Day 7: Need to Know
Son of a bitch. What the hell, brain?
Title: Need to Know
Author: Lady Yueh
Fandom: NCIS/SG-1
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not my property and no infringement is intended.
Character(s): O'Neill. Gibbs
Date: December 07
Author’s Notes: *whimpers* Seriously, not my fault. This is the bunny that killed all the other bunnies for today and it demands to be served. *sigh* Shoot me?
---------
Gibbs stared down the young captain, reluctantly impressed with how cowed he wasn’t. He really didn’t care that he’d just been handed papers tossing him off the case, he wasn’t going to let this go.
“The case falls under NCIS jurisdiction, Captain. You don’t have the authority to--”
“Those papers give me enough authority, Agent Gibbs. I’m here under orders from General O’Neill, who supersedes the mandate of NCIS.”
What the hell?
“General O’Neill? Who’s he?” Tony asks the question.
Captain Rodriguez arches a eyebrow with a hint of condescension that Gibbs doesn’t like. “If you don’t know, it’s above your pay grade.” He turns to his men, clearly dismissing Gibbs and his team. “Secure the area,” Rodriguez tells them.
Gibbs tenses, readying himself to do something when Ziva stops him.
“Gibbs,” she murmurs, solemn and serious with a hint that she’s not as lost as the rest of them.
“Ziva? Something you want to tell me?”
“General O’Neill…his name is familiar. He was recently appointed the head of new top secret branch of Homeland Security under the auspice of special anti-terrorist tactics. I believe Mossad has a detailed file dedicated to him, with the highest level of clearance.” Her grave expression does more to tell him about the level of classified that they’ve stumbled into than anything else.
“Pack it up,” he orders his team tersely as he snaps out his phone to get more information on just what the hell was going on.
--------
He’s told to drop it.
Repeatedly.
The only thing that’s harder to do than pin down O’Neill is find out just what he’s Director of. No one’s really buying the line of bullshit they’ve spun but they all pretend to at least. The ones that don’t tell Gibbs to forget it and refuse to give him even a scrap.
It's become a slow, steady obsession. A curiosity his gut won't let up on. He’s not giving up.
-------
“You’re a persistent man.”
Gibbs doesn’t reveal any hint of surprise though he is, off-kilter and startled that his gut hadn’t warned him, had failed him.
“Am I?” he says as he continued to smooth down the wood of his boat, even strokes that don’t falter or hesitate, creating an aura of competence.
“I was kind of surprised that your door was unlocked. You should consider getting a dog, at least that’s what I’ve been told repeatedly. I’ve found that growing up in a small town I never got the hang of locking my own door either, but it really does cut back on the unexpected guests I have dropping by. ”
“General O’Neill,” Gibbs guesses, sounding sure. He turns, appraising the man before him. He looks only slightly older than the video clip from the fiasco with Sen. Kinsey and the his pose was that of a studied nonchalance that didn’t fool Gibbs in the slightest.
“Like I said, you’re persistent. My secretary has been very cranky because of it. She’s denied me the good pie twice. In a row. Which is just cruel. So I decided to come ask you personally to drop it.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I offer you a job. Because that‘s the only way you‘re getting answers, I assure you. Well, the only option that doesn’t include treason.” O’Neill’s smile is sharp. “And when I say offer I mean that I get you and any of your team that passes our security check.”
“You can’t do that.”
O’Neill shrugs as he starts fiddling with a cat‘s paw. “The Secretary of the Navy hates my guts but he’d love to have an inside man--he could order you.”
“I could quit.”
“Then that’d solve all our problems. You wouldn’t go snooping without the auspice of NCIS, would you?”
Frustrated, Gibbs can only glare, annoyed with the undaunted nerve of the man in his basement.
O’Neill sighs and in a split-second he looks more human. “Don’t look for answers you don’t want, Gibbs. You’re actually just the kind of man we look for, but you’re doing good where you are and you actually get the holidays off.” O’Neill smiles sardonically as he turns towards the stairs. “Beautiful boat, by the way. Looks perfect for fishing on the lake,” he sounds wistful and that surprises Gibbs into a moment of shared, reluctant understanding.
As soon as the sound of a shutting door heralds O'Neill's exit he returns to his boat, letting his mind twist and turn the encounter until he can unravel answers from what was said and what wasn't and come to a plan of action.
He's at it until dawn.
--------
He regards his team in action the next morning.
He drops it.
O’Neill was just enough of a bastard to be likeable and he was completely serious.
In the long run, they were more important.
Title: Need to Know
Author: Lady Yueh
Fandom: NCIS/SG-1
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not my property and no infringement is intended.
Character(s): O'Neill. Gibbs
Date: December 07
Author’s Notes: *whimpers* Seriously, not my fault. This is the bunny that killed all the other bunnies for today and it demands to be served. *sigh* Shoot me?
---------
Gibbs stared down the young captain, reluctantly impressed with how cowed he wasn’t. He really didn’t care that he’d just been handed papers tossing him off the case, he wasn’t going to let this go.
“The case falls under NCIS jurisdiction, Captain. You don’t have the authority to--”
“Those papers give me enough authority, Agent Gibbs. I’m here under orders from General O’Neill, who supersedes the mandate of NCIS.”
What the hell?
“General O’Neill? Who’s he?” Tony asks the question.
Captain Rodriguez arches a eyebrow with a hint of condescension that Gibbs doesn’t like. “If you don’t know, it’s above your pay grade.” He turns to his men, clearly dismissing Gibbs and his team. “Secure the area,” Rodriguez tells them.
Gibbs tenses, readying himself to do something when Ziva stops him.
“Gibbs,” she murmurs, solemn and serious with a hint that she’s not as lost as the rest of them.
“Ziva? Something you want to tell me?”
“General O’Neill…his name is familiar. He was recently appointed the head of new top secret branch of Homeland Security under the auspice of special anti-terrorist tactics. I believe Mossad has a detailed file dedicated to him, with the highest level of clearance.” Her grave expression does more to tell him about the level of classified that they’ve stumbled into than anything else.
“Pack it up,” he orders his team tersely as he snaps out his phone to get more information on just what the hell was going on.
--------
He’s told to drop it.
Repeatedly.
The only thing that’s harder to do than pin down O’Neill is find out just what he’s Director of. No one’s really buying the line of bullshit they’ve spun but they all pretend to at least. The ones that don’t tell Gibbs to forget it and refuse to give him even a scrap.
It's become a slow, steady obsession. A curiosity his gut won't let up on. He’s not giving up.
-------
“You’re a persistent man.”
Gibbs doesn’t reveal any hint of surprise though he is, off-kilter and startled that his gut hadn’t warned him, had failed him.
“Am I?” he says as he continued to smooth down the wood of his boat, even strokes that don’t falter or hesitate, creating an aura of competence.
“I was kind of surprised that your door was unlocked. You should consider getting a dog, at least that’s what I’ve been told repeatedly. I’ve found that growing up in a small town I never got the hang of locking my own door either, but it really does cut back on the unexpected guests I have dropping by. ”
“General O’Neill,” Gibbs guesses, sounding sure. He turns, appraising the man before him. He looks only slightly older than the video clip from the fiasco with Sen. Kinsey and the his pose was that of a studied nonchalance that didn’t fool Gibbs in the slightest.
“Like I said, you’re persistent. My secretary has been very cranky because of it. She’s denied me the good pie twice. In a row. Which is just cruel. So I decided to come ask you personally to drop it.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I offer you a job. Because that‘s the only way you‘re getting answers, I assure you. Well, the only option that doesn’t include treason.” O’Neill’s smile is sharp. “And when I say offer I mean that I get you and any of your team that passes our security check.”
“You can’t do that.”
O’Neill shrugs as he starts fiddling with a cat‘s paw. “The Secretary of the Navy hates my guts but he’d love to have an inside man--he could order you.”
“I could quit.”
“Then that’d solve all our problems. You wouldn’t go snooping without the auspice of NCIS, would you?”
Frustrated, Gibbs can only glare, annoyed with the undaunted nerve of the man in his basement.
O’Neill sighs and in a split-second he looks more human. “Don’t look for answers you don’t want, Gibbs. You’re actually just the kind of man we look for, but you’re doing good where you are and you actually get the holidays off.” O’Neill smiles sardonically as he turns towards the stairs. “Beautiful boat, by the way. Looks perfect for fishing on the lake,” he sounds wistful and that surprises Gibbs into a moment of shared, reluctant understanding.
As soon as the sound of a shutting door heralds O'Neill's exit he returns to his boat, letting his mind twist and turn the encounter until he can unravel answers from what was said and what wasn't and come to a plan of action.
He's at it until dawn.
--------
He regards his team in action the next morning.
He drops it.
O’Neill was just enough of a bastard to be likeable and he was completely serious.
In the long run, they were more important.