FIC: Paws for Christmas Step 1 & 2
Link to Masterpost
Prologue:
August 21th 2004
Gibbs turned off the loud noise - he refused to call it music - and got behind his favorite forensic scientist. She was so fascinated by whatever she was working on that she didn't even react to the sudden silence. “What d'ya got, Abs?”
The Goth turned around so fast that only a fast sidestep rescued the team leader's face from being lashed with her pig tails. “Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, this is so fascinating!”
“What's fascinating, Abs, and how does it help my case?”
Abby was practically vibrating, a sign of too many Caf-Pows in too little time. “Whoever died in that car, it was not your Sergeant,” she proclaimed and folded her arms in front of her chest, waiting for his reaction.
“I knew that already, Abs. We found a mountain lion that looked like it had been run over by a car in that truck, not a human body, and you already told me that the blood on the clothes we found on the back seat wasn't human, either.” Gibbs feigned impatience and acted as if he would storm out of her lab any second; it was how their game went, and, as long as she didn't take too much of his time, he was willing to indulge her.
The working theory at the moment was that their missing sergeant had killed the beast by accident- damaging his car in the process- and taken the cadaver with him to avoid notice; after the car later gave up the ghost, he'd fled on foot. And now they had to find him.
“Yes, yes! Buuuuut-” she turned around, hitting one of the buttons on her keyboard, and the picture on her screen changed to one of an amplified image of a hair. “That is real mountain lion hair.”
Now this was getting tedious. “Abs.”
“Gibbs, don't tell me you don't know about Felines?” Abby pouted, disappointed at his ignorance. Nice of her to believe in him so fully, but he was not all knowing.
Well, he did know about their existence in general: humans that could shift into cat forms like some real life werewolves, but until this moment it had never come up in practice. His granny had told him legends about talking cats that lured weak-minded spouses into the forest where they would never be seen again, along with other fairy tales. Little Jethro's favorite had been about a panther guardian who only appeared when something bad happened down in the Stillwater mines. Shadow Whisperer would melt with the dark, go places where no human could go and lead the miners out to safety, sometimes he would appear as panther, sometimes, in the form of a human with black fur. He was said to shift fallen rocks and whisper reassurances to the injured miners, waiting with them until the rescuers arrived, and, before anyone could get a real look at him, he would disappear in the shadows that had given him his name.
But those were old wives tales. Real Felines? The issue hadn't pinged on their radar at all with this case until now. “In theory. Abs, you're saying that the animal cadaver in Ducky's lab is NOT a Feline. So?”
“But someone who didn't know enough about it to manage a good fake tried to make it look like we found our missing Sergeant, and wanted us to believe that he had: a) morphed, and b) was dead, so nobody would come looking for him. They shredded the clothes- which is not so wrong, because if he had changed in them they would be torn- but smeared some human blood on the garments; and that's just totally wrong. Felines morph without bleeding, and are, genetically, not even near real felines, so I can rule out that poor cat.” Abby beamed at him.
“Great. And now? How does that help me find my Sergeant?”
“It helps you because I found his hidey-hole; where he did his research on Felines. There aren't many places where you can learn about them, you know. They belong to the White House, traditionally- and those guys are very stingy with information. I've got more access because of my clearance, but normal people.... not so much. It's all hush-hush and there's this huge conspiracy theory floating around. I traced back who got nosy about them- along with what information they got- and voilà; here's your address. He's even online right now.” She held out a sheet of paper and her cheek, which he kissed softly.
“Thanks, Abs.” he said, and hurried away.
“This is really fascinating stuff!” He heard her call after him. He guessed that, for the next few days, he would be regaled with a wide variety of facts he would never need about Felines.
Step 1: Wait
Dec 6th 2004
“Special Agent Gibbs, this is the second time you have directly and personally saved the life of the President of the United States. We want to reward you for your services above and beyond the call of duty.”
The recipient of this speech was standing at parade rest in front of the big desk in the Oval Office, his expression as bland and attentive as he could make it. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, former Marine sniper and self proclaimed all-round bastard generally had no patience for political posturing but even he could hardly ignore a summons to the White House, no matter how much he wanted to. Especially when his new Director backed up the order. Tom Morrow would have helped him formulate a polite response and then sent him on an important (and immediate) mission to some far away base, but Jen Sheppard had been only too eager to force him to play nice. She graciously accompanied him to this meeting, partly so she could make sure that he actually arrived when and where he should, and partly because she wanted to make a personal appearance. A big, public commendation ceremony with one of her agents front and center would be quite a feather in her cap, no matter that the 'heroic deed' had happened under her predecessor.
The Secretary of the Navy, Edward Sheffield, was droning on about honor and dedication and whatnot; Gibbs used the time to wonder about this meeting. There were some differences between this and the last dratted ceremony he had been forced to attend. Only four men and himself were in attendance. The President, his personal secretary, SecNav and a Marine Major in his dress blues. No PR staff, no cameras. This scenario was a far cry from the pomp Sheppard had probably dreamed about, especially since she wasn't even allowed in the room and had been politely asked to wait outside.
Sudden silence made him concentrate on the matter at hand, instead of the indignant consternation of Jen Sheppard when the door had closed in her face. The expectant expressions on the people around him clued him in that they wanted him to quit his stoic tin soldier routine and say something.
“It is my honor and duty to serve.” There, that was harmless, true enough, and should satisfy them. Brass rarely ever wanted to know his honest opinion about something.
President Hayes smiled his bright, political smile and nodded approvingly, then he motioned the Major to do his part. “Major Williams will explain everything to you, feel free to ask him if something is not clear. I hope you will enjoy your reward.”
The major looked like the living model of a paper cut-out advert for the Marines. Tall, muscled, with a crew cut and an expressionless face. Gibbs approved, but his puzzlement was growing exponentially. This wasn't like the usual ceremonies where someone did a big speech and afterward pressed a new shiny medal on his chest. Well, the jeweler’s case the major had retrieved from his travel bag would fit the bill, but the thick file that accompanied it didn't.
Williams put down the file in front of the agent, aligning it meticulously so it was exactly parallel to the lines of the desk. “These are the papers for your Feline companion. We have already filled out nearly every pertinent detail; we just need to add the serial number of your chosen Feline and you have to sign in the specified places. Please make sure to read the restriction clauses and the abuse of privileges list carefully before signing.”
“What the fuck?!?” Gibbs was so flabbergasted the words escaped his mouth without any censoring input from his brain to curtail them. His eyes went comically round before they narrowed to angry slits. He shouldn't have used foul language, but this had better be a very bad joke. His icy stare darted from one men to the other, gauging their reactions, and finally came to rest on the President's face. The man looked faintly amused, not offended.
SecNav, on the other hand, was anything but amused. He cleared his throat and shot his best, but most aggravating, agent a censoring glare. The look in his eyes promised the silver haired agent a posting at McMurdo in the Antarctic until retirement if he didn't hold his tongue. “Mr. President, you have to forgive Special Agent Gibbs, this is a huge honor and it stunned him.”
Hayes tipped his head. “Stunned? I would say he looks… pissed.”
And why shouldn't he be? The thought of owning a living, sentient and intelligent being was repugnant to him. No matter what some scientists said, just because someone had fur in addition to hair didn't make them non-human. “Mr. President, I have to politely decline this… honor. I have neither the time, nor the inclination to fit someone into my life at the moment and-”
“Gibbs!” Sheffield tried to interrupt him.
“-and I don't approve-”
“GIBBS!”
Yep, the agent could feel the antarctic ice closing in on him, but at least he would be alone in his frosty exile.
Hayes interrupted them both. “Gentlemen, stop. Before this gets any more awkward. Please leave the room and let me speak to Special Agent Gibbs alone.”
The other three men exchanged surprised looks, but they left the office swiftly.
“Please, sit down.” The President waited for Gibbs to follow his order and steepled his fingers. “Let's not beat around the bush. Your tone of voice is way past the border of insulting, but your refusing this reward doesn't come as a surprise- given your reputation.”
Gibbs had relaxed a bit, his shoulders gotten less stiff. He was all for quitting talking in circles but normally, whenever a politician deigned to use a phrase like 'stop beating around the bush', the BS that followed would be of gigantic proportions and stink to high heaven.
Hayes smiled and the wrinkles around his dark eyes deepened. “I value my life- very much so-and I want to reward you for saving it. Detecting and eliminating that sniper was exceptional work. Another medal would just not cut it in my eyes. My Secret Service people researched your background quite thoroughly at my order.”
Another expletive got ruthlessly shoved down before it could escape. Once might be forgiven, but now he couldn't cite surprise.
“You seem to constantly be searching for a long term companion, judging by your four marriages and the fact that it was never you who broke it off. It's not hard to see that the tragic way you lost your first family had an impact. Your dedication to your job and, forgive me for saying so, difficult disposition are not conducive to achieving the white picket fence dream.”
Any other man would have had his head bitten off by now before being told where to stick his research and opinions, but in this case Gibbs had to swallow his anger. Punching the Leader of the Free World was out, no matter how good it would feel. The agent didn't know what offended him more-the fact that they had dug into his past or the assumption that the only way he would be able to keep someone in his life was when the other party had no freedom to leave.
His thoughts wandered to his house; his, he would freely admit, very dark, very lonely house. Darker and lonelier especially this time of the year. All the other houses on his street sported festive decorations and blinking lights, more or less clumsily built snow men, and forgotten shovels and plastic toys. Gibbs sole contribution to the mad decorating and cheerful chaos of the holiday season going on around him was a wrought iron lantern with a thick candle inside which he kept lit. But all this stark minimalism was by choice, not desperation.
“Mr. President-”
“No, let me ask you some questions. I have another reason for selecting this kind of reward. Do you know much about Felines?”
And here he had thought that Abby's research wouldn't be useful. At least this wasn't about his personal life anymore. “Not much, just what is publicly available. They are the result of a mutation of the human genome. Very rare and not visible or significant as long as it does not activate. Extreme stress seems to be an activator. They first appeared after the plague decimated Europe. Scientists speculated that it was a reaction. Like the mutations that can be traced back to the Influenza, just more dramatic.” Gibbs shrugged his shoulders. “And they are, by decree, all property of the governments of their birth countries, most often directly tied to the Head of States.”
Hayes nodded. All good humor had left his face. “All true. It was, surprisingly, Abraham Lincoln who added and anchored that decree in the Constitution. You have to keep in mind the societal background and the time. The middle ages aren't called the dark ages for nothing, and the first communities on American soil weren't much better. People who sprouted tails and fur were seen as exotic freaks at best and demonic creatures that must be burned at worst. Making them property of the White House was in a way better than having them end up as attractions in freak shows or being hunted to death.” The President leaned forward and stretched his left hand, turning it this way and that way, staring down at his chocolate brown skin and then hard into Gibbs' eyes.
“Times have changed. I find any sort of slavery personally offensive but I am unable to directly abolish that rule. What I was able to do was tweak it: there is no longer a reward out there for handing over people who have that kind of genetic marker and forcing it to activate is punishable by life in prison now. That leaves, for the future, only those who mutate and activate naturally. Twelve adult Felines are currently residing in my... presidential Feline-Stables.” The last words were expelled with obvious distaste.
“Twelve Felines that need good homes and caring minders before my tenure is up. Most of them are quite intelligent and self-sufficient but due to the public perception about them being nothing more than sensual sex-slaves and living status symbols, they will never be able to live independently in our lifetime. You strike me as a honorable man who would never abuse anyone and who would always protect those who cannot defend themselves. Jethro Gibbs, that along with your stubborn nature and profession, make you an ideal candidate to keep a Feline safe and happy.” Hayes leaned back in his chair again. “Am I wrong?”
All that sounded very noble and wonderful, but it would not be the President who had to take responsibility for a complete stranger. Still, Gibbs could see that Hayes had made up his mind and wouldn't budge. “No, Mr President, as I said, it is my duty and honor to serve.”
“I hope that you will add enjoyment to this list in the future.” Hayes dryly commented and when he saw Gibbs bristling in anger he added: “Not suggestively meant, Gibbs, or we wouldn't be having this conversation.”
The President rose from his chair and circled his desk until he stood beside the agent. Then he picked up the jewelery case, embossed with the emblem of the White House, opened it and handed something to Gibbs. The item resembled the dog tags every soldier was familiar with, it even sported his engraved name, but instead of dull metal it was made of platinum. Gibbs flipped it. The back was blank.
“After you've chosen among them, your Feline's name and ID number will be added to the tag. Now please, Agent Gibbs, accept my token of gratitude and sign those papers. I have a meeting at three and I'm already going to be late.”
Gibbs' fingers closed convulsively around the little piece of precious metal that would proclaim him the owner of another human being, Feline or no. Next time he might be tempted to let the enemy sniper shoot. Well, of course not, but at the moment it was really tempting.
-.#-.
Step 2: Choose carefully.
When he stepped outside the office door, the only people waiting for him were Major Williams and SecNav. There was no sign of his Director; it made him wonder what she had been told. Both men were immediately fixated on the file in his hands.
Williams held out his hand for the file and began to check that every dotted line sported the correct signature.
“God help me, Gibbs! One day soon you'll give me a heart attack!” Sheffield groaned and fumbled with his unlit cigar. “I told Director Sheppard what happened and sent her back to the office. Take as many days off as you need to, ah, acclimate to your new… circumstances.”
The agent looked strictly straight ahead. “Thank you for this consideration, but it isn't needed. It will be better to include this addition as soon as possible in my normal daily life.”
That response made his boss glare at him. “Sheppard and I agreed that you are allowed to bring the Feline to work as long as you keep control of it, just keep it out of crime scenes and by all that is holy, don't cause a diplomatic incident. Who knows, maybe this will loosen your bastard self up a bit.” And with those words he turned around and strode away, figuratively washing his hands of this situation. It was a good thing that he didn't bother to turn around or he would have had to discipline Gibbs for insubordination. The agent was nearly growling.
This was just an early example of the reactions he could expect to his owning a Feline. They all would think that he was happily fucking his furry sex slave every chance he got and he couldn't really avoid showing the Feline to people since he would have to take his new companion everywhere he went. Leaving them at home wasn't an option. Not only would that be cruel and unusual punishment, since Gibbs worked a lot and nobody deserved to be left alone for so long, he wouldn't be there to protect them either. That left constant companionship, unless there was a day care center for Felines somewhere, which Gibbs doubted very much. Hell, he wouldn't be able to stop the elevator to allow himself a minute of peace without someone snickering about him having a quickie.
“Special Agent Gibbs? I am the head supervisor of the Feline-Stables. Would you please follow me? My charges are waiting for us. Please feel free to ask me any question you want.” Major Williams politely led the brooding Gibbs down a hidden hallway and through various checkpoints before stopping in front of an ornately carved wooden double door. Some wannabe artist with more fantasy than taste had decorated it with the interwined forms of various jungle cats. Williams pushed the door open and what lay behind wasn't any better.
Gibbs had thought the door tasteless; that had been harmless in comparison to this travesty. If Hayes was as serious as he appeared about his save the Felines plan, he should re-decorate this room, pronto. With all its colorful silk pillows, draperies and thick oriental rugs, the room he was standing in looked like the ill-conceived cross between a bad romance writer's idea of a harem and an 18th century bordello. Chandeliers, huge mirrors and heavy curtains might have been added in the hope that they would give the illusion of hidden windows and space, but, to Gibbs, they just perfected the picture of a gilded cage.
The occupants of said cage had draped themselves decoratively across huge silken floor pillows. Other than Abby's persistent recent fascination with them, Gibbs had never paid much attention to Felines. He had only seen glimpses of them in full cat form on the TV screen at high society events. Government control of information about Felines had somehow translated socially into there being a taboo against Felines appearing at such events in their human form. Now, confronted with the reality of their nature and the need to chose among them, all he could do was stare.
The individuals staring back at him resembled human males and females but with the addition of fur in varying degrees of intensity and color. The fact that all of them were naked just highlighted the differences and made it impossible to ignore those little extras. The light of the chandeliers gleamed on fur that covered sometimes whole limbs, sometimes only stripes of their bodies. On some, it was so short that it showed more like a pattern on skin than real fur, but on others it was so long, thick and fluffy that it would make a Persian cat proud. To Gibbs it seemed as if these human felines mimicked specific races of cats, with lions and cougars as the most prevalent species. But they had some other things in common among their group, not just fur.
All of them were draped as prettily as possible across their pillows, pillows which were clearly chosen to enhance or contrast the shades of their 'special features'. All of them were aesthetically pleasing. All of them wore metallic collars wound around their throats multiple times, and nothing else. And all of them were concentrating on him with eagerness in their slit-pupilled eyes.
All that blatant- and, in some male cases, shameless- rising interest made Gibbs nearly take a step backward. It was a relief when Williams redirected some of the intense attention away from him. “Felines, this is the man I told you about at breakfast. Please be polite and don't crowd him while he tries to get to know you so he can choose. I know that whoever has the honor of going home with Special Agent Gibbs will do their best to be his ideal companion.”
That provoked a “Yes, sir!” and then another round of 'devour the poor Agent with your eyes'. He knew that expression; it had featured prominently on two of his ex-wives faces and hadn't been any more honest then. If his suit, (which was of a good quality but not from one of those unpronounceable designers) along with his simple haircut gave them pause, they didn't show it. He tried to imagine any of these creatures sitting in his living room, and his imagination failed him. While fighting down his flight instinct (and cursing the President) Gibbs nearly missed a soft but deeply derisive snort coming from the shadows to his left.
The mad interior decorator had placed a door-less antique wardrobe in the dark corner beside the entrance. It was filled with various objects, but what made it interesting was not the inside but what was resting on top. The height of the piece of furniture and the lack of light up there made it hard to see clearly, but there was another Feline eyeing the newcomers from its vantage point; one in full cat form- a tiger. One of the dinner plate sized paws dangled lazily over the edge. Seeing intelligent awareness in the green eyes that stared back at him out of a tiger's beautiful face brought the realization home to Gibbs, like nothing else; how wrong, wrong, wrong it was that he was standing here like a kid in a toy store, allowed to chose a new puppet to play with, no matter how much he intended to treat his choice well.
But he couldn't refuse now.
Feline and man gave each other a very careful once over. The shadows concealed the rest of the big cat's figure, but Gibbs could make out a slowly swinging long tail down the far side of the wardrobe, parts of the upper body, and the shape of the full mane- not as full as a lions, but still more than what he remembered being normal for female tigers; this was most likely a male.
Williams confirmed this assumption by addressing the Feline with a male sounding name. “A'thon! Come down at once!”
All his shouting accomplished was that the tiger Feline closed his eyes and yawned, showcasing very sharp looking predator's teeth and, in contrast, an innocent looking curled, bright pink tongue.
“Agent Gibbs, I am sorry. You have to excuse him, A'thon is a special case.” The handler tried to explain before he took another step in direction of the wardrobe. He addressed the tiger again.“You've got your moment in the spotlight, now behave and join the others.”
A'thon gave a big, rumbling, put-upon sigh and, under Gibbs' thoughtful observation, stretched slowly before ambling down the side of the wardrobe. His claws scratched the polished wooden surface, causing the craftsman in Gibbs whimper in agitation to see a beautiful piece of wood being so carelessly abused. The tiger jumped the last bit and landed near the two watching men's feet, so near that they had to step back to avoid a collision. Going by the glittering green eyes and the disdainfully bristling whiskers, it was anything but an coincidental move.
“A little bit hard on the furniture, isn't he?” Gibbs couldn't help but comment.
“Only if he wants to be.” Williams answered. They both watched as the tiger Feline moved, positioning himself between them and the others while facing away from handler and agent, as if A'thon had dismissed them from his mind. The cool attitude spiel wasn't very convincing. The casual lick over a paw, the way the handsomely striped back was slanted, all of it was just too over the top. Gibbs saw how the big head turned in their direction just enough to check if they were still watching, and couldn't help but shake his own head in faint amusement.
Gibbs did a quick headcount and came up with twelve, including the tiger. “Why is he not in human form?”
A'thon abruptly stopped his shenanigans, heaved himself up, and strode away, his head held high, walking until he reached an empty pillow where he let himself fall down with more force than grace.
Williams sighed and then spoke just loud enough so his voice would carry to Gibbs, no further. “I told you, he is a special case. Sometimes things go wrong when the gene activates and a Feline has their Virgin Morph. It is very strenuous for the body and sometimes the heart gives out or... Felines can get stuck. I didn't witness it, I took over one year ago on President Haye's orders and A'thon was already part of the stable. It is such a waste.”
To be stuck in feline form when you were accustomed to two working thumbs, communicating with other humans and running around on two feet and so much else? Yeah, that was a little bit more than just a waste and the Major deserved the derisive grumble and hard stare Gibbs bestowed on him for that remark.
His non-verbal communication skills must have been as effective as usual, as Williams now sported a faint blush. He didn't raise his voice, but tried to defend himself. “I want what is best for these guys. I want them to have good homes and honest, benevolent owners; and A'thon... has been here for a very long time. If I am right in my calculations, he is in his mid thirties, and nobody has ever shown any serious interest in him. He knows it as well, look at him.”
The Feline in question was again showing them a cold shoulder, but this time there was nothing playful to be detected. The only indication that he was still paying attention were the black-tipped plushy ears that were turned in their direction.
“If I understood correctly, no matter what they look like, their thought process is as human as yours or mine?” Gibbs asked and observed the present Felines. His eyes lingered on one female with a ginger mane and matching fur. She smiled coyly at him, but all it did was make him wrinkle his forehead and direct his attention at another individual. It was not easy to judge their ages correctly, but most of them seemed to be in their early twenties.
“Yes, but that is not what matters to potential owners when they come to select a companion. They want a decorative, tame jungle cat for show and an exotic human body for... well.” Williams shrugged his shoulders.
“Fucking.” Gibbs completed the sentence, not bothering with delicate phrasing. Yeah, pussyfooting officers, he knew them well. “Good thing that I'm not interested in fucking someone who can't really afford to say no, fur or no fur, damn it!”
“That's not something I've heard before.” Williams murmured, some of the professional behavior giving way to frank appraisal and honest approval.
“Don't throw me into the same pot as your usual customers. Morons who deny these people their humanity, want to have sex with them despite- or maybe because of- that fact, and then get technical about bestiality just piss me off.” All this was nice and dandy, but even if his fellow marine seemed to agree with him, it didn't alter the fact of why they both were here. “Now what?”
Williams changed gears again. “Any of them caught your eye? M'aya, maybe?” He pointed at the female that Gibbs had noticed earlier. “You can talk to them; see if their hobbies and interest are compatible with yours. They don't just lie around all day and look pretty.”
“No, I meant what do I have to do to claim one of them? I already know who I want.” Gibbs clarified.
“You've already chosen?” the Major asked, startled.
Gibbs glared at him impatiently.
“Ah yes, of course. Tell me who and I will hand your owner tag to our engraver. It will be completed while I finalize the papers. Witnesses are on stand-by and we will file the details of your Feline's clearance with your agency.” Williams rattled down the list, but his thoughts seemed to be troubled. “There is no way back once you've chosen; are you sure you really don't want to take more-”
“Yes.” Gibbs didn't wait for another objection. He made his way through the pillows and towards his goal, ignoring the manicured fingers that dared to reach for his trouser legs, until he came to stop at A'thon's side.
Not only the tiger Feline was blinking at him with a dumb struck expression; Gibbs could feel everyone's incredulous reaction. He couldn't care less. His blue eyes locked with wide green ones. “You'll do as I say at work, don't destroy my things, and I will always take care of you to my best ability. I'll never hurt you on purpose, and I'll treat you with the same courtesy I afford anyone else- which does not say much, let me warn you.”
A'thon scrambled up, nearly falling over in his haste.
“You can have a life as normal as we can manage. That's all I can promise. Do we have a deal? If you don't want to, I'll choose someone else.” Gibbs held out his right hand and watched patiently while the feline took his time, looking him up and down, judging his sincerity, before glancing around. His fellow felines were visibly eager for him to decline the offer. A'thon shrugged his shoulders, then placed his enormous right paw in the silver haired agent's palm. Gibbs had big, strong hands- but they were still dwarfed by the tiger's.
.-#-.
Step 3 & 4