Locus of Control
by Mamapranayama
*******
Prologue
Friday 0945, Norfolk, VA
Commander Annette Boyd laughed at the email her mother-in-law sent her. It was a cute picture of a cat sitting on a railing with it's legs tucked underneath it and a caption that read 'monorail cat'. She had to admit it was funny , but unlike her mother-in-law, she had no intention of sending it off to five of her closest friends like it instructed her to do. Those chain e-mails usually irritated her when she received them, most of them claiming that bad luck would befall you if you didn't forward it along to clog up others' in-boxes, so she passed on the opportunity to annoy her closest friends and family members and deleted it.
She read through several more emails, mostly junk about PTA, some announcements from church, another damn chain email and when she was finished she closed her laptop and looked around the house for something else to do.
The week of leave she had from her job as a Navy JAG defense lawyer that she had been planning on and looking forward to for nearly two months was almost over, but she had come to the conclusion after the first two days that she was ready to get back to work.
She had planned on spending her week at home enjoying the quiet, getting some reading done, working on her scrapbook and just relaxing a bit while her son was on a school trip and her husband was in the field for training exercises, but after that first night of quiet solitude, she was completely and utterly bored. Thankfully, her son would be coming home that night and that would give her something to do. Even though Jason was every bit the teenager and spent most of his free time either playing video games, blasting his music or ignoring her, she had missed him while he and his baseball team traveled to Florida for spring training.
Sighing, she decided to make a fresh pot of coffee and then clean the kitchen again, even though it was already spotless. Her husband and son always claimed that she had some form or OCD due to her insistent desire for cleanliness. But for her, cleaning had always been a way for her to turn off her mind for a little while and focus on things other than her cases and the stresses that came with being in the military. Everyone had to have an outlet for their stress, some people drink, some people smoke and some people seek solace in food. She cleans.
Just as she finished filling the coffee carafe, the front doorbell rang. Living in base housing like they did usually meant that everyone knew everyone else on the block and Annette had always felt safe knowing that her neighbors where military and looking out for each other. So, thinking it to be one of her neighbors, she set down the coffee pot and without fear or hesitation, went to the door and opened it.
The hand that came over her mouth kept anyone around from hearing her screams.
Later that evening....
“She's not answering.”
Flipping closed his phone once again, sixteen year old Jason Boyd sighed then turned to his coach. As the last kid still waiting for someone to pick him up, he really wished his Mom and Dad had allowed him to go to driver's training when he turned fifteen then he could have just driven himself home. But, being the irritatingly over-protective parents that they were, they wouldn't allow him to go to Driver's ed until he was senior.
He had bitterly fought their decision and thought that they had to be the most lame and uptight people ever. Not only did they insist on listening to that god-awful music from the eighties, but they both seemed to have no idea that they were ruining his adolescent life by holding him back from driver's training, claiming that sixteen was much too young to get a license. He knew his mother was the main force behind that decision as she was all to quick to point out the statistics on teen crashes and fatalities.
He knew it was a losing battle as she was a lawyer after all and knew all kinds of strategies for getting people to see things her way, so now here he was, stuck waiting on the sidewalk of the high school with his baseball coach nearly an hour after the bus had dropped them off. It was a little out of character for his mother to not be there at the appointed time for their return as she was always admonishing him to be on time for everything. Hpwever, knowing that she was still on that 'at-home vacation' that she had been blubbering about for the last couple of months, he figured she probably decided to take a nap or lost track of time reading one of her boring books.
“Tell you what, Jase. I'll take you home.” Coach Avery offered, seeing the sun begin to set.
“Thanks, Coach.”
Pulling up to his home ten minutes later, he saw the lights were off despite the darkened sky and his mother's car still sat in the driveway, sending up weird vibes through his body. He was worried, but brushed it off, thinking that she probably just went for a walk, even though she didn't usually go out on her own for walks after dark, even in their safe little neighborhood.
Exiting his coach's car, the older man called out to him before he headed for the house.
“You got a key to get in? Doesn't look like anyone's home.”
“Yeah, I got one, thanks for the ride, Coach.”
“No problem, see ya at practice Monday.”
Jason waved to his coach as he drove away then headed for the door. He was a little surprised to find it open and unlocked, it was definitely strange for his mom to just leave the door like this, especially if she was going out.
Walking into the living room, the house was eerily dark and quiet.
“Mom?” He called out, even though it seemed pretty obvious that she wasn't home.
He headed for the kitchen and opened the fridge looking for something to eat, but found nothing to his liking. Going to the cupboard where the snack food was stashed, he was about to open it when he saw the coffee carafe full of water sitting on the counter top by the coffee pot.
Now he was just getting weirded out. His mom never, ever left anything out. She was a neat freak to the nth degree and was constantly getting on his case to keep the counters clean and the house spotless. He abandoned his idea of getting a snack, his stomach turning over as he left the kitchen and headed for the hallway towards the bedrooms.
Seeing the door to his parent's room open, the butterflies in his stomach began to go crazy. His mom never left their door open as they had always claimed it to be a private zone where he wasn't allowed.
“Mom?” he called out again, feebly this time as he neared the open room. He could just make out her feet hanging over the edge of the bed. “You awake?”
With his hand, he gently pushed the door to the bedroom open the rest of the way, then promptly fell to his knees in shock.
Chapter One
“Where the hell is DiNozzo?” Grumbled Gibbs as he strolled into the bullpen with his coffee in one hand, but ready to use the other one should the need for a head-slap arise. Ziva looked up and pointed to Tony's desk.
“Down here, Boss.” Tony answered from below.
Gibbs stepped over to Tony's desk and looked over the top of it to see his senior field agent on his hands and knees, closely examining the floor.
“Do I even want to know what you are doing on the floor?”
“I'm looking for something.”
“Well, obviously.”
Tony sat back on his heels and sighed in defeat.
“It's gone. I'll never find it.”
“Find what?”
“My lucky penny.” He went back down to the floor to continue the search.
“A penny, DiNozzo?”
“Yeah sure...” Tony looked up seeing the crossed expression on Gibbs' face as he sat on the carpet, he shrugged. “Well, it means something to me... in a sentimental way, ya know?...”
Walking back to his desk with a sigh and a shake of his head, Gibbs took a seat.
“Quit wasting time, DiNozzo unless you want to lose your job as well as that damn penny.” He called out from across the bullpen.
“Going back to work now, Boss.” Tony darted up, not wanting to get on Gibbs' bad side, especially since he had been pushing it earlier when he replaced all of McGee's pens with ones that had their tops super-glued on. Coming up, his head made hard contact with the underside of the desk top with a loud thud, causing McGee to smirk and Ziva to giggle a little.
“Ow!” He rubbed his head as he came up then sat back down in his desk chair, shooting glares at Ziva and McGee both.
Gibbs watched with little amusement. He trusted Tony with his life and knew that the younger man was as completely loyal to him as a tenacious bulldog, but here were times when the younger man irritated the heck out of him with his juvenile antics and smart-ass attitude. Today just happened to be one of those time where for some reason he had been in full-on jackass mode and Gibbs was reaching the limit of his tolerance. He half listened to his team's continued conversation, tempted to just put a stop to it, but also semi-interested in hearing the story of Tony's penny as he pulled out a few files, took a long sip of his coffee then began working.
“So why is this penny so special, Tony?” Tim asked.
“It's stamped with my birth year, for one thing....”
“And how does that make this particular coin lucky?” Ziva questioned.
“Well....I guess it doesn't.” He shrugged “but, it's always brought me good luck so that's all that matters.”
“Oh really? How so, Tony?” McGee asked.
“I found it in the parking lot my junior year at Ohio State before a basketball game. I stuck it in my pocket and we ended up winning that night. After that, I had it on me every time we had a game and we ended up going to the play-offs that year. Coincidence, you might ask? I think not. Because, the one time I forgot to have it on me after that was for the Buckeye/Wolverine football game the next year. I broke my leg in the fourth quarter and was out of sports for the rest of my senior year. So now I don't go anywhere without it.”
“I do not understand how an object like a penny can bring anyone luck.” Ziva complained
“Hey, it could be worse....” Tony explained. “In high school, our basketball team wore the same socks for each game, thinking it would bring us luck.”
“That doesn't sound too unusual.” McGee added. “I always wore the same shirt whenever I had a chess tournament. I guess I always thought of that as my lucky shirt.”
“Lucky chess shirt, McDork? Let me guess, did it have an iron-on of Spock on the front?”
McGee sighed. “It was a polo shirt and no, it did not have an iron-on of Spock or an other Star Trek characters on it. ” Then a light went off in McGee's head “Wait a second, you wore the same socks for every basketball game? You did wash them, right?”
“Of course not. You can't wash lucky socks, all of their luckiness will get rinsed out.”
“Now, that is disgusting.” Ziva made an offended face.
“Ewww.” McGee added with a wrinkled his nose.
“Yeah, the smell wasn't all that great after the first few games.” Tony agreed with a nod. “But, not nearly as gross as the athlete's foot I had all season.”
Gibbs had finally had enough of the trite conversation and was about to order everyone back to work, but the phone beat him to it, ringing loudly across the bullpen. He answered gruffly, then when finished with the call, he stood up, grabbed his coat, weapon, badge, and everyone's attention.
“Forget your penny, DiNozzo and grab your gear everyone, we're heading to Norfolk. Got a dead JAG officer.”
OOOOOOOOO
Tony's day had been going pretty well until he lost his lucky penny. He never really put too much stock in any sort of luck it might actually bring him, but it was a reminder of all of those good times he had in college.
He could honestly say that those four years were the best years of his life and it wasn't just because of the fact that had lived at the awesomest fraternity ever nor that he had been a popular, good looking and athletic guy at the time with no problem getting plenty of tail. No, those years were the first years where he truly felt like he had finally gotten out from underneath the thumb of his father and his family, making a clean break of things and escaping that dark cloud that he had always felt had followed him wherever he went. He had come into his own during those years and despite his father's assurances that he would end up in the gutter one day, he had proved him wrong and that's what mattered the most: The great Anthony DiNozzo Sr. was wrong.
Even now, that thought alone would bring a smile to his face.
“Oh C'mon, Ziva. Are you telling me you've never had any sort of good-luck charm?” Tony asked as they hauled their gear out of the truck still stuck on the subject of good luck charms.
“One does not need luck if they have skill, Tony.” She stopped on her way up the sidewalk to the home of their crime scene and turned on him with a slight smile stirring across her face. “Therefore, I have never needed one, unlike you.”
“Okay, what about that necklace of yours, what do you call that?” He asked looking at the small, star of David pendant she always wore. Ziva's eyes narrowed and he saw the flash of anger and sadness that came to them all at once and he knew he had gone too far.
“I call it a gift from my mother.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and left him standing outside feeling like a jerk. His shoulders slumped as he realized just how far he had shoved his foot into his mouth this time.
“Damn.” He muttered to himself as he watched her backside disappear into the home. Now he was going to have to smooth things out somehow or working with her was going to be frightening for the rest of the day.
“You coming sometime tonight, DiNozzo?” Gibbs yelled from the front door.
“On my way, Boss.” Tony double-timed it to the house and entered the nicely furnished and immaculately clean living room.
“Body's in the bedroom down the hall. McGee's already taking pictures. Tony, you sketch. Ziva, bag and tag.” Gibbs ordered them before he went to sit on the couch next to a young boy, who had to be no more than sixteen. Tony caught the look in the young man's eyes as he stared straight ahead, lost in his own thoughts and memories and he knew right away that he had been the one to make the discovery. He'd seen that look too many times to count.
“Who's the kid?” Tony asked Ziva before they walked down the hall, watching Gibbs as he quietly questioned the boy.
“Jason Boyd, he found the body. It is his mother.”
“Oh...” Tony let it go at that as he felt a strange stirring inside of him, setting him on edge. Something about all of this was so familiar to him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Ziva started down the hall while he stood for a moment, his sight lingering upon the boy's blank expression until Gibbs caught his eye and he hastily turned away to follow her. He found it hard to brush off the intense feeling of Deja-Va he was suddenly struck with, but as he followed Ziva to the bedroom, it was nothing compared to what awaited him inside.
Laying face down on the top of the perfectly made bed was a dark-haired woman, dressed in her pajamas, pale skin contrasting sharply against the dark fabric of the bedspread. Her hair splayed out in curls around her face, green eyes staring vacantly out to the side.
It was the eyes that got him. They looked just like....
A flash came across his vision and he was ten years old again, walking into her room, seeing her laying motionless on the bed as he called out to her, her sightless eyes aimed back at him, but seeing nothing.
He gasped involuntarily, recalling all of the sights, sounds, smells of that terrible day so many years ago. All of it rushing back to crush him where he stood as though a rope had just snapped that held a piano dangling over his head.
How had he forgotten all of that?
“Tony?” Hearing his name snapped him out of his fugue.
He blinked, not even realizing that Ziva had gone all the way into the room while he had been magnetized to his spot, his legs refusing to budge as a sweat broke out across his forehead.
“Huh?”
“You okay?” McGee asked with genuine sincerity. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”
“Ha...I uh, just forgot something in the truck....Be right back.” Tony stammered. Without much thought about how it might look to his teammates, he backed out of the room in a hurry, leaving a bewildered Ziva and McGee behind as he walked out the front door, by-passing Gibbs and the still traumatized boy along the way.
He didn't stop until he reached the truck and flung open the back doors, allowing them to provide the cover he needed to shield anyone from his racing thoughts and emotions.
It's not her, he told himself. Get a grip. No, it's definitely not her. She died a long time ago... She just happens to look exactly like her and was laying on the bed exactly like her.... her hair... her eyes....
He put both hands down onto the back bumper of the truck and willed his heart to stop racing. Why was he being such a head case? How come he hadn't remembered all of this until just now?
After taking a few deep breaths, he was feeling a little better, but also ashamed of his reaction to the body. After all, this wasn't his first time seeing a woman lying dead on a bed and rationally, he knew that his reaction had been way overblown thanks to his overactive memories. He hadn't been prepared for it, that's all. He just needed at second to get over it, then he'd be fine and he could get the job done.
It was the eyes...The voice in his head reminded him. She had those same eyes....
Shut-up. He told that same voice as he searched the truck for something to take inside to make it look like he hadn't left the scene in a panic. Grabbing a few pencils, he hoped that would suffice as a good enough cover story for leaving the bedroom.
Shutting the truck back up he turned to go back to the house, but was met instead by two blue, piercing eyes.
“Something wrong, Tony?” Gibbs asked simply, concerned by the suddenly pale face of his senior field agent and they way he had left the house so quickly without so much as a word to him.
Tony grinned, trying to blow it off, but knew his smile couldn't quite make it all the way to his eyes.
“Nope...Just needed a few extra pencils, Boss.” he explained, holding up the bundle up for a second until he realized his hands were shaking.
“Do you really need six pencils, DiNozzo?” Gibbs questioned looking into his eyes and Tony knew he was catching him in a lie, but he wasn't about to go confessing to his tough-as-nails boss that he had nearly lost his lunch seeing a dead body.
“Yeah, you know... sometimes I press a little too hard and it's easier just to have a few spares rather than having to sharpen them all the time. Well, better go and get to work...scene won't sketch itself....” Tony explained hastily before he was grilled any further, feeling Gibbs' stare as he walked back towards the house and steeled himself for spending more time in that room, trying to act as normally as possible and that it didn't bother him that the woman lying on the bed looked just like his mother.
OOOOOOOO
Ziva wasn't used to seeing Tony so quiet. While she had only known him a few months, she had come to expect a certain level of boisterousness and jocular high jinks while at a crime scene. Normally by now he would have teased or slapped McGee for something or another and then gone on to harass her as well. But as he crouched in one corner of the bedroom, silently sketching the scene, she knew that his mind was elsewhere and it all started the moment they entered the room.
Something about this scene disturbed him and she wanted know what was eating him.
“There is something here that bothers you, no?” She asked, trying to seem casual about it. “or is it her?”
“Just another dead body, Ziva.” He responded flatly, flipping shut the sketch book. “They're all the same.”
He stood up just as Ducky walked into the room with his usual amount of cheer.
“Ah good-evening Anthony, Ziva and Timothy.”
“Hello, Ducky.” Ziva returned the greeting, seeing Tony slip out of the room from the corner of her eye.
“Hi Ducky.” McGee greeted as well.
“Jimmy!” Ducky called out to his assistant behind him. “Come along now, I'd like to get this over with quickly. I promised mother I would be home in time for Friday Night Smackdown and I don't plan on disappointing her.”
“Coming, Doctor.” Jimmy announced, weighted down with supplies as he dragged as much gear into the room as he possibly could and plopped it beside the bed.
Ducky knelt beside the bed and peered into the face of Annette Boyd.
“Ah. My dear. We shall take good care of you. Come and give me a hand turning her over if you would please, Mr. Palmer.”
Jimmy and Ducky took positions on either side of the corpse and rolled her over to her back. Purple coloring marked the half of her face and body that was in contact with the bed.
“Lividity seems to suggest that she died in the position she was found in.” Ducky spoke out loud to no one in particular. Reaching into one of the bags, Jimmy produced a liver probe and handed it off to the doctor, who promptly inserted into the woman's abdomen.
“You got a time of death yet, Duck?” Gibbs asked as he strolled into the room.
“I just started getting a temp now, Jethro. I'm afraid I can only work as fast a the equipment, but judging by the amount of rigor mortis in the muscles I'd guess she's been dead for several hours already.” The probe beeped and Ducky pulled it out and read the temp then looked to his watch for the current time, mentally figuring the time of death. “ Ah, yes. I'd say she died probably somewhere between 10 am and noon.”
“What about the cause?”
“Well, the Subconjunctival hemorrhages, the petechiae under the eyelids and the bruises around the neck would suggest strangulation, but...”
“You'll know more when you do the autopsy.” Gibbs finished for him with a nod.
“As usual.” Ducky grinned until something caught his eye and he reached for a small slip of paper that was still wedged between the bed and the victim's thigh.. “Well, well, well...what do we have here?” He asked asked as he pulled it out and read it to himself.
“Oh dear...” Ducky breathed.
“What is it?” Gibbs asked.
“See for yourself.” Ducky held out the paper as Gibbs whipped it from his hands and read the four words neatly typed onto it in the center:
The boy is next
TBC....
Author's Chapter Notes:
The case of a murdered JAG officer stirs up painful memories for Tony when he is charged with protecting her teenaged son. Some Gibb and Tony father/son moments, team interaction. No slash.