get called probie or sent to run errands. One smack! Who only gets one smack?"
Morgan shook her head though, ignoring the way her vision swam when she did. "No. No, they were trying hard but I did good work. Can't get rid of me for good work but then I went and kicked that Colonel's ass for fucking around with his Lieutenant and then boom!" She paused after hitting the table with her palms, blinking as though she'd forgotten what she'd said for a second before continuing. "They tried to dump me."
"So stupid," Ziva grumbled. "Who'd dump you? You're great."
Abby nodded. "Any guy would be glad to have you. Russell too."
Said dog had been just quietly watching the chaos slowly unfold around him before he perked up, turning his head toward the door and wagging his stump of a tail as three familiar faces approached.
"Oh, this looks like trouble," Tony hummed with a smirk at the trio of women with McGee sighing lightly at his side.
"I didn't have to bring you, Tony," he said before Abby jumped to her feet.
"McGee! You came!"
She abruptly wrapped him in a hug as Tony huffed.
"Well, I wasn't about to miss this, right boss?"
Gibbs glanced at him quietly and Tony's smile faltered before Gibbs stepped over toward Morgan. He was mildly surprised to see her red in the face, which only darkened when she realized who was there and dropped her face in her hands; leaving just the red tips of her ears visible.
"You having fun, Frost?" Gibbs asked with a smug smile, enjoying the sight of the flustered woman who'd always done her best to come off as nonchalant while around the team.
"Why are you here?" Ziva asked as Tony pointed to McGee who was struggling to get Abby off.
"Abby texted him for a ride. I just tagged along to watch the show."
"What about you, Gibbs?" Abby asked; her arms still wrapped around McGee.
"No one knows where Frost lives," he replied simply as he nudged her and started to tug on her elbow. "Come on. I've got things to do."
"I could take a cab," she grumbled but let him pull her up as Russell happily stood as well.
"And I'm already here."
"Not to mention I don't know of a cab that would stop with Russell around," Tony pointed out. "He doesn't exactly look friendly to people."
"He's a good dog," Morgan said sharply, taking a threatening step toward him as he held his hands up only for Gibbs to keep hold of her elbow and hold her back.
"Don't antagonize her DiNozzo," he lightly warned. "I'm sure you don't want to see what she's capable of while drunk, do you?"
Tony opened his mouth but quickly closed it at the look he was given. "No, boss. Course not."
Gibbs nodded and glanced over at Ziva. "You got a way home?"
"Tony can take me," she replied, making Gibbs glance between the two of them knowingly before shrugging.
"Your funeral."
"What's that supposed to mean!" Tony complained, getting ignored as Gibbs started to help Morgan to the door.
"Russell, come," he ordered and the dog happily bounded out with them as he carefully lowered Morgan into the passenger seat of his car.
"You don't have to," she mumbled, eyes closing and already sinking into the seat as he buckled her in and Russell moved to lay at her feet; head in her lap.
"You're drunk and I'm not about to let you try and figure out a cab," he said, closing the door and moving to the driver's side to start up the car. "Didn't expect you to actually get drunk though. Don't seem the type."
" 'm not," she sighed. "Only had a few."
He wasn't sure he believed that but he'd probably hear the full story tomorrow and simply settled on getting her back home. He hadn't exactly planned on going with the others to get the drunk women initially. He was just going to head home and work on his boat but overheard Tony and McGee mentioning they didn't know where Morgan lived and whose house she'd end up staying at—Abby's or Ziva's. Knowing she had a past history of PTSD and possibly other issues, he figured she'd be better off waking up someplace familiar and offered to go with them should she be drunk as well. He hadn't expected her to be drunk but finding her as bad as she was, was certainly a surprise. He wondered if Ziva or Abby had anything to do with it and what they managed to pry out of her while she was drunk.
"Good boy," she whispered softly, drawing his gaze to her as she ran her hands over Russell's face, half-conscious.
Gibbs cracked a small smile at the sight, lightly shaking his head before he pulled up to the apartment and stepped out. He opened the door and Russell jumped out as he reached in and pulled Morgan's arm across his shoulder to help her. He muttered an apology as he searched her pockets for her keys, finding them and helping her to the door. Russell was first in, rushing about excitedly as Gibbs closed the door behind him and hung the keys next to the dog's leashes and collars. He glanced around at the place and found it surprisingly… ordinary if a bit impersonal.
There was a dog bed and crate in the front room with toys scattered around for Russell, some fish tanks bubbling away along one of the walls, and only a few pictures on the walls; typically random pieces of art or landscapes. There were only a few that had actual people in them. One was her being given an award with a superior officer shaking her hand. Another of her with a team of two other men, all holding snipers and decked out in camo with Russell tucked at her feet. Then, one more of just her and Russell looking rather happy, unlike the other photos. It was a simple picture of the two of them at a park with a toy on the floor between them; her smiling at him with a big grin.
No family then, he mentally noted as he carried her to her bedroom which wasn't much different. The impersonal feeling reminded him of his time as a marine. Empty apartments with nothing in them because you never knew when you'd be home or not. He was honestly surprised she had fish, which required some sort of maintenance but assumed they were being automatically fed or she'd gotten them only recently. Shaking the thought off, he set her on the edge of her bed and knelt down to start taking off her shoes.
"What're you doing?" She grumbled, brows furrowed and teetering even though she was seated.
"Taking off your shoes," he replied simply. "I doubt you want to sleep with them on."
She grunted before there was the happy plodding of Russell's paws on the ground and Gibbs turned to see the dog sit beside him with a chilled water bottle in his mouth. Gibbs cracked a smile, taking it from him and patting his head.
"Good boy, Russell," he offered the dog as he handed the bottle to Morgan who took it and drank half of it right there. "Least you got him to take care of you. You'll be okay then?"
She nodded, capping the bottle to put on her nightstand and tugging off her coat to drop it on the floor. Gibbs went to pick it up but Russell took it instead and dropped it in the basket by the dresser before returning to her side.
"Don't let him do everything for you, Frost," he told her as she nodded again and slowly lowered herself onto the bed, eyes already closed. "I'll see you in the morning. Eat something so you don't end up sick at work. I want you bright and aware."
"Yes, sir," she murmured, probably not even hearing him and he rolled his eyes before heading out.
Tomorrow was going to be a mess.
Morgan didn't remember how she'd gotten home or much of the night after her third glass in. She'd simply woken up the next morning with a blinding headache, struggled through making something to eat, and begrudgingly took Russell for a run despite feeling like utter shit. The run helped, surprisingly enough, and once she had showered and headed for work she was feeling marginally better. The headache persisted but was not nearly as bad as before, though she knew she would need the energy drinks she'd brought with her for whatever work was about to bring. I need to figure out what happened. Three drinks is hardly enough to get me drunk and we didn't once leave our drinks unattended.
Her brows furrowed as she idly pet Russell's head and the elevator opened up to let them out on their floor. She wasn't surprised to see Ziva and Tony already there but was a little confused to see them at McGee's desk. She considered ignoring it but begrudgingly spoke up as she dropped her bag at her desk and set a toy down for Russell.
"Do I want to know what you're doing?" She asked, making Ziva smile mischievously.
"Tony is trying to pretend to be McGee to get Agent Larsen to go out with him."
"Right…"
"How's the hangover? You don't look bad off."
"I have a headache," Morgan replied, eyeing her. "What happened?"
"I think I might have mixed up the drinks about three rounds in," Ziva explained with a small grimace of apology. "Dumped a shot into what I thought was Abby's glass but…"
"But it was mine," Morgan concluded.
"Sorry."
"You're not allowed to touch my drinks," Morgan huffed, cracking open an energy drink and being grateful it was just a drunken accident and nothing dangerous. "You better not let Gibbs catch you doing that though, Tony."
"Doing what?" Gibbs asked, having just stepped into the room and making Tony stand up as Ziva started to help cover for him.
"We were looking into McGee's bookmarks, trying to get an idea for a…"
"Birthday present," Tony finished for her as McGee walked in as well, eyeing the two of them.
"Morning."
"Happy birthday, probie," Tony greeted with an awkward smile, passing him a bagel. "Have a bagel."
"It's not my birthday."
"Grab your gear. Medical transport just exploded," Gibbs announced then as Ziva kissed McGee's cheek and the group grabbed their bags. "How's the hangover, Frost?"
Morgan blinked in surprise at Gibbs's question, joining him in the elevator with Russell. "Fine? How did you…"
"Someone had to take you home," he said with a smug smirk, lightly nodding to Tony and McGee as they entered. "They didn't know your address."
Morgan opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and dropped the topic. She didn't want to know why Gibbs took her home instead of calling a cab and she certainly didn't want to know who called him to do so. In all honesty, she was hoping the little girl's night out would vanish from everyone's memory and never happen again. The new case would do a good job of that and as it was, Tony and McGee were too distracted by Agent Larsen's messages to dig into what happened over the weekend.
"She asked you out? You?" Tony gaped as Morgan rolled her eyes and took photos while Russell was lying down just outside the crime scene area, waiting patiently.
"Trust me. I'm just as surprised as you are," McGee replied, squatting down to look at one of the evidence pieces on the blackened ground.
"Trust me. You're not," Tony muttered as Ziva headed over.
"Blast radius indicates a low-yield detonation."
"Did she say why?" Tony asked McGee, ignoring Ziva.
"Ah, it said that she liked the loyalty I showed my coworkers."
"Pyrolysis on the pavement suggests an O2 was the primary accelerant," Ziva went on as Morgan frowned, checking inside the ambulance and taking a picture of the oxygen tanks inside.
"Could have been secondary," she pointed out. "With O2 tanks already in the vehicle, they could've used another accelerant for the bomb and the O2 tanks just blew when they got too pressurized."
They were still ignored by McGee and Tony.
"Even if they were total scum. I have no idea what she was referring to. I'll tell you, though. I did not realize she was paying so much attention to me."
Tony leaned toward Ziva, who'd edged over to look in the ambulance as well; lowering his voice. "Do you want to tell the probie or should I?"
"How about neither? Why don't you just focus on the work?"
"Yeah. I noticed you've morphed into quite the forensic expert."
Ziva gave him a cold look. "I'm Israeli. This isn't my first exploding ambulance."
Morgan watched the group disperse after the evidence on the ground was collected and headed over to Ducky to give him the go-ahead to look at the body. He ended up confirming Morgan's theory that the bomb used a gas accelerant based on the scorching of the body and soon the team was back at base to get paperwork started. It wouldn't be until the next day that they would be able to get any further in the case.
"Good morning. Good morning!" Tony sang as he walked in, greeting Ziva and Morgan. "Good morning. Good... Good morning, to you! You! You! You! Good—Ooh. What's that?" he wondered upon seeing an iPod on McGee's desk.
"It looks like an iPod," Ziva sighed as he immediately picked it up and started snooping.
"An iPod photo," he hummed.
"This is why I don't leave things out around you," Morgan grumbled, chugging an energy drink as Ziva spoke up about the case.
"Anyone who might have possibly had a motive to try and kill them—"
"Either has an alibi or is out of town," Tony replied. "Way ahead of you."
"You could have told me and saved me the trouble."
"Just say you need the practice and leave it at that," Tony said before messing with the iPod again. "What kind of music does the McGee listen to? Ooh, Barry Manilow. Julie Andrews? Zamfir? Let's go to photos."
"What are you doing?" Ziva asked, getting up as he set the iPod back into its base.
"Well, McGee had a date with Agent Larsen last night. He didn't return any of my emails about a sit-rep. But maybe he took some photos."
"Those are his private photos," Ziva argued as he got it hooked up to the larger screen in the bullpen.
"Well, he left them on his public desk. Oh! Where's the clicker?" He scooped it up and grinned at the photo on screen. "Ah, who is this?"
"Well, it's definitely not Agent Larsen," Ziva pointed out.
"It's gotta be his sister," Tony mused as Morgan raised a brow.
"He's got a better chance at whoever that is than you do."
"Are you kidding? This girl's way out of McGeek's league."
Ziva was about to say something but spotted who was coming and spoke up to get Tony's attention. "I don't think the drivers were the target, Tony. Um… I actually think it was the body."
"Why blow up a dead guy?" Tony questioned as Gibbs stepped over to his desk and Morgan rolled her eyes.
"Many reasons. Usually to cover something up like suspicious death, identifiable features, that sort of thing," she said, having gotten up and stolen the clicker from him to put the photo back on screen. "No point in hiding what's already known."
Tony's mouth dropped open in shock at the betrayal, though he grimaced when Gibbs smacked him upside the head.
"McGee's got good taste," he said at the sight of the woman before turning away. "Going for coffee."
He then smacked Ziva as he passed.
"Ow! What was that for!"
"Alerting DiNozzo," Gibbs replied. "Good work, Frost. Check in with Ducky about the ID."
"Yes, boss," she replied, telling Russell to stay as she grabbed another energy drink and Tony hissed under his breath.
"Traitor."
She rolled her eyes. "Women don't like morons who snoop in their friend's things. The reason McGee has a better shot at girls like that over you is because he's honest and isn't an annoying flirt who pretends to be cool."
"I'm cool!" Tony argued, earning a look from her.
"You're really bad at it then."
"I haven't seen a body this badly burned since the Bertram Mill's Circus," Ducky hummed. "Specimen jar."
When Palmer didn't move, Morgan gave him a nudge.
"Sorry, Doctor," he said, lowering his hand from his mouth and looking a little sick as he held out the jar for the piece Ducky dropped into it. "I'm just having a problem with this smell today."
"Really? I think he smells like my mother's fried chicken."
"That would be the problem," Palmer pointed out as Morgan cracked a small smile, unbothered by the smell herself.
"Oh, I see. Well, the vegetarian lifestyle has been medically proven to be the healthiest of choices. Perhaps it's time you made the jump," Ducky suggested before turning his attention to Morgan. "Gibbs sent you, I assume. I haven't even told him I wanted to see him yet."
"He told me to come check in on the ID," Morgan replied as he nodded and got up to get the lights.
"Well, our latest houseguest has thrown us quite a little mystery."
"That doesn't bode well," she noted, heading over as he showed her the bagged death certificate.
"Yeah, well, the young lad's death certificate lists blunt force thoracic trauma as the cause of death—typical in motor vehicle accidents. But I've only partially been able to verify that. Since, as you can see, the post-mortem damage is extensive."
"In other words, you're questioning the ID of the body to be someone other than William Danforth Junior," Morgan concluded.
"I attempted to make an identification myself," Ducky offered. "The blast destroyed his jaw and shattered his teeth. It would take an inordinate amount of time to get an identification from dental records. Also, the fire so degraded his DNA that, you know, I spent the better part of yesterday scouring his body. By a stroke of luck, I found a piece of tissue viable enough to send to have run against Danforth's DNA, at the Armed Forces Repository."
"And it doesn't match," she replied and he shook his head, bringing over the report.
"Uh-uh."
"So, who is this?"
"That, Morgan, is the mystery."
"Gibbs won't be happy."
"No, I suspect he won't."
Morgan sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Well, thanks, Ducky. I'll pass that along."
"Of course. I'll call if there's anything more."
She headed into the elevator and blinked in surprise to find Gibbs already in it. "I was just about to find you."
"And now you have. So? What's the verdict?" He asked as she stepped in and the doors closed.
"It's not William Danforth. DNA didn't match and Ducky doesn't know who the body actually belongs to. The body burning was probably on purpose to hide that fact. So either Danforth is alive or there was a reason Danforth wasn't in that ambulance."
"Or the body that was burned was hiding something."
Morgan hummed in agreement as they stepped out onto the floor where Tony was talking rather loudly over whatever music he was listening to from McGee's iPod next to Ziva.
"Such as enraged acts of violence, sadistic curiosity—"
"Trying to hide the real identity of the victim," Gibbs cut in as he slid past them to get to his computer.
"That was the next one on my list."
"Is his identity in question?" Ziva asked as Morgan nodded.
"Ducky tried the DNA from the body and it's not a match to Danforth."
"Tony, send me a copy of th—"
"The names of the cops who processed Danforth's crime scene report," Tony cut Gibbs off. "Already on its way, boss."
"Ziva, take me through—"
"Have a chat with the doctor who pronounced the body dead. Find out who made the ID," she replied with a click of her tongue before Tony pointed at her, still speaking a bit loud.
"Hey, you want me to go and supervise that, Boss? Actually, no, I'll stay here just in case you need me," he said as Gibbs turned and pulled the headphones out of his ears. "Ooh! Zamfir. I'm not saying you need me. That's a bad word. Need's the wrong word. Oh! Uh, the Director needs to see you in her office ASAP," he said just as Gibbs had started to sit down.
He got up again and glanced at Morgan. "Look into Danforth. See if there's reason to be suspicious of his relations. Look at cause of death, crime scene. Anything you can find."
She nodded and got to work as he stepped out to meet with the Director.
They were hitting more dead ends by the next day. Suspicions were being cast on whether Danforth was still alive or not, whether his friend—Merrill—might have been involved in the bombing of the ambulance, and even suspicions on his own father; who Gibbs had met with when he'd gone to the Director's office. The gist of it was that there had been a drunken accident and someone who wasn't Danforth had gotten placed in the ambulance to be blown up to hide something. That was all the team really had.
"You really think Lance Corporal Danforth faked his own death?" Ziva questioned Tony as he hopped on one foot and attempted to do trick shots with balls of garbage.
"You got a better theory?"
"Actually, we do, Tony," McGee replied before Director Shepard stepped into the bullpen and Tony made a run for it.
"I'd like to hear it, Agent McGee. And yours as well, Agent DiNozzo."
Both agents froze as Morgan eyed them, wondering what they'd do. She had theories of her own but was starting to wonder if maybe she'd keep quiet about them until the Director was gone. There was some sort of powerplay going on between her and Gibbs and Morgan didn't want anything to do with it; more so when the Director sat at Gibbs' desk.
"Both preferably sometime today," the Director urged when the two were silent for a moment too long.
"We think Corporal Merrill may have killed Danforth, Director," Ziva spoke up, less bothered than the others to discuss the case with her.
"Why?"
"Merrill conveniently forgot to tell us about the fight they had the night Danforth was killed."
"A fight over what?"
"Gibbs is not gonna like this," Tony breathed, coughing lightly to cover it as McGee licked his lips nervously; silently agreeing.
"Is there a problem, Agent McGee?" The Director asked.
"Uh, no. No, ma'am. Merrill claims that he was trying to stop him from drinking and driving. According to the bartender, they broke two tables and a chair over it."
"Sounds like more than two good friends fighting to me."
"I agree," Ziva added. "Merrill also passed Danforth's accident on the way home. He could easily have finished him off."
"Merrill goes to hide the body. When he comes back to clean up, cops are already on the scene," McGee added.
"What about the other body?" The Director questioned.
"There was a third party in the car. We only have Corporal Merrill's word that the two of them drove off," Ziva offered as Morgan sighed lightly and Tony continued to quietly disagree with their theory.
"No way. Wrong," he grumbled with a fake cough again as McGee continued.
"Merrill shows up at the hospital, confirms the false ID…"
"Then later goes back, torches the ambulance before the real ID can be made," the Director concluded before Tony got up, finally having enough.
"Okay, I'm sorry. I've got—I've got to interrupt because… here's the thing. I have a theory that actually has motive, which might be helpful. I don't mean to belittle my colleagues' efforts. I seem to feel Lance Corporal Danforth didn't hit a deer. He hit Ducky's John Doe. Stick with me here. He's drunk, right? Wasted. Looking five to ten for manslaughter. So he switches the John Doe with his body, then skips town. Right? And then he has his buddy Corporal Merrill come along and torch the evidence. That's how it happened. Pretty simple," he said as everyone's gaze turned to Gibbs coming up behind him. "It's really just detective work connecting the dots—"
Tony noticed as well and winced before turning slightly to face him shamefully.
"Hey, boss. The Director wanted—She wanted—"
Gibbs tapped the side of his coffee cup. "With me," he ordered and the team went to follow him.
Morgan went to get Russell to stay but he called out.
"Bring the dog."
She glanced at the Director, who was rather confused by the whole thing, but summoned Russell and followed everyone upstairs. The Director followed as they all gathered in her office and Gibbs sat at her desk; giving her a look.
"Dramatic," the Director said, "but duly noted, Agent Gibbs. I get it."
Gibbs got up and walked out—point made—and Tony was quick to try and calm things down… rather poorly.
"That wasn't the way it looked, boss."
"I know."
"The Director kind of suckered me into that deal."
"Ziva caved first."
"I didn't cave in! I was trying—"
"McGee next."
"Boss, it wasn't what it looked—"
"Then, you were last."
"Well, I think—"
"Only one who held out was Frost. Rest of you lasted probably all of thirty seconds," he pointed out as they went downstairs to the bullpen once more. "So what is my team—can I call you my team?"
"Yes!"
"Yes, boss!"
"What are you going to do now?"
"Well, I think we should—"
"We could, um—"
"Solve the case!" Gibbs snapped. "Tony, you impound—"
"Danforth's car. Have Abby see if it hit anything besides the tree," Tony finished, picking up his phone right away to make the call.
"Morgan and McGee go to the original crash site. McGee, I want an agent standing by Rebecca Crawford's room to get a—"
"A statement the second she wakes up, boss. You got it," McGee said, also on the phone.
"And I'm with you, yes?" Ziva replied, earning a look.
"I don't know, Ziva. Are you?" He challenged, getting up from his desk pointedly.
"Definitely," she answered before walking off.
"Frost."
"Yes, boss," Morgan answered, a hint of hesitation in her gaze.
"Good work."
She blinked, mildly surprised but still cautious of the praise, and just nodded.
"Would you have told her?"
Morgan glanced up from where she was looking at the damage done to a tree at the crash site—glancing at Russell as the dog plodded around on a long line sniffing for evidence—before turning her gaze to McGee in confusion.
"What?"
"The Director," he clarified, snapping pictures. "If she asked you what you thought about all this, would you have told her?"
Morgan hummed, getting up and lightly brushing the dirt off her pants. "Probably not."
McGee raised a brow. "Really? She's a higher rank though."
"Just because I'm army doesn't mean ranks are all that matters to me," she pointed out, making him wince.
"Sorry. I just meant… I don't know. I just thought you'd follow protocol."
Morgan let out a small snort. "The whole reason I'm at NCIS is because I bend the rules, McGee. Ranks are important when choosing sides, sure, but only because I follow a risk and reward system."
"How do you mean?" He asked, curiously.
"Rus, leave it," she said sternly upon seeing the dog rather intensively sniffing a flattened rodent in the grass.
Russell let out a huff of a breath and resumed wandering as she rolled her eyes and explained.
"Risk and reward. I find myself caught in a situation between… say, Gibbs and the Director. I have three options. One, side with the Director who is of a higher rank. Two, side with Gibbs. Or three, do nothing. Side with Gibbs and there's a chance of a big punishment from the Director because of her higher rank but the bigger risk is losing the trust formed between me and Gibbs. We're a team and deal with each other daily in situations where trust is important. The Director, not so much."
"But you chose option three?" McGee pondered.
"No. Option three was chosen for me. I didn't get to choose a side because I wasn't given time to nor was I brought into the situation. This meant no punishment for disobeying an officer of higher rank and no lost trust. I lucked out and somehow earned praise just by not being involved but if given the time, I still wouldn't have told the Director anything. It's a high-risk, low-reward option to take her side."
"Huh. I never thought of it like that."
Morgan cracked a small smile. "That's because you're scared of the Director like Tony is."
"I'm not scared," he tried, though not really sounding believable even to himself.
"Ziva isn't scared which is why she caved first but she's got an in with the Director. She had to choose between two bad options. Lost the Director's trust or lose Gibbs. Luckily, it's just a bump in the road. Gibbs and the Director are pushing boundaries with one another and we're just caught in the middle. Far less concerning than if it was between two different agencies or something."
McGee nodded with a hum, glancing around the crime scene. "And what do you think of this? What are we looking for that the cops didn't already find?"
"If cops suspect something is an accident, they won't go looking for signs of foul play," Morgan replied, brows furrowing as Russell seemed to pick up on something and trail away from the scene a bit. "Not that this wasn't an accident but that point still stands."
"You think it was an accident?"
"I think we're missing something," she countered, starting to gather up the long line and walk toward Russell. "Something about Danforth, probably."
Russell turned toward her and barked once, lying on the ground as she nodded to McGee.
"Grab a number. Rus found something."
McGee nodded, grabbing a crime scene number and bringing it over; placing it beside an orange prescription bottle and taking pictures before Morgan picked it up.
"Prescription bottle of ibuprofen," she said, reading the label and giving him a look. "It's Corporal Merrill's and there's blood on it."
"So, Merrill is involved."
"Or he was trading prescriptions with Danforth. Or has been in the car before and left it," Morgan pointed out as they bagged it. "There's too many options to narrow it down to just one. The blood just means it was in the car at the time of the accident and thrown here. Call Gibbs. I'm sure he'd like to know."
"Come on. Say it," Tony urged Ziva with a smug look, making her roll her eyes.
"Say what?"
" 'You were right, Tony.' You'll be the bigger woman for it. I'll just have to content myself being the… well, the righter one."
"Woman?" Ziva teased.
"You know what I mean. They found Merrill's scrip at the scene which means they were in it together. And the DiNozzo Body Swap Theory takes the lead!"
"It doesn't mean they were in it together," Morgan drawled, putting down the phone she'd been using to contact the pharmacy and the doctor who'd prescribed the medication. "People give other people their meds all the time for drug problems, chronic pain, low cash, friendship, or whatever. Merrill could've just given Danforth the meds or Merrill had been in the car before and forgot them. I went over this with McGee. You're jumping to conclusions with no evidence to back it."
"See?" Ziva said with a smirk at Tony's pout. "Merrill could've dropped it while killing Danforth too. There are plenty of possible options than your theory.
Gibbs stepped into the bullpen as well. "Abby found Danforth's blood all over the windshield and hood."
"So much for your body swap theory, Tony," Ziva chimed with that new information.
"I've seen more than a few people survive the windshield taste test, Ziva," he snapped back.
"Give it up, Tony. You said Merrill was the Forrest Gump of explosives. Who else had the equipment and expertise to blow up the ambulance?"
"Ziva's right. Bring him in," Gibbs demanded, making them gather their things. "Frost, with me."
"You're feeling pretty smug, aren't you?" Tony huffed as Morgan shook her head silently and got Russell up to follow her and Gibbs.
"Oh, yes. Very," Ziva chuckled as Morgan spoke up.
"Better hope you're not both wrong then or your egos will take a hit."
"You haven't even said what your theory is!" Tony argued, making her glance at him from over her shoulder.
"I'm not prideful enough to boast over something when I have no proof. You should try it sometime. Being more humble might actually help you catch a girl."
She hurried after Gibbs as Tony gaped in shock, only to stiffen when she saw who they were about the share the elevator with. The Director smiled at Gibbs, who looked just as pleased as Morgan was to be in the elevator with her.
"So, what's bugging that famous gut now?" The Director asked. "Yes. You're that easy to read. I learned how to speak Gibbs a long time ago."
"You going to Abby's lab or autopsy?" Gibbs questioned pointedly.
"Abby's."
"Not to work my case," he said firmly, making her frown as Russell leaned heavily into Morgan's side for her to pet.
As confidently as she was speaking to McGee about the Director, she knew that she'd much rather avoid confrontations like this than get in the middle of them. Currently, she was stiff as a board in the hopes that they might forget she was there.
"I have the right to dig into any NCIS investigation that I want to," the Director pressed.
"Not mine," Gibbs pointed out. "Not unless you want me behind your desk again. Of course, you could just observe and keep quiet," he offered once the doors were open.
"Fine," she begrudgingly agreed.
"Hurry up, Morgan," Gibbs said, drawing the other woman out of the elevator, which she was quick to escape from.
Being in Abby's lab was moderately easier with more space for her to put between herself and the Director but it didn't stop them all from feeling a bit awkward.
"As you know, this is the only piece of the trigger I found," Abby declared, holding up an evidence bag only for Gibbs to have it snatched from his hands by the Director.
He was quick to take it back as she glanced at the uneasy agents in the room.
"I'm not really here."
Abby perked up at that. "Do you know how long I've been waiting to cross over into an alternate dimension?"
"Well, you're still here, Abs," Gibbs informed her. "For now, what is this?"
"Uh, that's laminated paper substrate, boss," McGee told him. "Found in any number of electronic devices."
"Unfortunately, I couldn't find a trace of a single one," Abby said. "But then, I was surfing around on my favorite origami web-ring, and it hit me. Origami! The ancient art of paper-folding! Maybe the laminate substrate was the trigger."
"You're telling me Merrill folded himself a bomb?" Gibbs questioned.
"No, that's impossible. It came pre-folded."
Seeing the confusion, McGee explained. "You see, several companies have been exploring the use of paper circuit boards for disposable products."
"Metallic ink is printed on laminated paper and then folded into the desired shape. I coated our burnt substrate with a metallic iron particulate," Abby added as she brought the group over to the computer.
"Which would attach to any residual metallic ink still present."
"And then I ran the whole thing through an X-ray to pick up on any latent patterns. Voila. You're looking at a partial circuit board for a disposable cell phone."
"Any chance we could read the—" The Director paused when Gibbs looked at her and asked instead.
"Any chance we could read the…" he stopped though, not knowing what the Director had been about to say.
"Call logs," Morgan finished, hoping the two beside her would somehow end this awkward tension soon. "Or get the number at least so we know who called to set the bomb off."
"I have a better chance of getting McGee to wear a Speedo to church," Abby replied before McGee brought them to the other computer.
"But I was able to pull a list of all the incoming calls to the hospital's cell zone. Only three came in immediately prior to the explosion. One of them was the triggering call. Corporal Kenneth Merrill."
Gibbs sighed and headed for the elevator. "Keep working."
Gibbs had passed by the bullpen on the way to have an impromptu dinner with the Director and lightly ignored anyone still around. That is, until he finished and stepped out only to pause at the sight of Russell bounding out of the bullpen to grab a ball that had been thrown. He stared for a moment and once Russell picked up the ball, the dog noticed him. His stumpy tail wagged, shaking his whole back end before he bounded over to Gibbs, who happily knelt down and pat the dog. He took the ball and tossed it down the hall for the dog to run after and headed into the bullpen to see Morgan frowning at her computer screen.
She was wearing glasses, which was a new surprise, but she looked rather frustrated. Her brows were deeply furrowed and her short-cropped hair was sticking up in odd places from her running her hand through it. She scribbled something into a notepad beside her keyboard then, before Russell bounded back with the ball to give her. She put her pen down and took it before realizing Gibbs was standing in front of her desk.
"Gibbs," she breathed, hastily rising from her seat—a habit from being in the army, he was sure given she looked about ready to snap into attention at any second.
"At ease," he lightly teased, giving her a look. "Why are you here? You should've gone home by now."
She glanced around, realizing that far more people were gone than she'd thought, and rubbing the back of her neck. "I was just… trying to figure out what we were missing. Lost track of time."
"You knew enough people were gone you could play fetch," he pointed out, holding out a hand for the ball that she hesitantly handed over.
He tossed it for Russell who happily went after it as Morgan started to pack up her things.
"Didn't realize it was this late," she muttered, before spotting the bag of takeout he'd brought with him.
She'd not missed him walking into the Director's office with it earlier but knew better than to pry and said nothing. Though I hope whatever happened fixed this awkward tension they keep bringing around with them. Still, she let the matter drop and offered Russell a small smile when he returned and set the ball on the edge of her desk. He knew she was packing up.
"You eat anything?" Gibbs questioned, drawing her attention.
"Hm? Oh, no. I'm okay though. I'll grab something on the way back."
Gibbs rolled his eyes and set the bag on her desk, starting to dig through it. Morgan paused, eyeing him for a second.
"You don't—"
"Sit," he demanded and she hesitated before sitting back down as he placed a container of food in front of her. "You like asparagus?"
She wrinkled her nose. "No."
"Good," he replied, putting the bag on the floor and rolling over a chair.
Morgan hesitantly watched as he scooped up Russell's ball and threw it for the dog once more, begrudgingly opening the container and starting the eat the leftovers from Gibbs's meal. They sat in silence for a moment—the only sound being Russell's paws pounding across the floor and his pants when he retrieved the ball. Then, Gibbs spoke up.
"Why do you think you're missing something?"
Morgan paused, swallowing the food and clearing her throat. "I just thought… Well, Tony's body-swapping idea doesn't make sense with the evidence we have. Then, everyone's assuming Merrill has a part to play because of the prescription meds and the bomb—"
"And the phone call from his cell that triggered the bomb," Gibbs pointed out. "That's pretty damning evidence, especially when he's vanished."
She nodded, knowing that but still not looking convinced. "But there's no motive."
"They fought at the bar."
She shook her head. "Danforth was drunk and I've seen plenty of muscle heads get carried away at a bar and still be good friends. Break a few things, get tossed out, and everything's water under the bridge. And sure, I've seen good friends fall out. People join the military together thinkin' it'll just be great to join with their buddy then one gets cold feet or whatever and then they're fighting but it's easy to get out. Killing someone to leave just seems… excessive."
"You don't think Merrill did it then."
She hummed, prodding at her food for a second. "I think if he had anything to do with it, it wasn't knowingly."
Gibbs turned to her in surprise as Russell sat at his feet in wait. "Someone made him make the bomb?"
"I don't know. I said I was missing something. If Merrill didn't do it, then someone with explosive knowledge other than him would have had to but I can't find anyone like that who might have been there or had motive. I could give you a list of people who had some knowledge but narrowing them down is impossible."
"Dead end then," he mused and she nodded.
"That's why I've been trying to figure it out."
"Let me get this straight," Gibbs said, brows furrowed himself. "You think someone else is involved. Someone else made the bomb or got Merril to make it unknowingly, then rigged the ambulance to blow up some dead guy who wasn't Danforth in order to hide something."
Morgan nodded. "Which is the other problem. We don't know what's being hidden. That makes figuring out the motive more difficult."
"So, what's your theory?" He asked, knowing everyone else's but curious since every time he'd dealt with her on cases before she always seemed to be on a completely different track than anyone else.
"I think the body was switched and burned because someone was hiding something with Danforth's body," she said. "If the meds we found were given to him by Merrill, then perhaps it's a health issue he was hiding. Or a drug problem. He might have died in an accident but if an autopsy was done then that would've been found out. It's a possible motive. Something like that could have gotten him kicked out while alive but finding out after the fact can be just as bad. This means Merrill was either involved to help hide this or was unknowingly dragged into it by someone else trying to hide it who was just trying to use his expertise."
"Or trying to frame him."
"But then, why would he run?" Morgan questioned, setting down her fork into the empty food tray. "He wouldn't run or hide if he didn't know about his involvement and unless he had something to hide, he wouldn't do it if he was being framed either. From what Ziva said, he was generally cooperative."
"He didn't tell us about the bar fight," Gibbs pointed out.
Morgan rolled her eyes. "He didn't see it as relevant. It was a small disagreement with a drunk friend. People often don't give vital information over to police or anyone when they don't think it's important. In all other aspects, he cooperated when we questioned him. I can't see him running off unless he was 100% knowingly involved or whoever got him involved is protecting him."
Things were starting to click into place for Gibbs though. He'd voice his suspicions about Danforth's father to the Director and with Morgan's theory backing up more evidence than any other—even with some gut intuition backing the rest of it—he was starting to understand what may have happened in this case. He wasn't sure about Merrill's involvement or lack thereof, but Morgan still brought up good points, and he was pretty confident he knew who else was involved.
He got up and took her trash before she could argue, then gave her a nod; patting Russell on the head beside him.
"Head home, Frost. We'll get it all worked out tomorrow."
Everyone was chattering away into phones the next morning, trying to get information to find Merrill. ATM records, vehicles, credit cards, and putting out a BOLO. No one was getting anywhere and Gibbs was watching from the edge of the bullpen.
"We can't find him," Tony admitted to him when he questioned their progress. "Uh, but we're not going to give up until we do."
"Or die trying," McGee added, earning odd looks from the rest of the team before Gibbs started to head out.
"Frost, head down to labs. See if Abby has anything yet."
"On it," Morgan replied, ignoring Tony's muttered complaint.
"Why's she get all the fun jobs?"
While she went to the lab, Gibbs dropped down into autopsy where he caught Ducky mid-dial.
"You wanted to see me, Duck?"
"Yes, I did. I was just about to call you," Ducky admitted, leading him over to the partial jaw he had pieced together. "Small wonder DiNozzo is always looking over his shoulder. I managed to put a couple of bits together. Yes, lower canine."
"How long?" Gibbs asked.
"Oh, a week. Maybe longer."
"And the odds of this reconstruction getting us an ID?"
"Exceedingly long, but it's the only method I have for identifying these remains."
"I've had long shots come in."
"I once wagered a five hundred-to-one on the Irish Sweepstakes!" Ducky chimed as he went to meet up with Abby and Morgan.
Gibbs got a phone call in the elevator and was quick to end it when he stepped out to find Morgan giving him an apologetic look at Abby having called him.
"It's me, Gibbs!" She chimed happily.
"I told her you were headed over," Morgan offered but Abby just plowed right on.
"You'll never guess what I found! Come on, Gibbs. Guess! I ran the prints from the bottle of ibuprofen that Morgan and McGee found at the Danforth accident site."
Gibbs silently waited with Morgan, making an attempt to take the evidence bag she had before Abby pouted and flipped it away.
"Can I at least get a drum roll?"
"Ta-da."
"Pathetic."
"Prints," Gibbs reminded her as she handed it over.
"The prescription belonged to Corporal Merrill," Morgan informed him. "I confirmed it with the pharmacy and the doctor who prescribed them."
"But all of the prints on the bottle belonged to Lance Corporal Danforth," Abby declared.
"So? Merrill gave Danforth some of his grunt candy," Gibbs concluded.
"It wasn't grunt candy," Abby informed him. "The bottle was empty, so I swabbed it and I ran it through the mass spec. Cyclosporine, azathioprine."
"Come on, Abs. In English," Gibbs complained.
"They're anti-rejection drugs, Gibbs! If Danforth was taking them, he's had a transplant! The DNA I ran could be from a donor organ," Abby explained and Gibbs turned to look at Morgan.
They both knew that you couldn't have donated or had a transplant and remain in the military. This was the motive they needed and with Gibbs knowing who the third party was who was involved, he knew he needed to make a call. He hurried past them, seeing the questions that Morgan was holding back and giving her the silent directions to stay put in the lab. She nodded as he left to go meet with Danforth's father to find the truth of the matter.
What he found was as he suspected. Bill Danforth was hiding the fact that his son had a transplant. Not for his deceased son but for the one man he considered to be a son who was still around: Merrill. He made a donation, switched the toe tags on the body, and held back detonating the bomb until the EMTs were clear. Or so he said. Bill was adamant Merrill played no part in this after admitting he had to protect Danforth. Bill wanted to take the fall and after confirming where Danforth's body actually was, Gibbs made a hard decision.
No one would take the fall for this. He wasn't going to ruin a man's life for helping a friend. So, he hurried back to the lab with a piece of Danforth tucked away in a jar in his pocket that would match the one he was about to take from Ducky.
"Ah, Jethro. Abby told me about the transplant and her theory."
"Hm, you buy it?" He asked.
"Well, it is possible."
"My money's on your teeth, Duck. Get back to them," he encouraged as Ducky sealed the evidence bag.
"As soon as I give this to Abby."
"I'll do it."
"Jethro!" Ducky gaped in surprise as he took it and wrote what he needed on the bag. "I've never seen you break evidence protocol before."
"You don't trust me, Duck?" He lightly pressed, knowing this wouldn't work if Ducky insisted.
"Well, that's not the point. Chain of evidence is chain of evidence."
"You're right about that. I'd slap DiNozzo silly if he did it."
"Jethro, you surprise me."
"Must be getting old."
In the elevator though, he swapped out the jar in the evidence bag with the one in his coat and smacked himself upside the back of his head in silent scolding. He stepped in and handed the bag over to Abby, spotting Morgan still around and nodding to her.
"Go get the team and call Ducky in as well, soon as this is on the way."
"Shouldn't take long," Abby chimed, taking the evidence from him. "Give me ten minutes max."
Morgan nodded and started to head for the elevator only to pause. "Rus?"
Gibbs flinched when Russell's wet nose nudged his hand near his pocket. The very same pocket that held a rather important piece of evidence he was hiding. He watched the dog, hoping that he wouldn't alert to what was in his pocket and risk everything. He could be fired for doing this, if not worse, and if this piece of evidence was found then there would be one devastated young Corporal potentially going to prison. Yet, Russell stared up at him silently before flipping Gibbs's hand onto his head for a pet. Gibbs did so hesitantly but then the dog rushed off after Morgan who gave Russell a questioning look and stepped into the elevator. Too close.