I hated him on sight. I had heard about him from the other medical examiners who had to take a turn through NCIS autopsy when Dr. Mallard ("Call me Ducky") was indisposed, but I really didn't believe all the stories. Not really. No one man was that big of a bastard, was he? Yes, actually, he was. He and I butted heads every single time I had to do a shift at NCIS (which wasn't often) and I dreaded it when my turn came up in the rotation at the ME's office.
~*~*~
I stepped off the elevator into the bullpen and looked around. I hadn't been here in quite a while but the layout hadn't changed. The only person in the bullpen was someone I didn't recognize. Wonderful.
"Excuse me, I'm Beth Ransome, the substitute ME. Can you help me?"
"Oh, yes, you're late. I'm Ziva David."
"Late? I'm right on time. 8 am on Monday morning is what I was told." I double-checked my watch and it said 7:57 am.
"Well, you see, if you get here after Gibbs, you are late."
"Gibbs will just have to get over it then."
"I'll just have to get over what?", said a voice from behind me.
I turned around to see the man himself and he still looked nothing like I expected, even as many times as I'd seen him. He looked older, for one thing, but he wore it well. Silver hair on a woman just makes her look old, but silver hair on him was still very attractive. He was not as tall as I remembered, either, for someone who could make the seasoned ME's I normally worked with tremble when they discussed how he liked to invade their personal space. The sparkly blue eyes were still gorgeous, too.
"Good morning. I'm your substitute ME for the next couple of weeks. I haven't been here in forever."
"Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Dr. Ransome."
He always introduced himself to me like that, as if we hadn't met several times before now. And he knew I preferred to be called 'Beth', too.
"You introduce yourself to me by your full name every time we meet."
He smirked at me like I'd lost my mind and said, "Call me Gibbs, if all those names confuse you."
I smiled at him, thinking "Screw you, buddy", but all I said was, "I always do."
~*~*~*~
Dr. Mallard's new assistant, Jimmy Palmer, came up from Autopsy to get me after a brief and terse phone call from Gibbs. Palmer looked like a scared rabbit as he crept out of the elevator, eyeballing Gibbs like he expected to be attacked. We introduced ourselves and off we went to Autopsy. I changed into my own scrubs and set about re-familiarizing myself with their arrangements and set-ups. Palmer and I made small talk as I moved around, asking questions when I needed.
The first few days were relatively quiet because we didn't get any cases. I stayed in Autopsy, making sure I knew the place inside, outside and three ways from the middle. I didn't even get to see the rest of Gibbs' team until I had been there almost a week. Gibbs, however, stopped in unexpectedly every day, for absolutely no reason at all. I think he came solely to glare at us. I finally said something on Wednesday to him, about why he kept popping in for no good reason.
"Gibbs, this is the third day you've come down here for no good reason. What is going on?"
He glared with stony blue eyes and tried to stare a hole through me. "Why aren't you working on cold cases? Every time I've come down here you're cleaning or organizing or some damn thing. Why are you not working on cold cases?"
"I didn't know I was supposed -"
"Well, ask next time, dammit, instead of cleaning things that are already clean. Christ. We're overloaded with cold cases and you're playing Susie Homemaker down here."
I stood up from Dr. Mallard's desk and drew myself up to all of my five foot nothing and did some glaring of my own. Palmer made himself scarce at the other end of the room because he knew he didn't want any of this.
"Excuse you? If you want me to work on cold cases, then you should have said so on any of the numerous times you wandered down here. I'll be happy to help, but I'm not a mind reader. The handful of times I've been here before, we were hopping." I knew my mouth was writing checks I didn't particularly want to cash, but I was irritated beyond belief. Those blue eyes flared up and I thought, "Oh, shit, I went too far" and then I decided I was OK with that.
He took a couple of steps closer and I refused to back up. "Who do you think you're talking to, Doctor?"
"To someone who obviously doesn't get backtalked enough. I know you're the alpha dog or whatever around here, but that crap does not work on me. Tell me what you want me to do to help and I'll do it, but don't come down here and try to intimidate me. That got old the first two times I was here. I've gone rounds with bigger bad asses than you and I'm still standing." I really didn't mean for any of that to come out like it did, but goddamn. I had 2 older brothers, an alcoholic father, and was in an almost all-male very competitive medical school - Gibbs wasn't even a drop in the bucket. He didn't reply; he just turned on his heel and stomped out. I heard Palmer's breath whoosh out all the way across the room.
~*~*~
We caught a case in downtown D.C. on Thursday and I finally got to say hello to Tony and McGee. When Palmer and I arrived on the scene Gibbs was barking orders to the metro police and I avoided him as best I could. My concern was our dead Marine and I knew as soon as Gibbs realized I was there he'd be standing over me, demanding time and cause of death. Sure enough, I had barely slid in the body thermometer when he came trotting over.
"Time of death?"
"Gibbs, you just saw me put in the thermometer. Give me a second."
"You have a dead Marine here; you don't have a second", he snarled at me and stepped up closer.
"You know, the longer you nag me the longer this will take." I smiled sweetly at him, daring him to say something else.
His eyes opened wide and Tony spared me from whatever wrath he was about to dump on me by calling, "Hey, Boss! Got something you need to see!"
Palmer and I looked at each other in relief as Gibbs left us. Palmer cleared his throat and stuttered out, "Um, Dr. Ransome, um, Beth, Dr. Beth, why do you - ?"
"Jimmy, he pushes all my buttons. I don't know why. I think it's because he just expects me to roll over like y'all do and take whatever verbal abuse he dishes out. He may be a kick-ass boss but he's also a bully and bullies piss me off no end. Thank the gods I'm only here for another week. I'm pretty sure I'd shoot him in the foot if I had to stay longer." I grinned at Palmer's expression but I was serious as I went back to determining time and cause of death.
When we made it back to Autopsy, Gibbs was already waiting for us. Palmer and I moved our Marine over to an open table and we wrestled him out of the body bag. While Palmer took X-rays, I gowned and gloved, all while being aware of Gibbs pacing the floor.
"Cause of death?"
"I'm pretty sure that gigantic puncture wound in his neck is cause of death, Gibbs, but don't quote me." I rolled my eyes while I set-up my Mayo tray, glad I had my back to Gibbs.
"Don't fuck with me on this, Dr. Ransome. I've hit my limit on your sarcasm today."
I spun around, temper fully engaged. "And I've hit my limit on your bullying, Agent Gibbs. You expect everyone to say 'How high?' when you bark 'Jump!' at them. Well, screw that! You'll get your damn results after I've taken care of Staff Sergeant Williams and not before! Get the hell out of my autopsy suite and let us work!" I turned back to my Mayo stand with my pulse racing and my ears roaring - I actually heard the blood rushing in my ears. Gibbs snarled under his breath and stormed out, slapping the "up" button on the elevator loud enough for it to echo in the hall.
~*~*~
Rather than wait for Gibbs to come down for his results I went up after I finished the staff sergeant's post. As I stepped into the bullpen Tony was hanging up his desk phone. He looked at me, looked at Gibbs, looked back at me and said, "That was Ducky. His mother passed away last night and he'll be taking her body back home for burial. He expects to be back in a couple more weeks."
"Oh, dear God. Another 3 weeks stuck here! Kill me now!," is what my brain screamed. What my mouth said, though, was "Will we be sending flowers? If so, I'll give whomever some money. Poor Dr. Mallard. He's such a dear. I'll go tell Palmer." I handed Gibbs my autopsy report and fled back to the elevator.
"Jesus Christ, I'm stuck! Stuck! For another 3 friggin' weeks!", I mumbled to myself as I cleaned up down in Autopsy. "Stuck! Argh!"
"You OK, Dr. Beth?"
"No, I am most definitely not OK, Jimmy, but I'm doing better than Ducky so I need to shut the hell up."
The rest of Thursday and Friday were strained and cold, and we were all feeling the stress. Gibbs didn't come back to Autopsy either day but he sent Tony or Ziva down a dozen times. They wrapped up Staff Sergeant Williams' murder late Saturday afternoon and I breathed a sigh of relief. We all had the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday off, amen. My plan was to kick back with Chinese food and classic movies and not move unless I absolutely had to.
~*~*~
When my doorbell rang late Saturday night I had my jammies on, my hair was up in braids, and I was well into my chicken fried rice (and extra potstickers) with From Here to Eternity playing in the background. I swore quietly and colorfully when I saw Gibbs standing at my door. I debated not opening it, but he looked right at the peephole and said, "Open up. I know you're there." I unlocked the door and went back to the couch. He slammed the door behind him and stomped into my living room, looking like anger personified.
"Fried rice?", I asked, holding up the container.
"No."
"Potsticker?"
"NO."
"Well, then what the hell do you want, Gibbs? Why are you here?"
He sat down on the other end of the couch and sighed.
"What the hell are you sighing for? I'm the one who is stuck at NCIS for 3 more frigging weeks!"
"Stuck? You see yourself as stuck at NCIS? What else would you rather be doing?"
"Gibbs, I'd rather be back at the ME's office, in familiar surroundings, with people I like, doing my damn job! Yes, stuck!"
He shifted on the couch so he was facing me and said, "How bad do you want to leave your rotation at NCIS?"
"I would sleep with you if it means I can go back to the medical examiner's office where I belong."
"You'd have sex with me if it meant you could scrap the three weeks you have left at NCIS?"
"Gibbs, I would blow you right here and now if it means I can get transferred the hell out of NCIS."
"Prove it."
Author's Chapter Notes:
Ducky takes a leave of absence to care for his mother so another ME (OFC) is temporarily assigned to NCIS. She and Gibbs are at odds with each other right off the bat.
This first part is gen with a little UST, but the smut is coming (hence the "Het" category).
This first part is gen with a little UST, but the smut is coming (hence the "Het" category).
Chapter End Notes:
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