Supply and Demand: Unwanted Part 2/9 (NCIS/SPN Crossover AU)
Supply and Demand: Unwanted Part 2/9 (NCIS/SPN Crossover AU)
Author: Tari_Roo
Rating: PG13 (Gen)
Fandom: SPN/NCIS
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing.
Summary: NCIS/SPN Crossover AU. Gibbs didn’t want or need an Empath. But Director Vance was insisting and his team were avoiding him, more than usual, so when the T&E Centre called to say that Dean Winchester was available, it was time to pick up the unwanted Empath.
Spoilers: set somewhere in Season 6&7 of NCIS, and AU for SPN (all seasons)
Chapter 2
In what was probably one of the most uncomfortable, tension ridden car trips of his life, DiNozzo quietly ate, nay wolfed down, the McMuffin he managed to whine out of Gibbs. The drive-thru had been awkward but the food was doing wonders for his nerves.
Dean was on the backseat, staring vacantly out of the window, his own bag of Breakfast ala Mickie Dee’s untouched. Gibbs was stiff armed and rigid, glaring at the road and strangely enough, keeping to the speed limit.
There were a dozen questions flitting around Dinozzo’s mind, half of them fully guaranteed to earn him a slap upside the head and a trademark Gibbs glare, but the other half would just be ignored. Top of the list and the one both McGee and David were probably going to ask was, “So, are you feeling better, Boss?” Because that was the whole point of Dean. He was supposed to ease the hackles a little, unruffle the feathers, return Gibbs to his usual, abrasive, stressed self and put the overbearing, unreasonable monster back in its cage.
Focused on the road, Gibbs fought the smile that wanted to peak out at DiNozzo’s oh-so-subtle attempts to gage his mood. The desire to smile was in direct contrast to his near over whelming need to hit something. He was ... definitely conflicted. Ignoring DiNozzo was a cinch compared to the white hot magnet slumped in the back seat. Gibbs felt good and that alone pissed him off royally. He wasn’t supposed to need a damn Empath, he had managed just fine for years and now... it just felt so damn good having one, even with as remote a connection as this. Shoving the elation as far back as he could, Gibbs clung to his anger, holding tight onto it, fighting the stupid, satisfied smile. He hadn’t felt this good since ...
Growling a little, not realising it was audible, Gibbs tightened his grip on the steering wheel and put his foot down.
Scrambling to save his fries, Tony steadied himself with a hand on the dashboard and mumbled, mouth full, “A little warning, Boss...”
Fortunately, the remainder of the trip to Bellevue was brief and they were soon pulling up at the crime scene. Ducky’s Coroner Van was already on scene, parked close behind the NCIS van. Tony shoved the last few fries in his mouth and noted McGee on the front steps of the house, still taking pictures. “Ah, the McGeek at work - always brings a little tear to my eye... they grow up so fast.”
The headslap was not unexpected and definitely half-hearted but Gibbs was already out of the car, striding over to the crime scene. Tony fumbled for the door and then paused, and leant back and snapped his fingers, “Hey, hey, Deano.”
There was no response, but Tony said loudly, “Stay put, huh. No wandering off.” He stepped out of the car and hurried after Gibbs, and then changed directions to grab a kit out of the van.
Ducky and Palmer were still examining the body by the time DiNozzo entered the house, but it took Tony a moment to spot Ziva and Gibbs... mostly because the place was an absolute pig sty. “Holy bucket of chicken wings, Batman!”
Ziva didn’t even turn around, “Nice of you join us, Tony ... pick a pile.” McGee was now in the kitchen, still snapping away, and from what Tony could see, the kitchen was even worse. It was a standard naval housing open plan, bedrooms down the hall but whoever the hell had lived here couldn’t have thrown anything away ... ever.
There were cartons of fast food on every available surface, open packets of every artery thickening junk food known to man. “A Petty Officer lives, ah, lived here?” Dinozzo exclaimed, carefully stepping over the odd pile of Chinese food cartons and dodging the congealing mass of ... pizza? The Petty Officer in question was by the door, a dark pool of congealed blood staining the carpet beneath his head. Gibbs was standing in the living room, staring at a pile of books, which had a collection of old coke cans on it. Ziva was gently applying fingerprint dust over the tv remote, perched a little awkwardly to avoid stepping or in this case falling into ...
“Is that puke, David? Honest to goodness vomit?”
“No, Tony, I believe it is,” and she risked another look at it, shuddering a little, “a curry of some sort which is ... several days old.”
“Who in the hell lives like this?”
“Not Petty Office Martinez.” All three heads whipped around to stare at Gibbs, who was fingering the one of the books.
“Boss?” It was a typical McGee question, chock full of eager confusion. Turning on his heel slowly, Gibbs faced them, McGee standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Ziva, those DVDs and CDs are in alphabetical order, right?”
Straining her neck a little, Ziva nodded, “Indeed, yes.” Tony considered the cupboard next to him and on whim opened it and found a neatly stacked and ordered linen closet. McGee disappeared into the kitchen and shouted, “Fridge is a mess, Boss, but the closet in here is pretty tidy.”
Gibbs was studying the room and from the doorway where PO Martinez still lay, Ducky piped up, “I think Jethro that it would not be beyond the realm of possibility for the good Petty Officer to be this messy. I had a rather intelligent roommate who had an almost pathological aversion to picking up after himself, in fact...”
“Duck,” Gibbs sighed and Dr Mallard trailed off with a small smile.
“On the other hand, Jethro, a brief,” and here Ducky pointed a begloved finger at Gibbs, “brief mind you, psychoanalysis of Petty Officer Martinez’s home points more to a very neat individual having a very messy house guest. The underlying structures, the inherent order, the...”
“Someone else made this mess?” Tony interrupted, mouth open in confusion.
McGee returned from the kitchen and said, “And there’s this, Boss. PO Martinez had just returned from deployment. Technically, he wouldn’t been around to eat this,” and he held up a relatively fresh pizza box, half eaten pizza inside, “and order it while his ship was still at sea 3 days ago.”
“And I imagine he was pretty damn surprised to come home and find this ... “ Ziva stood, and jabbed her brush at the room in general.
“Especially if he surprised his squatter.”
“Wait, you mean this is the case of the messy houseguest who got caught and then killed the neato freak who lived here?” Tony nearly stepped onto several pizza boxes and narrowly recovered only to stumble into a tower of soda cans.
Wincing a little at the noise, McGee nodded, “Maybe. I mean, Boss, the Petty Officer was supposed to be deployed until the 12th and perhaps the squatter didn’t clear out in time.”
Shaking her head, Ziva asked, “But surely someone would have noticed that a civilian was using Naval Housing? How would he...”
“Or she?” Tony wagged his finger at Ziva.
Grimacing, Ziva continued, “or she, have gone unnoticed for so long?”
Stepping over all of the junk and mess, Gibbs headed towards the body and Ducky, saying, “Who said they were civilian, Ziva. McGee, get me a list of anyone using naval housing in the area and currently on deployment. Ducky?”
Straightening, Dr Mallard groaned a little and said softly, “Alright, Mr Palmer, you can let them in and supervise the body’s removal.” Turning to face Gibbs, Ducky studied his friend briefly but Jethro noticed and growled, “Cause of death?”
“Right. Preliminary examination indicates a blow to the head with a blunt instrument, which I am sure a more detailed autopsy and Abby will confirm as a baseball bat...” and Ducky smiled, “or not.”
“McGee!”
“Working on it, Boss.”
Gibbs made as if to move past Dr Mallard, but Ducky stepped into his path and said softly, “And, Jethro? Did it work?”
There was a sudden lull in the room, as both McGee and Ziva paused with what they were doing and Tony wondered for a moment if...
Gibbs stared at Ducky and for an instant he could feel the rush of pure energy again and felt the hairs on his arm rise a little. Shutting those emotions down, he snarled “Yes,” and side stepped Ducky, and went out of the door.
Dr Mallard shared a knowing look with Tony and nodded before bustling after Palmer with a “Be sure not to drop the body this time, Mr Palmer!”
McGee and Ziva in turn stared at Tony who shrugged and muttered, “Well it did - no noticeable difference yet, but hey... he’s Gibbs!”
Ziva nodded, absently smoothing her arms, flattening the hairs that had risen during Gibbs’ brief... lapse. McGee pursed his lips and said, “Yeah, last week if Ducky had pushed him like that, the furniture would have moved. Must have helped.”
Ziplocking his last piece of evidence, Tony snapped his case shut and said, “Come on then, McDawdle. Names and addresses, I’m sure we’re going to go trick or treating.”
“Sending you the addresses now, they’re just coming through,” replied McGee, taping away on his phone.
Together they left PO Martinez’s house, Tony letting Ziva exit first with a grand sweep of his arm, which she ignored and shoved McGee forward so that he stumbled down the stairs with a ‘Hey!’
Gibbs was standing on the front lawn, talking to the Petty Officer who had discovered Martinez’s body. As they drew nearer, they heard the Petty Officer saying, “No, sir. Haven’t noticed anyone unusual around. Everyone in the area, a couple of blocks I guess, knows everyone else. Kinda hang out a lot, block parties, you know.”
“All done, Boss and we got our list,” Tony said brightly, nodding at the Petty Officer. Gibbs tucked away his note pad and said, “You and Ziva start going door to door then. McGee, you’re with me.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Blinking, the Petty Officer quickly asked, “Sorry, sir, but who are you looking for?”
Half a step away and watching as Ducky’s coroner van drove past, he replied gruffly, “For someone who is not supposed to be there.”
Tony and Ziva headed up the road, towards their first address but McGee had a sudden thought and turned back to ask the Petty Officer, “Say, is there someone who house sits or you know offers to look after pets or anything?”
A few feet away, Gibbs paused and waited for the answer, Tony and Ziva already at their first door, several houses up. The Petty Officer shot a quick look at Gibbs before answering with, “Not really, sir, it might be naval housing but you don’t usually need someone to look after your place.”
“Never mind,” McGee frowned, “Just wondering, thanks though.”
He hurried after Gibbs, pulling up an address on his PDA. They walked past Gibbs’ town car and for a split second Tim thought someone was sitting in the back, and opened his mouth to say something but just as he was about to, he watched Gibbs visibly relax as they passed and actually slow down until he ‘shook’ himself and sped up.
‘Oh yeah...’ McGee tried to look at the person slouched on the back seat but the opaque glass and the lower angle made it difficult to see more than a grey outline. Hurrying now in earnest to catch up to Gibbs, McGee half shouted, “The first address is number ... 32, Boss.”
Gibbs however found his thoughts drifting back towards the car and the Empath. His Empath. His palms itched and tingled with the desire, no need, to go back and just ... touch. The walk past the car had been both a relief and an irritant. He had felt immediately better and as a result, furious. And the urge to turnaround was not diminishing ... at all.
Growling to himself, he focused on the need to solve this murder, to find this idiot who had killed Petty Officer Martinez. Just find the murderer - just that. Nothing else.
By the time they reached the door to number 32, Gibbs felt a little more in control and he did not notice that McGee had a decidedly nervous look on his face. “You ok, Boss?”
“Fine, McGee.”
Gibbs raised his fist to knock on the door, tuning out McGee’s “Sure, it’s just that you ...look a little intense, Boss.”
The knock was answered pretty quickly by a young lady, willowy and blonde. “Hi, did something happen over at PO Martinez’s place?”
Turned out that the young lady was a Chief Petty Officer’s wife, a CPO currently deployed and she kept a very tidy home, albeit a slightly dusty one. McGee bobbed an apologetic goodbye as Gibbs tersely did the same and stalked down the walk to the sidewalk.
“Sorry, Boss, I obviously didn’t exclude married personnel in the search, I ....”
Gibbs’ attention was back towards the crime scene however, in fact, McGee realised, not the crime scene itself but his car and ... the open back door. “Ah, Boss?”
But Gibbs was already running, his feet a sharp staccato of speed across the tar. “Boss!” McGee followed, scanning the surrounding houses for ... he didn’t even know what the Empath looked like. Gibbs seemed to know where to go though and Tim briefly considered pulling out his phone and calling Tony but a quick look in their direction confirmed that Ziva and Tony had seen Gibbs run off and were in pursuit.
“Boss!”
Gibbs had ducked down a small pedestrian sidewalk, heading towards the houses which sat parallel to the street they were in. McGee followed suit and could hear Tony puffing not too far behind him. As he cleared the houses and ran out onto the new street, Tim scanned the area for ... Gibbs!
“Boss!”
As far as Tim could see, Gibbs didn’t have his weapon out, but he was running hell for leather towards a house down the street, a house which had a figure in a grey jumpsuit on the front porch.
As he got closer to Dean, Gibbs felt a rise in elation swell through him. There, there, there. The need to reach his Empath swept through him and as he thundered up the steps up onto the porch the need to ‘touch’ screamed at him. Stopping himself with difficulty, Gibbs snarled at the guy, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Blank faced and swaying just a little, Dean licked his lips and blinked lazily. Opening his mouth to yell some more, Gibbs stopped as the door slowly opened and a rather large young man stuck his head out and said, “Can I help you?”
The guy was wearing a dirty, grease stained grey t-shirt with NAVY across the front. Tatty board shorts completed the look and the guy was holding a piece of pizza in hand. A feeling of accomplishment rushed through Gibbs and the guy in the doorway shuddered as well, as if he felt it. ‘Found him.’ McGee arrived on the sidewalk, Tony and Ziva not far behind but they hung back, for the moment.
Something clicked into place and Gibbs asked, “This your house?”
Straightening up, the young guy nodded and said, “Yes, sir. Ensign Barrows, sir. Naval Research, sir.” Ensign Barrows looked momentarily confused and actually wiped his mouth a little, and visibly straightened again.
This time Gibbs knew exactly where the feeling of pride and achievement came from and he glanced briefly at the Empath even as Ensign Barrows stepped out of the doorway, exposing the room behind him - the very messy room.
“Boss! This isn’t Ensign Barrows registered address,” McGee yelled from the lawn, Ziva and Tony flanking him on either side. Gibbs studied the Ensign, noted the messy room and the baseball bat near the door. Barrows was looking confused again, the feeling of pride diminishing and he finally noticed the NCIS insignia and the penny dropped.
“Shit!”
Ensign Barrows bolted for the door and Gibbs thought ‘stop’ for a split second and even as he moved to chase Barrows, he felt a rush of kinetic energy surge through him. The entire house rocked as the wave of undirected power lashed out and blew the door off its hinges and knocked Barrows flying. Startled and ... elated... Gibbs ran to the stunned suspect and flipped him over, saying in a somewhat shaky voice, “You are under arrest for the murder of PO Martinez.”
“But, but...” Barrows stammered, staring up at Gibbs and then staring at Dean. “How did you...?” Ziva and Tony ran up the steps, skirting past Dean warily and helped Gibbs drag the large Ensign to his feet.
“Read him his rights.”
Nodding, Ziva and Tony escorted Barrows down the stairs, past a still open mouthed McGee. Fighting the tremble in his hands, Gibbs stalked over to the Empath and opened his mouth to start yelling. Dean turned to face him, the so far persistent dazed look gone, and a more belligerent one in place.
The closer proximity to Dean was enough to further derail his tirade and he shoved his hands into his pockets and hissed, “Don’t ever do that again! I’m charge of the throwing people around. Got it? You are not my dog to go chasing suspects!”
There was no nod or flicker of understanding, just defiance, the guy’s jaw clenched, his fists curled into white knuckled anger. Rather than stay as close as he was any longer, Gibbs hurled himself down the steps and snarled at McGee, “Bring him. And slap a pair of handcuffs on him as well.”
*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n
-After extensive testing it was discovered that telekinetics could move, lift and interact with any number of small, relatively light objects. The greater the mass of the object however, the more effort required and even the strongest telekinetics in laboratory situations failed to duplicate the dramatic rescue of Richard E. Jackson. Theorising that adrenalin, like most physical actions in extreme situations, played a key role, the Centre scientists achieved limited success in stimulating Telekinetics to match the original feat.
Research however into the abilities of the few Empaths the Centre had access too, was a much slower and less impressive process. Reading emotions was an obvious and easily confirmed ability and mind reading was quickly discredited and never proved in subsequent tests. However, in those first critical years the Empaths’ ability to manipulate or guide other people’s emotions was confirmed and documented. Any of the known Empaths could quite easily manipulate the emotions of a group of people ranging from extreme sadness to overwhelming joy. Testing to determine the strength of this ability and whether there was capacity for ‘brainwashing’ or subverting the natural inclination of the individual remained inconclusive.
It wasn’t however until the Jacksons, both living at the Centre, insisted on being tested together that the real breakthrough in Telekinetic ability was documented. With his wife at his side, Richard Jackson was able to duplicate his car lift with ease, and without any adrenalin supplements. The potential for paired Telekinetic and Empathic abilities was huge.
- extract from “The Telekinetic Phenomenon” by Maxwell Kimball, circa 1987