It's Raining on My Hero-- An NCIS Fanfic by Blood_Red_Alibi
Title: It's Raining on My Hero
Author: Blood_Red_Alibi
Rating: R (for language and graphic crime scenes)
Genre: Casefile
Pairing: None
Summary: Five weeks post-Aliyah, Gibbs borrows Agent Cameron Hall from San Diego for an assignment. When a domestic dispute at Quantico turns deadly, the team must try to stay one step ahead of a killer who will stop at nothing to claim what is rightfully theirs. This is (for now) a WIP.
Spoilers: Aliyah
Disclaimer: I honestly don't own anything in relation to NCIS... I'm just borrowing them for a while, and I promise to return them all when I'm finished... *sigh* even Tony. The NCIS characters belong to DPB, Bellisarius Productions, CBS, and a whole list of people that don't include me. Cameron Hall, Jack Winslow, and the San Diego crew belong to me. A big thanks to teenagewitch for giving this a beta, and a thanks to everyone else who looked this over and gave me feedback-- you guys rock!
Warning: This fic contains some graphic descriptions of crime scenes.
Chapter Ten: This Bitter Pill
Two hours later, the fire is out but the remains still smolder. Firefighters use their hooks to turn pieces over and wet down the remaining hotspots. There is a heavy stench of wet wood and charred plastic hanging over the entire scene. We have little to do but seek shelter from the sun on a neighbor’s porch. She is friendly and brings us iced tea and coffee.
Watching impassively as the firemen move through what’s left of her house, Diana drinks tea and wordlessly wipes tears away. A pair of firefighters turn over a chunk of collapsed roof and send up a shout. Two more join them, and they pull something into the back yard. Someone shouts for Dr. Mallard, and I realize they’ve found Darryl Walker’s body in the rubble. We troop out to where the firemen are standing and take pictures before Ducky and Palmer load him up and take him to the van.
Six hours later, the hotspots have all died, and we are just concluding our investigation. I stretch as far as I can, grimacing when my burns chafe against my clothing. My skin feels tight, and I’m just ready for a shower.
When we finally return to headquarters, we each fill out our reports. I struggle with mine, my thoughts consumed by the what-ifs of the situation.
What if I hadn’t recognized the smell?
What if I had tried to be a bigger hero?
What if the blast had gone off fifteen seconds sooner?
These thoughts chase themselves around in circles through my mind, causing me to take a while with my report.
By 1900, I’m finally done. I simply sit at my desk, staring off into space. Vance steps into the bullpen and greets everyone, before turning to me.
“Agent Hall, I’d like to speak with you in my office.”
“Sir… can it possibly wait? I have a report I’d like to finish first.” He stares at me, not inviting insubordination.
“Hall, I want you my office, now.” At this point, I’m kind of trapped so I nod. Tossing my pen on my desk in irritation, I stalk after him.
I take one last look downstairs on my way to the catwalk. All three men watch me follow Vance into his office. The last face I see is DiNozzo’s. His eyes are hard, and it scares me.
************************************
Chapter Eleven: Where I Stood
Motioning me to have a seat, Vance leans against his desk and stares.
“Yes, Director. What did you need?”
“I’d like to recommend you for a meritorious service award for today,” He says, folding his arms. I stare at him for a moment, waiting for his words to sink in.
“I… I don’t understand. I was just doing my job. If I hadn’t done it, any other member of the team would’ve stepped up and done it. I don’t deserve an award. It was a team effort.”
“Not what I heard…”
“Then you heard wrong!” I snap, “… Sir.” He stares me calmly down and I feel about two inches tall.
“Don’t forget, Agent Hall, that I have the authority to bounce your ass straight back to San Diego any time I feel like it. And with your attitude, I could feel like it in the very near future.”
“What?”
“If you want to continue to work out of this office, I need some information,” He casually places a toothpick between his teeth.
“Sure, what do you want to know?” I attempt to cooperate. There are very few things I refuse to talk about.
“I want you to find out what happened between Agent DiNozzo and Mossad Liaison Officer Ziva David.” I feel the significance of the name hit me. Ziva… I am her replacement, and she was DiNozzo’s partner.
“Ask me something I’m qualified to answer.” I feel my left eyebrow raise of its own accord.
“You’ll be qualified before you know it. Make friends, share stories. Things will come to light.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, they don’t seem to like me very much,” I point out flatly. He pushes off the edge of his desk and goes to sit behind it.
“Make yourself more likeable.” I stare at him in confusion, “Let me put it this way Hall, make yourself more likeable, or pack your things and go back to San Diego.”
*********************************
Chapter Twelve: Playing With The Boys
The next morning, I’m still more than irritated by the scene in the director’s office. I’m not sure what pisses me off more; the fact that he threatened to send me back to San Diego, or that he wanted me to be his mole. I try to shake it off as I enter the bullpen. Unfortunately, I’m not the first one here.
“What did our fearless director want?” DiNozzo asks as soon as I round the corner.
“Um, not much… I’m going to run and grab some coffee. Can I get anyone anything?” I raise my eyebrows slightly and tilt my head towards the elevator. It earns me a sideways glance… I have DiNozzo’s attention.
“Yeah, I’ll walk you down there,” Turning, he glances at a slack jawed McGee, “You want something, Probie?”
Stuttering, McGee accepts. Confusion is written in the lines on his forehead. Heading to the elevator, we board the car. The next floor down we are joined by a blonde with steel grey eyes. She boards, but not before flashing DiNozzo a thousand watt smile. As soon as she turns her back to him, he cocks his head to one side and runs his eyes down the lines created by her tight skirt and three and a half inch heels.
At the first floor, she starts to get off, accidentally dropping a manila folder from the pile in her arm. DiNozzo swoops down to pick it up. Handing it back to her, they share a smile as she thanks him.
“Thank you…”
“Tony… Tony DiNozzo.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Tony,” there’s a seductive glitter in her eye as she says it. She steps off, glancing at DiNozzo about fifty times. As the doors are closing, she looks at me for the first time, and cocks her head to the side as if she’s studying me. It gives me a chill.
When the doors close again, DiNozzo lets out a hiss of air.
“Ah, yes! I love girls from Long Island.”
“Long Island? How do you figure?” I ask, leading the way as we get off at the lobby level.
“Please, did you hear those vowels?” I shrug.
“Never heard it before.” At the door, I hold it open for DiNozzo.
“I grew up in New York. I had a nanny from Long Island.” We start off down the street.
“I’m sure she was a nice lady.” I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
“No. She was a bitch,” he says, squirming under his sling, “But she was smokin’ hot, so I kind of let it slide.”
“She was, ‘smokin’ hot.’ You ‘let it slide?’ How old were you?” I ask, wondering what kind of kid thinks of his nanny in those terms.
“Twelve,” he pauses for a moment to think, “No, that’s a lie… I was thirteen.”
“You had a nanny at the age of thirteen?”
“My dad didn’t have a lot of time for me when I was growing up,” DiNozzo slides on a pair of sunglasses. I follow suit.
“You’re a rich kid.”
“Was. I was a rich kid.” His tone invites me to drop the subject, and quickly.
“Vance wants to nominate me for a meritorious service award for today,” I say glumly.
“Why aren’t you excited?” he asks, looking over at me.
“Because I got threatened to be sent back to San Diego.”
“What?” DiNozzo comes to a full stop, reaching out to stop me with his right hand.
“Please, let’s keep walking,” I shrug away from his hand. Between us, the pavement radiates the heat from the day back up to us, and I shed my blazer, “He wanted my help. He asked me to get some information for him.” Resuming our trek, I find our pace more subdued. DiNozzo is giving me time to get it out.
“He asked me to make friends with you and find out what was going on between you and Officer David.” DiNozzo’s pace falters as he absorbs what I’ve said. Five or six emotions rage across his face from sadness to hostility to anger before settling on an expression I hadn’t expected… guilt.
“What did you tell him?” He asks, resuming our pace.
“Nothing. I refused at first, told him it was obvious that it was going to take a long time to get in with the group. I knew I was replacing someone and might not be liked right away… and he threatened to bounce my ass straight back to San Diego. His exact words were that I should make myself more likable, or pack my bags and go back to the West coast.” We’ve reached the coffee shop, and I hold the door for him again.
The line is fairly short, and we are quiet for the first time since heading out. We each organize our own thoughts as we place our orders. DiNozzo orders three coffees and a Caf-Pow.
The barista puts the coffee in a carry tray and I hold the Caf-pow. This time DiNozzo opens the door for me.
Back on the street, we juggle our drinks. I try to balance the Caf-pow in the tray and take a drink of my own coffee. DiNozzo and I trade Abby’s beverage back and forth between sips of our own. I’m sure we look ridiculous, sipping coffee in 95 degree weather, juggling two extra cups and the biggest cup of Caf-pow they sell between us.
“So… what are you gonna tell Vance?”
“I have no idea.” I shrug as we wait for the crosswalk signal to turn green.
“Tell him the truth. Ziva was my partner for four years, and I disliked her when I first met her. I was really pissed when I found out she was staying… Four years later, she was my best friend. I trusted her above everyone, excluding Gibbs. We let each other down, and someone else got caught in the middle.”
“Trusted?” I ask.
“Hmm?”
“You used the past tense of trust,” he thrusts the Caf-pow at me and I trail off.
“I did.”
“That implies you don’t trust her anymore.”
DiNozzo hangs his head, kicking at an imaginary pebble on the sidewalk, “I don’t know if I do or not. Hell, I don’t know who to trust anymore.”
“Gibbs… Abby…Ducky… McGee, even if you do torture him.” I say, and I see a small smile at the corner of DiNozzo’s mouth.
“What, you’re not going to ask me to trust you?”
“I just told you Director Vance wanted me to spy on you. I don’t even trust me right now.” At the front door, DiNozzo, leans across me and opens the door. We ride the elevator in silence, but it isn’t uncomfortable. I set a coffee on Gibbs’ desk and hand the fourth coffee to McGee. He smiles appreciatively.
I lean on the edge of my desk and sip my coffee until DiNozzo steps over to me. He’s uncomfortably close, and I wonder what the hell he’s doing. Holding out his good hand, I reach out and take it. We shake gently, subtly.
“Call me, Tony… Cam.”
“Tony.” Dropping hands, DiNozzo… Tony, goes back to his desk. McGee makes conversation to fill the silence by asking about the coffee run.
“You should’ve seen her, Probie… she was wild. She’s got some mad coffee juggling skills,” he pantomimes juggling with one good hand. I roll my eyes, sitting at my desk.
“Shut up, DiNozzo and drink your coffee,” I say, unable to suppress a grin. The phone on Tony’s desk rings.
Picking it up on the second ring, he announces, “Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo speaking…” the smile melts off his face, “Everything ok, Boss?” After a few seconds he hangs up.
“He wants the two of us in Abby’s lab.” McGee’s head comes up, and we both share a look of confusion. Pushing back from his desk, Tony trots over to pick up Gibbs’ coffee, and I grab Abby’s Caf-pow. It’s sounding like our case just took a turn for the worse. Sensing something bad has happened, McGee follows us. On the elevator, I ask what happened.
“He didn’t say, he just said that he wanted the two of us down here ASAP.” My stomach begins to churn as I think of all the things that could have gone wrong. Mishandled evidence, forensic alibi for the dirtbag … a thousand thoughts wing through my mind.
*********************************
Author: Blood_Red_Alibi
Rating: R (for language and graphic crime scenes)
Genre: Casefile
Pairing: None
Summary: Five weeks post-Aliyah, Gibbs borrows Agent Cameron Hall from San Diego for an assignment. When a domestic dispute at Quantico turns deadly, the team must try to stay one step ahead of a killer who will stop at nothing to claim what is rightfully theirs. This is (for now) a WIP.
Spoilers: Aliyah
Disclaimer: I honestly don't own anything in relation to NCIS... I'm just borrowing them for a while, and I promise to return them all when I'm finished... *sigh* even Tony. The NCIS characters belong to DPB, Bellisarius Productions, CBS, and a whole list of people that don't include me. Cameron Hall, Jack Winslow, and the San Diego crew belong to me. A big thanks to teenagewitch for giving this a beta, and a thanks to everyone else who looked this over and gave me feedback-- you guys rock!
Warning: This fic contains some graphic descriptions of crime scenes.
Chapter Ten: This Bitter Pill
Two hours later, the fire is out but the remains still smolder. Firefighters use their hooks to turn pieces over and wet down the remaining hotspots. There is a heavy stench of wet wood and charred plastic hanging over the entire scene. We have little to do but seek shelter from the sun on a neighbor’s porch. She is friendly and brings us iced tea and coffee.
Watching impassively as the firemen move through what’s left of her house, Diana drinks tea and wordlessly wipes tears away. A pair of firefighters turn over a chunk of collapsed roof and send up a shout. Two more join them, and they pull something into the back yard. Someone shouts for Dr. Mallard, and I realize they’ve found Darryl Walker’s body in the rubble. We troop out to where the firemen are standing and take pictures before Ducky and Palmer load him up and take him to the van.
Six hours later, the hotspots have all died, and we are just concluding our investigation. I stretch as far as I can, grimacing when my burns chafe against my clothing. My skin feels tight, and I’m just ready for a shower.
When we finally return to headquarters, we each fill out our reports. I struggle with mine, my thoughts consumed by the what-ifs of the situation.
What if I hadn’t recognized the smell?
What if I had tried to be a bigger hero?
What if the blast had gone off fifteen seconds sooner?
These thoughts chase themselves around in circles through my mind, causing me to take a while with my report.
By 1900, I’m finally done. I simply sit at my desk, staring off into space. Vance steps into the bullpen and greets everyone, before turning to me.
“Agent Hall, I’d like to speak with you in my office.”
“Sir… can it possibly wait? I have a report I’d like to finish first.” He stares at me, not inviting insubordination.
“Hall, I want you my office, now.” At this point, I’m kind of trapped so I nod. Tossing my pen on my desk in irritation, I stalk after him.
I take one last look downstairs on my way to the catwalk. All three men watch me follow Vance into his office. The last face I see is DiNozzo’s. His eyes are hard, and it scares me.
************************************
Chapter Eleven: Where I Stood
Motioning me to have a seat, Vance leans against his desk and stares.
“Yes, Director. What did you need?”
“I’d like to recommend you for a meritorious service award for today,” He says, folding his arms. I stare at him for a moment, waiting for his words to sink in.
“I… I don’t understand. I was just doing my job. If I hadn’t done it, any other member of the team would’ve stepped up and done it. I don’t deserve an award. It was a team effort.”
“Not what I heard…”
“Then you heard wrong!” I snap, “… Sir.” He stares me calmly down and I feel about two inches tall.
“Don’t forget, Agent Hall, that I have the authority to bounce your ass straight back to San Diego any time I feel like it. And with your attitude, I could feel like it in the very near future.”
“What?”
“If you want to continue to work out of this office, I need some information,” He casually places a toothpick between his teeth.
“Sure, what do you want to know?” I attempt to cooperate. There are very few things I refuse to talk about.
“I want you to find out what happened between Agent DiNozzo and Mossad Liaison Officer Ziva David.” I feel the significance of the name hit me. Ziva… I am her replacement, and she was DiNozzo’s partner.
“Ask me something I’m qualified to answer.” I feel my left eyebrow raise of its own accord.
“You’ll be qualified before you know it. Make friends, share stories. Things will come to light.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, they don’t seem to like me very much,” I point out flatly. He pushes off the edge of his desk and goes to sit behind it.
“Make yourself more likeable.” I stare at him in confusion, “Let me put it this way Hall, make yourself more likeable, or pack your things and go back to San Diego.”
*********************************
Chapter Twelve: Playing With The Boys
The next morning, I’m still more than irritated by the scene in the director’s office. I’m not sure what pisses me off more; the fact that he threatened to send me back to San Diego, or that he wanted me to be his mole. I try to shake it off as I enter the bullpen. Unfortunately, I’m not the first one here.
“What did our fearless director want?” DiNozzo asks as soon as I round the corner.
“Um, not much… I’m going to run and grab some coffee. Can I get anyone anything?” I raise my eyebrows slightly and tilt my head towards the elevator. It earns me a sideways glance… I have DiNozzo’s attention.
“Yeah, I’ll walk you down there,” Turning, he glances at a slack jawed McGee, “You want something, Probie?”
Stuttering, McGee accepts. Confusion is written in the lines on his forehead. Heading to the elevator, we board the car. The next floor down we are joined by a blonde with steel grey eyes. She boards, but not before flashing DiNozzo a thousand watt smile. As soon as she turns her back to him, he cocks his head to one side and runs his eyes down the lines created by her tight skirt and three and a half inch heels.
At the first floor, she starts to get off, accidentally dropping a manila folder from the pile in her arm. DiNozzo swoops down to pick it up. Handing it back to her, they share a smile as she thanks him.
“Thank you…”
“Tony… Tony DiNozzo.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Tony,” there’s a seductive glitter in her eye as she says it. She steps off, glancing at DiNozzo about fifty times. As the doors are closing, she looks at me for the first time, and cocks her head to the side as if she’s studying me. It gives me a chill.
When the doors close again, DiNozzo lets out a hiss of air.
“Ah, yes! I love girls from Long Island.”
“Long Island? How do you figure?” I ask, leading the way as we get off at the lobby level.
“Please, did you hear those vowels?” I shrug.
“Never heard it before.” At the door, I hold it open for DiNozzo.
“I grew up in New York. I had a nanny from Long Island.” We start off down the street.
“I’m sure she was a nice lady.” I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
“No. She was a bitch,” he says, squirming under his sling, “But she was smokin’ hot, so I kind of let it slide.”
“She was, ‘smokin’ hot.’ You ‘let it slide?’ How old were you?” I ask, wondering what kind of kid thinks of his nanny in those terms.
“Twelve,” he pauses for a moment to think, “No, that’s a lie… I was thirteen.”
“You had a nanny at the age of thirteen?”
“My dad didn’t have a lot of time for me when I was growing up,” DiNozzo slides on a pair of sunglasses. I follow suit.
“You’re a rich kid.”
“Was. I was a rich kid.” His tone invites me to drop the subject, and quickly.
“Vance wants to nominate me for a meritorious service award for today,” I say glumly.
“Why aren’t you excited?” he asks, looking over at me.
“Because I got threatened to be sent back to San Diego.”
“What?” DiNozzo comes to a full stop, reaching out to stop me with his right hand.
“Please, let’s keep walking,” I shrug away from his hand. Between us, the pavement radiates the heat from the day back up to us, and I shed my blazer, “He wanted my help. He asked me to get some information for him.” Resuming our trek, I find our pace more subdued. DiNozzo is giving me time to get it out.
“He asked me to make friends with you and find out what was going on between you and Officer David.” DiNozzo’s pace falters as he absorbs what I’ve said. Five or six emotions rage across his face from sadness to hostility to anger before settling on an expression I hadn’t expected… guilt.
“What did you tell him?” He asks, resuming our pace.
“Nothing. I refused at first, told him it was obvious that it was going to take a long time to get in with the group. I knew I was replacing someone and might not be liked right away… and he threatened to bounce my ass straight back to San Diego. His exact words were that I should make myself more likable, or pack my bags and go back to the West coast.” We’ve reached the coffee shop, and I hold the door for him again.
The line is fairly short, and we are quiet for the first time since heading out. We each organize our own thoughts as we place our orders. DiNozzo orders three coffees and a Caf-Pow.
The barista puts the coffee in a carry tray and I hold the Caf-pow. This time DiNozzo opens the door for me.
Back on the street, we juggle our drinks. I try to balance the Caf-pow in the tray and take a drink of my own coffee. DiNozzo and I trade Abby’s beverage back and forth between sips of our own. I’m sure we look ridiculous, sipping coffee in 95 degree weather, juggling two extra cups and the biggest cup of Caf-pow they sell between us.
“So… what are you gonna tell Vance?”
“I have no idea.” I shrug as we wait for the crosswalk signal to turn green.
“Tell him the truth. Ziva was my partner for four years, and I disliked her when I first met her. I was really pissed when I found out she was staying… Four years later, she was my best friend. I trusted her above everyone, excluding Gibbs. We let each other down, and someone else got caught in the middle.”
“Trusted?” I ask.
“Hmm?”
“You used the past tense of trust,” he thrusts the Caf-pow at me and I trail off.
“I did.”
“That implies you don’t trust her anymore.”
DiNozzo hangs his head, kicking at an imaginary pebble on the sidewalk, “I don’t know if I do or not. Hell, I don’t know who to trust anymore.”
“Gibbs… Abby…Ducky… McGee, even if you do torture him.” I say, and I see a small smile at the corner of DiNozzo’s mouth.
“What, you’re not going to ask me to trust you?”
“I just told you Director Vance wanted me to spy on you. I don’t even trust me right now.” At the front door, DiNozzo, leans across me and opens the door. We ride the elevator in silence, but it isn’t uncomfortable. I set a coffee on Gibbs’ desk and hand the fourth coffee to McGee. He smiles appreciatively.
I lean on the edge of my desk and sip my coffee until DiNozzo steps over to me. He’s uncomfortably close, and I wonder what the hell he’s doing. Holding out his good hand, I reach out and take it. We shake gently, subtly.
“Call me, Tony… Cam.”
“Tony.” Dropping hands, DiNozzo… Tony, goes back to his desk. McGee makes conversation to fill the silence by asking about the coffee run.
“You should’ve seen her, Probie… she was wild. She’s got some mad coffee juggling skills,” he pantomimes juggling with one good hand. I roll my eyes, sitting at my desk.
“Shut up, DiNozzo and drink your coffee,” I say, unable to suppress a grin. The phone on Tony’s desk rings.
Picking it up on the second ring, he announces, “Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo speaking…” the smile melts off his face, “Everything ok, Boss?” After a few seconds he hangs up.
“He wants the two of us in Abby’s lab.” McGee’s head comes up, and we both share a look of confusion. Pushing back from his desk, Tony trots over to pick up Gibbs’ coffee, and I grab Abby’s Caf-pow. It’s sounding like our case just took a turn for the worse. Sensing something bad has happened, McGee follows us. On the elevator, I ask what happened.
“He didn’t say, he just said that he wanted the two of us down here ASAP.” My stomach begins to churn as I think of all the things that could have gone wrong. Mishandled evidence, forensic alibi for the dirtbag … a thousand thoughts wing through my mind.
*********************************