Fic: Rule 52, Chapter 8B
Continued from this entry.
Chapters | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8A | 8B | 9 |
========
With her usual gracefulness, Ziva floated out the door of Pike's office while Gibbs snagged a wireless headset from the rack near the tech console. He activated it and affixed it over his head in time to hear his Iowa City counterpart ask with a long-suffering sigh, "Did you ever do anything with that list of rules you were working on back when we were in the desert?"
Gibbs snorted. "Hell yes, I did. I use 'em to teach my people what they need to know."
Pike smiled fondly. "Shannon's idea, if I remember correctly."
"They were," the gunny answered confidently. "I always told you that she was the brains of it all."
"No surprise there. How many are you up to now?" Pike asked.
"I've got fifty-one and counting."
Nodding his head, the lieutenant laid the index finger of his left hand over his mouth. He pulled at the neck of the still-stained sweater and said, "I think it's time to add number fifty-two to the list."
Smiling from the corner of his mouth, Gibbs dropped his head and kicked at a piece of dirt stuck to the drab, brown carpet. He lifted his eyes to the screen and hazarded his best theory. "Never leave DiNozzo and Kirk in the same room, alone, ever again?"
"I'd appreciate that," was Pike's deadpanned, flat reply.
From the corner of the room in Iowa, Gibbs heard a loud snort over the audio feed from a forgotten person tucked out of camera's line of sight. A sarcastic, irritated and distinctly southern drawl coated the gunny's ears like molasses. "You'd appreciate that?" the annoyed man started. "You don't have to put up with Kirk. You pawned that job off on me."
"Which you accepted when you took the stripes, McCoy," Pike fired right back, without so much as even a pause for breath. Scrunching up his face, he pointed one finger at his officer. "And furthermore, I told everyone to leave, and that included you."
"No," McCoy proclaimed loudly and vehemently.
Pike lifted an eyebrow at nearly the same moment Gibbs did. The gazes of both men were steely and unwavering. The lieutenant let his voice dip before he replied, "No, what?"
"No, I am not leaving. I've known you a long time, Chris, and I think it's only fair I finally get to hear some confirmation of what an annoying bastard you were. Are. Were. Something."
Pike allowed his expression to go flat as he reached for a towel and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, allowing McCoy to stew silently. Dumping a healthy splash onto the cloth, he began to wipe at his face. Little patches of naturally colored skin finally began to show through as the towel turned varying shades of pink to red. Finally finished with his right cheek, Chris looked up and replied innocently, "And what, exactly, would that be, McCoy?"
Gibbs snorted loudly and answered without thinking, "Try that you're a devious, hypocritical son of a bitch, that's what!" Sobering, he added, "Though if DiNozzo tried to talk to me like that, I'd kick his ass from the Navy yard to Afghanistan and back again for even thinking about the word insubordination."
Pike sighed deeply and ran his hand over his still half-red face. He motioned with his hand lazily and pulled on the chair next to him. "Len, come here," he said in a much less officious tone.
The dark-haired objector Gibbs saw earlier dropped into the chair next to the lieutenant, a smug, triumphant smile on his face. Chris rolled his eyes as McCoy stuffed his hands into the pouch of his battered, worn Ole Miss hoodie and motioned to the screen. "Gunny, this is Sergeant Leonard McCoy, my former partner of seven years and now my training officer for the shift. Len, Gunnery Sergeant Jethro Gibbs, NCIS."
"Pleasure," McCoy quipped, giving Gibbs the quick once over with his eyes. Appreciative, some of the suspicion faded from his eyes while he sat back in his chair. With a jerk of his thumb in Pike's direction, he added, "I'd shake your hand for putting this guy in his place, but I don't think that'll work too well."
"Given the circumstances, I think we can consider this a handshake," Gibbs replied. He shifted his eyes to Pike and said, "I was wondering why you were letting him walk all over you like that. Should have said he was your partner. Would have made more sense to me."
Pike laughed out loud and hypothesized, "You were ready to jump through this video feed and PT his ass into the ground for that, weren't you?"
"I admit the thought crossed my mind."
"See, now that just ain't right. I'm the one who's managed to stay out of trouble, unlike my infant partner and your irritating agent" McCoy informed Pike and Gibbs, rolling his eyes as he allowed his Georgian drawl to thicken considerably.
"Tonight," Pike replied quickly with a snort. "You stayed out of trouble tonight. But you keep testing me, and I won't hesitate to publically go over each and every time you didn't walk the straight and narrow. You forget it goes both ways, McCoy - I know plenty of those stories, and I'm not afraid to tell them."
Pursing his lips, McCoy stared resolutely into the screen, at Gibbs. Pointing one finger in Pike's direction, he said, "Do you see what I have to put up with? He's an insufferable bastard who thinks the bars on his shoulders always make him right."
"I got news for you: he's always been like that, even when I outranked him," Gibbs replied as he took a moment to study the new addition to the conversation. He was much younger than the NCIS agent expected, though McCoy seemed to be every bit the cop his service jacket proclaimed him to be. Most definitely a lead-by-example type of a guy, his bearing was confident, but not cocky, unlike the vibe Gibbs pulled from Kirk. Nodding satisfactory, Gibbs addressed Pike while he pointed toward McCoy. "At the risk of giving him a bigger head, it seems like your eye for people extended past the Corps, Pike."
Pike shrugged, glanced over his shoulder and propped his feet up on his desk. "I do my best."
"So how does that explain Jim?" McCoy growled lowly, turning his head to glare daggers at his commanding officer.
Chris replied by scoffing loudly and rolling his eyes while he relaxed into the back of his chair. "Some days, it goes better than others. We'll call Kirk my one momentary lapse in good judgment and leave it at that."
"Jim is not a 'momentary lapse' in judgment. He is a pain in my ass," the sergeant retorted.
"That, too," Pike replied right before he narrowed his eyes. "But it seems like Kirk's rubbing off on you, considering everyone else took the hint to vamoose."
"I don't follow the pack," McCoy replied, confirming Gibbs' suspicions. "I told you I wanted to hear a story or two, and I think I've earned the right for reasons that start with 'Jim' and end with 'Kirk'," he concluded. McCoy crossed his arms over his chest and let his face fall stony, flat and resolute.
"Fine," Chris acquiesced after a few seconds while his brain churned out all the possible scenarios of how it might be a bad idea to tell McCoy anything about his past. "One story. That's it. And then you get the hell out."
"I can live with that," McCoy replied.
Shaking his head, Pike added, "I wasn't finished, McCoy." He motioned emphatically, finger tapping the blotter on top of his desk. "The deal is you sit down, you shut up, and the moment you walk out that door, you forget everything you heard in this room. Are we clear?"
Raising one eyebrow nearly to his hairline, Len fixed his former partner with a gaze that would have caused lesser men to wilt. "What?" he snorted. "And give Jim more idiotic ideas that result in mountains of paperwork? Hell, no. It'll be forgotten as soon as I walk out the door."
"You'd be wise to do that, Sergeant. Your boss was good at pissing off the brass. Turns out they don't take too kindly to things blowing up near their offices, even if a safe zone," Gibbs informed McCoy nonchalantly, dangling the proverbial carrot.
The little tidbit of information had the desired effect as one eyebrow scaled McCoy forehead at the same time he leaned closer to the camera. "Really, now?" he said, rather rhetorically. Turning to his boss, McCoy added, "You know, I always thought you were just an older version of Jim, and this is just going to confirm it."
Conversely, Gibbs watched as Pike dipped his chin and smiled guiltily as the tips of his ears and his nose went a little pink. "Okay, so I might have been a little bit of a pain in the ass when I was in the Corps. I liked to have fun. What's wrong with that?" Pike exclaimed, unused to the feeling of being on the bottom of the proverbial hog pile.
"With an MRE bomb?" Gibbs asked succinctly.
"You put what in your cup?" McCoy asked as his voice pitched up. "What in the blue fuck is an MRE bomb?"
"Exactly that. A bomb, made from MREs," Pike answered quickly and vaguely.
Confusion danced around McCoy's face as he tried to make heads or tails of his lieutenant's short, incomplete and completely bullshit response. It was amusing to Gibbs to watch the thoughts parade across the younger man's features; he correctly guessed that not much tripped up the opinionated sergeant, and the foreign feeling of uncertainty wasn't sitting well with the man. Finally, after a few moments of contemplation, McCoy admitted defeat with, "In English, Chris? I have to memorize enough damned acronyms to do my own job, and I refuse to learn more just to hear what annoying idiot you were. What's an MRE?"
"It's a Meal Ready to Eat, or how the military guarantees you won't shit right for a week," Chris replied, his comment pulling a snort of agreement from Gibbs.
Skeptically, McCoy's eyebrow climbed higher up his forehead, something that the NCIS agent found both amusing and slightly disturbing. The Iowa City sergeant's voice dipped when he asked, "And you make a bomb from this? Please tell me we don't just give explosives to our soldiers in food form."
"We're Marines, McCoy, not soldiers. And we can make a bomb from anything. Resourceful overkill is our specialty," Pike said proudly, something that earned a gravelly 'Ooh-rah,' from the gunny.
Gibbs clamped down the smile that was threatening to overtake his face as McCoy's expression melted into one of slack-jawed open horror. "It's easier than you think," he started off before the Iowa City cop could launch into any kind of meaningful protest. "MREs come with a heating pouch and some chemical powder so you don't have to eat it cold. You take the powder, stick it in a plastic bottle and add water. When they mix, the reaction creates gas, and it eventually blows up the bottle."
"What did you decapitate with this little stunt of yours? Because I can see it ending about five thousand different ways, none of which were good," McCoy asked through narrowed eyes.
"Only his own freedom and food choice for a week," Gibbs answered for Pike.
"I was playing Russian Roulette with it right outside the command post," Chris admitted while he picked away at some of the red dye nestled under his fingernails. "I don't know why the colonel was so upset. It was just a window I broke, not anyone's head."
"Just a window? You're insane, Pike."
"Funny, that's what the colonel told me, right before he tossed me in the brig and confined me to bread and water rations for the week," Pike retorted with a smile. He switched his focus to Gibbs when he added, "Besides, it was worth it. Won me a case of beer I drank as soon as I was free."
Gibbs watched as McCoy's head slowly turned towards his boss' relaxed, nearly vainglorious posture. When Pike refused to show anything resembling contriteness for his transgressions, the Iowa City sergeant dropped his head into his hands rested his elbows on his knees. "Jesus Christ. All right, look. As soon as the phones are back on, I'm calling Maury to have your and Jim's DNA tested. There's nothing short of a negative result that's gonna convince me you're not related."
Pike stopped, stared quizzically at McCoy and after an uncomfortably long pause, threw back his head and laughed. It was long and loud, and straight from his belly. The length only caused his subordinate's eyebrows dip harder between his eyes and his growl deeper as he cursed his boss to hell and back. The lieutenant eventually calmed himself enough, wiped the tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes and said, "My intentions were good, the plan was solid, but something went a little bit wrong in the execution," he said with a passive shrug of his shoulders. "In retrospect, I think I might have been a little overzealous with the number of heating packets I used, but it was still a good way to pass the time."
Shaking his head in earnest, McCoy vaulted his frame up and out of the chair next to his commanding officer. "You know what? This was a stupid idea. I don't need to know," he said, looking down at Pike, the latter not even bothering to try and contain his laughter. "Jesus, and here I thought your idiocy only extended to the time you locked yourself in the back of your squad. This? This just smashed that record into little, tiny smithereens. You and Jim can go be morons together, but I want no part in it."
"I think it's a little late for that."
Growling, Len shook his head and turned on one heel, inadvertently executing a perfect about face. He took two brisk steps toward the door and laid his hand on the door handle. McCoy was two seconds for freedom when the sound of Pike's voice stopped him.
"Oh, Len?"
McCoy visibly stiffened. He braced himself and squared his body around to face his CO's. "What?" he spat.
Chris dipped his chin and raised his left eyebrow marginally. "It's snowing too hard right now for you guys to go home. At this rate, it'll take you three times as long to get there and back, and it's not worth winding up in a wreck because of it. I want you and Kirk to stay here for the night."
"I'll make it home just fine. I've driven in worse weather than this while I'm on duty in a rear-wheel drive car," McCoy retorted, rolling his eyes as he pulled open the door.
Pike pursed his lips while he let his head fall to the side almost imperceptibly. The sounds of the station washed in through the crack in the partition and it made the audio sensors in MTAC momentarily hiccup, but the lieutenant's voice cut through the din. "Let me rephrase that, Sergeant," Pike began, using McCoy's rank to grab his full attention. "You and Jim are not going anywhere tonight. I can't afford for either of you to get hurt in an accident, or to be stuck tomorrow and unable to report to roll."
McCoy saw Pike's eyebrow and raised one of his own. "You have other cops who can handle the shift."
Chris shook his head and let his chin fall even closer to his chest. He stared at McCoy long and hard while his gaze drifted toward the chair DiNozzo was previously occupying, and then to the spot where Ziva stood. After a few long seconds of pointed staring, Pike lifted his face up and tilted his head to the side while he silently communicated with his sergeant.
McCoy's formerly raised eyebrow dropped like a rock, his dark brows creasing on top of the bridge of his nose. "You want me to babysit them? Oh, hell no! I might be a lot of things, but that's not one of them."
"What, exactly, do you think you do all day long? You're a public babysitter. Why should this be any different?"
"I can shoot the ones that threaten my well-being on the street," McCoy growled while the right corner of his mouth turned upward in a vicious sneer.
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Len, you're not going to shoot them, and this isn't such a bad assignment. But if you want to keep acting like a five year old, by all means, go ahead. My next step is to make it an order. Do I need to go that far, Sergeant?" Pike said, crossing his arms over his chest while his eyes dared McCoy to contradict him.
The Iowa City sergeant's face fell. "No," he mumbled. McCoy picked up his head and stared his boss down. Louder, he added, "But I'm doing it under protest," before he practically stomped out the door to Pike's office. Chris shared an amused, sympathetically mutual look with his counterpart in D.C. before he resituated himself in his chair. "Now, where were we?"
"I'd normally argue that my agents don't need babysitters, but given the circumstances, I don't think that argument would hold water," Gibbs quipped over the video line as he gestured toward the patchy, blotchy red spots still littered across Pike's face and neck. "Still, I think you scared him."
Chris watched McCoy's silhouette hang a right turn outside his door. Shaking one finger defensively at Gibbs, he shifted in his chair and said, "You encouraged it too, Gunny, so don't pretend like you thought telling him about me was a bad idea."
"Nah! I would never do such a thing," he said sarcastically, eyes flicking away from the screen momentarily. As a distraction, Gibbs drained his coffee and tossed the empty cup in the garbage near the tech console, all in one fluid motion.
"Somehow, I think that's a load of bullshit, Special Agent Gibbs," Pike answered smugly, not buying the clear diversion.
True to form, Gibbs sniped back a one sentence reply that completely changed the tone of the conversation. "No more than your reaction to Kirk and DiNozzo."
The lieutenant let out a low grunt and dropped his chin to his chest. Scrubbing a hand through his hair and cursing when red flecks of paint fluttered down to his desk like snowflakes, Pike leaned on his elbows and smiled. "That didn't fool you, huh?"
"Not a damned bit."
He sighed. "Guess I must be slipping."
Gibbs tilted his head to the side and snorted to the negative. "Nah, Chris. Someone has to put the fear of God into guys like Kirk and DiNozzo every once in a while."
"That's what I have McCoy for." At Gibbs' incredulous expression, he added, "What, do you think I keep him around just for his personality?"
"No, I thought you would have kept him because he seems like a damned good cop, under all that bullshit," the gunny replied in his usual, no-holds-barred way.
"There is that, too. Len's a good cop and a better guy, but it's hard to get to know him. Kind of like someone else I knew back in the day," he said with a poignant glance in Gibbs' direction.
"I was the practice? Glad I could help, Pike."
Chris shifted in his chair and tossed the soiled rag in the garbage can next to his desk. "But we still have business to discuss, as much as I've enjoyed this chat."
"Jenkins," Gibbs supplied. His bearing shifted from a man simply catching up with an old war buddy back into the NCIS MCRT team leader. "I need him, Pike, and I don't think I have to tell you that my federal jurisdiction trumps your state."
Pike opened his mouth to protest out of ingrained force of habit, but closed it before he actually said anything. Gibbs narrowed his eyes suspiciously; the Chris Pike he knew wasn't shy with his opinions, though they didn't come out as sharply as they'd flowed from his civilian sergeant. He waited for Pike to say what was on his mind with a sense of foreboding. When the man was that quiet, bad things often followed. "Cat got your tongue, Sergeant?" Gibbs asked, addressing Pike by his military rank in hopes it provoked some kind of instant response.
"I was just thinking of something that might be mutually beneficial for both of us," he replied after a beat.
"What's that?"
"I'll give you Jenkins, but you have to agree that DiNozzo and David go with him. I want those two the hell out of my city, and more importantly, the fuck away from Kirk," Pike ordered as he leaned in to the screen and pointed one finger towards Gibbs.
"That's all? You got yourself a deal, Lieutenant."
"I mean it, Special Agent Gibbs. I want them gone as soon as the snow clears. Tomorrow morning. First light. I'll sign the transfer paperwork right now." Chris reached over into the file basket just off screen and pulled out a piece of paper. Taking out his trusty custom made .308/30-06 nickel plated pen, he scribbled his name on the transfer form in the correct boxes and stuck it ceremoniously back in the folder. He pointed the business end of the former bullet at Gibbs and said, "God help you if DiNozzo does anything else stupid, because I will rip up that paperwork and toss him in my jail instead."
Gibbs barked out a couple of long, genuine laughs. The sound of happiness coming from the otherwise surly agent shocked the hell out of the tech at the communications console. The man quickly re-acquired his sights on the panels with one well-placed glare from Gibbs. "If that happens, keep him. You have my permission."
"Noted," Pike answered. Softening his facial expression a bit, he said in addition, "Nice talking to you, Gibbs. If you're ever in Iowa, call me. We should catch up."
"Likewise, if you're ever in D.C. Take care of yourself, Marine," Gibbs ordered before removing the headset and motioning to the tech to cut the connection.
Now he really needed another cup of coffee.
========
Next Up: Much to the relief of Pike and McCoy, Tony and Ziva depart, but all is definitely not as it appears.
Chapters | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8A | 8B | 9 |
========
With her usual gracefulness, Ziva floated out the door of Pike's office while Gibbs snagged a wireless headset from the rack near the tech console. He activated it and affixed it over his head in time to hear his Iowa City counterpart ask with a long-suffering sigh, "Did you ever do anything with that list of rules you were working on back when we were in the desert?"
Gibbs snorted. "Hell yes, I did. I use 'em to teach my people what they need to know."
Pike smiled fondly. "Shannon's idea, if I remember correctly."
"They were," the gunny answered confidently. "I always told you that she was the brains of it all."
"No surprise there. How many are you up to now?" Pike asked.
"I've got fifty-one and counting."
Nodding his head, the lieutenant laid the index finger of his left hand over his mouth. He pulled at the neck of the still-stained sweater and said, "I think it's time to add number fifty-two to the list."
Smiling from the corner of his mouth, Gibbs dropped his head and kicked at a piece of dirt stuck to the drab, brown carpet. He lifted his eyes to the screen and hazarded his best theory. "Never leave DiNozzo and Kirk in the same room, alone, ever again?"
"I'd appreciate that," was Pike's deadpanned, flat reply.
From the corner of the room in Iowa, Gibbs heard a loud snort over the audio feed from a forgotten person tucked out of camera's line of sight. A sarcastic, irritated and distinctly southern drawl coated the gunny's ears like molasses. "You'd appreciate that?" the annoyed man started. "You don't have to put up with Kirk. You pawned that job off on me."
"Which you accepted when you took the stripes, McCoy," Pike fired right back, without so much as even a pause for breath. Scrunching up his face, he pointed one finger at his officer. "And furthermore, I told everyone to leave, and that included you."
"No," McCoy proclaimed loudly and vehemently.
Pike lifted an eyebrow at nearly the same moment Gibbs did. The gazes of both men were steely and unwavering. The lieutenant let his voice dip before he replied, "No, what?"
"No, I am not leaving. I've known you a long time, Chris, and I think it's only fair I finally get to hear some confirmation of what an annoying bastard you were. Are. Were. Something."
Pike allowed his expression to go flat as he reached for a towel and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, allowing McCoy to stew silently. Dumping a healthy splash onto the cloth, he began to wipe at his face. Little patches of naturally colored skin finally began to show through as the towel turned varying shades of pink to red. Finally finished with his right cheek, Chris looked up and replied innocently, "And what, exactly, would that be, McCoy?"
Gibbs snorted loudly and answered without thinking, "Try that you're a devious, hypocritical son of a bitch, that's what!" Sobering, he added, "Though if DiNozzo tried to talk to me like that, I'd kick his ass from the Navy yard to Afghanistan and back again for even thinking about the word insubordination."
Pike sighed deeply and ran his hand over his still half-red face. He motioned with his hand lazily and pulled on the chair next to him. "Len, come here," he said in a much less officious tone.
The dark-haired objector Gibbs saw earlier dropped into the chair next to the lieutenant, a smug, triumphant smile on his face. Chris rolled his eyes as McCoy stuffed his hands into the pouch of his battered, worn Ole Miss hoodie and motioned to the screen. "Gunny, this is Sergeant Leonard McCoy, my former partner of seven years and now my training officer for the shift. Len, Gunnery Sergeant Jethro Gibbs, NCIS."
"Pleasure," McCoy quipped, giving Gibbs the quick once over with his eyes. Appreciative, some of the suspicion faded from his eyes while he sat back in his chair. With a jerk of his thumb in Pike's direction, he added, "I'd shake your hand for putting this guy in his place, but I don't think that'll work too well."
"Given the circumstances, I think we can consider this a handshake," Gibbs replied. He shifted his eyes to Pike and said, "I was wondering why you were letting him walk all over you like that. Should have said he was your partner. Would have made more sense to me."
Pike laughed out loud and hypothesized, "You were ready to jump through this video feed and PT his ass into the ground for that, weren't you?"
"I admit the thought crossed my mind."
"See, now that just ain't right. I'm the one who's managed to stay out of trouble, unlike my infant partner and your irritating agent" McCoy informed Pike and Gibbs, rolling his eyes as he allowed his Georgian drawl to thicken considerably.
"Tonight," Pike replied quickly with a snort. "You stayed out of trouble tonight. But you keep testing me, and I won't hesitate to publically go over each and every time you didn't walk the straight and narrow. You forget it goes both ways, McCoy - I know plenty of those stories, and I'm not afraid to tell them."
Pursing his lips, McCoy stared resolutely into the screen, at Gibbs. Pointing one finger in Pike's direction, he said, "Do you see what I have to put up with? He's an insufferable bastard who thinks the bars on his shoulders always make him right."
"I got news for you: he's always been like that, even when I outranked him," Gibbs replied as he took a moment to study the new addition to the conversation. He was much younger than the NCIS agent expected, though McCoy seemed to be every bit the cop his service jacket proclaimed him to be. Most definitely a lead-by-example type of a guy, his bearing was confident, but not cocky, unlike the vibe Gibbs pulled from Kirk. Nodding satisfactory, Gibbs addressed Pike while he pointed toward McCoy. "At the risk of giving him a bigger head, it seems like your eye for people extended past the Corps, Pike."
Pike shrugged, glanced over his shoulder and propped his feet up on his desk. "I do my best."
"So how does that explain Jim?" McCoy growled lowly, turning his head to glare daggers at his commanding officer.
Chris replied by scoffing loudly and rolling his eyes while he relaxed into the back of his chair. "Some days, it goes better than others. We'll call Kirk my one momentary lapse in good judgment and leave it at that."
"Jim is not a 'momentary lapse' in judgment. He is a pain in my ass," the sergeant retorted.
"That, too," Pike replied right before he narrowed his eyes. "But it seems like Kirk's rubbing off on you, considering everyone else took the hint to vamoose."
"I don't follow the pack," McCoy replied, confirming Gibbs' suspicions. "I told you I wanted to hear a story or two, and I think I've earned the right for reasons that start with 'Jim' and end with 'Kirk'," he concluded. McCoy crossed his arms over his chest and let his face fall stony, flat and resolute.
"Fine," Chris acquiesced after a few seconds while his brain churned out all the possible scenarios of how it might be a bad idea to tell McCoy anything about his past. "One story. That's it. And then you get the hell out."
"I can live with that," McCoy replied.
Shaking his head, Pike added, "I wasn't finished, McCoy." He motioned emphatically, finger tapping the blotter on top of his desk. "The deal is you sit down, you shut up, and the moment you walk out that door, you forget everything you heard in this room. Are we clear?"
Raising one eyebrow nearly to his hairline, Len fixed his former partner with a gaze that would have caused lesser men to wilt. "What?" he snorted. "And give Jim more idiotic ideas that result in mountains of paperwork? Hell, no. It'll be forgotten as soon as I walk out the door."
"You'd be wise to do that, Sergeant. Your boss was good at pissing off the brass. Turns out they don't take too kindly to things blowing up near their offices, even if a safe zone," Gibbs informed McCoy nonchalantly, dangling the proverbial carrot.
The little tidbit of information had the desired effect as one eyebrow scaled McCoy forehead at the same time he leaned closer to the camera. "Really, now?" he said, rather rhetorically. Turning to his boss, McCoy added, "You know, I always thought you were just an older version of Jim, and this is just going to confirm it."
Conversely, Gibbs watched as Pike dipped his chin and smiled guiltily as the tips of his ears and his nose went a little pink. "Okay, so I might have been a little bit of a pain in the ass when I was in the Corps. I liked to have fun. What's wrong with that?" Pike exclaimed, unused to the feeling of being on the bottom of the proverbial hog pile.
"With an MRE bomb?" Gibbs asked succinctly.
"You put what in your cup?" McCoy asked as his voice pitched up. "What in the blue fuck is an MRE bomb?"
"Exactly that. A bomb, made from MREs," Pike answered quickly and vaguely.
Confusion danced around McCoy's face as he tried to make heads or tails of his lieutenant's short, incomplete and completely bullshit response. It was amusing to Gibbs to watch the thoughts parade across the younger man's features; he correctly guessed that not much tripped up the opinionated sergeant, and the foreign feeling of uncertainty wasn't sitting well with the man. Finally, after a few moments of contemplation, McCoy admitted defeat with, "In English, Chris? I have to memorize enough damned acronyms to do my own job, and I refuse to learn more just to hear what annoying idiot you were. What's an MRE?"
"It's a Meal Ready to Eat, or how the military guarantees you won't shit right for a week," Chris replied, his comment pulling a snort of agreement from Gibbs.
Skeptically, McCoy's eyebrow climbed higher up his forehead, something that the NCIS agent found both amusing and slightly disturbing. The Iowa City sergeant's voice dipped when he asked, "And you make a bomb from this? Please tell me we don't just give explosives to our soldiers in food form."
"We're Marines, McCoy, not soldiers. And we can make a bomb from anything. Resourceful overkill is our specialty," Pike said proudly, something that earned a gravelly 'Ooh-rah,' from the gunny.
Gibbs clamped down the smile that was threatening to overtake his face as McCoy's expression melted into one of slack-jawed open horror. "It's easier than you think," he started off before the Iowa City cop could launch into any kind of meaningful protest. "MREs come with a heating pouch and some chemical powder so you don't have to eat it cold. You take the powder, stick it in a plastic bottle and add water. When they mix, the reaction creates gas, and it eventually blows up the bottle."
"What did you decapitate with this little stunt of yours? Because I can see it ending about five thousand different ways, none of which were good," McCoy asked through narrowed eyes.
"Only his own freedom and food choice for a week," Gibbs answered for Pike.
"I was playing Russian Roulette with it right outside the command post," Chris admitted while he picked away at some of the red dye nestled under his fingernails. "I don't know why the colonel was so upset. It was just a window I broke, not anyone's head."
"Just a window? You're insane, Pike."
"Funny, that's what the colonel told me, right before he tossed me in the brig and confined me to bread and water rations for the week," Pike retorted with a smile. He switched his focus to Gibbs when he added, "Besides, it was worth it. Won me a case of beer I drank as soon as I was free."
Gibbs watched as McCoy's head slowly turned towards his boss' relaxed, nearly vainglorious posture. When Pike refused to show anything resembling contriteness for his transgressions, the Iowa City sergeant dropped his head into his hands rested his elbows on his knees. "Jesus Christ. All right, look. As soon as the phones are back on, I'm calling Maury to have your and Jim's DNA tested. There's nothing short of a negative result that's gonna convince me you're not related."
Pike stopped, stared quizzically at McCoy and after an uncomfortably long pause, threw back his head and laughed. It was long and loud, and straight from his belly. The length only caused his subordinate's eyebrows dip harder between his eyes and his growl deeper as he cursed his boss to hell and back. The lieutenant eventually calmed himself enough, wiped the tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes and said, "My intentions were good, the plan was solid, but something went a little bit wrong in the execution," he said with a passive shrug of his shoulders. "In retrospect, I think I might have been a little overzealous with the number of heating packets I used, but it was still a good way to pass the time."
Shaking his head in earnest, McCoy vaulted his frame up and out of the chair next to his commanding officer. "You know what? This was a stupid idea. I don't need to know," he said, looking down at Pike, the latter not even bothering to try and contain his laughter. "Jesus, and here I thought your idiocy only extended to the time you locked yourself in the back of your squad. This? This just smashed that record into little, tiny smithereens. You and Jim can go be morons together, but I want no part in it."
"I think it's a little late for that."
Growling, Len shook his head and turned on one heel, inadvertently executing a perfect about face. He took two brisk steps toward the door and laid his hand on the door handle. McCoy was two seconds for freedom when the sound of Pike's voice stopped him.
"Oh, Len?"
McCoy visibly stiffened. He braced himself and squared his body around to face his CO's. "What?" he spat.
Chris dipped his chin and raised his left eyebrow marginally. "It's snowing too hard right now for you guys to go home. At this rate, it'll take you three times as long to get there and back, and it's not worth winding up in a wreck because of it. I want you and Kirk to stay here for the night."
"I'll make it home just fine. I've driven in worse weather than this while I'm on duty in a rear-wheel drive car," McCoy retorted, rolling his eyes as he pulled open the door.
Pike pursed his lips while he let his head fall to the side almost imperceptibly. The sounds of the station washed in through the crack in the partition and it made the audio sensors in MTAC momentarily hiccup, but the lieutenant's voice cut through the din. "Let me rephrase that, Sergeant," Pike began, using McCoy's rank to grab his full attention. "You and Jim are not going anywhere tonight. I can't afford for either of you to get hurt in an accident, or to be stuck tomorrow and unable to report to roll."
McCoy saw Pike's eyebrow and raised one of his own. "You have other cops who can handle the shift."
Chris shook his head and let his chin fall even closer to his chest. He stared at McCoy long and hard while his gaze drifted toward the chair DiNozzo was previously occupying, and then to the spot where Ziva stood. After a few long seconds of pointed staring, Pike lifted his face up and tilted his head to the side while he silently communicated with his sergeant.
McCoy's formerly raised eyebrow dropped like a rock, his dark brows creasing on top of the bridge of his nose. "You want me to babysit them? Oh, hell no! I might be a lot of things, but that's not one of them."
"What, exactly, do you think you do all day long? You're a public babysitter. Why should this be any different?"
"I can shoot the ones that threaten my well-being on the street," McCoy growled while the right corner of his mouth turned upward in a vicious sneer.
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Len, you're not going to shoot them, and this isn't such a bad assignment. But if you want to keep acting like a five year old, by all means, go ahead. My next step is to make it an order. Do I need to go that far, Sergeant?" Pike said, crossing his arms over his chest while his eyes dared McCoy to contradict him.
The Iowa City sergeant's face fell. "No," he mumbled. McCoy picked up his head and stared his boss down. Louder, he added, "But I'm doing it under protest," before he practically stomped out the door to Pike's office. Chris shared an amused, sympathetically mutual look with his counterpart in D.C. before he resituated himself in his chair. "Now, where were we?"
"I'd normally argue that my agents don't need babysitters, but given the circumstances, I don't think that argument would hold water," Gibbs quipped over the video line as he gestured toward the patchy, blotchy red spots still littered across Pike's face and neck. "Still, I think you scared him."
Chris watched McCoy's silhouette hang a right turn outside his door. Shaking one finger defensively at Gibbs, he shifted in his chair and said, "You encouraged it too, Gunny, so don't pretend like you thought telling him about me was a bad idea."
"Nah! I would never do such a thing," he said sarcastically, eyes flicking away from the screen momentarily. As a distraction, Gibbs drained his coffee and tossed the empty cup in the garbage near the tech console, all in one fluid motion.
"Somehow, I think that's a load of bullshit, Special Agent Gibbs," Pike answered smugly, not buying the clear diversion.
True to form, Gibbs sniped back a one sentence reply that completely changed the tone of the conversation. "No more than your reaction to Kirk and DiNozzo."
The lieutenant let out a low grunt and dropped his chin to his chest. Scrubbing a hand through his hair and cursing when red flecks of paint fluttered down to his desk like snowflakes, Pike leaned on his elbows and smiled. "That didn't fool you, huh?"
"Not a damned bit."
He sighed. "Guess I must be slipping."
Gibbs tilted his head to the side and snorted to the negative. "Nah, Chris. Someone has to put the fear of God into guys like Kirk and DiNozzo every once in a while."
"That's what I have McCoy for." At Gibbs' incredulous expression, he added, "What, do you think I keep him around just for his personality?"
"No, I thought you would have kept him because he seems like a damned good cop, under all that bullshit," the gunny replied in his usual, no-holds-barred way.
"There is that, too. Len's a good cop and a better guy, but it's hard to get to know him. Kind of like someone else I knew back in the day," he said with a poignant glance in Gibbs' direction.
"I was the practice? Glad I could help, Pike."
Chris shifted in his chair and tossed the soiled rag in the garbage can next to his desk. "But we still have business to discuss, as much as I've enjoyed this chat."
"Jenkins," Gibbs supplied. His bearing shifted from a man simply catching up with an old war buddy back into the NCIS MCRT team leader. "I need him, Pike, and I don't think I have to tell you that my federal jurisdiction trumps your state."
Pike opened his mouth to protest out of ingrained force of habit, but closed it before he actually said anything. Gibbs narrowed his eyes suspiciously; the Chris Pike he knew wasn't shy with his opinions, though they didn't come out as sharply as they'd flowed from his civilian sergeant. He waited for Pike to say what was on his mind with a sense of foreboding. When the man was that quiet, bad things often followed. "Cat got your tongue, Sergeant?" Gibbs asked, addressing Pike by his military rank in hopes it provoked some kind of instant response.
"I was just thinking of something that might be mutually beneficial for both of us," he replied after a beat.
"What's that?"
"I'll give you Jenkins, but you have to agree that DiNozzo and David go with him. I want those two the hell out of my city, and more importantly, the fuck away from Kirk," Pike ordered as he leaned in to the screen and pointed one finger towards Gibbs.
"That's all? You got yourself a deal, Lieutenant."
"I mean it, Special Agent Gibbs. I want them gone as soon as the snow clears. Tomorrow morning. First light. I'll sign the transfer paperwork right now." Chris reached over into the file basket just off screen and pulled out a piece of paper. Taking out his trusty custom made .308/30-06 nickel plated pen, he scribbled his name on the transfer form in the correct boxes and stuck it ceremoniously back in the folder. He pointed the business end of the former bullet at Gibbs and said, "God help you if DiNozzo does anything else stupid, because I will rip up that paperwork and toss him in my jail instead."
Gibbs barked out a couple of long, genuine laughs. The sound of happiness coming from the otherwise surly agent shocked the hell out of the tech at the communications console. The man quickly re-acquired his sights on the panels with one well-placed glare from Gibbs. "If that happens, keep him. You have my permission."
"Noted," Pike answered. Softening his facial expression a bit, he said in addition, "Nice talking to you, Gibbs. If you're ever in Iowa, call me. We should catch up."
"Likewise, if you're ever in D.C. Take care of yourself, Marine," Gibbs ordered before removing the headset and motioning to the tech to cut the connection.
Now he really needed another cup of coffee.
========
Next Up: Much to the relief of Pike and McCoy, Tony and Ziva depart, but all is definitely not as it appears.