Gibbs slammed down the phone, grabbed his coffee and turned toward the team. "We've got a dead sailor, and at least one other missing. Ziva, call Ducky, then ride with Sullivan and McGee. DiNozzo, gas the truck. Let's get there, people!" The bullpen became a flurry of activity as everyone rushed to do what needed to be done to secure they reached the scene equipped to handle the situation. "Diamond, you're with me!" Gibbs added, steering him away from Ziva.
Maggie tossed Noah a curious glance as she grabbed McGee's arm to pull him aside.
"Have you noticed anything different about Noah since he's been back?"
McGee looked at her uncomfortably. "Umm… no, but you know him a lot better than I do."
"He seems so distant – just not himself," Maggie continued. McGee blushed, and then pulled her further away from the others and spoke in hushed tones.
"I don't mean to step outside any sort of boundaries, but do you think maybe what you're sensing…" he trailed off embarrassed.
"Just say it, Tim," Maggie urged, noticing a glare from Jethro as he and Noah disappeared in the elevator.
"Um… it's just that when you first joined us here Noah was interested in you romantically, and had been actively pursuing you for years. Now you have moved into a serious relationship and he has fallen for Ziva, so now he doesn't…"
"Very astute, Tim," Maggie interrupted him with a smile. "I honestly never thought of that."
McGee blushed deeper, and then replied, "Happy to help."
"Let's roll before we get in trouble with the boss," Maggie said, grabbing her gear.
"He wouldn't punish you, would he?" McGee asked, earning a long stare from Maggie.
"The difference is, I get it at home," Maggie filled in.
"Boasting?" Ziva asked, joining them as they stepped onto the elevator.
"Hardly," Maggie said with a laugh.
---
"You must be more careful, Mr. Palmer," Dr. Mallard admonished the younger man after he stumbled and nearly fell face first onto the body.
"I'm sorry," Palmer replied, flustered. He had experienced what had undoubtedly been the worst day of his life, so far. He had spent the majority of the night in the hospital emergency room because he had an allergic reaction to the meal Michelle had treated him to that evening. So not only had he been rushed to the hospital, but he had been forced to deal with a weepy woman who was in far worse shape than he had been, at least emotionally. He arrived late and without his ID, so he had to return home to get it before the security staff would allow him to access the building. He had forgotten breakfast, which was wreaking havoc with his blood sugar. And now, he was tripping over his own feet at a crime scene, something had hadn't happened often since he had become more seasoned in his work at NCIS.
"Be sorry on your own time," Gibbs barked. "Time of death, Duck?" he asked the older gentleman.
"From the temperature of the liver, I surmise our sailor expired sometime between 1100 and 1200 hours last evening," he reported.
"How did he die?" Gibbs asked.
"He sustained multiple gunshot wounds to the head and chest. Blood spatter patterns suggest he was alive when the shooting began, but I'll need to get him on the table to confirm it, of course."
"Of course," Gibbs said, turning to quiz his agents on their progress.
"Let's pack him up, Mr. Palmer," Dr. Mallard instructed.
"Yes, sir," he answered, just as he lost his grip on the bag he was holding and scattered evidence across the crime scene.
"Are you with us today, Mr. Palmer?!" Ducky asked in frustration. "Well, don't just stand there, pick it up."
"Yes, sir," Palmer said, bending to gather the items that were now littering the area already cleared by the team.
"Palmer!" Gibbs barked. "Get your head on straight or consequences will be severe. Do I make myself clear?" he asked, his voice soft but threatening.
"Yes, sir," Palmer replied, more determined than ever to pick up his game. It had been a long time since either Gibbs or Dr. Mallard had spoken to him so harshly, and he didn't want a repeat occurrence.
---
Abby had begun processing the evidence Tony had brought her immediately, as usual. She knew the others were doing everything they could to locate the missing sailor hinted at in the letter left by the person the suspected killed the sailor who was currently being processed down in autopsy. Fingers flew across keys as she attempted to have results before her boss requested them. Since her little visit to interrogation, she had felt even more pressure to rise to Gibbs' expectations.
"Whaddya got, Abs?" the object of her musings asked as he strolled into the lab and handed her a Caf-Pow!
"I was able to pull a partial print off the letter, and am trying to get a match."
"What else?" he asked.
"Not much yet," she admitted, "but I'm working and I will not let you down," she promised, saluting him.
He grinned. "Good job, Abs," he said as he turned to exit the room. "Let me know…" he began to call out from the doorway.
"…what I find as soon as I find it!" Abby finished with flourish. "You'll be the first to know!"
Gibbs entered the elevator and took a long drink of his coffee. If everyone on his team trusted him as much as Abby, he would be in good shape. His features hardened to those of a man on a mission as he determined to get to the bottom of whatever Agent Diamond was keeping from him.
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