Good Intelligence (26/?, PG-13, NCIS/The Closer, Jenny/Brenda,Gibbs/Sharon)
Title: Good Intelligence
Author: JoelTheCat
Rating: PG for flying bullets and references to long-ago child abuse
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jenny Shepard/Brenda Leigh Johnson, Jethro Gibbs/Sharon Raydor
Genre: f/f, m/f, trying to think of a good m/m pairing
Warning: I think we're done with the squicky stuff
Spoilers: NCIS through season 5. Whole run of The Closer, which may well have aired by the time I'm done :-)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Author Notes: Timelines totally skewed in the quest for quality femslash and because Gibbs likes redheads.
Summary: The danger from Brenda's past may not have nearly the impact on her life as the old friend who shows up to protect her.
Word Count: 765
When Will Pope was a boy, his mother had set him a chapter of the Bible to learn by heart every day, and made him repeat it at the dinner table. If he missed a word or hesitated, she had cracked him across the knuckles. He knew the story of King David and Bathsheba quite well, how the king had loved the girl and sent her husband Uriah to death in the forefront of battle so that he could marry her.
He didn't remember the story until Fritz Howard was face down in the mud behind a sheltering log where Will had pushed him at the sound of the first gunshot.
"Get down!" Howard hissed.
"Sorry," said Will, and slid off the other man's back. Fritz grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him all the way down.
"Stay down!"
"Excuse me, but who is the Chief of Police here?"
"Is this LA?"
"Uh...."
"Then unless there are sailors or Marines out there, I'm the only one with jurisdiction. Besides, that shiny head might as well have a target painted on it. I'll deal with the shooters. You find Brenda and keep her from doing anything stupid."
Will peeked over the log. There were no bodies bleeding out where Brenda and Director Shepard had been sitting. Given the womens' qualifications, that probably meant they were okay, at least until Brenda decided she needed to be in the line of fire again. Then three bullets hit the log in front of him, and Will ducked. Fritz shook his head.
"Shines like a beacon," he said.
"At least three shooters," Will told him. "You seriously going to try to do this alone?"
"Not exactly," said Fritz. "Cover me, okay? Then get to Brenda."
Ziva found that she regretted the necessity of her duty. Still, she dodged from tree to tree until she got to the redheaded captain. Raydor had hunkered down where she was, eyes wide, obviously disoriented. Ziva took her hand.
"Sharon," she said, "it's time to go."
Across the clearing a volley of shots rang out; someone on their side was returning fire, and Agent Howard was sprinting toward the motor home. Ziva took the opportunity to pull Captain Raydor to her feet and into the woods.
"Where are we going?" Sharon asked.
"Somewhere out of the way," said Ziva.
"My friends are out there."
Ziva put an arm around her shoulders.
"Do you think you could do anything to help them, right now?"
"I could try."
"The best thing you can do," Ziva told them, "is be out of the way. Come on."
The walked together deeper and deeper into the woods.
"What's that?" asked Sharon.
A wide band of paleness stretched across their path, obvious against the dark trees above and the pool of shadows underneath.
"Some sort of tension structure, a tent."
"Yes," Raydor said, "but what is it doing here?"
Ziva did not know, but the concealment the structure provided might be quite convenient.
"Inside," she said. Sharon followed her in.
"Why are they growing plants in here?" asked Ziva. "Are they sensitive to the sun?" She had seen such sun shields in gardens in the Israeli desert, but never in a forest.
"Oh, God," said Sharon. "Don't you smell it?"
Ziva sniffed, and understood.
"Marijuana," she said. "The tent is to conceal the plants from aerial surveillance."
"Just our luck," said Sharon. "Come on."
"How so?" asked Ziva.
"You can't do what you need to do here. The local authorities will investigate all that gunfire, and they will find this plot."
Ziva looked up at her.
"You knew?" she said.
"Of course. If we're on foot, I'll slow you down, and I know far too much. The police would probably get us all killed trying to avoid the necessity. I'm glad you're here."
"If the local authorities respond, we will be discovered anyway. There will be no reason for... any precipitous action."
"Assuming they get here in time," said Sharon. Her voice was firm, but she shivered in the cool night and swayed slightly with every breath.
"Sit down," said Ziva. "Just... just sit down for a minute." Sharon shook her head, but then her knees went out and she slid down Ziva's body to the ground. Ziva sat beside her, one hand clasped between both of Sharon's and the other holding her pistol.
That left her with no way to wipe the tears that rolled down her cheeks.
Author: JoelTheCat
Rating: PG for flying bullets and references to long-ago child abuse
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jenny Shepard/Brenda Leigh Johnson, Jethro Gibbs/Sharon Raydor
Genre: f/f, m/f, trying to think of a good m/m pairing
Warning: I think we're done with the squicky stuff
Spoilers: NCIS through season 5. Whole run of The Closer, which may well have aired by the time I'm done :-)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Author Notes: Timelines totally skewed in the quest for quality femslash and because Gibbs likes redheads.
Summary: The danger from Brenda's past may not have nearly the impact on her life as the old friend who shows up to protect her.
Word Count: 765
When Will Pope was a boy, his mother had set him a chapter of the Bible to learn by heart every day, and made him repeat it at the dinner table. If he missed a word or hesitated, she had cracked him across the knuckles. He knew the story of King David and Bathsheba quite well, how the king had loved the girl and sent her husband Uriah to death in the forefront of battle so that he could marry her.
He didn't remember the story until Fritz Howard was face down in the mud behind a sheltering log where Will had pushed him at the sound of the first gunshot.
"Get down!" Howard hissed.
"Sorry," said Will, and slid off the other man's back. Fritz grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him all the way down.
"Stay down!"
"Excuse me, but who is the Chief of Police here?"
"Is this LA?"
"Uh...."
"Then unless there are sailors or Marines out there, I'm the only one with jurisdiction. Besides, that shiny head might as well have a target painted on it. I'll deal with the shooters. You find Brenda and keep her from doing anything stupid."
Will peeked over the log. There were no bodies bleeding out where Brenda and Director Shepard had been sitting. Given the womens' qualifications, that probably meant they were okay, at least until Brenda decided she needed to be in the line of fire again. Then three bullets hit the log in front of him, and Will ducked. Fritz shook his head.
"Shines like a beacon," he said.
"At least three shooters," Will told him. "You seriously going to try to do this alone?"
"Not exactly," said Fritz. "Cover me, okay? Then get to Brenda."
Ziva found that she regretted the necessity of her duty. Still, she dodged from tree to tree until she got to the redheaded captain. Raydor had hunkered down where she was, eyes wide, obviously disoriented. Ziva took her hand.
"Sharon," she said, "it's time to go."
Across the clearing a volley of shots rang out; someone on their side was returning fire, and Agent Howard was sprinting toward the motor home. Ziva took the opportunity to pull Captain Raydor to her feet and into the woods.
"Where are we going?" Sharon asked.
"Somewhere out of the way," said Ziva.
"My friends are out there."
Ziva put an arm around her shoulders.
"Do you think you could do anything to help them, right now?"
"I could try."
"The best thing you can do," Ziva told them, "is be out of the way. Come on."
The walked together deeper and deeper into the woods.
"What's that?" asked Sharon.
A wide band of paleness stretched across their path, obvious against the dark trees above and the pool of shadows underneath.
"Some sort of tension structure, a tent."
"Yes," Raydor said, "but what is it doing here?"
Ziva did not know, but the concealment the structure provided might be quite convenient.
"Inside," she said. Sharon followed her in.
"Why are they growing plants in here?" asked Ziva. "Are they sensitive to the sun?" She had seen such sun shields in gardens in the Israeli desert, but never in a forest.
"Oh, God," said Sharon. "Don't you smell it?"
Ziva sniffed, and understood.
"Marijuana," she said. "The tent is to conceal the plants from aerial surveillance."
"Just our luck," said Sharon. "Come on."
"How so?" asked Ziva.
"You can't do what you need to do here. The local authorities will investigate all that gunfire, and they will find this plot."
Ziva looked up at her.
"You knew?" she said.
"Of course. If we're on foot, I'll slow you down, and I know far too much. The police would probably get us all killed trying to avoid the necessity. I'm glad you're here."
"If the local authorities respond, we will be discovered anyway. There will be no reason for... any precipitous action."
"Assuming they get here in time," said Sharon. Her voice was firm, but she shivered in the cool night and swayed slightly with every breath.
"Sit down," said Ziva. "Just... just sit down for a minute." Sharon shook her head, but then her knees went out and she slid down Ziva's body to the ground. Ziva sat beside her, one hand clasped between both of Sharon's and the other holding her pistol.
That left her with no way to wipe the tears that rolled down her cheeks.