It's a bit shorter than usual but with Morgan on medical leave for a bit, there was less for her to do. Enjoy nonetheless!
Gibbs sat in the Director's office reviewing paperwork as Cynthia spoke with said woman over the phone. He didn't really care for all the paperwork and was going out of his way to be annoying, mostly for fun. He'd be overly serious when needed but, if anything, he was just eager to get back on a real case. Cynthia made a face and begrudgingly offered the phone back to Gibbs who took it with a small smile.
"Yes?"
"Is there any serious business I should know about?"
"Well—"
"Better yet, how's Agent Frost?"
Gibbs's smile fell. "She's fine. Why do you ask?"
"Maybe because she was nearly blown up a few weeks ago, is still on medical leave, and the last time she was sent away that long I got a call about her being a potential suicide risk?"
"She got doped up on drugs, had just dealt with a terrorist who brought back her PTSD, and had no way of handling it. She's fine. I've dealt with it."
"Right… She's there right now, isn't she?"
Gibbs rolled his eyes, neither confirming nor denying her assumption.
"Gibbs, she's on mandated medical leave. She's not supposed to be working."
"What? So you'd rather I leave her alone with her dog? It's been over three weeks. She's fine. Her injuries are minor now. The doctor gave her the okay to be back on duty."
"And her psychiatrist? This isn't just about her physical health, Jethro. If she's not ready—"
"She'd be more ready if you all stopped babying her. She's an agent, not a child."
The Director sighed heavily on the other line. "What has Dr. McNeil said?"
Gibbs leaned back in his chair. "That there are still a few more things she should work on but her being at work—even if she's not actively on a case—is helpful. That's how Morgan works. She needs the distraction."
"Well, if she would stop getting almost blown up, then we wouldn't have to worry about this, now would we?" The Director hummed. "I'll see about putting her back on duty by the end of the week, okay?"
Gibbs smirked, pleased to have gotten what he wanted, knowing that Morgan needed it too.
"Anything else I should know about?"
"Buy America toilet paper doesn't fit the metric fixtures, and we got a truck—" He rattled on before the dial tone rang out and he gave Cynthia a look. "She hung up on me."
"Shocking."
The phone rang again and he picked it up. "You call back to apologize?"
Tony was on the other end, rather confused. "Uh, I don't know what you heard, boss, but I was not the one who started that pool."
"What pool is that, DiNozzo?"
There was a small scuffle over the line then and Morgan's voice rang through the phone instead.
"There's a dead man in a taxi at the front gates, Gibbs."
"I'll be right there," he replied, hanging up and standing as Cynthia called out to him.
"The case files!"
"Leave them on my desk," he said as she huffed.
"They are on your desk!"
Gibbs ignored her as he headed down to the bullpen to grab a few things, seeing Morgan sitting at her desk looking a bit drained. "Rough session?"
She shot him a look, having been in with Dr. McNeil most of the morning if only to get out of the house. "You tell me. Last I checked, being on medical leave brings up a lot of my issues, which are then handed back to me on a silver platter as I get scolded and told to fix them."
Gibbs hummed, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. "I'll keep you in the loop on the case. That will help."
"I thought the Director wouldn't let me back on for another few weeks. The doctors only gave permission for desk work," Morgan grumbled bitterly, wincing as she shifted in her chair. "Honestly, the sitting around hurts more than being active."
"McNeil gives the all clear and she'll have you back by the end of the week," Gibbs informed her, letting her breath out a sigh of relief.
"Thank God. I don't mind paperwork but I need something to do. Even Russell is getting antsy."
The dog at her feet looked anything but antsy; having rolled upside-down, fast asleep with his feet tucked up toward his chest.
"Or should I say lazy…" Morgan muttered as Gibbs hummed.
"I'll do what I can. No one around to stop me as temporary Director, right?" He replied easily, starting to head toward the elevator when Morgan stopped him.
"Cynthia left some papers on your desk, by the way."
He just waved over his shoulder, brushing it off and Morgan rolled her eyes, huffing. She missed being out on cases again but that bomb blast had done a lot of damage. She'd gotten lucky getting Russell out of there before it had blown and even luckier to have spotted the table and rushed for it. That had protected most of her but the concrete slab that had hit her broke three ribs, cracked part of her pelvis, and left her littered with dark violet bruises. Add that to the third-degree burns that had charred over her shoulder on her right side and she was out of commission for a while just to get treated. Russell could only keep her company for so long and with her on strict bedrest for the first week, Gibbs had taken over for her.
She owed him a lot just helping her keep her sanity while she'd been out. The nightmares kept her up while at the hospital and he helped get her released early. She had expected to head back to her apartment but Gibbs wasn't taking any chances and had her stay in the guest bedroom at his place. He kept her busy, feeding her information about cases, and doing paperwork at home so he could get her input on things. Anything he could do to help her and distract her, and it was… surprising how well it worked. Morgan wasn't used to having someone around for her bad moments and being cooped up and injured was definitely a bad time for anyone who was around. He made it tolerable and it helped that he started to bring her into work once she was physically doing better.
She sighed, reaching up and lightly scratching at some pink skin poking out from under her collar before her gaze drifted to Gibbs's desk. He hates doing needless paperwork… I'm sure no one will notice if I just… She was up on her feet before she realized it and went over to pick up one of the files on the desk. She glanced around and upon seeing no one there, she went back to her desk and cracked it open for a look.
"Hey, I win the pool!" Ducky cheered with a grin as Tony hung up the phone and gave him a look.
"Wait a minute. How do you figure that?"
"I predicted that Gibbs would last four days as Director before reverting to working on a case. This is Thursday! Four days!"
Tony glanced at the approaching Gibbs uneasily. "He's not working on a case. He's just… curious."
"Every time he's been at the crime scene, he's been there to investigate," Ducky argued. "How is today different?"
"He is in the Navy Yard," Tony pointed out. "Because that's where the Director's office is located."
"Huh, let's ask him," Ducky said, starting to head toward him as Tony tried to stop him.
"So you would have Gibbs give up his post as Acting Director just to win a $50 pool?"
"Yes," Ducky said easily as McGee leaned over.
"And I'm still owed money for the pool on Gibbs and Morgan."
Tony held up a hand to silence McGee. "Hm, guess it's true what they say about the Scotsmen."
As intended, Ducky stopped and turned with a frown, heading back to Tony. "I trust that if Gibbs is more than just curious, you will inform me?"
"Scout's honor," Tony said with a three-fingered salute and Ducky eyed him before wandering off.
"You said you were never in the Boy Scouts," McGee pointed out.
"I was an Alpha Chi Delta wet t-shirt spring-break talent scout. Does that count?" Tony hummed, giving him a look. "And the bet on Gibbs and Morgan was off. Nobody won because according to Ziva, they only just got together on the last case. More than three months, McGee."
"Do we at least know who asked?" McGee said. "We can split the pool that way."
"Dunno," Tony shrugged, nodding towards Gibbs. "And good lucky trying to get it out of them."
Meanwhile, Gibbs had just started to question the cab driver who'd brought in the dead victim when his phone went off. Apparently, he was wanted in SecNav.
"SecNav? Tell him I'm—"
"I already told him you were on the Navy Yard and available, sir."
Gibbs stormed away from the cab driver in annoyance. "Cynthia, don't ever tell anybody I'm available until I tell you I'm available, okay?"
"Yes, sir."
"Put him through."
The team gathered up, eyeing Gibbs as Tony nodded toward Ziva.
"That the Director on the phone?"
"SecNav."
"Wonder what Gibbs did wrong."
"You mean other than bringing Morgan in when she's on medical leave?"
"Come on," Tony drawled. "Even I get antsy on medical leave and it's been weeks! Not to mention the two of them finally hooking up. Did Morgan say who asked first? McGee wants to split the pot that way since we all lost on figuring out when."
"Hm, I'll get it from her later. Shouldn't be too hard."
"I don't know whether to be impressed you can or a little bit scared."
Ziva smirked. "Scared, always."
Gibbs snapped his phone shut and started heading over so Tony began to act as though they were discussing the case and not his love life.
"Ziva, take the driver's statement."
"I already did."
"McGee, crime scene photos, finish them."
"Yeah, I finished them," McGee informed him as well.
"You get an ID?" Gibbs asked and Tony nodded, showing them.
"Yeah, the photo on the Yemeni's driver's license matches the victim's."
"Hamal Farhan. No buzzers."
"Bells," McGee corrected Ziva.
"What else?" Gibbs pressed, trying to be quick before Cynthia phoned again.
"List. Seven names on it. Farhan is number five," McGee showed him as Ziva hummed.
"Obviously, whatever he wanted to tell us had something to do with this list."
"Find everyone on it," Gibbs ordered as Tony tried to figure out the bet he had with Ducky.
"So, uh, Director. Does that mean you're—"
"I'm heading the investigation," Gibbs said before calling out as Ducky rolled the body by. "Hey, Duck, you win the pool."
"Yes! Thank you, Jethro!" He called as Gibbs turned to McGee.
"And I didn't do anything wrong, McGee." He turned to go before pausing. "And she asked but I moved first."
McGee's mouth dropped open in shock as Ziva grinned and punched him in the shoulder. Tony though, furrowed his brows.
"Wait, then who wins the pool?"
"I've been hacking cabs for 22 years. Never had a fare die on me," Joe Keyll, the driver informed Ziva as she printed out his statement. "Couple of heart attacks, a suicide attempt or two, but none of them died."
"Till now," Ziva pointed out. "Anyone who does something for 22 years must love it."
"You kidding? It's the best job in the world!" He said with a grin, though his gaze drifted to Russell lying nearby, eyeing him. "So, now you think I'm crazy, right? But here's the thing. My best friend, I met him in the cab. The guy who does my taxes, I met him in the cab. Poker buddies, met them in the cab. I even met my wife in the cab… Well, three out of four ain't bad."
Ziva smiled, handing him the paper. "This is your statement. Read it. If you agree, sign it."
"What's, uh… What's with the dog, if you don't mind me asking?" Joe asked nervously, wincing when Morgan shot him a mildly annoyed look. "No offense, of course. I just… don't like dogs, is all. Never met a dog that didn't try to bite me."
"Says more about the person than the dogs," Morgan replied, making him chuckle awkwardly as Ziva rolled her eyes.
"Don't mind her. She's in a foul mood because she's been on medical leave. Russell is her service dog who helps on cases sometimes."
"Oh, well, that's handy I suppose," Joe said, though he didn't look any less nervous.
Tony though, ignored the group and tossed a pencil at McGee. "I think we should call for a recount."
"On what?" McGee asked.
"Ducky winning the pool. Gibbs is up in the Director's office, directing. We're working the case. He's not."
McGee had seen who'd walked in behind him and went back to typing as Tony realized what was going on.
"Because he's waiting for me to give him an update," he said, turning and giving Gibbs an awkward smile. "Which I'm going to do as soon as Mr. Kelly signs his statement and leaves."
"I can go?" Joe asked.
"You can go to the head or our conference room," Gibbs informed him and Joe gestured to Tony.
"He said I could leave."
"Well, what I say doesn't count when the boss is here," Tony informed him awkwardly.
"Like me when my wife is around," Joe noted before Ziva led him out of the room.
"Update," Gibbs demanded.
"McGee," Tony chimed and McGee began to type away, bringing up the information he'd gathered on the main screen.
"According to Immigration, Hamal Farhan applied for a student visa twice and was turned down twice. Granted a six-month tourist visa. That was a year and a half ago."
"Even if he had it extended for a year, he's here illegally," Tony said as Gibbs shot him a look.
"Should we notify immigration and deport him?"
"That's a good one, boss."
"Actually, his visa was extended indefinitely," McGee informed them. "Yemen added Farhan to their Embassy personnel."
"What are you trying to do, make me look bad?" Tony complained.
"I just read it."
"Added as what?" Morgan asked.
"A gardener."
"So, what? Personal favor? Sympathy? Useful informant or unuseful throwaway?" Morgan questioned as Tony raised a brow at her.
"Aren't you on medical leave?"
The glare she sent his way immediately made him raise his hands in surrender as Gibbs's phone rang.
"Gibbs… Be right there, Ducky." He hung up and nodded at Morgan. "Come on. Let's stretch those legs."
Morgan sighed but got up with a small wince and followed him to the elevator with Russell at her side, eyeing her in his usual concern.
"Keeping busy?" Gibbs asked, a slight tease in his tone.
"Trying to. Least you have a case going. I'm stuck waiting for you guys to share information and not being allowed to help." She gave him a look when he raised a brow in question. "Apparently, medical leave means my passwords don't work on the computers without the Director confirming I'm back on duty."
"I'll see what I can do," Gibbs offered as the lift opened up. "And your injuries?"
"Fine. Mostly. Ribs still ache and between that and the burns, it's hard to stretch anything out," Morgan grumbled. "I'll have to call the physical therapist and see what they suggest."
Gibbs hummed, knowing that despite how much Morgan hated asking for help, she knew when she needed to talk to professionals, especially regarding her health.
"And I think Cynthia dropped off more casework on your desk earlier," she added but he waved it off again.
"Don't worry about it," he said as they stepped into autopsy to see Ducky weighing organs from the victim. "How did he die, Duck?"
"Quickly, Jethro, as the meter ticked over and without the driver even noticing," Duck informed them. "And whatever caused his demise is not evident from my autopsy. There's no sign of violence, no lumps, bumps, punctures or holes."
"Drug overdose?" Gibbs suggested.
"Well, I can't say for certain till I receive Abby's report but he didn't die of a cardiac infarction which is how most overdoses kill. His heart shows no sign of coronary artery disease. In fact, it's in excellent condition, as can be said of all your organs. Pity they couldn't all have been donated. They were all so healthy."
"Poison?"
"It's the most likely culprit, but again, I await Abigail," Duck said as Gibbs sighed.
"I thought you were supposed to solve these riddles, Duck."
"Abby and I like to share."
"Right."
Gibbs's phone rang and he opened it to see who it was before closing it as Morgan sighed and Ducky gave Gibbs a look.
"That wouldn't have been your assistant, would it, Director?"
"I do hate a nagging woman, Duck," Gibbs mused, giving Morgan a small smirk as she rolled her eyes.
"She's only doing her job, Jethro," Ducky chided as he called up Abby's lab. "Ah, Abby. Any news on the tox screen? Abby? Abby, are you there?"
Gibbs didn't hang around to wait and see where she'd gone off to. He had an idea anyway and gestured for Morgan to join him on the way down to the garage.
"Are you doing any work for the Director while she's gone?" Morgan asked him.
"I signed a few things today," he replied, making her pinch the bridge of her nose but say nothing more about it for the time being.
The two exited the elevator as Abby was talking with McGee and Ziva.
"It was his first time too."
"First time for what?" Gibbs asked though he had an idea.
"Seeing a curling match, Gibbs," Abby answered easily. "Have you ever seen a curling match? The pristine ice and those little brooms that sweep—"
"That's a clean cab," Gibbs pointed out instead, ignoring her rambling.
"So, what killed him?" Abby asked instead. "Heart attack?"
"Ducky ruled it out," Morgan replied. "Said he was waiting for your toxicology report."
"Oh, hey! Weren't you on medical leave?"
Morgan shot her a drab look as Abby innocently smiled.
"Poison looks better all the time," Ziva mused as Abby chimed in.
"Well, Major Mass Spectrometer is working as fast as he can."
"Make him work faster, Abby," Gibbs chided her.
"Yes, sir," she replied, though Morgan wasn't paying them much attention.
Russell was acting strangely. He was fidgeting by her side like he wanted to work but there wasn't anything to work here. The car had already been cleared just to get into the Navy Yard and Abby was working on getting the car cleared from anything else.
"Running shoe," Gibbs pointed out, gesturing to a print on the inside of the door.
"Yeah, that impression matches Farhan's left foot," McGee informed him, getting into the seat. "The cab must have been cleaned before he was picked up. After he hailed the cab, like most passengers, he didn't sit directly behind the driver. Crossed his leg like this."
"Then, he died," Ziva added.
"In a very relaxed position."
"May have been a natural death, Gibbs."
Morgan waved Russell off to search the cab as he so eagerly wanted, watching him as Gibbs's phone rang again and he hung up.
"I know he was healthy and young, but it does happen SADS," Ziva continued, as McGee went to correct her.
"No, sad. No S."
"No, she means SADS," Morgan explained. "Sudden Arrhythmia Death Syndrome."
"Right. Sorry."
Ziva nodded. "It can leave the heart looking perfectly normal."
Gibbs leaned down. "McGee, you check out our cabbie?"
"Not yet. That is my next task."
Morgan eyed Russell, noticing he was seemingly caught on the passenger seat, but Gibbs pat her shoulder on the way to the elevator and she called Russell back. Tony was about to exit the lift only to double back as everyone else went in to head upstairs.
"Hey, boss. Five of the seven names found on the list in Farhan's wallet are dead."
"A hit list?" Ziva asked as Gibbs questioned
"When?"
"First died three weeks ago. The last, not including Farhan, Monday," Tony informed them.
"Kind of rules out your SADS theory, Ziva," McGee pointed out as Tony raised a brow.
"SADS?"
"Sudden Arrhythmia Death Syndrome," Ziva explained again.
"I know what it is, Ziva. It's number two on the list. Sean Price, 24, died of SADS."
"The others?" Gibbs asked.
"Heart attack."
"Or a blown autopsy," McGee suggested.
"No autopsy. He was 79. One car crash, one drowning. One list, five people."
"You and Ziva find the two live names on this list. Look for a connection," Gibbs ordered.
"David Brown and Robert Smith," Ziva read off. "There'll be dozens of them."
"I read the obits. If there's a connection, I didn't see it," Tony added.
"There's a connection."
"What?"
"They're all dead."
Things weren't going well with the phone calls and Gibbs had gone to deal with the man sent by the embassy to get more information on the victim. There wasn't much there either. Hamal was an eager-to-learn student who had connections. Morgan was frustrated with being unable to help and had taken up dealing with the casework Cynthia had given Gibbs. Gibbs hadn't even noticed that's what she was working on and with multiple dead ends on a case with possible terrorist operation connections, he was losing his temper. He went off on Tony and then on Cynthia when she interrupted. The cabbie was mentioned then but Gibbs refused to release him, having a gut feeling that something wasn't adding up. So, he went to go talk to the man himself and hopefully find whatever was bugging him.
"When is the Director returning?" Ziva asked once he'd gone.
"Sometime tomorrow," Morgan muttered, frowning at one of the case reports on her desk and drumming her pen on the stack of others.
"I don't think Gibbs is going to last that—" She was cut off as the person she'd been trying to call picked up.
The team kept going through the night. McGee was down with Amy dealing with two cases at once—the Scoletti case where she would be checked by a hired gun later, and the current case. Morgan was up with Tony and Ziva who were making phone calls, and as soon as Gibbs finished questioning the cabbie—still not liking the man—he went down to Ducky. The toxicology report should be in and having Abby with Ducky to go over the results would work best.
"Saxitoxin is produced by a single-cell organism that flourishes in the warm months," Ducky mused after hearing what Abby had come up with. "It is eaten by oysters, clams, mussels, and is responsible for the deadly phenomenon known as 'red tide.' The poison disrupts the electrical impulses to the brain, and the body basically forgets how to breathe, how to live, and it's practically undetectable. Good work, my dear."
"Thank you, Ducky," Abby said with a grin, hugging him.
"You're welcome."
"Whenever you two are done," Gibbs grumbled.
"Yes, well, six-tenths of a milligram could kill an adult. That level is consistent with, well, for example, improperly prepared fugu."
"It's a blowfish. Japanese delicacy," McGee explained.
"Hamal's death was accidental?" Gibbs questioned.
"Not likely. His stomach was empty."
"And even if it wasn't, the saxitoxin levels were a hundred times higher than he could have possibly consumed by eating shellfish. There's nothing in nature with that high of a concentration," Abby said as Ducky lifted a finger.
"During the 50s, a suicide pill was synthesized using contaminated butter clams."
"By who?" Gibbs asked since any lead was a possibility.
"Our old friends, the CIA."
Gibbs thanked them and headed upstairs, only to pause when he nearly ran into Morgan. "Something wrong, Morgan?"
She shook her head. "No, probably nothing. I just wanted to check with Abby on something."
McGee poked his head around Gibbs's shoulder. "She might be headed down to evidence. She wanted to rerun something from the Scoletti case."
Morgan nodded and slipped into the elevator with Russell to head down there. Abby had already entered the locked area and pulled out the firearm box that she needed, closing off the room it was in and heading toward the table to sign it out. She paused though, spotting something on the ground, and knelt to pick it up with a pair of tweezers she had on her. She eyed the piece of fluff curiously, only to jump when a dog barked.
"Jesus, Russell! You scared me!" She said, setting the box aside and kneeling as the dog came barrelling toward her for pets.
"Sorry, Abby," Morgan apologized. "Don't know why he barked there. Probably just feeling a little cooped up with everything going on."
"I don't mind," Abby said with a smile, standing up and taking the evidence box; pocketing the fluff for later. "Did you need something?"
Morgan nodded, though her brows were furrowed as she looked into the evidence cage behind Abby. Russell was looking in that direction too, ears perked and body stiff but he hadn't moved toward whatever had caught his attention, so she was hesitating on sending him out. The evidence cage had a lot in it that could get messed up if Russell did anything crazy and it could just be nothing so she called him back to her side as Abby turned out the lights and shut the cage.
"It's probably nothing," Morgan muttered as the two entered the elevator. "I just noticed Russell had been sort of fixated on the passenger seat of the cab you guys pulled in. I was wondering if there was anything found there."
"The passenger seat? Not that I know of. The cab was really cleaned out when we got to it. No blood, fluids, hair, anything. I can double-check the reports, if you'd like."
Morgan nodded as they stepped out into Abby's lab, pulling out her phone and texting Gibbs to let him know where she would be. She frowned at the response she got informing her that the cabbie took a longer route and there was a text, only a little while later saying they were letting the cabbie go.
"Something up with Gibbs?" Abby asked as she set the piece of fluff she found under a microscope.
"Who said I was messaging Gibbs?" Morgan grumbled, making Abby smile.
"Oh, trust me. I know. So? Spill. How's it going with him? You've been staying at his place while on medical leave, right? Must be nice."
"I hate medical leave," Morgan complained. "He's made it… semi-tolerable but not having anything to do frustrates me. I can't even access the database because the Director has locked me out. So, I'm stuck doing the casework she left for Gibbs."
"Oh, well that's nice of you."
"I'm only doing it out of lack of things to do," Morgan huffed.
"And to keep Gibbs out of trouble, right?" Abby said knowingly, eyeing the results on the screen and frowning. "Hey, hypothetical question. How would a piece of foam from the taxi end up in the evidence lock-up?"
Morgan stiffened, looking over what she'd found and giving her a concerned look. "You found that in lock-up?"
Abby nodded. "On the ground. Unless it grew legs, something weird has to be going on."
Morgan cursed, grabbing her phone and calling up Gibbs before tossing it to Abby. "Tell Gibbs what you found!"
"W-What? Why? Morgan, what's going on?"
"Tell him about the foam! I think the cabbie snuck someone in!"
Morgan punched the buttons on the elevator but it was taking too long so she cursed and rushed for the stairs instead. She made it outside and hurried for the main gate where she knew the cab would get stopped. Sure enough, he was just pulling up and she let out a whistle to get the guard's attention. He turned toward her and she pointed at the vehicle and slashed a hand across her throat. He wouldn't get let through. The guard understood immediately and drew his weapon, ordering the cabbie to put his hands on the wheel as Morgan hurried forward.
"Step out of the taxi," the guard ordered as Morgan made it up to the cab.
"Hands on the wheel or step out. I can't do both," the cabbie said as the guard opened the door.
"Guess."
"Oh, man," Joe murmured, getting out and stepping aside before he spotted Morgan and Russell and paled.
"Makes sense now," Morgan said, as she gave Russell the go-ahead to search the vehicle. "Dogs always know what kind of people you are even if you try and hide it from them."
"I-I don't know what you mean," Joe said as the guard led him to the front of the car.
"Both hands on the hood."
"What is this, Baghdad?" Joe complained, getting searched as the rest of the team hurried over. "Gibbs! Thank God, you're here. Tell these GIrines I can go."
"Clear," Tony called as he checked the trunk.
"Clear? It's empty!" Joe argued as Morgan scoffed.
"Like hell it is," she said, moving around to the passenger side just as Russell began to bark. "Want to try again, Joe Kelly?"
"We know you have an accomplice you smuggled into evidence lock-up," Ziva said.
"Accomplice?"
Morgan rolled her eyes. "You have until the count of three or I release the dog. One. Two."
"Don't!" A voice finally called out. "Don't shoot. I'm coming out."
"Name?" Gibbs asked Joe who sighed.
"Mario Vincetti."
Mario climbed out of the passenger seat with his hands in the air, quickly getting grabbed by McGee. "I said drive faster."
Ziva was the least pleased, given she'd been kind to the cabbie all night. "And to think I pitied a murderer."
"Murder? That guy was murdered?" Joe questioned. "I didn't know. I ain't no murderer. Mario told me the guy was a stiff they got from a funeral home. Tell them!"
"Let Scoletti's lawyers do the talking, dummy," Mario spat as Tony pulled out weapons hidden in the seat.
"Scoletti's lawyers got us into this mess," Joe argued.
"Shut up!"
"Honest, I didn't know they killed the guy. I was going to get ten grand, take Thelma on a Princess cruise to the Bahamas. Second honeymoon. We never had a first."
Ziva wasn't giving him any sympathy now though and he turned his gaze away.
"Tell her enough with the evil eye. It reminds me of my mother."
"You're comparing me to your mother."
"Just the eyes… maybe a little around the mouth."
"Permission to shoot?" Ziva snapped and Gibbs smirked but shook his head.
"Not today, Ziva." He turned to Morgan then as she carefully knelt down and ruffled Russell's fur in praise. "Good work, Morgan."
She shook her head though. "Abby found the foam and if I was paying more attention to Russell, then we could have found him sooner. He noticed the seat earlier and was on alert when I met with Abby in the evidence lock-up."
"You're off your game," he teased, earning a glare from her as she stood up.
"Well, if I wasn't stuck doing your work as Acting Director and actually back on the team, I wouldn't be off my game."
Gibbs raised a brow. "You were doing the case work?"
Morgan rolled her eyes. "No, I was twiddling my thumbs sitting at my desk doodling on scraps of toilet paper. What part of I need to be busy did you miss?"
He hummed with a smile, as they headed back toward the building; ignoring the eyes of their team on their backs. "Well, I suppose I owe you one then. Drinks?"
"I could do with a few… or twenty," Morgan grumbled, reaching over and curling a hand around her ribs with a small wince. "Running wasn't ideal, it seems."
"Dinner then," he suggested instead. "You can take your pain meds and we'll have drinks later. I'll even pick up something nice for Russell."
The dog perked up at the sound of his name, eagerly wagging his tail as they stepped into the elevator to grab their things. Now, they just had to wait for the Director to return and things would finally get back to normal.