"I said I'm fine," Morgan bit out, snapping at the exasperated EMS who was trying to bandage up a large gash on her thigh.
"And I said you should go to the hospital. This will need stitches, you know."
"So, stitch it," she grumbled. "I'm not going to the hospital. So, if you won't do it, then I'll do it myself."
"I wouldn't recommend—"
"I did three rounds of medical training as a recruit in the army," she argued. "Optional medical training. So, either you stitch it up or I'll do it once you're gone."
He sighed and begrudgingly pulled over his bag. "Very well, but don't go asking me for any painkillers. Stitches is all I'm giving you."
Morgan huffed, adjusting the ice pack she was holding to her head and giving the EMS a frown once he finished stitching her leg and began to wrap it. "How long before I can remove the stitches?"
The man shot her a look. "I'm not a doctor, you know."
She just stared at him in annoyance and he sighed.
"One to two weeks depending on how well the injury is healing, which again should be monitored by a—"
"I'm not going," Morgan said firmly and he rolled his eyes and stood.
"Then, I wish you luck, Miss Frost."
She just grunted as he stepped outside to speak with the officer she'd already talked to. Once they were gone, Morgan let out a heavy breath, wincing as her battered body ached in protest. The apartment was eerily quiet and already, the uneasy trickle of paranoia was rolling up her spine. She couldn't stay here but where would she go? She didn't want to go to Gibbs's and didn't want to put any of the other team members at risk. She could go to a hotel but how easy would it be for him to find her? Nowhere felt safe. Not her home, her work, nor Gibbs. Everything had fallen apart in one fell swoop and once again, it was no one's fault but her own.
The temptation to run off and vanish off the grid for a while was overwhelming, mixing with the swirl of anxiety that was growing worse with every second she was left sitting in her apartment alone. Her hands were shaking again, her breath growing ragged, and she clenched her eyes shut and tried to push away the images of Levi tackling her into her apartment the second she'd opened the door after leaving Gibbs. A sound startled her, making her jolt to her feet and grab the blade she'd picked up off the floor earlier, but the apartment was still empty. Her gaze flickered over every shadowy corner but Levi wasn't there and when the sound came again, she only stiffened before searching for the source.
She limped into the kitchen and found her phone lying on the tile; the screen lit up and buzzing. She didn't want to answer it, half expecting to hear Levi's mocking voice on the other side or Gibbs's voice trying to talk about their argument. She picked it up though, flipping it open and somehow answering without any tremble in her voice.
"Frost."
"Frost, what is going on?" Came the sharp tone of the Director on the other end and Morgan held back a groan.
She should have threatened the officer more to prevent him from reporting the incident to her work. With her luck, the whole department would know about the incident before morning. It was Fort Bragg all over again.
"Why am I getting a call from the local PD about one of my agents being assaulted at one in the morning? What is going on? How did this happen?"
"Director, I really don't—"
"No. We're not doing this. I know how you and Gibbs are and I'm not about to just let this go. If you don't want me telling him about this, then I expect a full report first thing tomorrow morning."
"Yes, ma'am," Morgan replied, faltering back into her front room and collapsing in an armchair that she suddenly hated the angle of.
It put her back to the window Levi left from but staying on her feet for much longer would leave her regretting it.
"Are you alright, at least? Did you go to the hospital?"
"No, I'm fine," Morgan replied, clearing her aching throat as the Director scoffed on the other end.
"Which is code for not fine at all and no, you didn't go to the hospital. Great. Look, go stay with Gibbs and—"
"No," Morgan said firmly and there was a short pause on the other line before the Director tried again.
"Okay, then do you have somewhere to stay? We can set up a hotel if you'd like, but I suggest a guard, which I know you'll refuse."
"He'll follow my car," Morgan muttered, closing her eyes in exhaustion but not anywhere close to sleeping with her fried nerves. "They're not secure and I'm not going to drag anyone else from the team into this. It's not their mess to deal with."
There was a heavy sigh on the other end before the chime of keys.
"Then, I'll pick you up."
Morgan sat up at that, sucking in a sharp breath and wrapping an arm around her bruised side in pain. "W-Wait—"
"No. If you won't go to a hotel and refuse to stay with Gibbs or the others, then you can come here. I have plenty of security as it is and we can work out a long-term solution in the morning."
"But Director, I—"
"I'm already awake and on the way, Frost. As someone who's dealt with Gibbs for a while, do me a favor and just take the help or I will put him on the phone right now, and let him deal with you."
Morgan went quiet, knowing when she was beaten and the Director huffed.
"That's what I thought."
Jenny pulled up to the address that she'd looked up in the NCIS files, parking the car and frowning lightly at the ambulance that had just left. She should've just called Gibbs but it sounded as if there was some falling out that happened since Morgan refused to just stay with him. Not that it was her business. She knew they were together at this point and while there would always be that subtle hint of jealousy over it, she had other things to worry about. For the moment, she was only acting as the Director of NCIS. Her agent was attacked at her apartment again, and that could potentially mean there is an ongoing breach of privacy happening in the department.
Then, given Morgan's unusual past having permanently altered her mental state, it was up to Jenny to make sure she at least spent the night somewhere she felt safe. Her apartment wouldn't do and she wasn't comfortable in a hotel or with someone else from her team. A safe house would be ideal but setting one up this late, finding personnel to guard it, and Morgan herself not wanting it was enough of a deal breaker that Jenny had just given in and said fuck it. So, now she was here and lifted her phone to call Morgan only to jump when someone smacked the side of her car a few times.
The figure was in a hoodie and looked drunk with how they had stumbled against the vehicle and Jenny went to tell them off only to see their hand signing. It was Morgan, telling her to roll the window down and Jenny did so, ready to give her a verbal lashing for startling her but Morgan spoke quickly.
"Take the car around the block and pick me up in the back."
"What are you—"
"Just do it. I don't trust him to not still be around watching. He can't know it's me," she hurriedly spat out before speaking up louder and adjusting her voice to sound almost masculine. "C'mon, man! I just wanna cig!"
Seeing what was going on, Jenny rolled the window back up, letting Morgan smack the top of her car a few times before driving off around the corner to park in the back. Whoever was after her must be good at their job if she was having to do a full skit just to get away from her place. Jenny double-checked that there wasn't anyone following or having spotted her pull up in the back and waited. It didn't take long for the same dark hoodie to slip out from behind a dumpster and head her way; ducking into the passenger seat once Jenny unlocked the door.
"Thanks," Morgan grumbled as they left, her cautious eyes watching the side mirror and rear-view mirror to ensure no one was tailing them for a while until she felt comfortable pulling her hood down.
Jenny gave her split lip and the butterfly stitch near her left temple a glance before turning her gaze back to the road. "You want to explain what's going on now? I need to know if there's been a security breach and with how you're acting, this isn't just any guy."
"It's an army guy from back when I was a recruit," she informed her. "Has nothing to do with NCIS."
"Doesn't mean I shouldn't know about it," Jenny pressed and Morgan rubbed at her eyes before the Director glanced at her feet. "No dog?"
"Abby has him. Wasn't feeling safe after the thing with Fred using her, so I let Russell stay the night with her. Thought it'd be fine but he could have alerted me to Levi," Morgan muttered, tipping her head back against the seat. "Not that I would have wanted him there. Levi must've been on something. PCP maybe. Nothing I did really phased him and he didn't even come with a weapon which was stupid, given I nearly gutted him last time."
"Last time?" Jenny asked, stunned. "This has happened before?"
"At Fort Bragg. The simple story is he's an obsessed stalker who followed me after I transferred bases and when I threatened to call the officers, he jumped me and I stabbed him. He was arrested, I pressed charges, and there's a restraining order now. Not that it matters. He got off on good behavior and immediately lost his parole officer before he started calling my cell and sending me photos of myself at work."
Jenny parked the car in her garage and held up a hand. "Hold on. How long ago was this?"
"Fort Bragg was about a year or two after being recruited into the army," Morgan explained. "Him being released happened this last week, right before I was brought back on duty."
Jenny sighed, starting to get out of the car as Morgan did the same. "I'm going to need a drink for this… and why didn't you want to stay with Gibbs?"
Morgan frowned, not wanting to answer and Jenny let out a sigh as she stepped into the house and hung up her coat.
"I already know you two are a thing and it's fine, but I would have assumed staying at his place would have been your first choice."
Jenny moved into her kitchen and grabbed a drink, pouring some into a couple of glasses as Morgan worked out what to say to explain her decision.
"We… had a disagreement."
Jenny snorted, smiling as she lifted her glass to her lips. "That sounds like an understatement."
"He wanted me to have informed him sooner," Morgan explained, scowling now as she grabbed her drink as well. "Talking about taking precautions and putting me in protective custody while we were in the middle of a case. He said the case wouldn't have been important and when I told him Levi was sending me pictures, he kept talking about trying to do something like I hadn't been doing anything!"
She downed the drink in an instant and Jenny idly refilled it, leaning back against her counter calmly.
"That sounds like Jethro. He's overprotective at times, especially if there's a threat like this involved." Jenny scoffed, swirling her drink. "Heaven forbid you try to do the same to him though."
"He wanted to tell the whole team too," Morgan complained, taking the bottle and refilling her glass for a third time. "I explicitly told him I didn't want anyone to know. It's my problem. Levi doesn't give a damn about anyone but me and if they get in the way, he'll just fuckin' kill them. So, like hell I want them to know about this. He's lucky I even told him and look how that turned out. McNeil is gonna love our next session when I explain to her how I tried—I fuckin' tried to do the so-called 'right thing' and share my problems, and look what it got me! Fifteen stitches, bruised ribs, and a damn migraine. And, I get to go in to work tomorrow and deal with it all over again because I let my guard down while I was angry and got my ass kicked."
Jenny let out a soft sigh, sliding over the bottle of alcohol once more. It was going to be a long night.
"I told you, you should take the day off," Jenny huffed as she waited for Morgan, who was doubled over and holding her head, leaning out of the passenger side of her car.
"Can't. Gibbs'll say something."
"He's going to say something anyway," she reminded her with a roll of her eyes.
Morgan was hungover from the night before, not that she slept much either, but the assault had done a number on her as well. Jenny had told her to limit her physical work after hearing she'd gotten stitches for a gash in her thigh, but there was also dark bruising around her throat that she'd attempted to cover by wearing a turtleneck and her ribs were giving her issues after she'd been throwing up all morning. Jenny wasn't sure what other injuries she was hiding but the woman was as stubborn as Gibbs when it came to skipping work.
"At least take it easy," she warned, giving the woman a stern look as she hauled herself up onto her feet to follow her into the elevator. "I don't want to hear that you went to the hospital again."
Morgan gave her an annoyed but exhausted look. "You say this like I enjoy going to the hospital."
"I'm starting to wonder," Jenny teased, passing her the coffee she'd ordered as they stepped off the elevator only to nearly run into Gibbs.
He eyed the two of them for a moment before his gaze latched onto Morgan's and went cold. Seeing the incoming argument, Jenny cleared her throat and stepped to the side to walk around him.
"I'll leave you both alone for a moment."
Morgan shot her a small, angry look for the betrayal, and forced her way out of the elevator as well before Gibbs could trap her in it. It was early so the rest of the team weren't there yet, but she wasn't about to have this conversation with him.
"Morgan," he called out as she ignored him and went to her desk; dropping into her chair and starting up her computer.
She continued to ignore him as she took her things out of her bag and began putting them into her desk drawers, and he resisted the urge to get angry as best he could.
"Morgan," he called out again, standing by her desk and grabbing her wrist when she went to reach for her coffee. "We need to talk. Now."
She glared up at him and jerked her wrist free. "We already did. Yesterday," she snapped at him.
"Morgan, that's not—"
"You explained where your priorities lie and I told you mine. That is where the discussion ends."
Gibbs slammed his hand on her desk, unable to hold back the frustration any longer. "Dammit, Morgan! I'm trying to protect you!"
Morgan stood up and faced him in a challenge as well. "I don't fucking need your protection! I have never needed anyone's protection! I am not putting anyone on this team at risk by putting them in his path, and I am sure as hell not going to abandon my fuckin' job because some controlling jackass won't leave me the hell alone!"
"If Levi's—"
"I'm not talking about fucking Levi!" She bellowed, allowing silence to settle between them for a moment.
Both were still bristling with anger and frustration with each other but needed to stop for a moment to collect themselves. Morgan's ribs throbbed from shouting and when she abruptly stood, the stitches in her leg had pulled painfully tight. She was still hungover and exhausted, dealing with a near-debilitating migraine that was growing worse with every second, and suddenly struggling to see the "good side" of her and Gibbs. It wasn't the first time she'd questioned them, but before it was her own insecurities. It was her not being good enough for him. But now, it was entirely different.
This was the first time she was questioning if Gibbs was what she wanted for her. She couldn't do controlling; out of trying to protect her or otherwise. It was a non-negotiable fact that she would push back on that sort of thing no matter the reasoning behind it. She'd thought Gibbs understood that. She thought he would be okay working with her on dealing with Levi, which was why she told him in the first place. Having him threatening to cut her out of cases to keep her safe? To bring in even more people when she explicitly told him that Levi could and would kill them to get to her? She wouldn't have it. She was in control of her own life and could handle things herself. She tried to open up to him and this quick turn toward him taking control set her off.
Gibbs, on the other hand, was struggling to understand what it was she was missing. He knew she could handle herself if needed. Her being here after obviously being attacked was proof of that but if he had been there—if she had just let him be there—then they might have ended this situation before it had even begun. She might not have gotten hurt at all if she'd just stayed at his place, just listened to what he had to say, and seen that he just wanted her safe. Having the team in on what was going on would only add to that manpower. It would give them more ears, more hands on deck, more everything to catch the maniac who was coming after her. Jenny knew now, so what harm could it possibly do?
That being said, he was struggling himself to pull out of that overprotective mindset. Morgan wasn't any old person. She wasn't like Jenny or Mann or Stephanie or any of the other women he'd gotten to know. She wasn't Shannon and as much as he wished he could shut her in a box and keep her all to himself, he couldn't do that. His fear of not wanting anything to happen to those people he cared about ever again was well out of hand, especially with those he was romantically involved with. Shannon died because he didn't protect her the way he should have. He should have done more, could have done more, and that meant that when situations like this came up with Morgan, he was doing his damnedest to ensure he didn't fuck it up again.
And this was the problem when it came to Morgan. Protection was stifling. She wanted to fight even at the risk of herself. That was something she and Shannon had in common. They would face things even if they were dangerous and nothing he said would stop them. Him trying to force it on them only made things worse. The thought of them hurt—seeing Morgan hurt—just made him angry and frustrated and worried, which meant he retaliated in ways he shouldn't have and said things he didn't mean. Now, he was smack in the middle of that and he had to either bite his tongue and change the way he was doing things, or push further and have this whole relationship fall apart.
Already, things had gone too far. He could see how much Morgan was struggling now that he wasn't stuck in this loop of arguing about her safety. She was pale with dark bags under her eyes; her weight leaning rather heavily on a palm pressed flat against her desk. Her face was flushed from their argument but he also caught a gleam of sweat near her temple and her jaw was clenched tight. Her whole body was stiff and what he knew was originally a glare aimed at him was now looking more and more like a pained squint.
She was in pain. A lot of it and she was angry with him and beginning to hold doubts. He needed to make a decision about how he was going to handle this Levi situation moving forward. More than that, he needed to decide what he was going to risk to implement that decision. Would he risk his relationship with Morgan to keep her safe, or risk her life to keep her by his side? He dragged a hand down his face, hating the options he was faced with but ultimately deciding on what he felt was best.
"Look, Morgan. I—"
"Slow down, Russell!"
Gibbs resisted the urge to curse as Abby came running up with Russell, cutting off their argument in an instant as the black dog hurried over to Morgan's side and began to fuss.
"Wow, I guess he really missed you, huh?" Abby chirped, unbothered by the way he'd half-pulled her down the hall as she unclipped his leash.
Morgan let out a heavy sigh and Gibbs nearly reached out for her when she practically collapsed back in her chair. Russell whined further, nose lingering near her left thigh for a moment before he moved as close to her as possible without actually climbing on her. Morgan lightly carded her fingers through his fur, grumbling about him being needy before thanking Abby. The forensic scientist gave her a salute and bounded back toward the elevator with Gibbs's eyes trailing after her; making sure she was gone and there would be no more interruptions. He turned back to Morgan as Russell put his feet on her chair and pressed his face into her collarbone with a whine.
"Did you go to the hospital?" Gibbs asked quietly, not being able to continue their arguing with the obvious pain and exhaustion radiating through her body.
She narrowed her eyes at him from over Russell's head; more of a cautious and annoyed look than an actual glare of hatred. She didn't want to keep fighting either.
"No," she grumbled. "I'm fine."
Gibbs bit his tongue to prevent him from arguing that, seeing the pain etched into her face, but took a pointed step back.
"Okay," he forced himself to say despite the million other things he wanted to. "Just let me know if you need a break."
He turned and went back to his desk, feeling Morgan's eyes on his back and probably eyeing him in suspicion. He'd completely dropped their argument and changed the topic into something less volatile. It still hung heavily in the air between them, but this was something they needed to discuss, not shout about in the middle of their workplace without any real thought to their words. He was missing something. They both were and until they could figure it out, the topic needed to be left alone or there would be irrefutable consequences. Gibbs just took the first step back and doing so might have saved them from a fallout.
"Ooh, not bad," Ziva hummed, looking over McGee's shoulder curiously.
"And look at this one," he said, changing what he was looking at as Tony stepped into the bullpen. "You're going to love this guy."
"Yeah, he would not be safe with me. I would eat him," she remarked, making Tony raise a brow.
"But he's so adorable! How could you say no to that face?" McGee asked her as Tony put his stuff down and finally confronted them.
"Please tell me you're looking for a man for Ziva."
"Not me," Ziva remarked.
"Oh! McGoo, is there something you want to tell me?"
McGee rolled his eyes. "Looking at animal rescue sites."
"McGee's thinking about getting a puppy," Ziva clarified as Tony grimaced.
"Puppy's a lot of work. You got to feed it, walk it, train it."
"Yeah, I'm not twelve, all right? I work hard. I deserve someone who will jump up all excited when I get home, you know?" McGee argued, and Tony turned toward Morgan, surprised she hadn't said anything only to grimace.
"Oh, boy. What happened to her?" He asked, grimacing at the butterfly stitch across her temple that he could see; what with her completely sprawled over her desk, fast asleep.
McGee and Ziva shared a look before hushing their tones.
"According to one of the office workers, she and Gibbs had a big fight this morning," McGee explained as Ziva nodded.
"Someone said she came to work with the Director. I thought they went home together yesterday."
"They did," Tony replied, lightly tapping his temple. "What's with the stitch?"
McGee shrugged. "Don't know. No one heard clearly what the fight was about, just heard shouting."
"It's more than that too. Look," Ziva said, pointing over to Russell as he sniffed at Morgan's thigh. "There's a bit of blood on her pants. Russell keeps sniffing that one spot when he checks on her."
"And he's checking on her a lot," McGee explained. "Like more than usual. You think things got physical?"
Tony shook his head. "No way. Maybe her being hurt is what they fought about. Think she got mugged?"
Ziva snorted. "Her? Mugged? Even if someone tried, they'd be sent to the hospital, not her."
"I don't know, Ziva," McGee argued lightly. "She has been out of sorts lately."
"Well, did you ask her about your little dog problem?"
"She was asleep when we got here. Gibbs said to leave her be, then walked off to get a coffee."
"Sounds like him. So, who's the favorite?" Tony asked, curiously as Ziva gave him a look.
"The pitbull."
"Yeah, that makes sense for you, actually. Not really for McGee. He's more of a… spaniel kind of guy. Cocker, maybe?" Tony joked, before stiffening when Gibbs leaned over and took a look himself.
"How about an Australian Shepherd? They're working dogs," he chimed in as a phone began to go off and Morgan called out from across the room.
"Which means they need a lot of training and exercise. Not great for someone who's at work most of the day," she grumbled, getting up from her desk and rubbing at her face. "Don't get a dog if you don't have the time for them. You'll end up with a destroyed house and a dog who won't give a damn."
"Well, you turned out just fine with Russell," Tony tried, earning an annoyed look.
"Russell was raised in a military setting with constant training and exercise. He was my job and even back then, the slightest bit of slacking off meant he chewed through multiple pairs of combat boots and broke open at least two different crates." She turned to McGee. "If you want a dog to deal with this sort of lifestyle, get a senior dog and have a neighbor ready to deal with him if you get called in."
McGee nodded slowly. "R-Right…"
"Tony," Gibbs called out, drawing his attention. "Phone."
"On it, boss," he said, scrambling to pick it up but not missing the way Morgan glared at Gibbs when an energy drink and a white pharmacy bag were placed on her desk.
"A.F.I.P." Gibbs warned Tony then, startling him as he quickly placed them on hold. "Smooth things over."
"What did we do to incur the wrath of the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology?"
"Ducky kept one of their cadavers."
That even caught Morgan's attention. "He stole a cadaver?"
"I'm sure he had a good reason," Ziva chimed as Gibbs hummed.
"I hope so," Gibbs said, starting to head out but as the others stood up, he paused. "Sit."
Ziva, Tony, and McGee sat back down slowly.
"Stay," he told them, cracking a small smile, only to see Morgan still on her feet defiantly and he sighed lightly. "Hurry up, Morgan."
She followed him to the elevator and they headed downstairs in silence. There was no stopping the elevator for a discussion this time. Neither wanted to continue their fight so soon and both were happy for the distraction of a case. Everything would be set aside for now while they dealt with work.
Upon entering the autopsy room, they found Ducky pulling off his face shield angrily.
"It's absolutely ridiculous, Jethro! This man's body should never have been donated to science," the man complained.
"Too late for a refund," Gibbs commented.
"He was murdered, Jethro, with an injection of mercury into his brain. A liquid bullet," Ducky explained, making Morgan frown.
She went to question him on that, but Gibbs rolled over a chair for her to sit in, gesturing to it pointedly and she scowled but sat as Ducky continued his rant.
"Mr. Palmer is presently endeavoring to reach the M.E. who made such a grievous oversight."
"Still no answer, Doctor," said assistant called out.
"Then, redial, Mr. Palmer."
Palmer gave Gibbs an exasperated look but did as he was told as Ducky opened the file he'd been given on the body.
"Unidentified African-American male, approximately 50 years old. Blood-alcohol level: 0.12. Official cause of death: asphyxiation from the deceased's own vomit. However, here's the kicker. They elected not to perform an autopsy."
That's where Palmer tried to step in.
"But it would be pretty hard to find a pinprick hole in the base of the skull, and heavy metals wouldn't show on a tox screen unless you're looking for them… specifically."
Ducky turned to give him a stern glare. "Mr. Palmer, do not defend the inefficiency of others."
Gibbs had a very different remark though. "I'm not sure you can just take control of a body, Duck."
"Well, someone has to. I mean, based on preliminary findings, County Police determined that he was nameless drifter. A John Doe. Had too much to drink and died in his sleep."
Gibbs shrugged. "Some people live their whole lives off the grid."
"Not our man," Ducky argued. "I'd wager that he spent several years in prison."
That caught their attention and Morgan spoke up.
"There would have to be some record of him then."
"One would think. Yeah, it's elementary, my dear Jethro," Ducky said, drawing him and Morgan over to gesture to what he found on the body. "The proliferation of scar tissue on his body. Cigarette-sized burns."
"Our John Doe led a violent life," Palmer said, having given up on the phone for now.
"Yes, well, this long scar on his left leg is surgical. However, it healed poorly. Suggests prison-caliber medical treatment, especially post-operative."
"And the tattooing," Palmer pointed out, showing a large black smudge of ink on his chest. "Pen ink. Jailhouse style."
"Yes. Perhaps we can get Abby to shed some light on this pattern."
Morgan leaned over to look, grimacing and catching herself on the edge of the table when her weight shifted. "It's messy though. There's a hint of a pattern on the edges but it looks more like a shitty cover-up. It's just a black smudge."
"It's Abby's area of expertise," Gibbs said, tapping Morgan and again pushing a chair over to her as she scowled.
"A John Doe. I mean, it's ridiculous," Ducky continued to complain. "It can't be that difficult to locate a prison record. Somebody must actually care that this man is dead. Well?" He turned to Palmer. "Did you locate the M.E.?"
"No. I gave up," he replied and Ducky scoffed.
"Oh. Therein lies the problem. People are just not willing to do the legwork."
Ducky stormed off to get out of his scrubs as Palmer sighed softly.
"He had a murder victim right in front of him, classroom full of military students. I think he might be a bit embarrassed."
"Excellent detective work," Gibbs replied sarcastically, starting to head out after him but pointing a firm finger at Morgan when she started to get up from her seat. "Stay. Palmer, fix whatever injury is currently trying to soak into her pant leg."
Palmer blinked, confused, and turned to Morgan who looked the least pleased about this situation. "I'm sorry?"
Morgan huffed and stood, reaching for her belt. "I sliced my leg in a fight last night. Fifteen stitches and I probably pulled a few."
Palmer's eyes went wide and he scrambled to try and respond, but Morgan didn't let him.
"Change your gloves and if you are anything less than professional, I will put you on that slab and fix it myself. Got it?"
Palmer nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
The team headed out to Highland Beach where their newest victim had been found under the pier and while McGee handled a metal detector in search of mercury or a needle, Morgan swept the area with Russell on a long line. She was letting Russell do most of the legwork and only moved when he started to trail further away; body still tender and her leg even worse after getting her stitches redone. Gibbs showed up later than the others since he had to drop Ducky back off at headquarters first but arrived when they were heading back to the van to drop off their things.
"What did you find under the pier?" He asked as McGee hummed.
"85 cents, two batteries, and a bottle cap."
"No mercury, no needle," Ziva said as Morgan nodded with a grumble.
"Russell didn't find anything either. No blood, sign of a fight, or drugs other than a few cigarette butts."
"Keep looking," Gibbs said. "We've got to find someone who knew him."
"Highland Beach in October," Tony commented. "Not much of a tourist draw. Soft-shell crab season's almost over. People really like boats that much?"
"You work for the Navy, DiNozzo," Gibbs reminded him as Morgan pointed out a restaurant nearby.
"Try the locals."
"Alright," Gibbs said, nodding for her to join. "Come on then."
She huffed but walked with him and Tony over toward the place, giving him a dark look. "If you try to put me in a chair one more time—"
"If Palmer did his job right, then I won't have to," Gibbs chimed, shooting her a look. "I told you to take it easy."
"I am," she bit out before Tony cleared his throat and eyed a waitress who just rounded the corner.
"Maybe we should start with this waitress."
Gibbs knew where his mind was at and spared him a look before the woman turned and approached them.
"Eating or asking questions?" She asked after a once-over. "If you're hoping for subtle, you could have lost the guns. Or at least the hats."
She scoffed and started to head off, so Tony followed and Morgan glanced around the nearby tables.
"I'll take the biker gang," she said, and Gibbs frowned until she gestured to Russell. "They tend to like dogs."
She headed off before he could try and argue and watched for a moment as she approached the first biker, questioned him about the photo of their victim, and then let him give Russell a few pets. He cracked a small hint of a smile before something made him pause. He couldn't pinpoint it, just felt unnerved for a moment, and glanced out the windows. There wasn't anything of note. A bicycle rode by, a fisherman stood on a boat checking the ropes, and a few locals wandered past but that was it. So, he shook the feeling off for now, pulled out his photo, and began to ask other guests if they knew their victim.
The three of them met back up at the entrance, tucking their photos away as they explained what little they found.
"So, the waitress, Miss Shannon O'Hara, remembers our guy. Never got a name, paid cash, big tipper." Tony glanced at the gruff men behind them. "How about your biker gang there?"
"They're passing through," Morgan said. "Not fans of cops but they liked Russell. Said if he was causing me trouble they'd help out."
She gave Russell a pat on the shoulder, much to the dog's joy, but Gibbs spotted someone.
"Check out the brunette at the table."
The woman was in a suit but looked antsy about them being there.
"Good eye, boss," Tony mused. "I'll tell you, my radar is just totally shot. She's smokin'," he said before seeing Gibbs's annoyed look. "That's not what you meant. You were suggesting that she seems interested in our presence, maybe a little too interested, and that I should question her. Not a problem."
They turned back to see she'd abandoned her table.
"Hm, that's a problem."
Morgan rolled her eyes, heading toward the door. "It's not. I sent Russell after her."
Gibbs picked up his phone. "I'll tell Ziva."
They headed around the restaurant after the woman who already come to a stop with Russell facing her and barking to keep her in place. Ziva and McGee had come up behind her when she turned to run off, smiling innocently.
"Mind if we ask where you're going in such a hurry?" McGee asked.
"Well, t-the dog—" The woman tried, turning only to see Russell had gone quiet as soon as Morgan was there beside him.
"Try again," she grumbled and the woman straightened, trying to regain her confidence.
"What business is it of NCIS?"
"We're looking for anyone who might have known this man," Tony said, showing her the photo and her expression faltered.
"He's dead?"
"You know him?" Gibbs asked.
"His name's Marvin Hinton. He was with me."
"And you are?" Ziva asked, grabbing her wrist when she reached into her coat. "Careful."
"I was just reaching for my ID."
Ziva took it, opened it, and showed it to Gibbs.
"Special Agent Courtney Krieger."
"Hinton was working for the FBI."
With that new information, the team headed back to headquarters with Courtney so they could get more information as well as contact her superior. What they were finding though, wasn't much.
"Still can't find any record of Marvin Hinton," McGee informed Gibbs as he thanked someone for offering to get him a coffee.
"And you won't," Courtney said. "Marvin Hinton doesn't exist anymore."
" 'Anymore'?"
"His cellmates swear Marvin Hinton served six years at Cumberland, although any record of it vanished when he was released last month." She pulled a USB drive out of her bag. "We had to reassemble his history by hand. It's not complete. He once went by the name Frederick LeClair."
McGee took the drive and started going through it. "Hinton aka LeClair. Bootlegging, false IDs, resisting arrest, theft."
"The guy's a career felon," Gibbs noted.
"Interstate trafficking, primarily," Courtney agreed as Ziva eyed her.
"How did he show up on your radar?"
"Was a routine tip. Picked him up offloading stolen cargo containers."
"At which point, you discover a nameless man whose entire history's been erased," Tony said. "No fingerprints, no criminal record."
"Not even a high school transcript."
Morgan frowned, leaning back in her seat with her arms folded over her chest. "What's he worth?"
"Sorry?" Courtney asked and Morgan gestured to the main screen.
"He's small fry, but someone went through a hell of a lot of trouble to get him entirely off-grid. So, what connections does he have and who would want them?"
McGee nodded. "Getting rid of a high school transcript is impossible. You'd need first-person access to a federal mainframe, credit ratings, countless private companies."
"That'd be like taking spit out of the ocean," Tony remarked as Gibbs hummed.
"How'd he do it? Or, well…" He nodded to Morgan. "Who did it for him?"
"Said he was contacted by someone offering the service," Courtney explained and Tony seemed to catch on.
"The Eraser."
"What movie is that from?" McGee asked, making Tony roll his eyes.
"I don't know. Flashdance?"
"Why was Hinton not back in prison?" Ziva asked, but Morgan knew the answer to that.
"He's bait for the big fish. They want the Eraser."
Courtney nodded. "We hoped he would contact Hinton, get paid off, and finish the job."
"Provide Hinton with a new identity," Tony understood.
"Exactly. I was left to babysit. It was my first field assignment. Never expected him to be killed."
"That is what happens to bait," Ziva commented as Morgan shook her head.
"Stupid to put a rookie on such a big fish. Should have had a whole team on it. Someone who can go that far to make people disappear isn't found every day and it hints at a security issue in federal departments. FBI dropped the ball on that one."
Courtney shifted uneasily and Tony offered her a smile and have her a friendly pat on the arm.
"Hey, it's not your fault."
"So, why didn't Hinton skip town when he had the opportunity?" McGee asked.
Courtney scoffed. "He was having a good time on the government expense account. But we did have him under 24-hour monitoring, three-team shifts."
"What changed?" Gibbs asked.
"The Eraser didn't make contact. They pulled my surveillance team to chase other leads."
Morgan scoffed. "Really dropped the ball then. No fish that big would ever leave a loose end like Hinton around. They waited until the feds got bored and picked him off when security was lax. Him hanging around the same area wasting government money getting drunk made him easy pickings."
"You notify your boss. We need to know everything you know," Gibbs told her. "Until then, let's start with where he stayed."
Courtney nodded. "We have a hotel room we met at. I can take you there if you'd like."
Gibbs nodded, getting up. "Let's go."
The team started gathering their things but Gibbs noticed Morgan moving slower than usual with Russell keeping extra close to her side. He resisted the urge to sigh when she started to bend for her bag with a small grimace of pain, reaching over and picking it up himself.
"Hurry up, Morgan," he lightly chided, hitching her bag over his shoulder as well. "Don't have all day."
She scowled at him but grabbed her service weapon and flinched when he called out.
"Take another round of meds!"
She huffed but pulled out the pharmacy bag he'd brought for her earlier, dumped a few pills in her hand, and took them dry. The pain was getting to her again and the first round of medication had worn off, but she didn't like this nice guy act Gibbs was putting on. Their argument lingered over them even now and it was hard for her not to see his kindness as him trying to sweeten things up between them. Which, to be honest, he partially was doing it for that reason, but he was also just worried because he could see just how much damage Levi had done even with her trying to hide it.
God, he couldn't wait until he had his hands on the man.