NCIS/TS Fic: The Cost of Divorce 3/?
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"No."
"Comments like that going to cause you trouble?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On how stupid Valdez and Benden are. If they think Bunka's talking out his ass, no problems, if not, time to polish the resume again."
"Again?"
"Look Gibbs, I don't know what it's like in the military, but out here in the real world rumors can be killers."
"And this one started where?"
"Let's just say someone doesn't want me to be a cop and has found that spreading certain rumors is a good way to get me 'transferred'. I suppose when I run out of options I'll be forced to go home and look after the family business."
That comment got everyone's attention.
"You mean your family is putting it about that you're Gay?" Blair had had enough trouble in Cascade just based on his looks alone to know how dangerous that sort of rumor was to anyone in law enforcement; true or not. Blair didn't have any more problems in Cascade but that was because he'd paid his dues in full; lifetime membership, paid up front with a huge bonus thrown in. But the real world wasn't Cascade.
"Bi, actually." DiNozzo was surprisingly calm with the fact. "Father disowned me when I was twelve because I wasn't interested in the family business. That I've made a life for myself without his help apparently galls him so this is his way of trying to force me back into the fold."
By now there was a palpable aura around Sandburg; red enough even the most mundane would have seen it. DiNozzo and Gibbs wisely took a step back from the enraged young man. Ellison looking at his partner decided they needed a distraction and they needed one before Mount Sandburg blew; fate, fickle creature that she was actually obliged for once, "Blair, cars out front."
Bunka and DiNozzo Senior were safe, for the moment.
"Captain Turner," Bunka walked into the living room, leading a tall thin man who had close cropped black hair, a gaunt face and eyes that didn't miss a thing, "looks like home invasion gone wrong. Neighbors remember hearing an SUV pull up followed by shouting and then two gunshots. Mrs. Housemeirer, the neighbor, east on 22nd, remembers seeing a short, curly haired hippy sneaking past her house moments after the shots were fired."
Or not.
Nobody was surprised when all heads turned to face Blair, though the look on Ellison's face wasn't shock as Gibbs had been expecting. The phrase 'looked like a cat that'd gotten the cream' tended to be over used but in this case that was exactly the look on Ellison's face. Gibbs wasn't even surprised to see Ellison mouth 'Chief?' with an interrogative eyebrow lift.
Sandburg just smiled.
DiNozzo, catching the smile, found himself returning it. Earlier comments about walking a beat till the Chief retired if they tried to arrest Dr. Sandburg without a very strong case, evidence heavy like plutonium heavy, were evidently remembered.
"I left DiNozzo questioning the suspect while I did a perimeter walk." Bunka kept relaying the facts as he perceived them to his Captain. "One of the deceased is a Marine Lieutenant which means we'll have a jurisdictional nightmare."
Turner looked about the room, eyes taking in everything; including the fact that DiNozzo hadn't apparently 'cuffed' the suspect.
"Captain Turner," DiNozzo approached his superior officer with a lank and easy grace that totally juxtaposed Bunka's jackboot stomp, "I was just finishing up with Dr. Blair Sandburg's statement."
"Dr. Blair Sandburg?" Turner looked back at the group of men standing at ease in the far corner of the room.
"Um, yes," DiNozzo cringed, theatrically if you were looking for it, "the hippy. Dr. Sandburg and Detective Ellison of Cascade, Washington, were apparently driving by when they heard shots fired. Detective Sandburg called it in while Detective Ellison apparently entered the house in an attempt to assist whoever was under fire."
"Jethro?" The man that poked head into the room appeared to be short, square jawed and somewhat older then all the others present. His eyes lighting up, a brilliant blue, when he spotted Gibbs standing in the corner with two other men.
"Duck," Gibbs was pleased to see his old friend, the NCIS medical examiner, finally arrive on scene; particularly as he'd arrived before Baltimore's coronial crew. Made claiming Kirby's body that much easier. "Come on in so we can get this started. You don't mind, DiNozzo?" The last was directed at Tony who was still caught up on explaining what was going on to his boss.
The look Tony sent Gibbs way implied he knew exactly what the NCIS agent was up to. Still, he didn't object. Instead Tony indicated with a nod of his head that introductions were in order and then they'd settle up the turf war.
Turner, meanwhile, was staring at Sandburg with a look of horror. If, as DiNozzo seemed to imply, the 'hippy' was the Dr. Sandburg who had written 'The Not So Thin Blue Line' then some explanations and introductions were definitely in order. Quietly reaming Bunka a new one would have to wait till he could have a private word with the man. Still, said reaming couldn't wait for too long
"DiNozzo," Turner barked at his other Detective, "introductions."
"Captain Turner," DiNozzo didn't snap to attention, he just languidly nodded his head toward the men in the corner, "the grey-haired gentleman on the left is Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS." DiNozzo ignored the growl, though he was secretly pleased at getting a rise out of the very sure NCIS agent. "He's here because one of the victims is a Marine, Lt. Kirby. Gibbs and I haven't sorted out jurisdiction yet."
"Shared," Turner cut across the introductions. "As you seem to be getting along well with Agent Gibbs you can act as the liaison, DiNozzo."
Shared, Gibbs smiled at that though he files the 'grey-haired' comment away for later retribution. Of course his definition of 'shared' and Captain Turner's probably differed quite a bit.
"Okay, Captain." DiNozzo acknowledged before continuing, "The other gentlemen here are Detective Ellison and Dr. Sandburg; both are from Washington State." DiNozzo happily used Sandburg's academic title; rubbing Bunka's mistake in. "Sandburg and Ellison were the gentlemen who called in the shooting, and this?" DiNozzo turned face the doorway indicating that Gibbs should finalize the introductions.
"Dr. Donald Mallard, NCIS' medical examiner. Come on in, Duck."
"Sandburg, hmmmm." The ME was momentarily lost in thought, "I knew a Ms. Sandburg once. She was such a beautiful girl, so full of life unlike you, my poor dear." Ducky Mallard commented as he approached the couch where Lt. Kirby still sat. "Oh dear, we will get you home as soon as possible."
"Duck, TOD?" Gibbs cut across Ducky's patter ignoring the shocked faces about the room.
"Hold your horses, Jethro. I've only just gotten here." The ME waved his hand at the NCIS agent. "Now my dear, this won't hurt a bit," the ME continued talking to the corpse as he carefully inserted a liver temperature probe into her right side. "Jethro, if you want to be of assistance, how about helping Gerald bring the gurney in here."
Turner, Bunka, Sandburg and Ellison looked on in stunned silence as the smallish ME took charge of the room. Even Gibbs, who until now had been all demanding, was deferring to the man.
"He's almost as pushy as you, Chief," Ellison whispered to his partner. "It's always the small ones you have to watch out for."
Gibbs bit back a smirk at the comment. Dangerous things did come in small packages, including dynamite.
"TOD Jethro. Liver temp puts it between 1300 and 1330. Preliminary cause of death, two gunshots to the head, but I'll know more once I get her back to the lab. I can't see any powder burns on the forehead, so early indications are she was not shot at close range. Have photographs been taken yet?"
Gibbs looked to DiNozzo who indicated that no scene work had been done yet. "The Baltimore forensics techs are just arriving Duck. We'll have to wait till they finish processing the scene."
Dr. Mallard didn't have to say anything, it was obvious in his posture, that he was not happy with the situation. "Is there any reason why we managed to get here before Baltimore's finest?" As the speaker for the dead, Donald Mallard did not like leaving the deceased unattended properly for any longer than necessary; the dead should not be made to wait to tell their tales.
"Duck, joint jurisdiction."
"Ah," it seemed that the NCIS had had problems with joint investigation in the past if the tone in Ducky's sigh was anything to go by. "Well, I hope you are taking your own copious notes, Jethro, you don't have someone else to task that with today." Ducky couldn't help the bit of snark at the field agent; after all Jethro had finally driven Stan Burley off and there weren't many agents left at NCIS, none in reality, willing to work with Leroy Jethro Gibbs voluntarily. The look Ducky shot at Gibbs was only accurately interpreted by one man in the room, the intended victim; the message, stop scarring the help off and learn to play with others nicely.
"Detective DiNozzo's has just finished going over Dr. Sandburg's statement. I was hoping that we could walk through his actions while we wait for the techs to finish up here. Is that fine with you gentlemen?" Gibbs quietly took over ignoring the ME and his 'message'.
"Of course, Agent Gibbs." DiNozzo stepped into the breach. "Maybe, Detective Ellison, you could stay here with Detective Bunka and Captain Turner? Go through your actions while Detective Sandburg shows us where he followed the possible perpetrator."
"Detective Sandburg?" Ducky looked up from the corpse he was examining. "I though you said Dr. Sandburg, Detective DiNozzo." Ducky had quite the look on his face, one that Gibbs recognized; Ducky had another puzzle, of the human nature variety, to solve.
"He's both, Dr. Mallard."
"From Cascade, Washington?" The look of intense interest in the ME's eyes increased markedly as his query was confirmed. "You wouldn't be related to Blair Sandburg would you? It's just I remember reading some of his anthropology papers, he's was a brilliant young man but he hasn't published in nearly four years. Just dropped out of the research community; why I remember reading his Master's thesis, he proposed a…"
"I kind of went native while doing my PhD." Blair answered, almost rudely cutting across Dr. Mallard's ramblings. "I ended up joining the police academy and they partnered me with Jim here, no one else was willing to work with him and I drew the short straw."
It was only because Gibbs and DiNozzo were actually watching the pair from Cascade that they saw the twin looks of sorrow that crossed the men's features. There was a story there, and both the Detective and the Agent decided, independently, they would get to the bottom of it.
"Ah yes, the eternal problem for the research anthropologist; looking not touching." Ducky actually looked and sounded disappointed. Neither the look nor the tone was lost on one Jim Ellison, if the tightening around the eyes was anything to go by. "I suppose it is best then that you are no longer researching," Ducky continued seemingly unaware of the turmoil he was causing or the danger he was in.
"Actually, Ducky, Dr. Sandburg appears to have just changed fields." Gibbs spoke up for the younger man, "he's the author of 'The Not So Thin Blue Line.'"
Ducky had the grace to look abashed having apparently realized he'd stepped into an academic mine field. "I'm sorry, Dr. Sandburg, I really shouldn't make snap judgments. It's just that your work on anthropology was such a refreshing breath of fresh air."
"That's okay, Dr. Mallard." Blair tried, and failed, to sound upbeat; as though it was no big deal. The problem was the brave face was never going to work, not with the stony visage that settled over Ellison's expression. Something about Detective Ellison's stance shouting that if there hadn't been an audience there would have been another corpse in the room.
Blair, normally quick to pick up on Ellisonion tension was just rattled enough to miss the early warning signs, unsettled as he was at the reminder of his previous career. Sandburg didn't regret the path he'd taken but that didn't mean that he appreciated having the previous career, which he'd tanked to protect his partner, spoken of in the manner the Dr. Mallard was. Unfortunately, Sandburg's distraction gave Ducky time enough to delve into his own cavernous memory banks. It was at almost the same instant that the two shorter men came back to full awareness of the surroundings; luckily for Blair he woke from his almost fugue state just ahead of Ducky voicing any difficult comments.
Ah, ah, ah choooooo. . . Doctor Mallard was suddenly caught up in a violent sneezing fit. It would have been almost comical watching the short ME try to catch his breath except for the fact that tears were streaming down the older man's face; Ducky's eye getting red and puffy as the fit continued.
Amidst the confusion it was only Gibbs that had noticed the quick flick of Blair's wrist just before his ME was incapacitated. Coincidence or not, Gibbs decided to watch the ex-anthropologist a little more closely.
Jim, seizing the opportunity presented by Dr. Mallard's sneezing fit, suggested that Blair show DiNozzo and Gibbs where he'd trailed the possible perpetrator. Ellison immediately volunteered to remain behind, and give his statement to Bunka as he approached the incapacitated ME. Jim held out a white cotton handkerchief to the ME with his right hand while signaling Blair to leave the room with his left. That Ellison also intended to have a quiet word with the ME wasn't mentioned though Blair gave Jim an odd look before following DiNozzo out the house.
Whether it was good timing, or Ellison had been listening for them, DiNozzo could never say but the forensic techs were just pulling in just as the three men exited the house. DiNozzo wisely snagged one of the forensics team on the basis that they could help collect any, and all, evidence that Sandburg might lead them too.
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With one of the crime scene techs along to photograph, bag and tag, Sandburg led Gibbs and DiNozzo along East 22nd street. A cracked marble mortar sat in the middle of the footpath, with few small fragments of glass from the broken kitchen window, on the north side of the house; no traces of blood could be seen and the surface of the mortar was no conducive to holding fingerprints. A partial boot print, heel only, was found where the garden bed met the footpath.
"How tall do you think the man was?" DiNozzo asked while the scene tech marking off the area around to boot print.
"Five ten, five eleven," Sandburg replied after a moments thought. "He was of a slightly more than medium build; moved like he knew how to fight too."
Raised eyebrows from Gibbs, DiNozzo and the tech -- who was on his mobile phone requesting assistance -- had Sandburg explaining, "Jim works out regularly with a couple of guys at the precinct."
"And," DiNozzo wanted to know how that explained the 'moved like he knew how to fight' comment.
"Okay, Jim's an ex-ranger; he moves a lot like Gibbs here," Sandburg nodded at the NCIS agent. "You, on the other hand, move like a runner. It's habit, I tend to pick up on that sort of body language, being short, Jewish, and a long haired hippy-freak I've gotten very good at spotting who knows how to fight and who doesn't."
DiNozzo wasn't sure if he should be annoyed or not. Sandburg had pegged him as a runner whereas he'd pegged Gibbs as a fighter. Still, one look at Gibbs and maybe it wasn't so surprising; the agent moved in a way that said he knew more than a little about the science of pain, and the inflicting of said.
"Anyway, it was something in the way he kept balanced on his feet as he walked. Like a boxer, always ready to step, duck and weave."
"Anything else you remember?"
"He seemed fairly aware of where he was putting his feet."
Sandburg's comment about the perp's awareness of where he trod was born out as he led Gibbs, DiNozzo and two more scene techs who had joined them, down St. Paul Street. Just past St. Marks Church another partial boot print was found in the tree bed closest to the corner of St. Paul and East 20th.
Another of the techs was left to mark off the area and take a casting of the print while Sandburg showed them where the perpetrator crossed East North Avenue on the west side before walking in front of the KFC. What might have been another partial boot prints was located in front of the KFC but the sheer volume of foot traffic meant that proving it was from their suspect would be difficult. No other sign of the perpetrator passing was found as they walked along East North Avenue and turned south down Greenmount Avenue. Sandburg eventually led them to the entrance of the Greenmount West Cemetery where Sandburg indicated a set of short, shrubby bushes hard up against the bluestone wall.
"Tony," Sandburg walked up to the third bush with his hands weaving in front of him, out of sight of the forensic tech who was currently complaining about being treated like a pack horse. "You can just see the butt of a shotgun here," Blair spoke in a low tone that was almost a command.
Tony noticed that the color of the shrub was almost the same as the wood grain of the gun's butt. If Sandburg hadn't pointed it out he doubted he would have spotted it at all. What Tony didn't know was that if Sandburg hadn't pointed the gun out he'd never have seen it; Sandburg wasn't about to enlighten DiNozzo to that fact however. Calling the tech over, DiNozzo pulled on a pair of latex gloves and prepared to lift the gun from its resting place.
The tech, camera in hand, took several photographs as DiNozzo pulled the weapon from the bush; a model 21 Winchester side-by-side barreled shotgun. The smell of gun powder indicating recent firing; that, and the slight scorching on the leaves from when the still hot weapon had been pushed into the shrub. About a third of the way between the stock and barrel tip melted plastic could be seen fused to the barrel. "Maybe we'll get luck and be able to lift a print or two off the plastic." DiNozzo sounded hopeful.
"But whose?" Gibbs throwing cold water on the idea.
"We'll have to wait till we talked to Jim," Sandburg reminded the men that they had a witness to the guns firing.
"Then we'd better get back, hadn't we? Unless there is anything more you can show us, Sandburg." Gibbs fired the question off.
"Nope, I lost him not long after he ducked inside the cemetery," Sandburg explained without mentioning that the real reason he'd lost the perp at that pointed was the time it had taken to make sure no-one else removed the weapon from the perp's hiding place.
"Well, with luck Bunka's finished with Ellison."
"And still alive," Sandburg quipped, after all he knew Jim of old and he hadn't been in a good mood when they'd left. Actually, Blair was more worried about the ME's safety, "Your ME, he wouldn't start asking Jim questions, would he?" Sandburg asked Gibbs as the older man fell instep beside him.
"Why, worried Ellison might say something he shouldn't?" Gibbs was fairly certain that wasn't why Sandburg asked the question but he wanted to see how the young man fielded it.
"No, I'm more worried about whether or not you'll still have an ME if he pushed Jim."
"Then we'd better get back quickly, hadn't we."
"Oh, shit."
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It didn't take Bunka long to take down Ellison's statement. Jim had long since perfected the art of the minimalist answer. "I broke though the front door. I saw two men fighting; Ted was holding a shotgun trying to aim it at a second man while the second man, identity unknown, was wrestling with the barrel of the gun. The second man managed to force the barrel down and towards Ted's head. I yelled, identifying myself as a police officer. Neither man stopped fighting over the gun. I don't know if Ted pulled the trigger or if the second man did as the trigger mechanism was out of my line of sight. Two shots were fired then the second man turned and fled toward the kitchen. The second man used a mortar bowl to break the window and he escaped out the side. I saw Blair following up the side of the house. I went and attempted to provide first aid to Ted."
Short, just the facts. No mention was made of the blinding headache that resulted from two quick shotgun succession while his hearing was dialed up. Nor did he comment about the fact that he knew both victims were dead and beyond help before he'd followed the perpetrator towards the kitchen. He also failed to comment on the fact that he'd taken as deep a breath as possible in an attempt to 'scent' the perp; the switchman case had taught him the value of smell, even if only for exculpatory purposes. Jim definitely didn't make any comment about getting caught in the pretty patterns of light that refracted through the broken glass; he knew Sandburg was going to have his ass for that stunt.
Short, however, could not be said for the time it took to process the scene. The forensic techs that remained, after Blair and company had commandeered three of their company, were actually glad of the presence of one Detective Ellison. Bunka and Turner were both more than happy to leave the crawling around to the younger, more flexible, techs but that had left the techs seriously short handed. Still, a polite comment -- Jim was capable of those when he chose to be -- and a promise not to actually touch anything, and Jim was dragooned into assisting.
Extending his hearing and keeping it locked onto his partner acted as enough of an anchor that Ellison was able to let his superior senses of sight and touch loose. With Jim's assistance the tech were able to locate where the shooter had probably been when he'd shot Lt. Kirby; two very small dints in the wooden floor where the shell casing had hit the floor. Also found was a shoe print that didn't match any of the shoes in the house, a couple of tufts of wool fibre caught on a protruding nail near the back door and a partial hand where a mortar and pestle had rested in the kitchen. Unfortunately the print was a side print, no finger tips. The tufts, on the other hand, carried the same scent that Jim had picked up in the kitchen, reinforcing the sense memory.
Further careful searching also located the two shotgun casings but no sign could be found of the metal casings for the bullets used to shoot Lt. Kirby. While the forensics personnel dealt with the scene the Baltimore ME quietly and efficiently dealt with Ted Williams' corpse conferring occasionally with the NCIS ME.
When both bodies were almost ready for transport the Baltimore ME approached Turner to clarify who was taking whom, and where. Turner, with his department, already back logged, had already decided that if the Navy cops were going to be involved he may as well make use of the fact. Two other homicides this morning already awaited Turner's ME so if he could palm Williams off he was going too. Ducky, on hearing the suggestion was more than happy to take over; it meant one less turf war; Gibbs would have wanted both bodies.
With most of the forensics handled Captain Turner would have preferred to head back to the station but the man hadn't mad captain by being a fool. Whether or not DiNozzo was correct in his suspicions that this was part of a serial, unlikely as far as Turner and Bunka were concerned, this case had crossed into Fed territory. Unfortunately, for Turner, Bunka would never be the first choice for primary if they had to deal with the Feds. While the scene had been processed Turner had called in a few favors and had gotten the low down on Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. One fact stood out amongst all the others; Gibbs would be taking the case whether Baltimore wanted to hand it over or not.
As for Sandburg and Ellison; Bunka couldn't have picked a better way to attempt career suicide if he'd tried. Turner wasn't going to be making any sucker bets with anyone of the Sandburg and Ellison front. If DiNozzo hadn't mentioned his suspicions about a possible serial killer in Baltimore to Sandburg then Bunka was going to waving the GLAD banner at the next policeman's ball.
Now there was another problem in the making. The military had 'don't ask, don't tell, don't pursue'; which didn't work too well either but at least there was a policy. The police departments, unlike the military, didn't really have a policy. The PD's, Baltimore included, also had more than one dinosaur on the books; bigoted dinosaurs. The current issue for Turner was that, while no one had actually come out and said anything, reading between the lines there was a lot more between Sandburg and Ellison than just the fraternal order of police. Still, with the pair's impressive close rate no one was saying anything in Cascade but here in Baltimore. . .
Turner, needing to get back to the station, almost dragged Bunka into one of the back rooms of the house. Away from prying eyes the Captain took the opportunity to acquaint his subordinate with the house rules for this investigation. Bunka might me the senior detective in the Bunka-DiNozzo pair but DiNozzo had the better people skills. Also, if the rumors circulating around the station about DiNozzo's sexuality were even remotely true then he'd be the better liaison; even if the rumors weren't true it was obvious to Turner that Gibbs, Ellison and Sandburg seemed happy to work with DiNozzo whereas they'd all completely ignored the Bunka.
Meanwhile, with events quietening down at the primary scene Jim took advantage of a lull in activity near Lt. Kirby's corpse. Jim made his way towards the medical examiner, intent of having a few words with the man before his partner returned. Gerald, a man who seemed to be able to sense danger, had almost precipitously left the room leaving Doctor Mallard to deal with the unhappy gentleman from Cascade.
"Gerald, now where has that boy gotten to?" Ducky, unaware that his life was now at risk, yelled when he noticed his assistant wasn't right beside him.
"I think he went outside, Dr. Mallard," Ellison bobbed down beside the NCIS ME. "I don't think he'll be too long."
"Ahhh. So, Detective Ellison, is there anything you'd like to talk about?" Donald Mallard had spent a few too many years observing human nature to have missed the by-play between Ellison and Sandburg earlier. He'd been about to voice his suspicions when he'd been struck by the need to sneeze, an event he was beginning to suspect had been no coincidence. The speed with which the young ex-anthropologist had left the house, Gibbs and the other detective in tow, had only increased his suspicions; particularly as the need to continue indulging the sternutatory reflex had disappeared with the anthropologist.
"I'd take it as a personal favor, Dr. Mallard, if you would not make anymore comments that might upset my partner. You have no idea of the sacrifices he has made as a result of 'going native'." Ellison might not have meant to sound so threatening. . . might, but Ducky wasn't about to bet any money on that fact. The ME had dealt with Gibbs long enough to recognize a dangerous individual not matter how hard they tried to hide the fact and Ellison wasn't even trying.
Ellison, for his part, was torn between wanting to rip the ME a new one and the need to protect the man; another thing he'd have to ask Blair about later. Like it or not, the Cascade Detective had learned the hard way that his Sentinel instincts should be listened too; and those instinct were up and yelling. He couldn't place it, yet, but something about the ME was important.
"I am truly sorry, Detective Ellison. I didn't mean to upset your young guide," Ducky threw out the title carefully, watching Ellison closely. If Ducky's suspicions were correct then the Detective was more than just a detective. Blair Sandburg, the anthropologist, had written of a specialized type of human in his master's thesis, a tribal guardian or Sentinel. The same Blair Sandburg had later committed academic suicide claiming to have falsified his PhD research but up until then everything that Sandburg had published had been well research, erudite and insightful. Said Blair Sandburg now worked as The Detective's partner; a coincidence, not likely.
So, was Ellison a Sentinel? Ducky hoped to find out that the Sandburg he'd admired was in fact incapable of the sort of deceit the young man had claimed on National Television. What Ducky failed to consider in his quest to satisfy his curiosity was that the person he was asking was exceedingly protective of one Blair Sandburg and would do anything to prevent his partner being put back into that particular spotlight.
"While he was partnered with me Blair Sandburg wrote a novel as his way of sublimating his desire to 'go native' as it were," Ellison didn't even flinch at Dr. Mallard's use of the word Guide. "Unfortunately it was accidentally released to the public as his PhD thesis."
"And that led to him leaving academia? I would have thought that if that had all been straightened out there would have been no need for him to leave the academic world. The academic world is definitely poorer for his leaving it. Why, I remember reading a paper he wrote on the effect of television on the aggressive responses of primates. He postulated that primates were adversely affected by too much exposure to violence on television. His findings I remember were rather controversial, after all no one wants to admit that just by watching television humans are more likely to behave aggressively."
Ducky, who had failed of observe any quantifiable reaction to the use of the word Guide was surprised to watch a look of fond remembrance dance across the stern features of the Cascade Detective; the man almost smiled. The murmured 'Barbary ape, not monkey' making no sense at all to the ME.
"So, his joining the police force had nothing to do with protecting his Sentinel?" Ducky pushed.
"Dr. Mallard, I suggest you do your job and leave the speculation to the investigators," Ellison leaned so far into Ducky's personal space that he may as well have taken it over. Angry at being pushed, worried because his Guide was out of sight, and confused because of the conflict between his feelings and his instinct about the ME all worked together to push Ellison toward the more primal side of his Sentinel nature. Ducky's continued questions were now registering as a threat and the Sentinel's methods of dealing with threats were simple, and extreme. If it hadn't been for the nominal control Ellison still had over his Sentinel persona Dr. Mallard would have been in need of his own serves. As it was Ellison's eyes narrowed, like a cat observing its prey, and his nostrils flared as he scented the threat. "Do not threaten my Guide."
One second Ducky feared for his life, the next he was trying to get a comatose Jim Ellison into the recovery position.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
TBC. . .
Chapter One Chapter Two
"No."
"Comments like that going to cause you trouble?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On how stupid Valdez and Benden are. If they think Bunka's talking out his ass, no problems, if not, time to polish the resume again."
"Again?"
"Look Gibbs, I don't know what it's like in the military, but out here in the real world rumors can be killers."
"And this one started where?"
"Let's just say someone doesn't want me to be a cop and has found that spreading certain rumors is a good way to get me 'transferred'. I suppose when I run out of options I'll be forced to go home and look after the family business."
That comment got everyone's attention.
"You mean your family is putting it about that you're Gay?" Blair had had enough trouble in Cascade just based on his looks alone to know how dangerous that sort of rumor was to anyone in law enforcement; true or not. Blair didn't have any more problems in Cascade but that was because he'd paid his dues in full; lifetime membership, paid up front with a huge bonus thrown in. But the real world wasn't Cascade.
"Bi, actually." DiNozzo was surprisingly calm with the fact. "Father disowned me when I was twelve because I wasn't interested in the family business. That I've made a life for myself without his help apparently galls him so this is his way of trying to force me back into the fold."
By now there was a palpable aura around Sandburg; red enough even the most mundane would have seen it. DiNozzo and Gibbs wisely took a step back from the enraged young man. Ellison looking at his partner decided they needed a distraction and they needed one before Mount Sandburg blew; fate, fickle creature that she was actually obliged for once, "Blair, cars out front."
Bunka and DiNozzo Senior were safe, for the moment.
"Captain Turner," Bunka walked into the living room, leading a tall thin man who had close cropped black hair, a gaunt face and eyes that didn't miss a thing, "looks like home invasion gone wrong. Neighbors remember hearing an SUV pull up followed by shouting and then two gunshots. Mrs. Housemeirer, the neighbor, east on 22nd, remembers seeing a short, curly haired hippy sneaking past her house moments after the shots were fired."
Or not.
Nobody was surprised when all heads turned to face Blair, though the look on Ellison's face wasn't shock as Gibbs had been expecting. The phrase 'looked like a cat that'd gotten the cream' tended to be over used but in this case that was exactly the look on Ellison's face. Gibbs wasn't even surprised to see Ellison mouth 'Chief?' with an interrogative eyebrow lift.
Sandburg just smiled.
DiNozzo, catching the smile, found himself returning it. Earlier comments about walking a beat till the Chief retired if they tried to arrest Dr. Sandburg without a very strong case, evidence heavy like plutonium heavy, were evidently remembered.
"I left DiNozzo questioning the suspect while I did a perimeter walk." Bunka kept relaying the facts as he perceived them to his Captain. "One of the deceased is a Marine Lieutenant which means we'll have a jurisdictional nightmare."
Turner looked about the room, eyes taking in everything; including the fact that DiNozzo hadn't apparently 'cuffed' the suspect.
"Captain Turner," DiNozzo approached his superior officer with a lank and easy grace that totally juxtaposed Bunka's jackboot stomp, "I was just finishing up with Dr. Blair Sandburg's statement."
"Dr. Blair Sandburg?" Turner looked back at the group of men standing at ease in the far corner of the room.
"Um, yes," DiNozzo cringed, theatrically if you were looking for it, "the hippy. Dr. Sandburg and Detective Ellison of Cascade, Washington, were apparently driving by when they heard shots fired. Detective Sandburg called it in while Detective Ellison apparently entered the house in an attempt to assist whoever was under fire."
"Jethro?" The man that poked head into the room appeared to be short, square jawed and somewhat older then all the others present. His eyes lighting up, a brilliant blue, when he spotted Gibbs standing in the corner with two other men.
"Duck," Gibbs was pleased to see his old friend, the NCIS medical examiner, finally arrive on scene; particularly as he'd arrived before Baltimore's coronial crew. Made claiming Kirby's body that much easier. "Come on in so we can get this started. You don't mind, DiNozzo?" The last was directed at Tony who was still caught up on explaining what was going on to his boss.
The look Tony sent Gibbs way implied he knew exactly what the NCIS agent was up to. Still, he didn't object. Instead Tony indicated with a nod of his head that introductions were in order and then they'd settle up the turf war.
Turner, meanwhile, was staring at Sandburg with a look of horror. If, as DiNozzo seemed to imply, the 'hippy' was the Dr. Sandburg who had written 'The Not So Thin Blue Line' then some explanations and introductions were definitely in order. Quietly reaming Bunka a new one would have to wait till he could have a private word with the man. Still, said reaming couldn't wait for too long
"DiNozzo," Turner barked at his other Detective, "introductions."
"Captain Turner," DiNozzo didn't snap to attention, he just languidly nodded his head toward the men in the corner, "the grey-haired gentleman on the left is Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS." DiNozzo ignored the growl, though he was secretly pleased at getting a rise out of the very sure NCIS agent. "He's here because one of the victims is a Marine, Lt. Kirby. Gibbs and I haven't sorted out jurisdiction yet."
"Shared," Turner cut across the introductions. "As you seem to be getting along well with Agent Gibbs you can act as the liaison, DiNozzo."
Shared, Gibbs smiled at that though he files the 'grey-haired' comment away for later retribution. Of course his definition of 'shared' and Captain Turner's probably differed quite a bit.
"Okay, Captain." DiNozzo acknowledged before continuing, "The other gentlemen here are Detective Ellison and Dr. Sandburg; both are from Washington State." DiNozzo happily used Sandburg's academic title; rubbing Bunka's mistake in. "Sandburg and Ellison were the gentlemen who called in the shooting, and this?" DiNozzo turned face the doorway indicating that Gibbs should finalize the introductions.
"Dr. Donald Mallard, NCIS' medical examiner. Come on in, Duck."
"Sandburg, hmmmm." The ME was momentarily lost in thought, "I knew a Ms. Sandburg once. She was such a beautiful girl, so full of life unlike you, my poor dear." Ducky Mallard commented as he approached the couch where Lt. Kirby still sat. "Oh dear, we will get you home as soon as possible."
"Duck, TOD?" Gibbs cut across Ducky's patter ignoring the shocked faces about the room.
"Hold your horses, Jethro. I've only just gotten here." The ME waved his hand at the NCIS agent. "Now my dear, this won't hurt a bit," the ME continued talking to the corpse as he carefully inserted a liver temperature probe into her right side. "Jethro, if you want to be of assistance, how about helping Gerald bring the gurney in here."
Turner, Bunka, Sandburg and Ellison looked on in stunned silence as the smallish ME took charge of the room. Even Gibbs, who until now had been all demanding, was deferring to the man.
"He's almost as pushy as you, Chief," Ellison whispered to his partner. "It's always the small ones you have to watch out for."
Gibbs bit back a smirk at the comment. Dangerous things did come in small packages, including dynamite.
"TOD Jethro. Liver temp puts it between 1300 and 1330. Preliminary cause of death, two gunshots to the head, but I'll know more once I get her back to the lab. I can't see any powder burns on the forehead, so early indications are she was not shot at close range. Have photographs been taken yet?"
Gibbs looked to DiNozzo who indicated that no scene work had been done yet. "The Baltimore forensics techs are just arriving Duck. We'll have to wait till they finish processing the scene."
Dr. Mallard didn't have to say anything, it was obvious in his posture, that he was not happy with the situation. "Is there any reason why we managed to get here before Baltimore's finest?" As the speaker for the dead, Donald Mallard did not like leaving the deceased unattended properly for any longer than necessary; the dead should not be made to wait to tell their tales.
"Duck, joint jurisdiction."
"Ah," it seemed that the NCIS had had problems with joint investigation in the past if the tone in Ducky's sigh was anything to go by. "Well, I hope you are taking your own copious notes, Jethro, you don't have someone else to task that with today." Ducky couldn't help the bit of snark at the field agent; after all Jethro had finally driven Stan Burley off and there weren't many agents left at NCIS, none in reality, willing to work with Leroy Jethro Gibbs voluntarily. The look Ducky shot at Gibbs was only accurately interpreted by one man in the room, the intended victim; the message, stop scarring the help off and learn to play with others nicely.
"Detective DiNozzo's has just finished going over Dr. Sandburg's statement. I was hoping that we could walk through his actions while we wait for the techs to finish up here. Is that fine with you gentlemen?" Gibbs quietly took over ignoring the ME and his 'message'.
"Of course, Agent Gibbs." DiNozzo stepped into the breach. "Maybe, Detective Ellison, you could stay here with Detective Bunka and Captain Turner? Go through your actions while Detective Sandburg shows us where he followed the possible perpetrator."
"Detective Sandburg?" Ducky looked up from the corpse he was examining. "I though you said Dr. Sandburg, Detective DiNozzo." Ducky had quite the look on his face, one that Gibbs recognized; Ducky had another puzzle, of the human nature variety, to solve.
"He's both, Dr. Mallard."
"From Cascade, Washington?" The look of intense interest in the ME's eyes increased markedly as his query was confirmed. "You wouldn't be related to Blair Sandburg would you? It's just I remember reading some of his anthropology papers, he's was a brilliant young man but he hasn't published in nearly four years. Just dropped out of the research community; why I remember reading his Master's thesis, he proposed a…"
"I kind of went native while doing my PhD." Blair answered, almost rudely cutting across Dr. Mallard's ramblings. "I ended up joining the police academy and they partnered me with Jim here, no one else was willing to work with him and I drew the short straw."
It was only because Gibbs and DiNozzo were actually watching the pair from Cascade that they saw the twin looks of sorrow that crossed the men's features. There was a story there, and both the Detective and the Agent decided, independently, they would get to the bottom of it.
"Ah yes, the eternal problem for the research anthropologist; looking not touching." Ducky actually looked and sounded disappointed. Neither the look nor the tone was lost on one Jim Ellison, if the tightening around the eyes was anything to go by. "I suppose it is best then that you are no longer researching," Ducky continued seemingly unaware of the turmoil he was causing or the danger he was in.
"Actually, Ducky, Dr. Sandburg appears to have just changed fields." Gibbs spoke up for the younger man, "he's the author of 'The Not So Thin Blue Line.'"
Ducky had the grace to look abashed having apparently realized he'd stepped into an academic mine field. "I'm sorry, Dr. Sandburg, I really shouldn't make snap judgments. It's just that your work on anthropology was such a refreshing breath of fresh air."
"That's okay, Dr. Mallard." Blair tried, and failed, to sound upbeat; as though it was no big deal. The problem was the brave face was never going to work, not with the stony visage that settled over Ellison's expression. Something about Detective Ellison's stance shouting that if there hadn't been an audience there would have been another corpse in the room.
Blair, normally quick to pick up on Ellisonion tension was just rattled enough to miss the early warning signs, unsettled as he was at the reminder of his previous career. Sandburg didn't regret the path he'd taken but that didn't mean that he appreciated having the previous career, which he'd tanked to protect his partner, spoken of in the manner the Dr. Mallard was. Unfortunately, Sandburg's distraction gave Ducky time enough to delve into his own cavernous memory banks. It was at almost the same instant that the two shorter men came back to full awareness of the surroundings; luckily for Blair he woke from his almost fugue state just ahead of Ducky voicing any difficult comments.
Ah, ah, ah choooooo. . . Doctor Mallard was suddenly caught up in a violent sneezing fit. It would have been almost comical watching the short ME try to catch his breath except for the fact that tears were streaming down the older man's face; Ducky's eye getting red and puffy as the fit continued.
Amidst the confusion it was only Gibbs that had noticed the quick flick of Blair's wrist just before his ME was incapacitated. Coincidence or not, Gibbs decided to watch the ex-anthropologist a little more closely.
Jim, seizing the opportunity presented by Dr. Mallard's sneezing fit, suggested that Blair show DiNozzo and Gibbs where he'd trailed the possible perpetrator. Ellison immediately volunteered to remain behind, and give his statement to Bunka as he approached the incapacitated ME. Jim held out a white cotton handkerchief to the ME with his right hand while signaling Blair to leave the room with his left. That Ellison also intended to have a quiet word with the ME wasn't mentioned though Blair gave Jim an odd look before following DiNozzo out the house.
Whether it was good timing, or Ellison had been listening for them, DiNozzo could never say but the forensic techs were just pulling in just as the three men exited the house. DiNozzo wisely snagged one of the forensics team on the basis that they could help collect any, and all, evidence that Sandburg might lead them too.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
With one of the crime scene techs along to photograph, bag and tag, Sandburg led Gibbs and DiNozzo along East 22nd street. A cracked marble mortar sat in the middle of the footpath, with few small fragments of glass from the broken kitchen window, on the north side of the house; no traces of blood could be seen and the surface of the mortar was no conducive to holding fingerprints. A partial boot print, heel only, was found where the garden bed met the footpath.
"How tall do you think the man was?" DiNozzo asked while the scene tech marking off the area around to boot print.
"Five ten, five eleven," Sandburg replied after a moments thought. "He was of a slightly more than medium build; moved like he knew how to fight too."
Raised eyebrows from Gibbs, DiNozzo and the tech -- who was on his mobile phone requesting assistance -- had Sandburg explaining, "Jim works out regularly with a couple of guys at the precinct."
"And," DiNozzo wanted to know how that explained the 'moved like he knew how to fight' comment.
"Okay, Jim's an ex-ranger; he moves a lot like Gibbs here," Sandburg nodded at the NCIS agent. "You, on the other hand, move like a runner. It's habit, I tend to pick up on that sort of body language, being short, Jewish, and a long haired hippy-freak I've gotten very good at spotting who knows how to fight and who doesn't."
DiNozzo wasn't sure if he should be annoyed or not. Sandburg had pegged him as a runner whereas he'd pegged Gibbs as a fighter. Still, one look at Gibbs and maybe it wasn't so surprising; the agent moved in a way that said he knew more than a little about the science of pain, and the inflicting of said.
"Anyway, it was something in the way he kept balanced on his feet as he walked. Like a boxer, always ready to step, duck and weave."
"Anything else you remember?"
"He seemed fairly aware of where he was putting his feet."
Sandburg's comment about the perp's awareness of where he trod was born out as he led Gibbs, DiNozzo and two more scene techs who had joined them, down St. Paul Street. Just past St. Marks Church another partial boot print was found in the tree bed closest to the corner of St. Paul and East 20th.
Another of the techs was left to mark off the area and take a casting of the print while Sandburg showed them where the perpetrator crossed East North Avenue on the west side before walking in front of the KFC. What might have been another partial boot prints was located in front of the KFC but the sheer volume of foot traffic meant that proving it was from their suspect would be difficult. No other sign of the perpetrator passing was found as they walked along East North Avenue and turned south down Greenmount Avenue. Sandburg eventually led them to the entrance of the Greenmount West Cemetery where Sandburg indicated a set of short, shrubby bushes hard up against the bluestone wall.
"Tony," Sandburg walked up to the third bush with his hands weaving in front of him, out of sight of the forensic tech who was currently complaining about being treated like a pack horse. "You can just see the butt of a shotgun here," Blair spoke in a low tone that was almost a command.
Tony noticed that the color of the shrub was almost the same as the wood grain of the gun's butt. If Sandburg hadn't pointed it out he doubted he would have spotted it at all. What Tony didn't know was that if Sandburg hadn't pointed the gun out he'd never have seen it; Sandburg wasn't about to enlighten DiNozzo to that fact however. Calling the tech over, DiNozzo pulled on a pair of latex gloves and prepared to lift the gun from its resting place.
The tech, camera in hand, took several photographs as DiNozzo pulled the weapon from the bush; a model 21 Winchester side-by-side barreled shotgun. The smell of gun powder indicating recent firing; that, and the slight scorching on the leaves from when the still hot weapon had been pushed into the shrub. About a third of the way between the stock and barrel tip melted plastic could be seen fused to the barrel. "Maybe we'll get luck and be able to lift a print or two off the plastic." DiNozzo sounded hopeful.
"But whose?" Gibbs throwing cold water on the idea.
"We'll have to wait till we talked to Jim," Sandburg reminded the men that they had a witness to the guns firing.
"Then we'd better get back, hadn't we? Unless there is anything more you can show us, Sandburg." Gibbs fired the question off.
"Nope, I lost him not long after he ducked inside the cemetery," Sandburg explained without mentioning that the real reason he'd lost the perp at that pointed was the time it had taken to make sure no-one else removed the weapon from the perp's hiding place.
"Well, with luck Bunka's finished with Ellison."
"And still alive," Sandburg quipped, after all he knew Jim of old and he hadn't been in a good mood when they'd left. Actually, Blair was more worried about the ME's safety, "Your ME, he wouldn't start asking Jim questions, would he?" Sandburg asked Gibbs as the older man fell instep beside him.
"Why, worried Ellison might say something he shouldn't?" Gibbs was fairly certain that wasn't why Sandburg asked the question but he wanted to see how the young man fielded it.
"No, I'm more worried about whether or not you'll still have an ME if he pushed Jim."
"Then we'd better get back quickly, hadn't we."
"Oh, shit."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It didn't take Bunka long to take down Ellison's statement. Jim had long since perfected the art of the minimalist answer. "I broke though the front door. I saw two men fighting; Ted was holding a shotgun trying to aim it at a second man while the second man, identity unknown, was wrestling with the barrel of the gun. The second man managed to force the barrel down and towards Ted's head. I yelled, identifying myself as a police officer. Neither man stopped fighting over the gun. I don't know if Ted pulled the trigger or if the second man did as the trigger mechanism was out of my line of sight. Two shots were fired then the second man turned and fled toward the kitchen. The second man used a mortar bowl to break the window and he escaped out the side. I saw Blair following up the side of the house. I went and attempted to provide first aid to Ted."
Short, just the facts. No mention was made of the blinding headache that resulted from two quick shotgun succession while his hearing was dialed up. Nor did he comment about the fact that he knew both victims were dead and beyond help before he'd followed the perpetrator towards the kitchen. He also failed to comment on the fact that he'd taken as deep a breath as possible in an attempt to 'scent' the perp; the switchman case had taught him the value of smell, even if only for exculpatory purposes. Jim definitely didn't make any comment about getting caught in the pretty patterns of light that refracted through the broken glass; he knew Sandburg was going to have his ass for that stunt.
Short, however, could not be said for the time it took to process the scene. The forensic techs that remained, after Blair and company had commandeered three of their company, were actually glad of the presence of one Detective Ellison. Bunka and Turner were both more than happy to leave the crawling around to the younger, more flexible, techs but that had left the techs seriously short handed. Still, a polite comment -- Jim was capable of those when he chose to be -- and a promise not to actually touch anything, and Jim was dragooned into assisting.
Extending his hearing and keeping it locked onto his partner acted as enough of an anchor that Ellison was able to let his superior senses of sight and touch loose. With Jim's assistance the tech were able to locate where the shooter had probably been when he'd shot Lt. Kirby; two very small dints in the wooden floor where the shell casing had hit the floor. Also found was a shoe print that didn't match any of the shoes in the house, a couple of tufts of wool fibre caught on a protruding nail near the back door and a partial hand where a mortar and pestle had rested in the kitchen. Unfortunately the print was a side print, no finger tips. The tufts, on the other hand, carried the same scent that Jim had picked up in the kitchen, reinforcing the sense memory.
Further careful searching also located the two shotgun casings but no sign could be found of the metal casings for the bullets used to shoot Lt. Kirby. While the forensics personnel dealt with the scene the Baltimore ME quietly and efficiently dealt with Ted Williams' corpse conferring occasionally with the NCIS ME.
When both bodies were almost ready for transport the Baltimore ME approached Turner to clarify who was taking whom, and where. Turner, with his department, already back logged, had already decided that if the Navy cops were going to be involved he may as well make use of the fact. Two other homicides this morning already awaited Turner's ME so if he could palm Williams off he was going too. Ducky, on hearing the suggestion was more than happy to take over; it meant one less turf war; Gibbs would have wanted both bodies.
With most of the forensics handled Captain Turner would have preferred to head back to the station but the man hadn't mad captain by being a fool. Whether or not DiNozzo was correct in his suspicions that this was part of a serial, unlikely as far as Turner and Bunka were concerned, this case had crossed into Fed territory. Unfortunately, for Turner, Bunka would never be the first choice for primary if they had to deal with the Feds. While the scene had been processed Turner had called in a few favors and had gotten the low down on Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. One fact stood out amongst all the others; Gibbs would be taking the case whether Baltimore wanted to hand it over or not.
As for Sandburg and Ellison; Bunka couldn't have picked a better way to attempt career suicide if he'd tried. Turner wasn't going to be making any sucker bets with anyone of the Sandburg and Ellison front. If DiNozzo hadn't mentioned his suspicions about a possible serial killer in Baltimore to Sandburg then Bunka was going to waving the GLAD banner at the next policeman's ball.
Now there was another problem in the making. The military had 'don't ask, don't tell, don't pursue'; which didn't work too well either but at least there was a policy. The police departments, unlike the military, didn't really have a policy. The PD's, Baltimore included, also had more than one dinosaur on the books; bigoted dinosaurs. The current issue for Turner was that, while no one had actually come out and said anything, reading between the lines there was a lot more between Sandburg and Ellison than just the fraternal order of police. Still, with the pair's impressive close rate no one was saying anything in Cascade but here in Baltimore. . .
Turner, needing to get back to the station, almost dragged Bunka into one of the back rooms of the house. Away from prying eyes the Captain took the opportunity to acquaint his subordinate with the house rules for this investigation. Bunka might me the senior detective in the Bunka-DiNozzo pair but DiNozzo had the better people skills. Also, if the rumors circulating around the station about DiNozzo's sexuality were even remotely true then he'd be the better liaison; even if the rumors weren't true it was obvious to Turner that Gibbs, Ellison and Sandburg seemed happy to work with DiNozzo whereas they'd all completely ignored the Bunka.
Meanwhile, with events quietening down at the primary scene Jim took advantage of a lull in activity near Lt. Kirby's corpse. Jim made his way towards the medical examiner, intent of having a few words with the man before his partner returned. Gerald, a man who seemed to be able to sense danger, had almost precipitously left the room leaving Doctor Mallard to deal with the unhappy gentleman from Cascade.
"Gerald, now where has that boy gotten to?" Ducky, unaware that his life was now at risk, yelled when he noticed his assistant wasn't right beside him.
"I think he went outside, Dr. Mallard," Ellison bobbed down beside the NCIS ME. "I don't think he'll be too long."
"Ahhh. So, Detective Ellison, is there anything you'd like to talk about?" Donald Mallard had spent a few too many years observing human nature to have missed the by-play between Ellison and Sandburg earlier. He'd been about to voice his suspicions when he'd been struck by the need to sneeze, an event he was beginning to suspect had been no coincidence. The speed with which the young ex-anthropologist had left the house, Gibbs and the other detective in tow, had only increased his suspicions; particularly as the need to continue indulging the sternutatory reflex had disappeared with the anthropologist.
"I'd take it as a personal favor, Dr. Mallard, if you would not make anymore comments that might upset my partner. You have no idea of the sacrifices he has made as a result of 'going native'." Ellison might not have meant to sound so threatening. . . might, but Ducky wasn't about to bet any money on that fact. The ME had dealt with Gibbs long enough to recognize a dangerous individual not matter how hard they tried to hide the fact and Ellison wasn't even trying.
Ellison, for his part, was torn between wanting to rip the ME a new one and the need to protect the man; another thing he'd have to ask Blair about later. Like it or not, the Cascade Detective had learned the hard way that his Sentinel instincts should be listened too; and those instinct were up and yelling. He couldn't place it, yet, but something about the ME was important.
"I am truly sorry, Detective Ellison. I didn't mean to upset your young guide," Ducky threw out the title carefully, watching Ellison closely. If Ducky's suspicions were correct then the Detective was more than just a detective. Blair Sandburg, the anthropologist, had written of a specialized type of human in his master's thesis, a tribal guardian or Sentinel. The same Blair Sandburg had later committed academic suicide claiming to have falsified his PhD research but up until then everything that Sandburg had published had been well research, erudite and insightful. Said Blair Sandburg now worked as The Detective's partner; a coincidence, not likely.
So, was Ellison a Sentinel? Ducky hoped to find out that the Sandburg he'd admired was in fact incapable of the sort of deceit the young man had claimed on National Television. What Ducky failed to consider in his quest to satisfy his curiosity was that the person he was asking was exceedingly protective of one Blair Sandburg and would do anything to prevent his partner being put back into that particular spotlight.
"While he was partnered with me Blair Sandburg wrote a novel as his way of sublimating his desire to 'go native' as it were," Ellison didn't even flinch at Dr. Mallard's use of the word Guide. "Unfortunately it was accidentally released to the public as his PhD thesis."
"And that led to him leaving academia? I would have thought that if that had all been straightened out there would have been no need for him to leave the academic world. The academic world is definitely poorer for his leaving it. Why, I remember reading a paper he wrote on the effect of television on the aggressive responses of primates. He postulated that primates were adversely affected by too much exposure to violence on television. His findings I remember were rather controversial, after all no one wants to admit that just by watching television humans are more likely to behave aggressively."
Ducky, who had failed of observe any quantifiable reaction to the use of the word Guide was surprised to watch a look of fond remembrance dance across the stern features of the Cascade Detective; the man almost smiled. The murmured 'Barbary ape, not monkey' making no sense at all to the ME.
"So, his joining the police force had nothing to do with protecting his Sentinel?" Ducky pushed.
"Dr. Mallard, I suggest you do your job and leave the speculation to the investigators," Ellison leaned so far into Ducky's personal space that he may as well have taken it over. Angry at being pushed, worried because his Guide was out of sight, and confused because of the conflict between his feelings and his instinct about the ME all worked together to push Ellison toward the more primal side of his Sentinel nature. Ducky's continued questions were now registering as a threat and the Sentinel's methods of dealing with threats were simple, and extreme. If it hadn't been for the nominal control Ellison still had over his Sentinel persona Dr. Mallard would have been in need of his own serves. As it was Ellison's eyes narrowed, like a cat observing its prey, and his nostrils flared as he scented the threat. "Do not threaten my Guide."
One second Ducky feared for his life, the next he was trying to get a comatose Jim Ellison into the recovery position.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
TBC. . .
Chapter One Chapter Two