The Season of the Totally Obvious
Written in response to the NFA cliché challenge
Link: http://ncistvdotcom.proboards77.com/index.cgi?board=fanfictionchallengeideas&action=display&thread=1182583851
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"She's my mother, Mr. Palmer, and I assure you her name is Vanessa," Dr. Mallard said in frustration.
"But she always answers to Victoria," Jimmy countered. "I am positive her name is Victoria."
"Vanessa!" Ducky said, leaning toward the younger man with determination showing in his eyes.
"Victoria!" Palmer argued, now standing toe to toe with his mentor.
"When I was a child, I…" Ducky began, but was interrupted by a feminine voice echoing from just around the bend.
"Oh, Jimmy…" Agent Lee said, poking her head around the corner. Palmer's eyes widened as he watched her seductively saunter toward him, her bra peeking out from behind the suit jacket she had only partially buttoned.
"Agent Lee," Ducky greeted her with an oblivious smile. "What brings you to autopsy this lovely afternoon?"
"Umm… err… I was wondering if Jimmy could help me carry this small piece of paper upstairs; it's so very heavy," she responded.
"But of course!" Ducky agreed ambivalently as Palmer ran toward the door like the hounds of hell were on his heels.
Not realizing they had already departed, Ducky began, "I remember a time when I was just a lad, working for a…" he trailed off as he turned and realized his audience had already gone. He shrugged his shoulders, and went back to work. "Now where did I put that liver probe?" he was rummaging through his normally well-organized drawers attempting to locate the missing instrument. He began removing items that didn't normally belong; a sexy black bra, a pair of black silk stockings, four pair of ladies' panties, a high-heeled shoe, a large package of condoms and a pair of hand cuffs. "I wonder what these are doing down here?" Ducky asked himself, looking at the handcuffs, and made a mental note to drop them off in the inventory closet.
---
Tony stumbled off the elevator and into the bullpen, followed by a dazed McGee and smirking Ziva.
"What precisely happened to you?" Director Shepard asked, enunciating very well, as usual.
"Um… precisely?" McGee asked. "Umm… we let Ziva drive," he explained. "Tony threw up. Errr… twice."
"It's not my fault!" Tony protested. "The woman drives like she's possessed by Mario Andretti."
"You did not want me to let any gas flow under the street?" Ziva asked.
"You mean you didn't want any grass to grow under your feet, Ziva," Tony corrected.
"Exactly," she agreed.
Director Shepard was no longer listening, but had instead begun muttering, "The Frog is evil and must be destroyed," under her breath, over and over again.
"What's on your shirt, McGee?" Gibbs asked gruffly, noting the trail of vomit his senior field agent had left down the left side of Tim's shirt.
"Er…I'll just change that," McGee said, giving Tony a dirty look as he began removing his shirt. "Um… good job, Tony," he muttered.
"Ya think?" Gibbs asked, and smacked Tony on the back of the head. "I'm going for coffee."
---
Director Shepard walked into her office and froze. "Cynthia?" she asked, concerned. "Has someone been in my office? I could swear that my ink pen has moved two inches to the right," she said, starting to panic.
"No Director Shepard," Cynthia responded. "No one's been there."
"Something just seems out of place," she said, moving to sit at her desk. "What's this?!" she said, noticing the bottle of Scotch sitting on her desk in plain sight.
"You mean you didn't put that there?" Cynthia asked. Jenny leveled her a long look, and stepped past her to the hall.
"Jethro!" she shouted. "My office!"
Grabbing his coffee, he turned to his team. "Apparently what's going on upstairs is more important than the dead marine. Tony, gas the truck. McGee, call Ducky. Ziva's driving," he added, watching Tony's face turn three shades of white.
"See, Tony, Gibbs knows a good thing when he sneeze it," Ziva said with a smirk.
"Umm… errr… uh… He knows a good thing when he sees it, Ziva," McGee corrected, before turning to Gibbs.
"Exactly," Ziva crowed softly in the background as McGee continued.
"But, Boss…" McGee began.
"Did you have something to say, McGee?" Gibbs countered.
"Calling Ducky," he replied, grabbing the receiver.
---
Gibbs took the stairs to the Director's office quickly, and pushed past Cynthia to walk directly inside.
"Did you put this here?" Jenny accused.
"You pulled me away from the case to ask me if I put this here?" Gibbs scoffed.
"You don't drink Scotch!" she continued.
"I know," he defended, shaking his head in disgust. "I have a case," he mumbled as he stormed out the door. Jenny grabbed her gun and began pacing, her earlier mantra again being chanted.
---
"You're still here?!" Gibbs barked in frustration, when he found Ziva and McGee still gathering gear. "Where's DiNozzo?"
"Umm… I don't know, Boss," McGee explained. "His phone rang and he said he had to go."
"Well, that's okay," Gibbs excused him, grabbing his coffee. "Let's roll!"
---
"Whaddya got, Abs?" Gibbs asked, handing Abby a Caf-Pow!
"Perfect timing as usual, Gibbs," Abby said with a friendly smile, graciously accepting the vat of beverage. "I was just thinking it would be really nice if I had some more Caf-Pow and that it had been a while since you checked in with me and how very unusual it is for you to give me time to actually acquire results before demanding a report which made me think of how many times we've been able to solve cases even though none of the evidence was conclusive and the arrest was dependent solely upon the confession of the big bad guy, although I really don't think that would happen very often because our technology is cutting-edge, or at least better than average – there are a few pieces of equipment I'm still pushing for – and McGee, Ducky and I are so freaking awesome that the agency would just die without us and that is not even counting you and your amazing mind, Gibbs, or Tony or Ziva or any of the rest of the team," Abby began, before pausing to take a long drink of Caf-Pow.
"The results, Abby?" he pressed.
"I was just getting to that," she continued. "The samples taken from the scene are really hinky, Gibbs, because each sample points to a completely different scenario and I have actually found DNA evidence to support three different potential culprits even though the evidence doesn't prove any of them were responsible conclusively or that any of them were even at the scene with the victim at the same time, so Tony and Ziva are picking them up as we speak so that you can begin questioning them," Abby began with a smile on her face.
"Er… tell him about the goldfish." McGee prompted.
"Oh, they definitely tie one of the girls to the scene," Abby said triumphantly. "And McGee, I'm afraid for these next tests I'm going to need your shirt."
"Um… my shirt?" he asked in confusion. "And you never explained why the goldfish were there in the first place, Abs."
"Not important, Timmy, now hand over the clothes," she insisted.
"Um…"
"McGee!" Gibbs interjected.
"Er… on it boss," McGee complied, handing the forensics specialist his shirt.
"Pants too, Probie," Abby said.
"But… uh… I don't…" McGee stammered in confusion.
"Just listen to the lady," Gibbs ordered, picking up his coffee to leave. He bent to give Abby a quick kiss on the cheek. "Nice work, Abs."
---
Gibbs entered the bullpen and stopped immediately in his tracks. Three young girls, obviously the suspects to whom Abby had alluded, were standing in front of the elevators in a heated argument. He approached Ziva with a wary glance.
"What's going on here?" he asked.
"Sarah McMillan, Sarah McKenzie and Sarah McMahon; they have never met, but are already arguing like bats and frogs," Ziva explained.
"Cats and dogs," Gibbs corrected, without thinking. "Didn't Tony go with you to pick them up?"
"Yes, but he got another call and had to leave," she explained.
"Oh, that's okay," Gibbs dismissed easily. "Well, let's get these ladies into interrogation. Separately, Ziva."
"Of course," she replied. "Rule number 1, yes?"
"Correct," he muttered. "I'll be right back; I'm going for coffee."
---
In well-observed Gibbs fashion, Tony strode past Cynthia and entered Director Shepard's office.
"Tony," Jenny smiled up at him, motioning toward the chair in front of her.
"Jenny," Tony nodded, taking a seat.
"What can I do for you today?" she asked pleasantly, none of her earlier strain showing on her face.
"Well, you see…" he began, somewhat embarrassed. "You know… I've been with Jeanne for some time now and things are going very well."
"Yes…" Jenny encouraged him to continue with a big smile on her face. It seemed the only romance in her life for the past few months had been in her conversations with Abby and Tony.
"I've been wanting to… well… I'm not sure how to…" he continued.
"What is it you want to do, Tony?" Jen asked.
Tony blushed. "I want to bake her cupcakes, okay!" he admitted.
"Oh…" Jenny leaned forward in her seat in anticipation. "Are you sure? I mean, does she want the cupcakes?" she asked.
"Oh yeah," Tony bragged. "She definitely wants the cupcakes."
"And you want to bake them for her?" she asked with a grin.
"Are you kidding? I can't imagine anything better. And I've been thinking of," Tony's voice lowered to a whisper, "pink icing."
"Tony!" she gasped, and then smiled brightly at him. "I say go for it. I know I would," she hinted with a sultry smile.
---
Tony left the Director's office and made his way to the observation room, where Gibbs was watching as Ziva was interrogating one of the suspects.
"Which one's this?" he asked.
"Sarah," Gibbs answered, matter-of-factly.
"Right," Tony responded.
"Alright, alright!" Sarah said, eyeing Ziva in fear, her body quaking with thoughts of what this woman had threatened to do to her. "I confess! Yes, they were my goldfish! It was me! I killed the marine!"
"We got her, now," Tony said with a smile.
"Ya think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs said with a smirk, and smacked him on the back of the head.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Written in response to the NFA cliché challenge, this story is a very over-exaggerated spoof of season four. No plot, just fun.