REVISED NCIS/TS Fic: The Cost of Divorce 10/?
The Cost of Divorce
Rating: FRT
Pairing: Jim/Blair: Established relationship. Jim/Gibbs: Past Relationship. Gibbs/DiNozzo pre-slash.
Summary: An NCIS agent, a Baltimore detective, a Sentinel, a Guide, a serial killer. What more do you need?
Chapter Summary:
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from the TV-shows "NCIS" and "The Sentinel". NCIS is created and owned by David P. Bellisarius and CBS. The Sentinel still belongs to Paramount and Pet Fly. I'm just playing… No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Beta'd by: by my (in)significant other... Any mistakes left are mine and somewhat deliberate.
For: Ree/Triskellion... she knows why and thanks again
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter One. / Chapter Two. / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight. / Chapter Nine.
Chapter Ten
It was Ranger-trained reflexes and Sentinel monitoring that combined to prevent Ducky from landing ignominiously on the floor. Office chairs tended to roll out from under people if they sat down the wrong way, and collapsing back into an office chair definitely countered as the wrong way.
"Oh, my..." Ducky did a double-take as he processed what Jim had just said. "Naomi… ummm, Sandburg? Blair’s mother? Oh my..." Ducky said again, just to make it more real.
“You didn’t know?" The question was purely rhetorical. Jim had been monitoring Ducky from the moment he'd started his tirade, so he was well aware of the heart rate spike the moment the Doctor had connected the dots.
''Absolutely none." Ducky whispered, still processing.
"Damn," Jim did not sound happy. "We’re gonna have to tell Blair, you realize.”
Ducky blinked at the pronouncement, "Are certain that is the right course of action, my boy?" Finding out you had a fully-grown son would throw anyone off their game. Luckily for the good doctor, his tone of voice was tinged with worry and regret rather than any emotion that said he really didn't want to acknowledge any possible connections Blair Sandburg.
"If we don't and Blair finds out… well, let’s just say that Blair has a temper”, Jim commented with fond tolerance. For all of Blair protestations about how he didn't really care about the identity of his father; he'd had a fantastic childhood; he’d seen seven world series finals; he’d been to six of the seven continent before he was a teen… However, the lack of knowledge about where he came from truly worried the younger man. As for the eternal scientist in Blair, Jim was certain that Blair would be fascinated by the idea that Dr Mallard was actually setting off all of Jim’s ‘extra sentinel’ protective instincts. Even after all this time Sandburg didn’t quite get the idea that the Guide, a phrase tossed off by Brackett, and that was probably why Blair ignored it, was as an important a concept as the Sentinel concept. A Guide was born much as a Sentinel was; someone just couldn’t ‘be a Guide’.
"Ahh," Ducky actually looked mildly amused by that fact." 'But will Blair want to find out?" The good doctor actually sounded unsure, as though the actual knowledge of his parentage might not be acceptable to the younger man.
"Doc, did you know or even suspect that Naomi Sandburg might be carrying your child?" To the point, that was Jim.
"Never." Duckyglared at Jim, pulling himself to his meager 5’ 5” self, eyeballing him as much as he could. Jim actually took a mental step back, acknowledging Ducky’s indignation at the implied slight that he would have ever abandoned a lady in need. ''I spent a wonderful summer with Ms Sandburg touring through the English isles, She was such a beautiful young woman, so full of life."
"She still is,'' Jim murmured.
"I was actually working up the courage to ask her to be a bit more, as it were, when, like Summer turns to Autumn, our relationship changed… not for any reason I could fathom… She just said she had to go. She would not tell my why, and that has tortured me all these years." Ducky looked like he'd finally gotten the answer to a question he'd never even knew he needed the answer to. “She never gave any indication…” Ducky frowned, “never said.”
"And you haven't heard for her since?” Jim asked, suddenly certain he was sure he wasn’t going to like the answer.
"Oh, we've kept in contact a little over the years. Just a note or two from time to time, birthday cards, christmas, that sort of thing." Ducky’s tone of voice suggested that he, also, didn't like his own answer to Jim’s question.
"So, she really never let on?"
“Never."
Jim thought he'd made his peace with Naomi and her interfering in Blair’s life… thought, it appeared, was the operative word.
Ducky, taking one look at the overworked jaw muscles, attempted to derail Jim’s anger before every dental surgeon within a five mile radius descended on the Navy Yard, "What made you suspect?"
"Your smell… Blair smell's a little like you,'' Jim explained. "In fact, that's what I’d zoned on,'' Jim continued, being somewhat more forth coming than was his usual want. "What do you know about Sentinels, Doctor Mallard?"
"Only what I've read of Blair’s works," Ducky sounded inordinately pleased at the fact that he had, unknowingly, read and enjoyed the work Blair had published as part of his masters thesis, “Why?”
"I know that you are aware of the Guide idea,” Jim alluded to the converstation back at the Lovegrove street address.
"Caught that, did you?" Ducky asked with a smile.
“I tend to catch anything that concerns my Guide… now.” Jim didn’t raise his voice but his body language indicated that messing with Blair Sandburg was a dangerous thing to do, even if you were the parent of said person. Ducky heard the message loud and clear, acknowledging the power and responsibility.
“I take it there is a story here?” Ducky was always curious, sometimes to his detriment. On reflection, he thought that he should not have asked that last question…
“One that involves Naomi,” Jim might have been momentarily distracted but his anger had come back up quickly when Ducky, inadvertantly, refered to that time known as the Dissertation Mess or Jim should have bought a clue.
“And it is not a happy one, I take it?”
“Let’s just say that while mistakes were made by all parties, I’ll be paying for mine for the rest of Blair’s life.” Jim would never willingly admit it was the fear of Blair’s success that had been the catalyst for his over-reaction. Just like with the Barnes Affair, Jim had reacted first, listened a very poor second. By the time he’d heard, Blair had committed academic suicide.
“Ah, I see… the claims of being a fraud?” Ducky had always suspected there was more to the tale than the three-day wonder that had had the Nobel Prize committee backpedalling along with Rainier University.
“Totally unfounded. Sandburg deserved the Nobel Prize, the money, the accolades, everything.”
“And yet he gave it all up?” Ducky rather thought that it sounded like his son, and wasn’t that a kicker, was quite the sort of person he’d like to be able to claim was his son. “I think I’m going to look forward to getting to know my son,” Ducky smiled, “yes, I think I am.”
“Just be prepared to answer just about every question conceivable to mankind, and a few that aren't, about every detail of your life.'' Jim was starting to relax as it became apparent that Doctor Mallard was rather excited by the idea that he had a son.
“I should warn you I am capable of conceiving of quite a lot of questions,” Ducky replied with a smile.
“So that's where he gets it from,'' Jim was really starting to the NCIS ME. "Oh Gods,'' Jim suddenly went a white shade of pale as he continued to think through the implication that he had smelt the fact that Donald Mallard was Blair's father, “there will be tests.”
“Tests?”
"Yes, tests. Lots and lots of tests; small ones, big ones, disgusting ones,'' Jim visibly shuddered at the memory of one particularly nauseating set of tests. Said set of tests had involved touch, smell and some questionable samples that had been taken from the Men's locker room at the Cascaded Police Department. When Jim had complained, rather loudly, Blair, still reeling from the fallout of the Dissention mess, had bluntly told Jim to suck it up or he was going to bring out the samples that Inspector Connor had collected from the Women's locker room: Jim had wisely shut up, and sucked it up, but he still shuddered at the memory.
Ducky watched, rather amused, at the play of emotions that danced on Jim Ellison's face. It was like a switch had been flicked somewhere; Ellison, who had until now, seemed a rather cold and closed off person and about as warm and friendly as carved granite, suddenly seemed a much kinder person; a good thing as far as Ducky was concerned. Ducky had already worked out that Jim was Blair's partner in every sense of the word and he’d found he hadn't liked the idea of his son being attached to such a cold individual. "Dare I ask what sort of tests?" Ducky was admittedly curious about what sort of tests Blain would want to perform, after all, the fact that Jim had smelt the relationship was not exactly earth shattering… interesting, but not earth shattering.
“Blair has helped two other Sentinel-Guide pairs come together,” Jim frowned a little as Ducky looked confused at the apparent nonsequitur. “Anyone with enough training can function as a stop-gap Guide but a real Guide is born to it, just like a Sentinel. Blair will need to test how quickly you can spot a zone and pull me out of one,” and Jim was going to suggest these tests.
“But didn’t you just say that training was needed if someone was to act as a stopgap?” Ducky wasn’t sure he wanted to be volunteered to pull Ellison out of a zone given the condition that Gibbs had been in.
“Don’t worry, Doc, I won’t hurt you.” It didn’t even take Sentinel skills to work out what Ducky had been thinking. “In fact, I don’t think I could hurt you.” That comment earned Jim a very interrogative eyebrow.
“I’ve learned to pay attention to what Blair calls my extra-Sentinel instincts. You’ve been setting off those instincts from the moment we met.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, Oh.”
Whatever else Jim might have said was suddenly curtailed as he listened ion one what else was going on in the building. “Time to go, Duck,” Jim was suddenly helping the ME to his feet and guiding the man towards the elevator even as he focused his hearing three floors up when he’d become aware the Blair’s heart rate was spiking.
“Is everything alright?” Ducky was more than a little confused at the sudden need to be in the conference room.
“Blair’s just heading for a stroke,” Jim smiled wistfully. “Seems he worked out that Gibbs and I had a slight altercation. . .”
“I would not have called it a slight altercation, Jim,” Ducky shot a look at Ellison that would have done Gibbs or Simon Banks proud.
“And Gibbs let on that I wanted to talk to you in private.” Jim, well used to significant looks ignored Ducky completely. “
“And that is a problem how?”
“Blair’s worried that you might need your own services, Duck. Heart-rates spiking,” Jim tilted his head a little as he listened a touch more intently, “and his sugar level’s probably ditching. So the sooner we get up there the sooner he’ll calm down.”
“Ahh, and when did you last eat, detective?” Ducky cast a knowing glance at his companion.
“I’ll take the fifth on that.”
“Then it might behove us to deal with the dietary requirements of all concerned,” Ducky was willing to bet that Gibbs had been subsisting on caffeine and was likely to need additional sustenance as well. If Blair needed to eat then Ducky intended to guilt Jethro into food as well. “What about young Mr DiNozzo?”
“He’s probably eaten as much as Blair,” was all Jim was willing to say.
“To the conference room, James,” Ducky wasn’t above a little playfulness when the situation warranted it.
& & & & & & & & &
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“Aren’t you just the tiniest curious?” Tony asked, nonchalantly, as he started keying in the username and password into the second computer that had been set up in the conference room. Tony wasn’t above (pun fully intended) using his height to look over people’s shoulders whenever they logged onto various computer systems. Gibbs was tall, but Tony was taller and thus he’d memorized Gibbs username and password when Gibbs had first logged Tony onto the computer currently running the VICAP queries
“About what?” Blair looked up from the pile of paperwork he’d read, well, pretended to read at least three times since Doctor Mallard had been summoned down to Autopsy.
“Oh, I don’t know, the suspicious summons of Doctor Mallard, maybe?” Tony commented as the NCIS main screen finally displayed on the monitor in front of him.
“Um, nope?” Blair hedged. It wasn’t a lie after all, Blair wasn't the tiniest bit curious, he was what the hell is going on level curious.
Tony looked over his shoulder to where Blair was sitting and eyeballed him though Tony failed miserably to match Gibbs’ effortless hairy-eyeball stare. Blair smirked a little, ignoring Tony’s attempt at intimidation. “I bet you’re glad you are not under oath at the moment, Dr. Sandburg,” Tony’s easy smile negating any ill feeling the glare might have engendered. “Now that’s interesting,” Tony murmured, a little louder than he’d intended, as Gibbs’ service history was displayed.
Blair, finally having given up trying to make heads, tails or even Rorschach blots out of the file he was reading, wandered over to join Tony at the sideboard; Blair’s curiosity piqued by Tony’s inadvertent murmur.
“Speaking about being under oath, what are you up to, Tony?” Blair pointed at the computer screen in front of Tony. “I distinctly remember Gibbs told you no poking around where you’re not supposed to.”
Tony didn't even bother trying to defend his actions, “Like you wouldn’t be poking about here if you had the chance.”
“True,” Blair treated Tony to his special mega-watt smile. “The thing is I’ve got far better databases to play in. Want me to see what I can dig up?”
“So… you’re not interested for your own sake, right?” Tony demonstrated again that he was a fair hand at character reading, even when that character was someone who could control his own responses as well as Blair could.
Actually, Blair wasn’t really interesting in finding out about Gibbs, much, but he wasn’t going to bother hacking databases for that information; Blair would be going to the source and Jim would be disclosing in full and complete detail. If Jim was lucky said disclosure would result in a very lucky Jim as Blair wasn’t above a little voyeuristic pleasure, either. Still, that would have to wait till later. Now, Blair was more concerned with what was up with his partner and the quickest, covert, method required hacking the security video feeds from the various surveillance cameras that were stationed strategically about the building. “Guilty, your Honor. Now move over,” Blair actually hip-butted Tony aside as he took control of the keyboard.
Tony, hoping to get the juicy details on Leroy Jethro Gibbs was soon disappointed, though he wasn’t about to complain, as he watched a master at work. Tony soon realized that Blair could not only get the computer to sit up and beg he’d have had it dancing the tango in no time, as well.
“Nifty.” The view of Autopsy appeared, sans sound, showed Ducky handing Jim a couple of tablets.
“Shit! Shit, shit, damn, blast. I’m so going to roast your ass, Ellison.”
“Hey, what’s the problem?” Tony was somewhat surprised at Blair’s reaction. “Jim must have needed a couple of Tylenol, no big deal.”
“No big deal?” Blair‘s tone was somewhere between a screech and a well-rehearsed rant. “Stupid, stubborn, Sentinel.” Blair did a fairly good impression of Jim and his normal teeth grinding behavior.
“Not following you here,” Tony said, completely nonplussed at what he considered a massive over-reaction.
“Jim reacts… strangely… to most normal medications.”
“And? Not following you here.”
“Jim doesn’t voluntarily take any form of pain-meds.” Blair snapped, angry in part that Jim hadn’t even thought to check in with him; these days they went with err on the side of caution even when dealing with members of the medical profession read in on the Sentinel sensitivities issues. For Jim to trust so readily irked; Blair was a big enough man to admit it irked but it didn’t stop it, irking that is. “I have to just about shove the damn pills down his throat, all the while monitoring for adverse reactions!” Blair continued though he didn’t mention that he was as bad, if not worse, when it came to taking pain-meds, but then Blair’s reasons had everything to do with not polluting his body anymore than necessary. Jim’s reasons had everything to do with funny side effects and pretty lights.
“Jim must have zoned.” Blair muttered as he leaned forward, almost like he was trying phase into the monitor. “Jim, what the hell triggered this zone?” Blair was now gripping the sides of the monitor now, shaking it, as if by sheer force of will Blair could get the machine to answer.
The machine stayed (wisely) silent, though if it had been sentient it would have been moving away, far away. Blair’s tone of voice suggested that, when he caught up with Ellison, words would be had, many words, many very pointed words; if words were weapons, and in Blair’s mouth they may as well have been, then Jim was in for a load of pain.
“Huh?” The interrogative eyebrow wasn’t required.
“Jim tends to react badly when startled out of a zone,” Blair wasn’t about to admit how badly but he was certain Tony could join the dots fairly well. “And given Gibbs seems to like whacking people…”
“Well, shit.”
“Exactly. Jim zones, Gibbs whacks, violence follows. Ducky gets called down to administer first-aid, or last rites”
“And that’s what we’re watching, now?”
“Nope, this is then. The video feed is on a time delay.”
“What, so we can’t just fast forward to now?” Tony asked feeling liked he’d fallen into a Mel Brooks’ movie. “So what is happening now?”
“I’ve no idea,” Blair was still focused on the screen trying to discern what, if any, damage had been done to his Sentinel.
“We could always head down to Autopsy…” Tony suggested.
“What, and chance running into Gibbs, unescorted, running around the building?” Blair looked at Tony, Tony looked back at Blair; both men had looks of near identical looks of horror at the idea.
“Yeah, probably not a good idea, no. Any chance that you could do a little of that Voodoo you do so well? Given the limitations of the technology,” Tony nodded at the screen, and the video of Jim who was suddenly rather intensely questioning Doctor Mallard.
Blair, shifting his focus from the screen seriously thought about Tony's suggestion before deciding he really didn't want to be seen checking up on his partner; having hacked into NCIS’ video feed was going to ring Jim’s alarm bells enough. Jim was upright and mobile and Blair would find out all the details later. “No voodoo." Blair decided that a definitive statement was needed given the light of rushed in Tony’s eyes, “and no more watching. We’ve a serial homicide to solve.” Blair killed the video feed.
"That's it, take away on my fun.'' Tony pouted a pout worthy of induction into the hangdog pout hall of fame, Then, like flicking a light switch, Tony was all business again, "So Mr. Profiler Man, what are we looking for?”
“A needle in a haystack,” Blair commented.
“Just great.”
“Hey, it could be worse,” Blair, now focused on the data scrolling across the other computer’s screen -- the results of Tony’s initial VICAP search-- quipped, “much worse.”
“Do I even want to know how?”
“Probably not,” Blair was about to start explaining how things could be worse -- and with his experiences as Cascade’s Major Crimes division observer and subsequent work as a detective for same -- Blair had a lot of experience of things going from bad to catastrophic with a quick detour through way worse to draw on, when a repeated acronym caught his attention as it scrolled up the screen; EOD.
“What have you got?” Tony asked; the pole-axed expression on Blair’s face suggesting something big.
“A link, I think.” The VICAP search data was still scrolling passed. Blair, eyes flicking back and forth, watched the screen with a level of attention normally only seen in felines moments before they pounced on their prey. Two minutes later and a third repeat and Blair was now looking at Tony. “Fire VICAP up on the second machine,” Blair instructed, “then rerun your initial search but add in limit to the naval personal.”
“New limit?”
“Search for anyone who deals with explosive ordinance in anyway.”
“Want to walk me through your reasoning?” Tony invited as he set up the new search. “See what other cobwebs you shake free,” Tony was well versed in the fine art of self-interrogation that was part and parcel of positing various scenarios when you were trying to get a handle on motive; explaining your thought processes to someone else often helped solidify those nebulous links.
Tony wasn’t the only investigator in the room well versed in posit and rebut, and, Blair was not one to pass up any resource snagged a large sheet of clean paper and started writing as he thought out loud. “Okay, here’s what we know, the suspect’s male.”
“And we know this, how?” Tony took the role of devil’s advocate.
“Okay, that one we don’t know but our perp is male.” Blair smiled his thanks at Tony, posit play was best done based on known knowns; easier to explain to the mundane of the world like District Attorneys’ and Judges. “So far we’ve got at least 9 victims all connected to the Navy or Marines but what else do they have in common?”
“Apart from alimony and amicable divorces, you mean? Not a lot as far as I can tell.” Tony started thinking out loud. “I mean race, religion, political stance, nothing in common, and if we don’t find some way of narrowing the search parameters, we might end up with a couple of forests worth of print outs,” The last was said as Tony looked at the first return screen for his VICAP search.
“What if it’s not what the victims have in common but what the victim’s ex-partners have in common?”
“Huh? What, apart from being Navy?”
“Or Marine,” Blair quipped back. They might be allied branches of the American Defense Force but Navy was still Navy and the Marines were The Marines.
“Blair,” Tony did a much better hairy-eyeball this time.
“That’s where the explosive ordnance bit comes in,” Blair nodded at the computer still running the original search, “I think when your second search finishes we’ll have a couple more victims to add to our tally.”
“More?” Tony didn’t like the sound of that.
“How many?” Gibbs hadn’t been to pleased to hear that snippet as he walked, well, limped, into the Conference room. Luckily, neither Sandburg nor DiNozzo had been paying attention to anything outside the room so, Gibbs was fairly sure neither man had been aware that he was favoring one leg over the other
“At least three, Gibbs,” Blair acknowledged as he looked up and just as quickly disabused Gibbs of the notion that his run in with Ellison could be swept under the carpet, “Recovered from exercising with Jim, I see.”
“How’d he know?” Abby rather rudely asked. She had walked in with Gibbs and the two of them had gotten seated before Gibbs had said anything, so it wasn’t like Sandburg had seen the fact that Gibbs was slightly busted; another mark against Sandburg in Abby’s mind. You just didn’t go round busting Gibbs; Gibbs did the busting and she was certain that it was all Blair’s fault, even though the younger man had been nowhere near Ellison when he’d gone all Ranger on Gibbs’ ass.
“Abbs,” Gibbs understood why Abby cross, but he thought she’d understood no pissing off Sandburg. Of course, in this case, unknown to everyone present, Abby actually more or less had the right of it; after all, Jim had zoned because of Blair, just a little more indirectly that Abby thought.
“Would you believe, logic,” Blair had had enough though he was glad the video feed was shut down. “Let’s see, one, Doctor Mallard’s presence is suddenly, inexplicably, required, so someone needs medical assistance. Two, Gibbs here,” Blair nodded his head towards the NCIS agent, “has already shown a penchant for whacking people to gain their attention. Three, I’m betting Jim got a little too focused and Gibbs here tried his normal method of gaining someone’s attention. Four, Jim’s an ex-Ranger in the same way the Gibbs here is an ex-Marine; I don’t think anyone sane would go startling Gibbs awake if they could avoid it.” Blair tilted his head and raised an interrogative eyebrow at Gibbs.
Gibbs nodded him the point.
“Five, Jim reacted. Six, Gibbs defended. Seven, as Ducky was called, and not a priest, then I surmise that while Gibbs and Jim fought, no one was killed. How am, I doing, so far?”
Abby had the grace to look abashed before she unleashed her pout at Gibbs.
“Told you, Abby.” Gibbs smiled at his forensic technician. Blair, seeing the smile could see why Jim had fallen for the man, and why Tony was fast falling. “Now, play nice, Abby, while we update each other on developments.”
“You have developments?” Tony wanted Gibbs attention focused on him.
“Abby? Or do you want to wait for Duck and Ellison,” the later was addressed to Blair.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Rating: FRT
Pairing: Jim/Blair: Established relationship. Jim/Gibbs: Past Relationship. Gibbs/DiNozzo pre-slash.
Summary: An NCIS agent, a Baltimore detective, a Sentinel, a Guide, a serial killer. What more do you need?
Chapter Summary:
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from the TV-shows "NCIS" and "The Sentinel". NCIS is created and owned by David P. Bellisarius and CBS. The Sentinel still belongs to Paramount and Pet Fly. I'm just playing… No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Beta'd by: by my (in)significant other... Any mistakes left are mine and somewhat deliberate.
For: Ree/Triskellion... she knows why and thanks again
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter One. / Chapter Two. / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight. / Chapter Nine.
Chapter Ten
It was Ranger-trained reflexes and Sentinel monitoring that combined to prevent Ducky from landing ignominiously on the floor. Office chairs tended to roll out from under people if they sat down the wrong way, and collapsing back into an office chair definitely countered as the wrong way.
"Oh, my..." Ducky did a double-take as he processed what Jim had just said. "Naomi… ummm, Sandburg? Blair’s mother? Oh my..." Ducky said again, just to make it more real.
“You didn’t know?" The question was purely rhetorical. Jim had been monitoring Ducky from the moment he'd started his tirade, so he was well aware of the heart rate spike the moment the Doctor had connected the dots.
''Absolutely none." Ducky whispered, still processing.
"Damn," Jim did not sound happy. "We’re gonna have to tell Blair, you realize.”
Ducky blinked at the pronouncement, "Are certain that is the right course of action, my boy?" Finding out you had a fully-grown son would throw anyone off their game. Luckily for the good doctor, his tone of voice was tinged with worry and regret rather than any emotion that said he really didn't want to acknowledge any possible connections Blair Sandburg.
"If we don't and Blair finds out… well, let’s just say that Blair has a temper”, Jim commented with fond tolerance. For all of Blair protestations about how he didn't really care about the identity of his father; he'd had a fantastic childhood; he’d seen seven world series finals; he’d been to six of the seven continent before he was a teen… However, the lack of knowledge about where he came from truly worried the younger man. As for the eternal scientist in Blair, Jim was certain that Blair would be fascinated by the idea that Dr Mallard was actually setting off all of Jim’s ‘extra sentinel’ protective instincts. Even after all this time Sandburg didn’t quite get the idea that the Guide, a phrase tossed off by Brackett, and that was probably why Blair ignored it, was as an important a concept as the Sentinel concept. A Guide was born much as a Sentinel was; someone just couldn’t ‘be a Guide’.
"Ahh," Ducky actually looked mildly amused by that fact." 'But will Blair want to find out?" The good doctor actually sounded unsure, as though the actual knowledge of his parentage might not be acceptable to the younger man.
"Doc, did you know or even suspect that Naomi Sandburg might be carrying your child?" To the point, that was Jim.
"Never." Duckyglared at Jim, pulling himself to his meager 5’ 5” self, eyeballing him as much as he could. Jim actually took a mental step back, acknowledging Ducky’s indignation at the implied slight that he would have ever abandoned a lady in need. ''I spent a wonderful summer with Ms Sandburg touring through the English isles, She was such a beautiful young woman, so full of life."
"She still is,'' Jim murmured.
"I was actually working up the courage to ask her to be a bit more, as it were, when, like Summer turns to Autumn, our relationship changed… not for any reason I could fathom… She just said she had to go. She would not tell my why, and that has tortured me all these years." Ducky looked like he'd finally gotten the answer to a question he'd never even knew he needed the answer to. “She never gave any indication…” Ducky frowned, “never said.”
"And you haven't heard for her since?” Jim asked, suddenly certain he was sure he wasn’t going to like the answer.
"Oh, we've kept in contact a little over the years. Just a note or two from time to time, birthday cards, christmas, that sort of thing." Ducky’s tone of voice suggested that he, also, didn't like his own answer to Jim’s question.
"So, she really never let on?"
“Never."
Jim thought he'd made his peace with Naomi and her interfering in Blair’s life… thought, it appeared, was the operative word.
Ducky, taking one look at the overworked jaw muscles, attempted to derail Jim’s anger before every dental surgeon within a five mile radius descended on the Navy Yard, "What made you suspect?"
"Your smell… Blair smell's a little like you,'' Jim explained. "In fact, that's what I’d zoned on,'' Jim continued, being somewhat more forth coming than was his usual want. "What do you know about Sentinels, Doctor Mallard?"
"Only what I've read of Blair’s works," Ducky sounded inordinately pleased at the fact that he had, unknowingly, read and enjoyed the work Blair had published as part of his masters thesis, “Why?”
"I know that you are aware of the Guide idea,” Jim alluded to the converstation back at the Lovegrove street address.
"Caught that, did you?" Ducky asked with a smile.
“I tend to catch anything that concerns my Guide… now.” Jim didn’t raise his voice but his body language indicated that messing with Blair Sandburg was a dangerous thing to do, even if you were the parent of said person. Ducky heard the message loud and clear, acknowledging the power and responsibility.
“I take it there is a story here?” Ducky was always curious, sometimes to his detriment. On reflection, he thought that he should not have asked that last question…
“One that involves Naomi,” Jim might have been momentarily distracted but his anger had come back up quickly when Ducky, inadvertantly, refered to that time known as the Dissertation Mess or Jim should have bought a clue.
“And it is not a happy one, I take it?”
“Let’s just say that while mistakes were made by all parties, I’ll be paying for mine for the rest of Blair’s life.” Jim would never willingly admit it was the fear of Blair’s success that had been the catalyst for his over-reaction. Just like with the Barnes Affair, Jim had reacted first, listened a very poor second. By the time he’d heard, Blair had committed academic suicide.
“Ah, I see… the claims of being a fraud?” Ducky had always suspected there was more to the tale than the three-day wonder that had had the Nobel Prize committee backpedalling along with Rainier University.
“Totally unfounded. Sandburg deserved the Nobel Prize, the money, the accolades, everything.”
“And yet he gave it all up?” Ducky rather thought that it sounded like his son, and wasn’t that a kicker, was quite the sort of person he’d like to be able to claim was his son. “I think I’m going to look forward to getting to know my son,” Ducky smiled, “yes, I think I am.”
“Just be prepared to answer just about every question conceivable to mankind, and a few that aren't, about every detail of your life.'' Jim was starting to relax as it became apparent that Doctor Mallard was rather excited by the idea that he had a son.
“I should warn you I am capable of conceiving of quite a lot of questions,” Ducky replied with a smile.
“So that's where he gets it from,'' Jim was really starting to the NCIS ME. "Oh Gods,'' Jim suddenly went a white shade of pale as he continued to think through the implication that he had smelt the fact that Donald Mallard was Blair's father, “there will be tests.”
“Tests?”
"Yes, tests. Lots and lots of tests; small ones, big ones, disgusting ones,'' Jim visibly shuddered at the memory of one particularly nauseating set of tests. Said set of tests had involved touch, smell and some questionable samples that had been taken from the Men's locker room at the Cascaded Police Department. When Jim had complained, rather loudly, Blair, still reeling from the fallout of the Dissention mess, had bluntly told Jim to suck it up or he was going to bring out the samples that Inspector Connor had collected from the Women's locker room: Jim had wisely shut up, and sucked it up, but he still shuddered at the memory.
Ducky watched, rather amused, at the play of emotions that danced on Jim Ellison's face. It was like a switch had been flicked somewhere; Ellison, who had until now, seemed a rather cold and closed off person and about as warm and friendly as carved granite, suddenly seemed a much kinder person; a good thing as far as Ducky was concerned. Ducky had already worked out that Jim was Blair's partner in every sense of the word and he’d found he hadn't liked the idea of his son being attached to such a cold individual. "Dare I ask what sort of tests?" Ducky was admittedly curious about what sort of tests Blain would want to perform, after all, the fact that Jim had smelt the relationship was not exactly earth shattering… interesting, but not earth shattering.
“Blair has helped two other Sentinel-Guide pairs come together,” Jim frowned a little as Ducky looked confused at the apparent nonsequitur. “Anyone with enough training can function as a stop-gap Guide but a real Guide is born to it, just like a Sentinel. Blair will need to test how quickly you can spot a zone and pull me out of one,” and Jim was going to suggest these tests.
“But didn’t you just say that training was needed if someone was to act as a stopgap?” Ducky wasn’t sure he wanted to be volunteered to pull Ellison out of a zone given the condition that Gibbs had been in.
“Don’t worry, Doc, I won’t hurt you.” It didn’t even take Sentinel skills to work out what Ducky had been thinking. “In fact, I don’t think I could hurt you.” That comment earned Jim a very interrogative eyebrow.
“I’ve learned to pay attention to what Blair calls my extra-Sentinel instincts. You’ve been setting off those instincts from the moment we met.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, Oh.”
Whatever else Jim might have said was suddenly curtailed as he listened ion one what else was going on in the building. “Time to go, Duck,” Jim was suddenly helping the ME to his feet and guiding the man towards the elevator even as he focused his hearing three floors up when he’d become aware the Blair’s heart rate was spiking.
“Is everything alright?” Ducky was more than a little confused at the sudden need to be in the conference room.
“Blair’s just heading for a stroke,” Jim smiled wistfully. “Seems he worked out that Gibbs and I had a slight altercation. . .”
“I would not have called it a slight altercation, Jim,” Ducky shot a look at Ellison that would have done Gibbs or Simon Banks proud.
“And Gibbs let on that I wanted to talk to you in private.” Jim, well used to significant looks ignored Ducky completely. “
“And that is a problem how?”
“Blair’s worried that you might need your own services, Duck. Heart-rates spiking,” Jim tilted his head a little as he listened a touch more intently, “and his sugar level’s probably ditching. So the sooner we get up there the sooner he’ll calm down.”
“Ahh, and when did you last eat, detective?” Ducky cast a knowing glance at his companion.
“I’ll take the fifth on that.”
“Then it might behove us to deal with the dietary requirements of all concerned,” Ducky was willing to bet that Gibbs had been subsisting on caffeine and was likely to need additional sustenance as well. If Blair needed to eat then Ducky intended to guilt Jethro into food as well. “What about young Mr DiNozzo?”
“He’s probably eaten as much as Blair,” was all Jim was willing to say.
“To the conference room, James,” Ducky wasn’t above a little playfulness when the situation warranted it.
& & & & & & & & &
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Aren’t you just the tiniest curious?” Tony asked, nonchalantly, as he started keying in the username and password into the second computer that had been set up in the conference room. Tony wasn’t above (pun fully intended) using his height to look over people’s shoulders whenever they logged onto various computer systems. Gibbs was tall, but Tony was taller and thus he’d memorized Gibbs username and password when Gibbs had first logged Tony onto the computer currently running the VICAP queries
“About what?” Blair looked up from the pile of paperwork he’d read, well, pretended to read at least three times since Doctor Mallard had been summoned down to Autopsy.
“Oh, I don’t know, the suspicious summons of Doctor Mallard, maybe?” Tony commented as the NCIS main screen finally displayed on the monitor in front of him.
“Um, nope?” Blair hedged. It wasn’t a lie after all, Blair wasn't the tiniest bit curious, he was what the hell is going on level curious.
Tony looked over his shoulder to where Blair was sitting and eyeballed him though Tony failed miserably to match Gibbs’ effortless hairy-eyeball stare. Blair smirked a little, ignoring Tony’s attempt at intimidation. “I bet you’re glad you are not under oath at the moment, Dr. Sandburg,” Tony’s easy smile negating any ill feeling the glare might have engendered. “Now that’s interesting,” Tony murmured, a little louder than he’d intended, as Gibbs’ service history was displayed.
Blair, finally having given up trying to make heads, tails or even Rorschach blots out of the file he was reading, wandered over to join Tony at the sideboard; Blair’s curiosity piqued by Tony’s inadvertent murmur.
“Speaking about being under oath, what are you up to, Tony?” Blair pointed at the computer screen in front of Tony. “I distinctly remember Gibbs told you no poking around where you’re not supposed to.”
Tony didn't even bother trying to defend his actions, “Like you wouldn’t be poking about here if you had the chance.”
“True,” Blair treated Tony to his special mega-watt smile. “The thing is I’ve got far better databases to play in. Want me to see what I can dig up?”
“So… you’re not interested for your own sake, right?” Tony demonstrated again that he was a fair hand at character reading, even when that character was someone who could control his own responses as well as Blair could.
Actually, Blair wasn’t really interesting in finding out about Gibbs, much, but he wasn’t going to bother hacking databases for that information; Blair would be going to the source and Jim would be disclosing in full and complete detail. If Jim was lucky said disclosure would result in a very lucky Jim as Blair wasn’t above a little voyeuristic pleasure, either. Still, that would have to wait till later. Now, Blair was more concerned with what was up with his partner and the quickest, covert, method required hacking the security video feeds from the various surveillance cameras that were stationed strategically about the building. “Guilty, your Honor. Now move over,” Blair actually hip-butted Tony aside as he took control of the keyboard.
Tony, hoping to get the juicy details on Leroy Jethro Gibbs was soon disappointed, though he wasn’t about to complain, as he watched a master at work. Tony soon realized that Blair could not only get the computer to sit up and beg he’d have had it dancing the tango in no time, as well.
“Nifty.” The view of Autopsy appeared, sans sound, showed Ducky handing Jim a couple of tablets.
“Shit! Shit, shit, damn, blast. I’m so going to roast your ass, Ellison.”
“Hey, what’s the problem?” Tony was somewhat surprised at Blair’s reaction. “Jim must have needed a couple of Tylenol, no big deal.”
“No big deal?” Blair‘s tone was somewhere between a screech and a well-rehearsed rant. “Stupid, stubborn, Sentinel.” Blair did a fairly good impression of Jim and his normal teeth grinding behavior.
“Not following you here,” Tony said, completely nonplussed at what he considered a massive over-reaction.
“Jim reacts… strangely… to most normal medications.”
“And? Not following you here.”
“Jim doesn’t voluntarily take any form of pain-meds.” Blair snapped, angry in part that Jim hadn’t even thought to check in with him; these days they went with err on the side of caution even when dealing with members of the medical profession read in on the Sentinel sensitivities issues. For Jim to trust so readily irked; Blair was a big enough man to admit it irked but it didn’t stop it, irking that is. “I have to just about shove the damn pills down his throat, all the while monitoring for adverse reactions!” Blair continued though he didn’t mention that he was as bad, if not worse, when it came to taking pain-meds, but then Blair’s reasons had everything to do with not polluting his body anymore than necessary. Jim’s reasons had everything to do with funny side effects and pretty lights.
“Jim must have zoned.” Blair muttered as he leaned forward, almost like he was trying phase into the monitor. “Jim, what the hell triggered this zone?” Blair was now gripping the sides of the monitor now, shaking it, as if by sheer force of will Blair could get the machine to answer.
The machine stayed (wisely) silent, though if it had been sentient it would have been moving away, far away. Blair’s tone of voice suggested that, when he caught up with Ellison, words would be had, many words, many very pointed words; if words were weapons, and in Blair’s mouth they may as well have been, then Jim was in for a load of pain.
“Huh?” The interrogative eyebrow wasn’t required.
“Jim tends to react badly when startled out of a zone,” Blair wasn’t about to admit how badly but he was certain Tony could join the dots fairly well. “And given Gibbs seems to like whacking people…”
“Well, shit.”
“Exactly. Jim zones, Gibbs whacks, violence follows. Ducky gets called down to administer first-aid, or last rites”
“And that’s what we’re watching, now?”
“Nope, this is then. The video feed is on a time delay.”
“What, so we can’t just fast forward to now?” Tony asked feeling liked he’d fallen into a Mel Brooks’ movie. “So what is happening now?”
“I’ve no idea,” Blair was still focused on the screen trying to discern what, if any, damage had been done to his Sentinel.
“We could always head down to Autopsy…” Tony suggested.
“What, and chance running into Gibbs, unescorted, running around the building?” Blair looked at Tony, Tony looked back at Blair; both men had looks of near identical looks of horror at the idea.
“Yeah, probably not a good idea, no. Any chance that you could do a little of that Voodoo you do so well? Given the limitations of the technology,” Tony nodded at the screen, and the video of Jim who was suddenly rather intensely questioning Doctor Mallard.
Blair, shifting his focus from the screen seriously thought about Tony's suggestion before deciding he really didn't want to be seen checking up on his partner; having hacked into NCIS’ video feed was going to ring Jim’s alarm bells enough. Jim was upright and mobile and Blair would find out all the details later. “No voodoo." Blair decided that a definitive statement was needed given the light of rushed in Tony’s eyes, “and no more watching. We’ve a serial homicide to solve.” Blair killed the video feed.
"That's it, take away on my fun.'' Tony pouted a pout worthy of induction into the hangdog pout hall of fame, Then, like flicking a light switch, Tony was all business again, "So Mr. Profiler Man, what are we looking for?”
“A needle in a haystack,” Blair commented.
“Just great.”
“Hey, it could be worse,” Blair, now focused on the data scrolling across the other computer’s screen -- the results of Tony’s initial VICAP search-- quipped, “much worse.”
“Do I even want to know how?”
“Probably not,” Blair was about to start explaining how things could be worse -- and with his experiences as Cascade’s Major Crimes division observer and subsequent work as a detective for same -- Blair had a lot of experience of things going from bad to catastrophic with a quick detour through way worse to draw on, when a repeated acronym caught his attention as it scrolled up the screen; EOD.
“What have you got?” Tony asked; the pole-axed expression on Blair’s face suggesting something big.
“A link, I think.” The VICAP search data was still scrolling passed. Blair, eyes flicking back and forth, watched the screen with a level of attention normally only seen in felines moments before they pounced on their prey. Two minutes later and a third repeat and Blair was now looking at Tony. “Fire VICAP up on the second machine,” Blair instructed, “then rerun your initial search but add in limit to the naval personal.”
“New limit?”
“Search for anyone who deals with explosive ordinance in anyway.”
“Want to walk me through your reasoning?” Tony invited as he set up the new search. “See what other cobwebs you shake free,” Tony was well versed in the fine art of self-interrogation that was part and parcel of positing various scenarios when you were trying to get a handle on motive; explaining your thought processes to someone else often helped solidify those nebulous links.
Tony wasn’t the only investigator in the room well versed in posit and rebut, and, Blair was not one to pass up any resource snagged a large sheet of clean paper and started writing as he thought out loud. “Okay, here’s what we know, the suspect’s male.”
“And we know this, how?” Tony took the role of devil’s advocate.
“Okay, that one we don’t know but our perp is male.” Blair smiled his thanks at Tony, posit play was best done based on known knowns; easier to explain to the mundane of the world like District Attorneys’ and Judges. “So far we’ve got at least 9 victims all connected to the Navy or Marines but what else do they have in common?”
“Apart from alimony and amicable divorces, you mean? Not a lot as far as I can tell.” Tony started thinking out loud. “I mean race, religion, political stance, nothing in common, and if we don’t find some way of narrowing the search parameters, we might end up with a couple of forests worth of print outs,” The last was said as Tony looked at the first return screen for his VICAP search.
“What if it’s not what the victims have in common but what the victim’s ex-partners have in common?”
“Huh? What, apart from being Navy?”
“Or Marine,” Blair quipped back. They might be allied branches of the American Defense Force but Navy was still Navy and the Marines were The Marines.
“Blair,” Tony did a much better hairy-eyeball this time.
“That’s where the explosive ordnance bit comes in,” Blair nodded at the computer still running the original search, “I think when your second search finishes we’ll have a couple more victims to add to our tally.”
“More?” Tony didn’t like the sound of that.
“How many?” Gibbs hadn’t been to pleased to hear that snippet as he walked, well, limped, into the Conference room. Luckily, neither Sandburg nor DiNozzo had been paying attention to anything outside the room so, Gibbs was fairly sure neither man had been aware that he was favoring one leg over the other
“At least three, Gibbs,” Blair acknowledged as he looked up and just as quickly disabused Gibbs of the notion that his run in with Ellison could be swept under the carpet, “Recovered from exercising with Jim, I see.”
“How’d he know?” Abby rather rudely asked. She had walked in with Gibbs and the two of them had gotten seated before Gibbs had said anything, so it wasn’t like Sandburg had seen the fact that Gibbs was slightly busted; another mark against Sandburg in Abby’s mind. You just didn’t go round busting Gibbs; Gibbs did the busting and she was certain that it was all Blair’s fault, even though the younger man had been nowhere near Ellison when he’d gone all Ranger on Gibbs’ ass.
“Abbs,” Gibbs understood why Abby cross, but he thought she’d understood no pissing off Sandburg. Of course, in this case, unknown to everyone present, Abby actually more or less had the right of it; after all, Jim had zoned because of Blair, just a little more indirectly that Abby thought.
“Would you believe, logic,” Blair had had enough though he was glad the video feed was shut down. “Let’s see, one, Doctor Mallard’s presence is suddenly, inexplicably, required, so someone needs medical assistance. Two, Gibbs here,” Blair nodded his head towards the NCIS agent, “has already shown a penchant for whacking people to gain their attention. Three, I’m betting Jim got a little too focused and Gibbs here tried his normal method of gaining someone’s attention. Four, Jim’s an ex-Ranger in the same way the Gibbs here is an ex-Marine; I don’t think anyone sane would go startling Gibbs awake if they could avoid it.” Blair tilted his head and raised an interrogative eyebrow at Gibbs.
Gibbs nodded him the point.
“Five, Jim reacted. Six, Gibbs defended. Seven, as Ducky was called, and not a priest, then I surmise that while Gibbs and Jim fought, no one was killed. How am, I doing, so far?”
Abby had the grace to look abashed before she unleashed her pout at Gibbs.
“Told you, Abby.” Gibbs smiled at his forensic technician. Blair, seeing the smile could see why Jim had fallen for the man, and why Tony was fast falling. “Now, play nice, Abby, while we update each other on developments.”
“You have developments?” Tony wanted Gibbs attention focused on him.
“Abby? Or do you want to wait for Duck and Ellison,” the later was addressed to Blair.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*