Fic: Adagio for the Moon (Chapter 7/12) [NCIS 'Were!Verse]
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six
Chapter Word Count: 1,159
The crime scene- for that's what they were treating Warner's car as -had been cordoned off at five spaces deep on either side of the car, meaning that there were a few cars within the boundaries of the crime scene that belonged to civilians. The owner of one such car was standing outside the tape barrier when the team rolled up in the NCIS van, a tow truck affiliated with NCIS following along behind to take Warner's car back to Abby once Tony, Tim, and Ziva were finished processing the main crime scene.
The owner of the “trapped” car was berating one of the mall's security guards, who looked like he'd only been on the job a week at the most. There was a police officer watching them out of the corner of her eyes; the stylized black bat pins on her lapels that marked her as a vampire let the NCIS agents know that she'd be able to break up any potential altercations that might occur between the two men. To his credit, the security guard was managing to hold his own without getting too angry at the other man, even though the irate mall-goer was far too close into his personal space, and who was also yelling at near-top volume.
'Do you know who I am?' the suited man was yelling. 'I am a high-ranking member in an important Pack in DC, and there'll be hell to pay if you don't let me get to my car and get out of here!'
Tony snorted softly. 'If that guy's a high ranking member of any Pack, I'll eat McGee's hat,' he muttered to Tim and Ziva as they got their gear out of the back of the truck. Gibbs had gone to talk to the Annapolis PD officer, barely batting an eyelid when he caught the vampire's cold scent.
'Hey, why my hat?' Tim asked, looking annoyed. 'Why not your hat, Tony?'
'Because, McGoo, I like my hat. Anyways, isn't Abby always saying how she likes you without your hat? I'd be doing you a favor, not to mention saving the world from the sight of your horrendous hat-hair.'
'Oh, like you are one to talk, Tony,' Ziva joined in. 'Your hair often looks like the back of a porcupine after you take your hat off.'
'I thought you were supposed to be on my side, Ziva,' Tony whined, pulling a face as he readied his camera to take the overall shots, while Tim would be doing the close-ups. Ziva had lost on the rock-paper-scissors match on the way over- thankfully, the traffic had been somewhat heavy, so they weren't inconvenienced by Gibbs' often hectic driving -and had gotten the duty of doing the crime scene sketch.
'Just because I am your partner does not mean I have to agree with you all the time,' Ziva replied. 'Besides, I do not think we would work together as well if I were some sort of yes-person.'
'Yes-man,' Tim corrected idly as he checked the driver's door to see if it was unlocked. The outer lock didn't seem to have been forced in any way, and the car was in such a protected spot that it hadn't been broken into, though that could have been more out of luck than anything else. Having already put on a pair of latex gloves, Tim carefully opened the door, snapping pictures of the interior of the car once he had done so.
'What?' Ziva asked, pausing in her sketching to look at Tim.
'The phrase is “yes-man”, Ziva,' Tony said with a soft sigh. 'Not “yes-person”.'
'I am not a man, Tony,' Ziva replied tartly. 'That phrase does not apply to me, anyways. I have never been much of a follower, as you well know.'
'Yeah, I know, Ziva,' Tony said, turning back to his photos. 'Hey, McGee, pop the trunk while you're there, would you? I want to make sure we don't have any surprises waiting for us back there.'
'Sure.' Tim hit the button for the trunk release, the catch letting go with a soft snick of sound. Tony checked the trunk, but didn't find anything beyond the spare tire.
'Huh. Not even an old shoe,' Tony remarked. 'Weird.'
'Definitely,' Tim said, finishing up with his work inside the main body of the car. 'I've got nothing here, either. We need to get this to Abby. Maybe she can find something we can't.'
'Yeah.'
--
Three hours later, Team Gibbs (plus Kate) were gathered in the evidence garage at Abby's request, though Kate had just been keeping Abby company as the brilliant forensic scientist worked on Warner's car.
'Gibbs, this car is too clean,' Abby said once everyone had arrived, though Tony was relatively sure the petite Goth shouldn't have been smiling that broadly when she announced this.
'And?'
'And, it means that someone had Warner's car detailed,' Abby continued on, her smile as bright and cheery as ever. 'Every last inch has been cleaned and wiped down. Well, almost every inch. Tony, come here.'
Tony obligingly stepped forward and then sat down on the rolling chair Abby gave him when she motioned for him to do so.
'What's the one spot you never clean in your car?' Abby asked, looking around at the assembled agents, both alive and dead, with an expectant air about her. 'Okay, unless you're really obsessive about it.'
'Well, if you're Tony, the back of his trunk,' Tim said. 'There're old gym socks back there that probably have sprouted legs and nearly discovered fire by now.'
'Oh, like you're one to talk, McGee,' Tony snarked. 'You have more unused napkins in your glove box than any sane man should. It's like you're saving up for a second Great Flood or something.'
'Stop it, you guys,' Abby said, failing to keep the laughter out of her voice. 'Since you haven't guessed yet, let me give you a clue: Whoever drove the car to the mall was somewhere around six feet tall. Petty Officer Warner is five foot seven at best. Class, what does this tell us?'
'That whoever drove the car adjusted the seat,' Tony replied, comprehension dawning on his face as he spoke. 'And whoever had to do that-' here he leaned forward a bit, reached between his knees, and pantomimed using a lever, 'had to use the seat lever to adjust for his greater height.'
'I got three slightly smudged fingerprints off the lever,' Abby told them. 'I ran them through the computer and got a ninety-three percent match.'
'A match to who, Abbs?' Gibbs asked, sounding impatient for Abby to get to the point.
'Commander Alexander Dalton. There's your way in to his secret project of hinkyness.'
Gibbs smiled; it was a slow, dangerous smile that showed far too much teeth. It did not bode well for Commander Dalton now that Gibbs had something to use against him. Not at all.
Chapter Word Count: 1,159
The crime scene- for that's what they were treating Warner's car as -had been cordoned off at five spaces deep on either side of the car, meaning that there were a few cars within the boundaries of the crime scene that belonged to civilians. The owner of one such car was standing outside the tape barrier when the team rolled up in the NCIS van, a tow truck affiliated with NCIS following along behind to take Warner's car back to Abby once Tony, Tim, and Ziva were finished processing the main crime scene.
The owner of the “trapped” car was berating one of the mall's security guards, who looked like he'd only been on the job a week at the most. There was a police officer watching them out of the corner of her eyes; the stylized black bat pins on her lapels that marked her as a vampire let the NCIS agents know that she'd be able to break up any potential altercations that might occur between the two men. To his credit, the security guard was managing to hold his own without getting too angry at the other man, even though the irate mall-goer was far too close into his personal space, and who was also yelling at near-top volume.
'Do you know who I am?' the suited man was yelling. 'I am a high-ranking member in an important Pack in DC, and there'll be hell to pay if you don't let me get to my car and get out of here!'
Tony snorted softly. 'If that guy's a high ranking member of any Pack, I'll eat McGee's hat,' he muttered to Tim and Ziva as they got their gear out of the back of the truck. Gibbs had gone to talk to the Annapolis PD officer, barely batting an eyelid when he caught the vampire's cold scent.
'Hey, why my hat?' Tim asked, looking annoyed. 'Why not your hat, Tony?'
'Because, McGoo, I like my hat. Anyways, isn't Abby always saying how she likes you without your hat? I'd be doing you a favor, not to mention saving the world from the sight of your horrendous hat-hair.'
'Oh, like you are one to talk, Tony,' Ziva joined in. 'Your hair often looks like the back of a porcupine after you take your hat off.'
'I thought you were supposed to be on my side, Ziva,' Tony whined, pulling a face as he readied his camera to take the overall shots, while Tim would be doing the close-ups. Ziva had lost on the rock-paper-scissors match on the way over- thankfully, the traffic had been somewhat heavy, so they weren't inconvenienced by Gibbs' often hectic driving -and had gotten the duty of doing the crime scene sketch.
'Just because I am your partner does not mean I have to agree with you all the time,' Ziva replied. 'Besides, I do not think we would work together as well if I were some sort of yes-person.'
'Yes-man,' Tim corrected idly as he checked the driver's door to see if it was unlocked. The outer lock didn't seem to have been forced in any way, and the car was in such a protected spot that it hadn't been broken into, though that could have been more out of luck than anything else. Having already put on a pair of latex gloves, Tim carefully opened the door, snapping pictures of the interior of the car once he had done so.
'What?' Ziva asked, pausing in her sketching to look at Tim.
'The phrase is “yes-man”, Ziva,' Tony said with a soft sigh. 'Not “yes-person”.'
'I am not a man, Tony,' Ziva replied tartly. 'That phrase does not apply to me, anyways. I have never been much of a follower, as you well know.'
'Yeah, I know, Ziva,' Tony said, turning back to his photos. 'Hey, McGee, pop the trunk while you're there, would you? I want to make sure we don't have any surprises waiting for us back there.'
'Sure.' Tim hit the button for the trunk release, the catch letting go with a soft snick of sound. Tony checked the trunk, but didn't find anything beyond the spare tire.
'Huh. Not even an old shoe,' Tony remarked. 'Weird.'
'Definitely,' Tim said, finishing up with his work inside the main body of the car. 'I've got nothing here, either. We need to get this to Abby. Maybe she can find something we can't.'
'Yeah.'
--
Three hours later, Team Gibbs (plus Kate) were gathered in the evidence garage at Abby's request, though Kate had just been keeping Abby company as the brilliant forensic scientist worked on Warner's car.
'Gibbs, this car is too clean,' Abby said once everyone had arrived, though Tony was relatively sure the petite Goth shouldn't have been smiling that broadly when she announced this.
'And?'
'And, it means that someone had Warner's car detailed,' Abby continued on, her smile as bright and cheery as ever. 'Every last inch has been cleaned and wiped down. Well, almost every inch. Tony, come here.'
Tony obligingly stepped forward and then sat down on the rolling chair Abby gave him when she motioned for him to do so.
'What's the one spot you never clean in your car?' Abby asked, looking around at the assembled agents, both alive and dead, with an expectant air about her. 'Okay, unless you're really obsessive about it.'
'Well, if you're Tony, the back of his trunk,' Tim said. 'There're old gym socks back there that probably have sprouted legs and nearly discovered fire by now.'
'Oh, like you're one to talk, McGee,' Tony snarked. 'You have more unused napkins in your glove box than any sane man should. It's like you're saving up for a second Great Flood or something.'
'Stop it, you guys,' Abby said, failing to keep the laughter out of her voice. 'Since you haven't guessed yet, let me give you a clue: Whoever drove the car to the mall was somewhere around six feet tall. Petty Officer Warner is five foot seven at best. Class, what does this tell us?'
'That whoever drove the car adjusted the seat,' Tony replied, comprehension dawning on his face as he spoke. 'And whoever had to do that-' here he leaned forward a bit, reached between his knees, and pantomimed using a lever, 'had to use the seat lever to adjust for his greater height.'
'I got three slightly smudged fingerprints off the lever,' Abby told them. 'I ran them through the computer and got a ninety-three percent match.'
'A match to who, Abbs?' Gibbs asked, sounding impatient for Abby to get to the point.
'Commander Alexander Dalton. There's your way in to his secret project of hinkyness.'
Gibbs smiled; it was a slow, dangerous smile that showed far too much teeth. It did not bode well for Commander Dalton now that Gibbs had something to use against him. Not at all.