Supply and Demand: Unwanted Part 4/9 (NCIS/SPN Crossover AU)
Supply and Demand: Unwanted Part 4 (NCIS/SPN Crossover AU)
Author: tari_roo
Rating: PG13 (Gen)
Fandom: SPN/NCIS
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing.
Summary: NCIS/SPN Crossover AU. Gibbs didn’t want or need an Empath. But Director Vance was insisting and his team were avoiding him, more than usual, so when the T&E Centre called to say that Dean Winchester was available, it was time to pick up the unwanted Empath.
Spoilers: set somewhere in Season 6&7 of NCIS, and AU for SPN (all seasons)
Chapter 4
Dispatch had it on the money, and between the police lines, Fire Trucks and illuminated pillar of smoke rising in the night, Gibbs found the blazing building easily enough. It an old residential block that had been recently renovated and turned into upmarket condos.
Stopped at the PD blockade, Gibbs initially pulled out his NCIS credentials which only got him strange looks. It wasn’t until he showed them his Telekinetic Registration ID that they let him through, Dean following close behind.
Spotting the Fire Marshal’s hat first and then the rest of the man, Gibbs pushed his way through the mass of emergency personnel, unaware of the slightly larger bubble they left in their wake.
“Chief!”
“You our telekinetic?”
“Yeah,” and Gibbs handed over his IDs. The Fire Marshall scanned them and grunted, “Great. Nice to have you with us, Agent Gibbs. That your Empath?”
Flicking a glance at Dean who was staring up at the inferno across the street, Gibbs said, “Yep.”
“He got any ID?”
Did Dean have ID? Gibbs was momentarily floored but Dean pulled a flat, well worn ID card from nowhere and gave it to Gibbs, who handed it over. “Dean Winchester, class 2. Even better. This way.”
Palming the ID, Gibbs mouthed, ‘Winchester’ at Dean who rolled his eyes and trotted after the Fire Marshall. Catching up, Gibbs had to strain to hear the Fire Marshall over the roar of the flames, shouts from the fire fighters and general noise of the crowd of onlookers.
“Fire started on the 2nd floor, near the rear of the building. We suspect faulty wiring or an electric appliance so my boys are pumping foam into that room. The rest of the floor is going up like a tinderbox and we’ve been unable to clear the 3rd floor. We know 3 people are trapped up there, almost directly above the fire.”
He pulled over a plan of the building and jabbed at the spot they thought the people were trapped. Looking at Gibbs, the Fire Marshall shouted, “I need you to put a cap or lid or whatever the hell it is you do over the fire, contain it as much as possible on the 2nd Floor. Then I need...”
Gibbs’s confusion must have been evident as the Fire Marshall stopped and said, “You have done this before, right?”
Shaking his head, Jethro yelled, “First time!”
“Shit! Ok... uhm...”
Dean grabbed the sleeve of Gibbs’ jacket, and sent a wave of energy that included the impression that he knew what to do. “You sure?” Gibbs shouted at him as another ambulance arrived, sirens wailing.
‘Not my first rodeo, cowboy’ was the non verbal answer... sort of ... well as much as emotional chit chat could convey. “We’ll be fine,” Gibbs replied to the Marshall who was looking at Dean as well.
“Good.” And the rest of the conversation was directed at Winchester. “So, cap the 2nd floor, just below the roof if you can. And then, if possible, create an airpocket in the main stairwell, just enough for us to get the civilians out.”
“A what?” Gibbs exclaimed but Dean was nodding his head and the Fire Marshall was already speaking into his radio.
Dean grabbed Gibbs again and dragged him closer to the building, the Fire Marshall following. Intensely aware of Winchester’s hand on his arm, Gibbs felt a surge of adrenalin, his heart rate increasing, anticipation flooding through him.
“The Kinetic is here, so get in place. I’ll give the word when you can go.”
At the all clear, the Fire Marshall gave Dean the nod and Winchester moved his hand to Gibbs’s shoulder. The growing storm of power within him was a little disorienting but a crystal clear picture of what he was supposed to do formed in his mind. Like holding his hands out before a fireplace, Gibbs felt out the edge of the fire, a roaring heat which stretched and grew even as he tested the edges. He could feel Dean visualising a tight wall, a buffer of sorts and encouraging him to push, which he did and somehow the wall expanded and spread and forced the flames downward.
It was like nothing Gibbs had felt before. He had been turning on light switches all his life, occasionally getting angry enough to ‘shove’ someone, but all of those things he has able to do just as well with his physical hands. This however, was weird. He wasn’t imagining invisible hands but more an abstract idea which was now ... real. And pretty damn difficult to maintain, like stretching unused muscles and asking them to ‘hold’.
‘Suck it up, old man!’
“Shut up.”
“What?” the Fire Marshall shot a look at Gibbs who ignored him, a soft sheen of sweat breaking out on his lip.
Winchester was guiding him, or in this case, the telekinetic lid by feeling the unseen fire’s heat more than anything else. He kept on checking the building plan the Marshall had left in front of them, pulling Gibbs in one direction and then the next until he had a disconnected sensation of holding the fire in his hands. He was vaguely aware that he was moving his hands in response to the promptings, mimicking the motions of the unseen but very solid mass of kinetic energy.
One of the first exercises on control a Telekinetic was taught was holding a full balloon between their hands without physically touching it. The guidelines were quite simple, burst or drop the balloon and you had to start again. Telekinetic force could be strong enough to bruise and break, but that was only really possible when in concert with an Empath. Now, Gibbs was back to basics, corralling a roaring fire between his hands - at least it felt like that. Gibbs wasn’t even looking up at the building anymore, more following the directions from Dean, whose gaze flitted between the building and the plans.
“Looking good, sir. The fire has backed off from the stairwell.”
Vaguely hearing the radio chatter, Gibbs definitely heard the Fire Marshall shout at them, “Great. Now the air tunnel!”
‘Hold it but give me a little. If you can...’
Nodding, whetting his lips with a dry tongue, Gibbs tried to keep control of the fire, picturing a flame filled balloon in his hands and let Dean siphon some of his push. Sweating in earnest now, Gibbs felt a brief touch of emotion - fear, resolution, determination - probably the firefighters and then a surge of relief as fresh air opened, smoke cleared...
“Hurry, go,” Gibbs heard himself snarl, and the Fire Marshall was already shouting, “Go, go, go,” into the radio.
The sensation of Dean’s hand on his shoulder was disembodied, as if his shoulder was several yards behind him, a heavy hand running an electric tether to the ground. Instead, Gibbs felt that he was almost in the building now, he could feel the heat on his face, an acrid burn of smoke in his lungs, the thin delicate hairs on his arms curling, melting...
‘Don’t wig out on me now, Gibbs. Stay here.’
The voice startled him and he almost let the balloon of fire go and managed to steady it but the strain of keeping it all in was rapidly draining him and the sensation of growing heat was getting sharply uncomfortable. He could hear the frantic heartbeats of the people trapped inside, their own lungs straining against the smoke filled air. His own chest tightened in sympathy, a different burn, stabbing and sharp.
‘Back off a little, you don’t need to be so close.’
But the fire was easier to contain up close, like tucking a football under his arm, a damn hot football, like playing touch on the beach, the hot red leather burning his arm as he dodged Mike, then Tiff and...
‘Hey, snap out it. Pay attention!’
“Wow.”
“You ok, Agent Gibbs?”
Blinking at the flashing red and blue lights, suddenly back in front of a blazing building lighting up the late night sky, Gibbs nodded, his mouth dry and parched. Man, he was hot.
“Not much longer, they’re almost out.”
“Kay.”
A steady hand on his shoulder drew him further back into the here and now and Gibbs turned to see Dean, face also dripping with sweat, nod and grimace. The ‘balloon’ was getting hotter and hotter, too hot and as much energy he poured into it, it seemed to be getting bigger, looser.
“Just a little bit longer.”
“Hurry the hell up!”
There was a ‘whoosh’ of smoke and carbon and ash and then he felt the cool hands of Dean Winchester cover his own and stabilise the force containing the fire. It also drew him back, more into his body, feeling sticky and hot and heart pounding.
‘Let it go, Gibbs’
“No.”
The equally warm presence of an Empath wrapped around him, a shroud of reassurance and certainty.
‘ Let it go.’
Feeling as if his hands were blistering, burning, Gibbs blinked and was in front of the building and then inside it and then out again, just getting hotter and hotter. The thundering footsteps of the firemen on the stairs rang out like gunshots, their muffled breathing under oxygen masks the dull rumble of an approaching storm.
‘Dude, come back and let go.’
The voice was calmness personified, professional, certain, experienced and ...
Gibbs let go, and rather than letting the bubble burst, Dean strengthened the fields corralling the fire and opened a funnel near one of the windows and Gibbs looked up just in time to see a hot jet of flames burst through the window, spraying up and out into the rising stream of water from a hose.
“Yeah! That’s got it, see if you can...”
But the contained energy within the fire bubble was already exhausted and the snap jet of fire was dying down. “The building is clear! You can release it.”
And Dean and Gibbs did just that, letting the fire go, feeling the flames leap forward and upward in the fresh air and meeting water and foam and consumed carbon....
Back in his own shoes, own sweat and own body, Gibbs pulled in a gulp of smoke tainted air and coughed a little. He felt like he’d run a mile, through the desert, in full combat gear. Idly, he checked his hands, strangely convinced that he must have blisters, surely, the heat had been so intense. But his hands were fine, calloused and old, but definitely not burnt.
“You ok?”
The voice was audible this time, just as rough and cracked as it sounded in the kitchen earlier this morning, but somehow more reassuring, more real.
“Yeah, just not what I was expecting.”
Dean nodded, even as he bent over, hands on knees, catching his breath. The fire was being beaten back by the fire teams, who had had a chance to pre-soak much of the surrounding structure and now trap and kill the blaze.
A few partially obscured, soot and smoke covered residents were sitting on the back ends of ambulances and fire trucks, being checked out by paramedics. One of them, spotting Dean and Gibbs, waved, her face obscured by an oxygen mask.
The Fire Marshall was a loud voice in the surrounds, shouting commands over the radio, bustling to and fro through the crowds, co-ordinating his crew and their efforts. There was a puddle of calm around them however, a quiet oasis, as most of the passing firemen and paramedics gave them a wide berth as they rushed by.
Straightening, feeling his back creak and ache as if he’d be lifting all day and then run a marathon, Gibbs groaned and cricked his neck.
“Hey!”
It was young, fresh faced paramedic, her blue jumpsuit a dark silhouette against the fiery red of the building. “Just want to check you out - can’t let our heroes pass out or anything.”
She didn’t move any closer though and Dean straightened too, rolling his shoulders and stretching out his arms as if the muscles ached from holding back the fire. Gibbs waited and then motioned her over, “We don’t bite...”
Placing her kit down next to him, she smiled and said, “Can you sit?” She indicated the wide step of the fire engine behind him and Gibbs half shook his head even as he sat down, which immediately felt awesome.
“Looked pretty impressive, I must say and pretty tough, too. And it was your first time...”
Gibbs stared at her and she smiled, “The Fire Marshall sent me over. Probably only the 2nd time I’ve treated a Kinetic.” And turning that smile on Dean, her teeth flashing in the red and blue lights, she laughed, “Definitely a first with an Empath.”
He didn’t really return the smile, just nodded and the Paramedic returned to taking Gibbs’s vitals, checking his pupils, heart, breath sounds, reaction times. “Any dizziness, light headed?”
“Only when I breathe...”
Laughing a little, she studied his pupils again, “If I’m right, and I hope I’m remembering it correctly, you’ll have a killer headache for a while and the usual aches and pains of over exertion, but otherwise... you should be fine. Just sleep in tomorrow and take lots of fluids, kay? Treat for dehydration.”
Nodding in as infinitesimal measures as he could, Gibbs murmured his agreement, and then said, “And him?”
“Sure,” she smiled, a little stiffly.
Dean however didn’t come any closer and neither did the Paramedic. Gibbs watched them for a moment before saying to Dean, “Get over here.” Unconsciously, he added a bit of emphasis via their connection and then groaned as his brain protested.
Touching her hair, and slicking it out of her face, the Paramedic asked quietly, “Wait, ah... is he your Empath or a .. loan, no ... a Pool ‘Path, that’s the right term, right?”
Crinkling his forward in a frown and feeling the start of the predicated headache, Gibbs replied, “What difference does it make?”
Looking beyond uncomfortable, she seemed at a loss for words momentarily before stammering, “Oh, ah ...uhm, I’m guessing a Pool ‘Path then, considering you don’t really know why, but ah ...”
Finally, she looked at Dean and actually met his eyes and then at Gibbs, who was giving her an intense look and she moistened her lips and said quickly, “Right, see if he was your perm Empath, or connection or whatever ... then there’d be no leakage or anything. An Empath is usually completely in control of their own emotions and what they show people so ...”
She paused as if recalling a long ago read text, getting into her stride, “And they can feel others and not really show what they’re feeling. Anyway, a Pool ‘Path doesn’t have that control - they’re open for anyone to feel. So whatever they’re feeling everyone else experiences, especially the more intense an emotion is.”
With several things clicking into place inside his head, Gibbs blinked, realising she had stopped and said, “And?”
Confused, the Paramedic gestured at Dean, who was still not close enough for more than a cursory visual exam and said, “If a Pool ‘Path is in pain, anyone who touches them also feels that pain, he can’t exactly turn it off either, as I understand. That aspect of control is missing in them... it’s why they’re Pool ‘Paths - no control.”
That statement was an utter antithesis to the clear, calm and controlled presence which had carefully guided his hands and contained the fire. Gibbs growled to himself before saying, “It’ll be fine, I’ll help.”
Gibbs stood and dragged Dean over who didn’t protest all that much and this time it was Gibbs who kept a steadying hand on a shoulder, grounding them all.
The Paramedic did a quick check: eyes, heart, pulse and they all winced at the bright light as she checked pupil reaction. She kept her touch to a minimum and by the time she declared him ‘fine’ she was squinting a little and shaking her hands, as if she had pins and needles.
“Good to go.”
“Thanks...” Gibbs left the words hanging, aware that his hand was still on Dean’s shoulder and the quiet thrum of his Empath was more at ease.
“Oh right, sorry, should have said before. Sam, Samantha.”
Gibbs did not miss the start at her name but Dean made no other sign of recognition or anything and he grated out his own ‘thanks’ to which Sam the Paramedic nodded and then disappeared into the mass of people.
They sat still, side by side, shoulders touching, watching as the blaze was slowly killed, driven into soggy mush and ash. As the fire died, the buzz of people seemed to slow down as well, as if the late hour was catching up to them all and whispering of sleep and beds and dreams.
“So, you got any control over your leaking emotions?”
“Nope.”
There was nothing really to say after that and Gibbs leant back against the fire truck, his head pounding and he watched the hoses get flattened and then reeled in. Dean’s back didn’t lose any of the tension that tightened his shoulder blades.
Eventually standing up, Gibbs awkwardly patted Dean’s shoulder and said, “Come on, let’s go home.”
Morning came all too soon and Gibbs woke to a pounding head, the certainty that he’d been run over and an incessant phone.
“Gibbs.”
“Oh hey, Boss.”
Dinozzo. He flopped back down into the soft mattress, head burrowing into the pillow. Tony’s voice continued unabated and unaware of the stampede trampling over his will to live.
“Yeah, just checking up ... wondering where you are, Boss. We got a call. Burglary at the Marine Base at Quantico.”
Stifling a moan, Gibbs grated out, “And they called us?”
“Yep, asked for us special.” Tony sounded way too cheerful, as usual, which meant he was worried and concerned.
Grunting, Gibbs hmphed and said, “Fine, we’ll meet you there.”
“And by me, you mean...”
Subtle, Dinozzo, subtle. Gibbs sighed into the phone, “All of you, Dinozzo.”
“Right, Boss. See you there... then... is everything ok?”
Gibbs hung up and slowly coaxed his body into sitting up. The motivation speech to his muscles continued down the hall, trying to convince his body that mobility was not only possible, but a good idea. So far his body was reminding him that he was ten years past his prime and that his motivation skills were crap.
Dean was in the kitchen already, a bowl of dry cereal on the table in front of him. He was picking at it with disinterest and Gibbs shuffled over, snagging the open orange juice on the table.
“Be ready to go in five, we got a call,” he said around a mouthful of OJ.
Dean nodded, but didn’t move - or eat any faster.
Opening the cupboard to pull out a bowl, Gibbs turned around to see the black taser on the table. Just as Dean put his hand on the taser and was about to move it towards Gibbs, Jethro said softly, “No time for that. Leave it.”
The words hung between them, frozen, slowing their heartbeats into slow languid pulses and as Dean blinked, everything sped up again and the taser was left where he’d put it, a black menace best forgotten.
They ate in silence and then Dean was gone, the shower soon running. Gibbs eyed the taser for a good bit, before getting up and lifting both bowls to the sink. Time was a wasting.
n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n
Well, as you know Larry, T&E have been in operation for over a decade. We have become experts at identifying and assisting emerging Telekinetics. With the majority of Telekinetics coming into their abilities during their late teens or early twenties, the ‘emergent event’ is invariably linked to extreme emotions, heated arguments, sports games, grief, etc.
Sex?
Oh yes, we’ve had quite a number of rather embarrassed potential Telekinetics call us after an ‘exciting’ amorous encounter.
Really? And people are up front about being Telekinetics?
Generally yes, Larry. It’s a little scary, being able to move things with your mind but most people are excited to have this ability. The ‘wow’ factor of being special far outweighs the stigma, which in my mind I feel the media exaggerates with shows like ‘Little Miss Magic’ and ‘Mind Rebels’.
I understand T&E is actively working to have shows which portray Telekinetics in a negative fashion banned from network television.
Most definitely. We can’t afford to perpetuate the idea that T&E does not have control over the situation. While the law may be on our side, there is the very real fact that power corrupts and the temptation to abuse their abilities, for self gain, for money is great.
But I believe that you make it extremely lucrative to work for T&E, in an effort to combat that?
Oh yes, between the government contracts, corporate leasings and private orders, Telekinetics who work for T&E will never be short of money. We pride ourselves on the level of service we offer, and the demand for telekinetic work is ever increasing. We try to make it far more attractive than branching out on their own.
And Empaths. I hear you charge a premium rate for Empaths - a rate some say borders on extortion.
Hardly, Larry, hardly. It’s a simple matter of supply and demand. There is a massive demand for Empaths, or at least paired kinetic and empath work, and with the shortage, massive shortage, of Empaths, unfortunately you need to pay premium rates to secure a booking.
Are they really that hard to find, Empaths?
Oh yes, yes indeed. I know Senator Harrison has been making allegations that we are deliberating pushing up the prices, and not actively looking for Empaths but the fact remains, identifying Empaths is a great deal harder than identifying Telekinetics.
How so?
Quite simply, an emerging kinetic is easy to spot. They move something or someone in a moment of high emotion. They want to gain more control, get better at it, and so invariably seek us out. Or we find them. Empaths though, what they do is not so noticeable. They read emotion, and then respond. They soothe, comfort, try to make things easier and an emerging Empath does this unconsciously and so subtly, so naturally, that no one notices. They tend to be popular people, charming and easy going and make friends easily. Not very noticeable or identifiable at all.
So we could be sitting with hundreds of unknown Empaths out there?
Possibly, but I am sure that they are as rare as Telekinetics.
How then do you identify them? Surely it doesn’t mean waiting for an incident like Galvaston?
Definitely not. And it’s easy, the best way to find an Empath, get them to meet a Kinetic. Telekinetics are drawn to Empaths, especially unpaired ones. And I can tell you, just about every Empath we have on record was either identified by a kinetic or was already working, or paired with one.
Ah, then your plans to send Telekinetics into schools, to talk about T&E has an underlying motive?
One we have been very upfront about, Larry. Yes. And it as a result of Galvaston - if that poor lad had been found before things got so bad, well...
When was the last time you found an Empath, Mr Smith?
Well, just the other day, we lucked out on a trial run in Pennsylvania. This here is Melissa Stevens, 17 years old and our brand new Empath.
Pretty girl.
Oh yes, cheerleader, honor roll, prom queen. She is very excited to join us and had no idea she was an Empath.
- Transcript from the Larry King Live interview of Don Smith, Director of T&E, 1988.