NCIS FIC- The Metal of a Man, 8/?
Title: The Metal of a Man, part 8/?
Author: Matt
Rating, warnings, disclaimer, etc. all included in part 1.
As human beings, we tend to measure the passage of time in an assortment of predictable ways. We are aware of and observe the expected changing of one season to the next, watching the landscape almost-magically shedding its familiar skin in slow but purposeful increments, emerging quarterly to display an array of differing but recognizable characteristics. There’s rain and snow, there’s sunshine and heat, and there’s changing leaves that ultimately fall to the ground. Spring still follows Winter, Fall still chases Summer, and the days roll on.
At times, we may cast our eyes upward and track the poetic waxing and waning of the lonely, hypnotic moon during its monthly cycles, looking for its comforting brightness during the long darkness of night. We even watch the rising and setting of the sun from day to day, viewing its expected journey across the wide and familiar skies overhead with a measure of calm anticipation. From moon to sun, our bodies are attuned to the heavens in more ways than we realize.
We annually light birthday candles, make inane, hopeful wishes, and extinguish the temporary flames with the puff of a lone, determined breath, mentally marveling and wondering how another year could have come around again so soon, so suddenly, even as we ingest a slice of the sweetly iced, celebratory cake. Another year is gained but another is, ultimately, lost.
We watch our elders wrinkle and gray, their faces and hands and hair slowly changing and morphing, their features strangely altered by lined facades and silvering caps of age, turning them into people we, sometimes, barely recognize. On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, children are born, grow, and are magically ready to fly the nest way too soon, becoming able, young adults, poised in their quest to take our places in society. It happens in the blink of an eye, in the beat of a single heartbeat, in the inhalation of one, solitary breath, and all we can do is wonder what ever happened to that parent who used to be so strong and capable or that small child we once held so securely in our sheltering arms. Time, it seems, is the greatest changer of people.
And time stops for no one. Days become months, months become years, years become a lifetime… and the cycle continues in its never-ending rotation.
If there’s one lesson I’ve learned during all the fleeting years of my existence here on Earth, especially since mankind’s near-disastrous brush with extinction a handful of years ago, is to live each day as if it’s my very last and to spend my time in pursuit of those things really important to me. I know…I’ve heard of those fighting life-threatening diseases or those who’ve survived near-death experiences make the same proclamation but, for me, it’s the God’s honest truth. Frankly, I don’t know many people who still continue to squander their time away nowadays. Everyone has been given a new lease on life and, I hope, are taking advantage of the remarkable opportunity.
But I’m not a stupid man. I know there are still greedy, vengeful, and morally corrupt people scattered amongst the population who continue to look for ways to prey on the weaker members of society and I know they carry a darkness in their souls that refuses to alter, even after all we’ve been through as a species. It’s these people who continue to concern me.
Some philosopher…Santayana, I think…once said that those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it and, no matter how much I’d like to believe otherwise, I’ve seen too many evil, deceitful, arrogant men in my time to simply believe it could never get to that point again. Evil, deceitful, arrogant men care nothing for history and are only focused on self-gain and power. It may not happen in my lifetime or in the next generation to come but somewhere, sometime down the line, mankind may not have those helpful aliens to bail their asses out of the fire and Earth will be nothing but a smoldering cinder of ruin.
I try not to dwell on that possible scenario. I just don’t have the time anymore; I have other things to fill my mind now.
While DiNozzo has been spending the past few nights rotating between the homes of my team and doing its bonding thing with each of them, I’ve had the opportunity to consider and examine my strange and pretty perplexing emotions regarding the Triple A unit. I can’t deny I’ve started to enjoy having it around, close but not too close, eager as some young probie to please me, and I can’t refute how satisfied I am when it reports back to me in the mornings to share information its learned from others during the subsequent imprinting processes I’ve arranged for it. I’ve managed to unclench more through its daily presence and have even been able to put most of my old, tainted memories to rest.
Okay, maybe that’s not the complete truth. I will never entirely forget what happened and will, probably, always be a little leery when it comes to the subject of artificial intelligence, but I can easily recognize the subtle shifting of my perspective and my subsequent acceptance of its position now. The unit has been an extremely fast learner, an honest reporter of gathered information, and an able-bodied contributor to our investigations. It never complains, it never questions my orders, and it’s ready to go anywhere, anytime, at the drop of a hat. What’s not to like about it?
The fact I’m finding myself thawing to it emotionally is what’s been taking up so much of my time lately. I don’t cringe anymore when it comes near to talk, I don’t actively seek to send it away on frivolous errands, and I don’t balk at accepting what it has to offer as a member of my team. Instead, I find myself basking in its relative proximity, enjoying the subtle tones and shifts of its tenor voice, slowly relaxing my past vigilant stance against its manufactured existence. I know its physical appearance has a lot to do with my shifting perspective. If it looked like that damn robot I had contact with while still in the service, I know I’d never be feeling this way. In fact, sometimes I find myself forgetting it’s not real flesh and bones. It looks human…and that’s my problem.
We’ve spent a great deal of time alone together during the past few days, especially in the mornings, using a regular block of time to discuss its imprinting experiences with the others. As much as I hate to admit it, DiNozzo has enabled me to better understand the members of my team and, in turn, helped me become a better leader for them. That, alone, proves to me the unit has worth.
I have to hold back a sly grin as my mind drifts to the subject of these bondings. This would not be a good time to dwell on some of the unexpected things I’ve been privy to through my agents’ imprinting with the Triple A, especially with them scattered so closely around the immediate area, invested in the tasks I’ve set for them. Their heads are down, focused on files, and I certainly don’t want to draw their attention to me. Just because I now hold some comparatively confidential bits of information about each of them, including those of Tom Morrow and Jen Shepard, doesn’t mean I need to break out smiling like some rowdy drunk in the middle of Mardi Gras but it’s pretty damn difficult to rein in. Having DiNozzo as my own, personal, insider confidant certainly has its perks .
My gaze wanders unerringly over to the Triple A and I covertly watch it as it stacks some papers and clips them together, obviously completing another cold case file review. Its strong, able fingers make short work of the simple chore and, once again, I grudgingly marvel at the human-like gestures and mannerisms. One side of my mouth twitches upward when I see it pause to briefly but gently touch the framed photograph Abby placed on one corner of its neat, all-but-bare desk the morning after their bonding. They must have had one hell of a night together, if their expressions in that picture are any kind of indicator, but I didn’t need to know the gory details of what transpired to tell she’d taken it out to some highly questionable club. I probably could have demanded the Triple A give me a thorough accounting of their activities…had momentarily thought about it…but the pointed look Abby had given me as she’d left the unit at its desk after they’d rolled into work that morning had been a definite deterrent. Besides, DiNozzo told me all I really needed to know later in the day.
DiNozzo has always been extremely circumspect and resourceful, waiting until we’re alone to pass gleaned information my way, and, lately, I’ve been getting the distinct impression it’s enjoying our little ‘sessions’ as much as I am. This morning I found it waiting somewhat impatiently for me in the parking lot, right next to the spot I usually leave my car, almost bouncing in place as it watched my deliberate approach. Some little, remembered ache had momentarily sparked deep in my subconscious and I’d briefly thought about jumping the low, concrete curb and plowing it down right where it had stood. But a totally different and much more uncomfortable internal but extremely influential voice had swiftly persuaded me against taking such an unnecessary action. I didn’t really want to do that to DiNozzo. As I’d slowed the vehicle and had looked into its pleased, waiting face, I’d instantly known I’d followed the correct inspiration. The grin it had bestowed upon me in greeting had been genuine…maybe a tad bit on the shy side…but I could tell it had been glad to see me.
And, if I was going to be the least bit honest with myself, I’d been glad to see it, too. Very glad.
Crap…
I realize I’m frowning now and quickly smooth the expression from my face. I’m good at doing blank…it’s a talent I’ve mastered from interviewing countless witnesses and potential suspects over the years… so my features fall naturally into the desired, vacant positions. As much as I want to keep looking its way, I force my eyes back to my own work, determined to keep my mind on the job and not on the unexpected emotions this thing has evoked in me recently. I was doing perfectly fine before it came into the picture, enjoying my singularity in this new world, and now…well, now the picture seems to be a little blurry around edges that were once clean and crisp.
I guess I have to stop dancing around this attraction I’m feeling because it’s not only confusing me, it’s confusing the hell out of DiNozzo, as well. It’s seen my inner thoughts, read me like a first grade primer during our imprinting, and knows all about my hopes and wants and desires. It knows I’ve been alone for some time, it knows I don’t have a stellar record when it comes to relationships, and it knows I see it as a potential sex partner. But it also knows about my aversion to artificial intelligence and, since that night of our bonding, hasn’t made any moves to get close to me again. For that, I’m glad…and slightly disappointed.
I’m so screwed…
“Boss?”
The sudden, soft, recognizable voice is unexpected but, again, I’m pretty good at holding in my surprise. DiNozzo must have moved from its desk while I was woolgathering. I tap the pen clasped in my fist on the paper before me, taking a little time to control my slight startle, and calmly look up, knowing whose green eyes will be looking right back at me.
“Yeah?” I ask more calmly than I’m really feeling. I’m going to have to get use to this thing being able to tread so stealthily or I’m likely to do it some damage if it comes up on me like this while we’re somewhere out in the field on assignment. I don’t know how much the unit is worth, don’t want to even think about the time it would take to replace it, but there’s no way I’d ever be able to fit it into my expenses, not with what I earn at NCIS.
“I was wondering if there was anyone else you think I should approach for imprinting,” it asks quietly.
I lean back in my chair and gaze up at the Triple A and, instead of focusing on the question it’s asking, I take a moment to examine its apparel. I hadn’t noticed much about it when I saw it this morning because my attention was solely on the information it was imparting but I’m beginning to see a pretty good parallel in its clothing choices to the personal taste of its overnight sponsor. It spent the night with Caitlin Todd, so it’s wearing a fairly conservative shirt and tie atop some dark, nondescript slacks. Very traditional. I don’t know if it’s the best look for it but it sure comes across a hell of a lot better than the morning it arrived after spending the night with Abby. Oh, yeah…much better. The black eyeliner and porcupine-style hair had made my gut clench and my head ache. I still have nightmares of DiNozzo going all Goth on me.
I control a reflexive shudder at the unwanted memory and get back to the topic. “Who’s left on the list?”
“No one.”
“No one?” That can’t be right. I quickly refer to my mental inventory, checking off the names as I go: Me, Morrow, Shepard, Ducky, McGee, Palmer, Abby, Todd, Thompson up in MTAC, Perez in Evidence…
Well, crap. I guess that’s it. I was stretching it a bit by pushing through Thompson and Perez, so I don’t think the Director would approve of me suggesting anyone else right now. Of course, I’ve got the option to add more names if the need arises somewhere down the line.
“Well, I guess that’s it,” I find my voice and shrug, eyes falling back to my paperwork, expecting DiNozzo to head on back to its own desk. A few seconds pass and I can feel that it’s still standing there, blocking my view of the big screen we usually incorporate during brainstorming and waiting patiently for me to recognize it again. I sigh with a bit of annoyance but keep my gaze purposefully down, scanning the report. “What?”
“Am I coming home with you tonight?”
*That* question brings my eyes back up. Quickly.
“Now why would you do that? We already had our little moment,“ I almost sneer the last word but catch myself at the final moment, trying to rein in my temper. I pause, regroup, and attempt to keep the bitterness out of my tone. “I was asleep. Remember?”
The green gaze flicks away briefly but instantly returns. This is one of the things I really like about this unit; eye-to-eye contact is important, almost essential, and it’s never failed to be direct and plainspoken.
“Yes, I remember.” It stuffs its hands into the front pockets of its dark slacks, shifts slightly from foot to foot, and tilts its head a bit to the left, a sure sign it’s about to be a little more plainspoken than I want. “Although, I’m not sure why you still have to keep bringing that up. I apologized. We moved on.” It leans somewhat forward, almost conspiratorially. “Ducky believes you need to put our imprinting experience behind and move forward.”
Ducky believes what?
“Oh, really?” I ask rhetorically, feeling my temper reignite, not at all happy to learn my medical examiner and my Triple A have discussed something I thought was going to be private. DiNozzo is supposed to report and share information only with me. *Me*. My blood pressure is going up, so I pitch my voice low. “Getting a bit close to Ducky, aren’t you?”
I see a frown instantly appear between its eyes and, before I realize what’s happening, it’s rounding my desk and squatting down next to my chair, intentionally, I’m sure, to bring our eyes to the same level. I automatically rear back a bit in surprise, not liking the trapped-in feeling that abruptly washes over me…or how, for some bizarre reason, I’m instantly reminded of the blow-job I got from Stan Burley when he was still one of my agents many years ago. Now is not the time for erotic flashbacks and I instantly stifle the useless image. I surge to my feet and look down at the unit’s upturned face.
“What the…” is all I manage to hiss before it interrupts.
“I know you must be thinking I’ve divulged something personal about you to Ducky,” it fervently whispers, its own voice hushed but strident, eyes filled with real sincerity, “I can see it in your eyes, but, Boss,” it reaches out and briefly touches my hand before I can maneuver it away, “I would never do that. My programming not only ensures that won’t happen but *I* would never do that to you. Never to you.”
“Get up,” I order through tightly clenched teeth, not really listening to its seemingly lame explanation, acutely aware of what our positions must appear like to anyone watching. I have an image to uphold and having that damn Triple A groveling at my feet is not doing squat to support that illusion. I don’t need to look up to know we’ve already captured McGee and Todd’s attention; I sure as hell don’t want any other witnesses to this little spectacle.
“Boss…” the Triple A is still trying to justify what I’ve already considered a severe breach of trust but I don’t want to hear it about it. At least, not now, not here.
“Get. Up.” I order more harshly, biting off both words, trying to contain my rising ire.
I wait while it complies, which is almost immediately, and then silently motion for it to follow me. I can’t have this conversation here, right in the middle of the bullpen, with other agents actively working just to the other side of the flimsy partitions that divide the room into sections, but I have to know what this thing has been sharing, if anything, about our own bonding. I carry many secrets, some personal and some professional, and I don’t want to even consider how pissed I’ll be if this Triple A has decided to expand its field of confidants to include Ducky or, God forbid, anyone else.
Ducky has been my good friend for a long, long time, through failed marriages and aging parents, but there are things in my past I’ve never told him...just as I’m sure he’s kept his own secrets from me. We know each other very well, have worked side-by-side, on foreign soil as well as stateside, and have shared thoughts and opinions and beliefs. We respect each other’s privacy.
But…
I haven’t told him…or anyone…everything. The only reason DiNozzo knows is because of the imprinting.
I can feel the eyes of my agents on my back as we leave and I can only imagine what they must be thinking at this point, especially after DiNozzo’s little moment on his knees in front of me, but, right now, right this minute, that’s the least of my problems. I’ve got to find out what it’s shared about me with Ducky.
I stalk down the interrogation hallway and barge into the first, slightly darkened observation area I can find. Maxine Harris is startled by my abrupt entrance and gives out a small squeak of a noise as she whirls away from her position at one of the many high-tech recording arrays. She must be preparing to assist a team bringing in a suspect, so I know my time here is limited.
“Agent Gibbs!” She brings a hand swiftly to her chest and offers a high, breathy laugh. “You almost scared me half to…”
“We need a few minutes, Agent Harris,” I bluntly cut her off and continue all the way into the quiet room, hearing DiNozzo enter right behind me. I walk over to the glass that divides this room from the interrogation area and stop, back to them both, listening as the woman slowly complies. I can see her reflection in the clean glass, watch as she shoots the Triple A a strange and blatantly unfriendly look, and wait until I know she’s almost out. “And shut the door behind you.”
With one, last look at my stiff back, she’s gone, door clicking quietly closed in her wake. I whirl immediately to confront the unit, advancing quickly.
“Since when is it part of your programming to discuss our imprinting with anyone else?” I’m in its face, stepping forward as it’s stepping back, watching those green eyes blinking rapidly against my sudden and threatening actions. I get a bit of a rush knowing I can make it uneasy and proceed to get right up in its face. “Since when did you think it would be all right to share information about me with another person?”
“I told you already! I didn’t!” It exclaims fervently, shaking its head from side to side, stumbling just a bit as it retreats another step from me.
“Bullshit!” I bark out roughly.
“No! No bullshit!” It stops its backwards motion, about a foot away from the closed door, and finally holds its ground. “I told him nothing about you!”
“Why should I believe you?” I decide to shift my attack. Time to go straight for the jugular. “You’d do just about anything to fit in with the team, wouldn’t you?”
A cloud of hurt flits across its expressive face. “No. I…”
“You think all you have to do is open your mouth and everyone will accept you, make them forget you’re nothing but a glorified hunk of experimentally fabricated waste?” I’m being intentionally hurtful and I know it but I need to clear the air once and for all and get to the heart of the problem. “You think you can be our friend…”
“Yes!” It’s suddenly pushing me back, those eyes stormy with raw emotion. “I can be your friend!” DiNozzo twists to one side and moves to the middle of the darkened room, throwing up its hands in obvious frustration. “I don’t know what I can say or do to get you to believe me but I never told Ducky anything of the impressions I got during our imprinting.” It points a finger toward my face but instantly shifts it away. It learned pretty damn fast what I think about digits aimed my way. “You’ve got to stop jumping to conclusions and be willing to hear the complete story before you start accusing me…or Ducky,” it adds hastily, “of breaching confidentiality.”
“And why should I do that?” I question a bit more calmly now, liking this surge of spunk and assertiveness that’s just recently begun erupting from the unit. I let my eyes roam over its infuriated face.
“Because I’m on your side!” It all but yells…and then visibly deflates, running its fingers up into its hair and tugging the strands in clear aggravation, an action I’ve sometimes noticed Palmer doing when he gets well past the point of patience. The Triple A has picked up a couple of other minor mannerisms from my people…from humming tunelessly while riding in the car to tapping a pen or pencil while talking on the phone…so it’s almost as if it’s becoming an extension of all of us. I don‘t want to even think about what it might have picked up from me. “He only wanted to know how I was able to get you relaxed enough to allow me to initiate the bonding process, that’s all.” It drops its hands away from its head and shrugs almost helplessly. “He couldn’t believe I waited until you went to sleep. He called me a big chicken.”
I purse my lips tightly together, fighting the urge to laugh, and feel the remainder of my tension ebb slowly away. I can see it’s telling me the truth, can feel it in the marrow of my bones, and experience a surge of sweet relief. I take a cautious step closer but keep my hands loosely at my sides, purposefully relaxing my shoulders, and offering nothing but calmness in my posture. Nevertheless, it continues to look at me uncertainly.
“Big chicken, eh?” I ask quietly, offering a small grin.
DiNozzo is surprised by the change in my attitude but automatically offers me a one-sided grin of its own. The expression makes its face looks boyish and, dare I think it?, charming. I’m so fucked…
“Yes,” it nods thoughtfully, unaware of my inner musings, and gets a mischievous glint in its eyes, “but to be honest, it took me a couple of hours to fully understand why he was comparing me to poultry.”
I snort out a quick laugh, relaxing even further. “You’re so full of shit.”
“Not possible, Boss,” DiNozzo responds with an easy, open smile, slipping its hands back into the pockets of its pants, and looking more human than any android has the right. “That would involve me eating and, you know, nothing goes into this body that requires that type of internal plumbing.
I give a short grunt of understanding but have to wince a bit at the blunt description. It’s always been completely honest and open about its manufactured form, willing to explain and answer all the questions my team has asked concerning its bodily functions, attempting in its own way, I suppose, to soothe their concerns and appease their curiosity but, sometimes, I think it throws in things just to get some kind of reaction from me. Like now. I know it possesses remarkable mimicking abilities; it can make itself puke, piss, or perspire, feats Ducky deems nothing short of remarkable, but only after a bit of preparation. It doesn’t eat but, instead, periodically ingests a small amount of some liquid supplement provided by the government. It has willingly tried samples of various food and beverages, more to satisfy Abby’s curiosity about its sense of taste than anything else, but I know that’s not good for its systems. Both Ducky and I have repeatedly reminded her that the body she sees is not completely human but she seems to conveniently ‘forget’ and goes out of her way to bring it ‘new and exciting’ flavors to try. So far, DiNozzo likes the taste of amaretto mint and, of all things, bubble gum the best.
As for its sexual functions, I have absolutely no doubt it can do what’s necessary to get the job done but I don’t want to think too much about that right now.
I ease over to where the recording devices are arranged on a nearby table and pull out the room’s only chair, looking back up into DiNozzo’s face after I settle. I think it understands what I expect, so I wait until it moves to rest a hip casually on the edge of the table, the fingers of one hand fiddling a bit with the headphones resting near my elbow.
“So?” I prompt. “Tell me.”
DiNozzo gives a little one-shouldered shrug. “We were getting ready to do our imprinting and he just asked. I don’t think he was completely convinced you’d actually gone through with the process with me.” Those green eyes lock with mine. “He was under the impression you’d never accept me and would fight me every step of the way.”
“If I’d been awake, I might have,” I respond honestly.
“I know,” it nods in humble agreement, “but we’ll never really know for sure now, will we?”
“No, I suppose we won’t,” I concur.
There’s a few moments of shared, reflective quiet but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable like it could be and it gives me some much-needed time to completely gather my composure before returning to face the rest of my team again. It’s peaceful and relaxing in here and, as I idly study the cuticles around one thumbnail, I can feel DiNozzo’s gaze still lingering on me. I’ve grown accustomed to having its eyes turned my way during the past several days and I know it’s relying on me to teach it all I can. It’s probably even learned a lot about my body language by now.
Frankly, it’s nice to be able to enjoy this strange companionship with DiNozzo and I try not to examine what I’m feeling too closely. It knows, buried somewhere deep within my subconscious, that I’m attracted to it, to the physical being it represents, but that seems so shallow and, if I’m honest with myself, pretty damn warped. I’d like to rationalize my feelings by blaming it all on those failed, human relationships I’ve stumbled through in my past but I don’t think that’s all there is to it. No, I think I’m just one sorry sonofabitch who’s hoping to get lucky…with a damn robot.
Best not to think about that right now.
It finally speaks, very softly, very adamantly, and I’m barely aware of the gentle brush of its fingers against the sleeve of my shirt. “You know I’d never betray your confidence, that I’m here to support you in any way I can, and that,” it hesitates a moment and I find its hand is suddenly covering mine, “I’m willing to do whatever you need, whenever you need it.”
Okay, so much for DiNozzo not making any moves to get close to me again. I’ve been propositioned by several people in my lifetime, so I know a come-on when I hear it but this…well…this should set all kinds of alarms off in my head. I should be standing up, yanking my hand away, and shoving this unit up against the wall. Or sending it packing back to that android factory it came from. Or something…
…but I’m just sitting here, DiNozzo’s hand covering mine, and letting the rest of the world pass by. Because it feels good. Because it feels right.
A soft knock at the door instantly breaks the mood and I pull my hand reluctantly away. DiNozzo shifts slightly and eases a bit back, putting a little more room between us.
“Yeah?” I bark out, eyes still glued to the now-silent Triple A.
“Em, Boss?”
It’s McGee and I can tell he’s real hesitant about interrupting. He must think I’ve been in here reaming DiNozzo a new asshole.
Well, crap…
The thought of reaming assholes, especially DiNozzo’s, makes my mouth go dry and my nuts tighten. I’ve got to get a hold of my thoughts before I end up making a fool of myself.
“What is it, McGee?” I make sure my voice is steady.
The door opens and my young agent sticks his head in, eyebrows high and eyes wide. “Sorry to interrupt,” he apologizes unnecessarily. “Cait just took a call about a triple homicide over near the bay. Thought you should know.”
Damn. Somebody’s time has run out, so it looks like I need to put my own problem to rest for awhile and get back to work. I push up from the chair and nod at the young man.
“Notify Ducky and gas up the truck,” I order tersely and watch him disappear to do as directed.
I can feel DiNozzo’s eyes still on me. I turn and silently study the unit for a few seconds, oddly hesitant to end our moment of privacy. I realize I have to do something about the situation before too long and, even if it’s not the right choice, I think I’m prepared to take that step.
Damn the consequences, full steam ahead.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I announce quietly. “You’re coming home with me tonight.”
DiNozzo just nods but I can see the pleasure reflected in its eyes. “Sounds good.”
Yep, sounds good right now. Real good. I guess only time will tell.
TBC
Author: Matt
Rating, warnings, disclaimer, etc. all included in part 1.
As human beings, we tend to measure the passage of time in an assortment of predictable ways. We are aware of and observe the expected changing of one season to the next, watching the landscape almost-magically shedding its familiar skin in slow but purposeful increments, emerging quarterly to display an array of differing but recognizable characteristics. There’s rain and snow, there’s sunshine and heat, and there’s changing leaves that ultimately fall to the ground. Spring still follows Winter, Fall still chases Summer, and the days roll on.
At times, we may cast our eyes upward and track the poetic waxing and waning of the lonely, hypnotic moon during its monthly cycles, looking for its comforting brightness during the long darkness of night. We even watch the rising and setting of the sun from day to day, viewing its expected journey across the wide and familiar skies overhead with a measure of calm anticipation. From moon to sun, our bodies are attuned to the heavens in more ways than we realize.
We annually light birthday candles, make inane, hopeful wishes, and extinguish the temporary flames with the puff of a lone, determined breath, mentally marveling and wondering how another year could have come around again so soon, so suddenly, even as we ingest a slice of the sweetly iced, celebratory cake. Another year is gained but another is, ultimately, lost.
We watch our elders wrinkle and gray, their faces and hands and hair slowly changing and morphing, their features strangely altered by lined facades and silvering caps of age, turning them into people we, sometimes, barely recognize. On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, children are born, grow, and are magically ready to fly the nest way too soon, becoming able, young adults, poised in their quest to take our places in society. It happens in the blink of an eye, in the beat of a single heartbeat, in the inhalation of one, solitary breath, and all we can do is wonder what ever happened to that parent who used to be so strong and capable or that small child we once held so securely in our sheltering arms. Time, it seems, is the greatest changer of people.
And time stops for no one. Days become months, months become years, years become a lifetime… and the cycle continues in its never-ending rotation.
If there’s one lesson I’ve learned during all the fleeting years of my existence here on Earth, especially since mankind’s near-disastrous brush with extinction a handful of years ago, is to live each day as if it’s my very last and to spend my time in pursuit of those things really important to me. I know…I’ve heard of those fighting life-threatening diseases or those who’ve survived near-death experiences make the same proclamation but, for me, it’s the God’s honest truth. Frankly, I don’t know many people who still continue to squander their time away nowadays. Everyone has been given a new lease on life and, I hope, are taking advantage of the remarkable opportunity.
But I’m not a stupid man. I know there are still greedy, vengeful, and morally corrupt people scattered amongst the population who continue to look for ways to prey on the weaker members of society and I know they carry a darkness in their souls that refuses to alter, even after all we’ve been through as a species. It’s these people who continue to concern me.
Some philosopher…Santayana, I think…once said that those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it and, no matter how much I’d like to believe otherwise, I’ve seen too many evil, deceitful, arrogant men in my time to simply believe it could never get to that point again. Evil, deceitful, arrogant men care nothing for history and are only focused on self-gain and power. It may not happen in my lifetime or in the next generation to come but somewhere, sometime down the line, mankind may not have those helpful aliens to bail their asses out of the fire and Earth will be nothing but a smoldering cinder of ruin.
I try not to dwell on that possible scenario. I just don’t have the time anymore; I have other things to fill my mind now.
While DiNozzo has been spending the past few nights rotating between the homes of my team and doing its bonding thing with each of them, I’ve had the opportunity to consider and examine my strange and pretty perplexing emotions regarding the Triple A unit. I can’t deny I’ve started to enjoy having it around, close but not too close, eager as some young probie to please me, and I can’t refute how satisfied I am when it reports back to me in the mornings to share information its learned from others during the subsequent imprinting processes I’ve arranged for it. I’ve managed to unclench more through its daily presence and have even been able to put most of my old, tainted memories to rest.
Okay, maybe that’s not the complete truth. I will never entirely forget what happened and will, probably, always be a little leery when it comes to the subject of artificial intelligence, but I can easily recognize the subtle shifting of my perspective and my subsequent acceptance of its position now. The unit has been an extremely fast learner, an honest reporter of gathered information, and an able-bodied contributor to our investigations. It never complains, it never questions my orders, and it’s ready to go anywhere, anytime, at the drop of a hat. What’s not to like about it?
The fact I’m finding myself thawing to it emotionally is what’s been taking up so much of my time lately. I don’t cringe anymore when it comes near to talk, I don’t actively seek to send it away on frivolous errands, and I don’t balk at accepting what it has to offer as a member of my team. Instead, I find myself basking in its relative proximity, enjoying the subtle tones and shifts of its tenor voice, slowly relaxing my past vigilant stance against its manufactured existence. I know its physical appearance has a lot to do with my shifting perspective. If it looked like that damn robot I had contact with while still in the service, I know I’d never be feeling this way. In fact, sometimes I find myself forgetting it’s not real flesh and bones. It looks human…and that’s my problem.
We’ve spent a great deal of time alone together during the past few days, especially in the mornings, using a regular block of time to discuss its imprinting experiences with the others. As much as I hate to admit it, DiNozzo has enabled me to better understand the members of my team and, in turn, helped me become a better leader for them. That, alone, proves to me the unit has worth.
I have to hold back a sly grin as my mind drifts to the subject of these bondings. This would not be a good time to dwell on some of the unexpected things I’ve been privy to through my agents’ imprinting with the Triple A, especially with them scattered so closely around the immediate area, invested in the tasks I’ve set for them. Their heads are down, focused on files, and I certainly don’t want to draw their attention to me. Just because I now hold some comparatively confidential bits of information about each of them, including those of Tom Morrow and Jen Shepard, doesn’t mean I need to break out smiling like some rowdy drunk in the middle of Mardi Gras but it’s pretty damn difficult to rein in. Having DiNozzo as my own, personal, insider confidant certainly has its perks .
My gaze wanders unerringly over to the Triple A and I covertly watch it as it stacks some papers and clips them together, obviously completing another cold case file review. Its strong, able fingers make short work of the simple chore and, once again, I grudgingly marvel at the human-like gestures and mannerisms. One side of my mouth twitches upward when I see it pause to briefly but gently touch the framed photograph Abby placed on one corner of its neat, all-but-bare desk the morning after their bonding. They must have had one hell of a night together, if their expressions in that picture are any kind of indicator, but I didn’t need to know the gory details of what transpired to tell she’d taken it out to some highly questionable club. I probably could have demanded the Triple A give me a thorough accounting of their activities…had momentarily thought about it…but the pointed look Abby had given me as she’d left the unit at its desk after they’d rolled into work that morning had been a definite deterrent. Besides, DiNozzo told me all I really needed to know later in the day.
DiNozzo has always been extremely circumspect and resourceful, waiting until we’re alone to pass gleaned information my way, and, lately, I’ve been getting the distinct impression it’s enjoying our little ‘sessions’ as much as I am. This morning I found it waiting somewhat impatiently for me in the parking lot, right next to the spot I usually leave my car, almost bouncing in place as it watched my deliberate approach. Some little, remembered ache had momentarily sparked deep in my subconscious and I’d briefly thought about jumping the low, concrete curb and plowing it down right where it had stood. But a totally different and much more uncomfortable internal but extremely influential voice had swiftly persuaded me against taking such an unnecessary action. I didn’t really want to do that to DiNozzo. As I’d slowed the vehicle and had looked into its pleased, waiting face, I’d instantly known I’d followed the correct inspiration. The grin it had bestowed upon me in greeting had been genuine…maybe a tad bit on the shy side…but I could tell it had been glad to see me.
And, if I was going to be the least bit honest with myself, I’d been glad to see it, too. Very glad.
Crap…
I realize I’m frowning now and quickly smooth the expression from my face. I’m good at doing blank…it’s a talent I’ve mastered from interviewing countless witnesses and potential suspects over the years… so my features fall naturally into the desired, vacant positions. As much as I want to keep looking its way, I force my eyes back to my own work, determined to keep my mind on the job and not on the unexpected emotions this thing has evoked in me recently. I was doing perfectly fine before it came into the picture, enjoying my singularity in this new world, and now…well, now the picture seems to be a little blurry around edges that were once clean and crisp.
I guess I have to stop dancing around this attraction I’m feeling because it’s not only confusing me, it’s confusing the hell out of DiNozzo, as well. It’s seen my inner thoughts, read me like a first grade primer during our imprinting, and knows all about my hopes and wants and desires. It knows I’ve been alone for some time, it knows I don’t have a stellar record when it comes to relationships, and it knows I see it as a potential sex partner. But it also knows about my aversion to artificial intelligence and, since that night of our bonding, hasn’t made any moves to get close to me again. For that, I’m glad…and slightly disappointed.
I’m so screwed…
“Boss?”
The sudden, soft, recognizable voice is unexpected but, again, I’m pretty good at holding in my surprise. DiNozzo must have moved from its desk while I was woolgathering. I tap the pen clasped in my fist on the paper before me, taking a little time to control my slight startle, and calmly look up, knowing whose green eyes will be looking right back at me.
“Yeah?” I ask more calmly than I’m really feeling. I’m going to have to get use to this thing being able to tread so stealthily or I’m likely to do it some damage if it comes up on me like this while we’re somewhere out in the field on assignment. I don’t know how much the unit is worth, don’t want to even think about the time it would take to replace it, but there’s no way I’d ever be able to fit it into my expenses, not with what I earn at NCIS.
“I was wondering if there was anyone else you think I should approach for imprinting,” it asks quietly.
I lean back in my chair and gaze up at the Triple A and, instead of focusing on the question it’s asking, I take a moment to examine its apparel. I hadn’t noticed much about it when I saw it this morning because my attention was solely on the information it was imparting but I’m beginning to see a pretty good parallel in its clothing choices to the personal taste of its overnight sponsor. It spent the night with Caitlin Todd, so it’s wearing a fairly conservative shirt and tie atop some dark, nondescript slacks. Very traditional. I don’t know if it’s the best look for it but it sure comes across a hell of a lot better than the morning it arrived after spending the night with Abby. Oh, yeah…much better. The black eyeliner and porcupine-style hair had made my gut clench and my head ache. I still have nightmares of DiNozzo going all Goth on me.
I control a reflexive shudder at the unwanted memory and get back to the topic. “Who’s left on the list?”
“No one.”
“No one?” That can’t be right. I quickly refer to my mental inventory, checking off the names as I go: Me, Morrow, Shepard, Ducky, McGee, Palmer, Abby, Todd, Thompson up in MTAC, Perez in Evidence…
Well, crap. I guess that’s it. I was stretching it a bit by pushing through Thompson and Perez, so I don’t think the Director would approve of me suggesting anyone else right now. Of course, I’ve got the option to add more names if the need arises somewhere down the line.
“Well, I guess that’s it,” I find my voice and shrug, eyes falling back to my paperwork, expecting DiNozzo to head on back to its own desk. A few seconds pass and I can feel that it’s still standing there, blocking my view of the big screen we usually incorporate during brainstorming and waiting patiently for me to recognize it again. I sigh with a bit of annoyance but keep my gaze purposefully down, scanning the report. “What?”
“Am I coming home with you tonight?”
*That* question brings my eyes back up. Quickly.
“Now why would you do that? We already had our little moment,“ I almost sneer the last word but catch myself at the final moment, trying to rein in my temper. I pause, regroup, and attempt to keep the bitterness out of my tone. “I was asleep. Remember?”
The green gaze flicks away briefly but instantly returns. This is one of the things I really like about this unit; eye-to-eye contact is important, almost essential, and it’s never failed to be direct and plainspoken.
“Yes, I remember.” It stuffs its hands into the front pockets of its dark slacks, shifts slightly from foot to foot, and tilts its head a bit to the left, a sure sign it’s about to be a little more plainspoken than I want. “Although, I’m not sure why you still have to keep bringing that up. I apologized. We moved on.” It leans somewhat forward, almost conspiratorially. “Ducky believes you need to put our imprinting experience behind and move forward.”
Ducky believes what?
“Oh, really?” I ask rhetorically, feeling my temper reignite, not at all happy to learn my medical examiner and my Triple A have discussed something I thought was going to be private. DiNozzo is supposed to report and share information only with me. *Me*. My blood pressure is going up, so I pitch my voice low. “Getting a bit close to Ducky, aren’t you?”
I see a frown instantly appear between its eyes and, before I realize what’s happening, it’s rounding my desk and squatting down next to my chair, intentionally, I’m sure, to bring our eyes to the same level. I automatically rear back a bit in surprise, not liking the trapped-in feeling that abruptly washes over me…or how, for some bizarre reason, I’m instantly reminded of the blow-job I got from Stan Burley when he was still one of my agents many years ago. Now is not the time for erotic flashbacks and I instantly stifle the useless image. I surge to my feet and look down at the unit’s upturned face.
“What the…” is all I manage to hiss before it interrupts.
“I know you must be thinking I’ve divulged something personal about you to Ducky,” it fervently whispers, its own voice hushed but strident, eyes filled with real sincerity, “I can see it in your eyes, but, Boss,” it reaches out and briefly touches my hand before I can maneuver it away, “I would never do that. My programming not only ensures that won’t happen but *I* would never do that to you. Never to you.”
“Get up,” I order through tightly clenched teeth, not really listening to its seemingly lame explanation, acutely aware of what our positions must appear like to anyone watching. I have an image to uphold and having that damn Triple A groveling at my feet is not doing squat to support that illusion. I don’t need to look up to know we’ve already captured McGee and Todd’s attention; I sure as hell don’t want any other witnesses to this little spectacle.
“Boss…” the Triple A is still trying to justify what I’ve already considered a severe breach of trust but I don’t want to hear it about it. At least, not now, not here.
“Get. Up.” I order more harshly, biting off both words, trying to contain my rising ire.
I wait while it complies, which is almost immediately, and then silently motion for it to follow me. I can’t have this conversation here, right in the middle of the bullpen, with other agents actively working just to the other side of the flimsy partitions that divide the room into sections, but I have to know what this thing has been sharing, if anything, about our own bonding. I carry many secrets, some personal and some professional, and I don’t want to even consider how pissed I’ll be if this Triple A has decided to expand its field of confidants to include Ducky or, God forbid, anyone else.
Ducky has been my good friend for a long, long time, through failed marriages and aging parents, but there are things in my past I’ve never told him...just as I’m sure he’s kept his own secrets from me. We know each other very well, have worked side-by-side, on foreign soil as well as stateside, and have shared thoughts and opinions and beliefs. We respect each other’s privacy.
But…
I haven’t told him…or anyone…everything. The only reason DiNozzo knows is because of the imprinting.
I can feel the eyes of my agents on my back as we leave and I can only imagine what they must be thinking at this point, especially after DiNozzo’s little moment on his knees in front of me, but, right now, right this minute, that’s the least of my problems. I’ve got to find out what it’s shared about me with Ducky.
I stalk down the interrogation hallway and barge into the first, slightly darkened observation area I can find. Maxine Harris is startled by my abrupt entrance and gives out a small squeak of a noise as she whirls away from her position at one of the many high-tech recording arrays. She must be preparing to assist a team bringing in a suspect, so I know my time here is limited.
“Agent Gibbs!” She brings a hand swiftly to her chest and offers a high, breathy laugh. “You almost scared me half to…”
“We need a few minutes, Agent Harris,” I bluntly cut her off and continue all the way into the quiet room, hearing DiNozzo enter right behind me. I walk over to the glass that divides this room from the interrogation area and stop, back to them both, listening as the woman slowly complies. I can see her reflection in the clean glass, watch as she shoots the Triple A a strange and blatantly unfriendly look, and wait until I know she’s almost out. “And shut the door behind you.”
With one, last look at my stiff back, she’s gone, door clicking quietly closed in her wake. I whirl immediately to confront the unit, advancing quickly.
“Since when is it part of your programming to discuss our imprinting with anyone else?” I’m in its face, stepping forward as it’s stepping back, watching those green eyes blinking rapidly against my sudden and threatening actions. I get a bit of a rush knowing I can make it uneasy and proceed to get right up in its face. “Since when did you think it would be all right to share information about me with another person?”
“I told you already! I didn’t!” It exclaims fervently, shaking its head from side to side, stumbling just a bit as it retreats another step from me.
“Bullshit!” I bark out roughly.
“No! No bullshit!” It stops its backwards motion, about a foot away from the closed door, and finally holds its ground. “I told him nothing about you!”
“Why should I believe you?” I decide to shift my attack. Time to go straight for the jugular. “You’d do just about anything to fit in with the team, wouldn’t you?”
A cloud of hurt flits across its expressive face. “No. I…”
“You think all you have to do is open your mouth and everyone will accept you, make them forget you’re nothing but a glorified hunk of experimentally fabricated waste?” I’m being intentionally hurtful and I know it but I need to clear the air once and for all and get to the heart of the problem. “You think you can be our friend…”
“Yes!” It’s suddenly pushing me back, those eyes stormy with raw emotion. “I can be your friend!” DiNozzo twists to one side and moves to the middle of the darkened room, throwing up its hands in obvious frustration. “I don’t know what I can say or do to get you to believe me but I never told Ducky anything of the impressions I got during our imprinting.” It points a finger toward my face but instantly shifts it away. It learned pretty damn fast what I think about digits aimed my way. “You’ve got to stop jumping to conclusions and be willing to hear the complete story before you start accusing me…or Ducky,” it adds hastily, “of breaching confidentiality.”
“And why should I do that?” I question a bit more calmly now, liking this surge of spunk and assertiveness that’s just recently begun erupting from the unit. I let my eyes roam over its infuriated face.
“Because I’m on your side!” It all but yells…and then visibly deflates, running its fingers up into its hair and tugging the strands in clear aggravation, an action I’ve sometimes noticed Palmer doing when he gets well past the point of patience. The Triple A has picked up a couple of other minor mannerisms from my people…from humming tunelessly while riding in the car to tapping a pen or pencil while talking on the phone…so it’s almost as if it’s becoming an extension of all of us. I don‘t want to even think about what it might have picked up from me. “He only wanted to know how I was able to get you relaxed enough to allow me to initiate the bonding process, that’s all.” It drops its hands away from its head and shrugs almost helplessly. “He couldn’t believe I waited until you went to sleep. He called me a big chicken.”
I purse my lips tightly together, fighting the urge to laugh, and feel the remainder of my tension ebb slowly away. I can see it’s telling me the truth, can feel it in the marrow of my bones, and experience a surge of sweet relief. I take a cautious step closer but keep my hands loosely at my sides, purposefully relaxing my shoulders, and offering nothing but calmness in my posture. Nevertheless, it continues to look at me uncertainly.
“Big chicken, eh?” I ask quietly, offering a small grin.
DiNozzo is surprised by the change in my attitude but automatically offers me a one-sided grin of its own. The expression makes its face looks boyish and, dare I think it?, charming. I’m so fucked…
“Yes,” it nods thoughtfully, unaware of my inner musings, and gets a mischievous glint in its eyes, “but to be honest, it took me a couple of hours to fully understand why he was comparing me to poultry.”
I snort out a quick laugh, relaxing even further. “You’re so full of shit.”
“Not possible, Boss,” DiNozzo responds with an easy, open smile, slipping its hands back into the pockets of its pants, and looking more human than any android has the right. “That would involve me eating and, you know, nothing goes into this body that requires that type of internal plumbing.
I give a short grunt of understanding but have to wince a bit at the blunt description. It’s always been completely honest and open about its manufactured form, willing to explain and answer all the questions my team has asked concerning its bodily functions, attempting in its own way, I suppose, to soothe their concerns and appease their curiosity but, sometimes, I think it throws in things just to get some kind of reaction from me. Like now. I know it possesses remarkable mimicking abilities; it can make itself puke, piss, or perspire, feats Ducky deems nothing short of remarkable, but only after a bit of preparation. It doesn’t eat but, instead, periodically ingests a small amount of some liquid supplement provided by the government. It has willingly tried samples of various food and beverages, more to satisfy Abby’s curiosity about its sense of taste than anything else, but I know that’s not good for its systems. Both Ducky and I have repeatedly reminded her that the body she sees is not completely human but she seems to conveniently ‘forget’ and goes out of her way to bring it ‘new and exciting’ flavors to try. So far, DiNozzo likes the taste of amaretto mint and, of all things, bubble gum the best.
As for its sexual functions, I have absolutely no doubt it can do what’s necessary to get the job done but I don’t want to think too much about that right now.
I ease over to where the recording devices are arranged on a nearby table and pull out the room’s only chair, looking back up into DiNozzo’s face after I settle. I think it understands what I expect, so I wait until it moves to rest a hip casually on the edge of the table, the fingers of one hand fiddling a bit with the headphones resting near my elbow.
“So?” I prompt. “Tell me.”
DiNozzo gives a little one-shouldered shrug. “We were getting ready to do our imprinting and he just asked. I don’t think he was completely convinced you’d actually gone through with the process with me.” Those green eyes lock with mine. “He was under the impression you’d never accept me and would fight me every step of the way.”
“If I’d been awake, I might have,” I respond honestly.
“I know,” it nods in humble agreement, “but we’ll never really know for sure now, will we?”
“No, I suppose we won’t,” I concur.
There’s a few moments of shared, reflective quiet but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable like it could be and it gives me some much-needed time to completely gather my composure before returning to face the rest of my team again. It’s peaceful and relaxing in here and, as I idly study the cuticles around one thumbnail, I can feel DiNozzo’s gaze still lingering on me. I’ve grown accustomed to having its eyes turned my way during the past several days and I know it’s relying on me to teach it all I can. It’s probably even learned a lot about my body language by now.
Frankly, it’s nice to be able to enjoy this strange companionship with DiNozzo and I try not to examine what I’m feeling too closely. It knows, buried somewhere deep within my subconscious, that I’m attracted to it, to the physical being it represents, but that seems so shallow and, if I’m honest with myself, pretty damn warped. I’d like to rationalize my feelings by blaming it all on those failed, human relationships I’ve stumbled through in my past but I don’t think that’s all there is to it. No, I think I’m just one sorry sonofabitch who’s hoping to get lucky…with a damn robot.
Best not to think about that right now.
It finally speaks, very softly, very adamantly, and I’m barely aware of the gentle brush of its fingers against the sleeve of my shirt. “You know I’d never betray your confidence, that I’m here to support you in any way I can, and that,” it hesitates a moment and I find its hand is suddenly covering mine, “I’m willing to do whatever you need, whenever you need it.”
Okay, so much for DiNozzo not making any moves to get close to me again. I’ve been propositioned by several people in my lifetime, so I know a come-on when I hear it but this…well…this should set all kinds of alarms off in my head. I should be standing up, yanking my hand away, and shoving this unit up against the wall. Or sending it packing back to that android factory it came from. Or something…
…but I’m just sitting here, DiNozzo’s hand covering mine, and letting the rest of the world pass by. Because it feels good. Because it feels right.
A soft knock at the door instantly breaks the mood and I pull my hand reluctantly away. DiNozzo shifts slightly and eases a bit back, putting a little more room between us.
“Yeah?” I bark out, eyes still glued to the now-silent Triple A.
“Em, Boss?”
It’s McGee and I can tell he’s real hesitant about interrupting. He must think I’ve been in here reaming DiNozzo a new asshole.
Well, crap…
The thought of reaming assholes, especially DiNozzo’s, makes my mouth go dry and my nuts tighten. I’ve got to get a hold of my thoughts before I end up making a fool of myself.
“What is it, McGee?” I make sure my voice is steady.
The door opens and my young agent sticks his head in, eyebrows high and eyes wide. “Sorry to interrupt,” he apologizes unnecessarily. “Cait just took a call about a triple homicide over near the bay. Thought you should know.”
Damn. Somebody’s time has run out, so it looks like I need to put my own problem to rest for awhile and get back to work. I push up from the chair and nod at the young man.
“Notify Ducky and gas up the truck,” I order tersely and watch him disappear to do as directed.
I can feel DiNozzo’s eyes still on me. I turn and silently study the unit for a few seconds, oddly hesitant to end our moment of privacy. I realize I have to do something about the situation before too long and, even if it’s not the right choice, I think I’m prepared to take that step.
Damn the consequences, full steam ahead.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I announce quietly. “You’re coming home with me tonight.”
DiNozzo just nods but I can see the pleasure reflected in its eyes. “Sounds good.”
Yep, sounds good right now. Real good. I guess only time will tell.
TBC