Chapter 6
After he returned from his visit with Agent DiNozzo, Gibbs went straight down to the morgue to see what the medical examiner had learned thus far during the autopsy of the Marine found in the ravine. As their team leader left instructions for the rest of them to continue working, Foster began to feel as though he was beginning to make some headway not just with the case of their dead Marine, but with his ultimate, personal goals as well.
He had been quite pleased with himself that while collecting evidence at the scene, he found a hunting rifle haphazardly thrown into a copse of trees and he hoped it would prove to be the murder weapon. Foster figured it had to look pretty good to Gibbs that he had been the one to make the discovery that might break the case and after the debacle regarding his desire to interview the witnesses in the field, he feared that he hadn't gotten off to a very good start with his new boss. But, perhaps things might take a turn for the better now and Gibbs wouldn't look at him with such disdain if his discoveries helped to solve the case. In everything he had done in his life so far, Foster had excelled, but not being held in high regard in his new boss' eyes was new and disturbing to him and panicked him more than he cared to admit. He would have to be more than perfect from now on, he reasoned. Failure just wasn't an option. So, he worked diligently to dig up as much information as he could about the weapon before Gibbs returned from the morgue.
While Foster continued to work, Ziva and McGee were at the Mossad officer's desk, talking and sharing a few take-out containers of Chinese food for lunch.
“Hey, Foster, you hungry?” McGee called from the other end of the bullpen just before he stuffed a piece of teriyaki chicken into his mouth.
“Uh...Sure.” He responded hesitantly as he walked away from his work reluctantly and around his cubicle to come and join them. He really wasn't hungry and he'd much rather focus on making sure it was his research that broke the case, but he felt like he had made a connection with Agent McGee earlier that morning when they talked about computers and it couldn't hurt to strengthen that bond. Also, he had yet to get to know Ziva on a personal level as they had only spoken a few words to each other while at the scene and this may be a good opportunity to show her that he was someone she could trust and perhaps even like.
To Foster, there was no denying that Ziva was a beautiful woman and he couldn't help but be attracted to her, but she had made it clear, mostly through her body language, that she preferred to keep her distance from him. He wasn't sure if this was purely out of loyalty to Agent DiNozzo's friendship or if she just didn't care for him. He figured the latter was the least likely since he was, at least in his opinion, a good-looking, fit and attractive guy. In fact, he had no trouble getting dates and many women at least as gorgeous as she had been seduced by his charms, but he had yet to meet any woman that understood him and accepted his need to be the best at all that he did.
The last serious relationship he had was several years ago and that ended when his ex-girlfriend couldn't fathom why he worked so many hours at the office, then spent at least and hour and a half at the gym working out only to return home and continue his work late into the night, leaving little time for her. Since then, he decided it best to just forget about maintaining a relationship until he had at the very least, become a member of a team permanently. They took up too much time and he found that he didn't want the love of a woman as much as he wanted success. Hopefully, he would find that very soon.
As Foster made his way up to Ziva's desk, he realized he had forgotten his chair, so rather than walk back to the other end of the bullpen, he went around to Agent DiNozzo's desk and grabbed the chair from behind it. He noticed the looks McGee and Ziva shot him as he pilfered the desk chair. Damn that man, he hadn't even met him yet and it irritated Foster to no end that he couldn't even borrow his chair without committing some kind of federal offense in the eyes of his fellow co-workers. There had to be a way to get them to realize what a waste of space Agent DiNozzo is-he'd heard all of the gossip and rumors from the secretaries about his sexual exploits and he listened closely to the disdain in the voices of the other agents when they spoke of DiNozzo's flippant attitude and lackadaisical style. He knew he could be ten-times the agent DiNozzo was and he wondered how it was that his teammates were so blind to ever want him back when Foster was there and could be a greater asset to the team than DiNozzo ever was.
“I promise, I'll put it back when I'm done.” He told the other two agents half-jokingly as he lifted the chair out and they both smiled faintly, realizing that they were being a little silly for thinking that the new guy had usurped his territory just because he borrowed their injured teammate's chair.
He pulled the chair in so that the three of them sat in a circle around the desk.
“Here, Agent Foster- You may have the rest of this moo-goo-gai-pan. I am full.” Ziva handed him the half-eaten container of chicken and vegetables and he flashed her one of his most disarming and charming smiles in thanks. She rewarded his efforts with a small one in kind.
“Please, you can call me Aaron.” He insisted.
“Alright...Aaron....I like that name” She added. “It is Hebrew.”
“I'm a quarter Jewish, I'm named after a great uncle of my mother's.”
“Really? Atah medaber ivrit?” She asked in her native tongue.
“Ani koreh ivrit, aval lo medaber.” He responded.
“Sounds like you speak Hebrew pretty well to me.” She came back with a sideways grin.
“I can only speak a few words of it.” He added and she nodded, her eyes finally making contact with his. He hoped she could see how beautiful he thought she was through his eyes.
McGee watched the two in confusion then cleared his throat as if to remind them that he was still in the room.
“Sorry, McGee. I just asked him if he spoke Hebrew.” Ziva informed him, breaking their eye contact.
“And I told her that I read it, but I don't speak it.” They exchanged a grin at each other and Foster began to feel like he was finally connecting with Ziva. They weren't friends yet, but it was a start.
As the three of them surrounded Ziva's desk and ate, they began discussing the particulars of the case, pooling together what they had each found so far in their investigation so they would all have something to show Gibbs when he returned.
Ziva had seen to investigating the victim's background and found that Sgt. Eric Nelson had been assigned to the Marine Base at Quantico two years ago and served as a Drill Instructor there. He was unmarried, but according to his fellow colleagues, he was seeing a woman named Jennifer O'Conner, who worked as a bartender at the base club. However, she failed to show up to work the evening before, heightening the suspicion that she may have something to do with the Marine's death or have information regarding it. Ziva issued a BOLO for the woman across town and figured that either way, a trip to her apartment would be in order once Gibbs got back to the bullpen and they had filled him in.
McGee had also been busy tracking Nelson's financial and phone records. Nothing in particular stood out in his bank accounts, but several calls had been placed to Jennifer O'Conner's cell phone the night prior to his death. However, the records also indicated that the first call to initiate contact between the two had come from her.
“You find anything on the weapon you found?” McGee asked Foster.
“Well, the serial number on the gun is registered to a man named James Patrick Garvey. It's not reported as stolen, but records have him listed as deceased six months ago.” Foster informed Ziva and McGee
“Did you check with family members?” McGee asked. “Sometimes these kind of rifles are handed down and never re-registered with the new owners after someone passes away.”
“Yeah, I did and the only person listed as next of kin is a cousin that lives in Detroit and he hasn't left Michigan in years.” Foster sighed. So far, his find had taken him almost nowhere.
“How about his neighbors?” Ziva asked. “Perhaps one of them has seen the weapon before or knew who may have been in possession of it or perhaps it was stolen and just never reported.”
“Yeah, I thought of that too. He lived outside of Remington, VA- I was checking for neighbors just a moment ago and hopefully, being a small town, someone might have more information about who Garvey might have given the gun or who had it last.”
“Well, I guess that's something.” McGee agreed. “You better get back on that before Gibbs returns”
“Hopefully, Abby can tell us if that rifle was the one that killed the Sergeant soon.” Foster added with a nod in agreement.
Eventually, an end came to their working lunch break and as they wrapped up their little pow-wow and tossed their lunch containers into the trash.
“You know what this almost reminds me of, McGee?” Ziva asked somewhat wistfully.
“You're gonna say 'campfire', aren't you?” He asked in reply with a little knowing smile.
“Campfire?” Foster asked.
“It's a Tony thing.” McGee explained to the confused agent and again, Foster felt like an outsider looking in.
“When he was lead agent, he used make us get together in a little circle like this and brainstorm.. I have to admit, I hated them at the time, mostly because Tony was such a....well, I won't say it, but they were surprisingly effective and now I kinda miss it.” The acting senior field agent continued.
“Me too.” Ziva added, her eyes roving to the empty desk across from hers and Aaron knew it was more than just these 'campfires' they missed, but their friend as well. Aaron felt the shoes he was trying to fill grow even bigger and it made his blood boil with jealousy. He still had quite a bit of work to do if he was going to find himself in a position where he was as invaluable to the team as they believed agent DiNozzo to be and even more if he was to become as apparently well liked.
OOOOOOO
After detaching Marine Sgt. Nelson's heart from the veins and arteries that connected it to the rest of his body, Ducky carefully extracted it from the young man's chest cavity and handed it off to Palmer who placed it onto the scale and called out the weight to the medical examiner before noting it into the medical record.
Closely studying the powerful and muscular organ after removing it from the scale, the doctor found no disease or signs that there was anything congenitally wrong with the valves, veins or arteries. It was a perfectly unremarkable and healthy heart and should have kept beating and performing the function of delivering blood throughout the body of their victim for years and years to come- except for the little fact that a bullet was lodged in its left ventricle.
Carefully making an incision into the area where the x-ray image showed the bullet to be, Ducky used a pair of forceps to reach into the small hole and pull out the projectile.
“Is that what killed him, Duck?” Ducky looked up just as the doors closed behind his oldest friend and he strode into the morgue, pointing to the bullet the doctor still held in between the forceps.
“Hmmm. I should say so- One shot, one kill.” Ducky mused as he dropped the small, but deadly round into a metal container with a tinny clang then handed it off to Palmer so he could bag it up and take it to Abby for analysis.
“Anything else?” Gibbs asked and Ducky turned back to the body.
“I found nothing to suggest that this young man died of anything other than a lethal shot to the heart. His death would have been very quick, almost instantaneous.”
“What about all of these scrapes and cuts?” Gibbs pointed to the face and arms where the majority of the wounds occurred on the body.
“Actually, those were all caused after death and given the lack of blood surrounding the body at the scene that one would expect from such a devastating injury, I would venture to guess that our victim was not killed where he was found, but was perhaps tossed from the side of the road, then rolled down the ravine, hitting tree branches and rocks along the way to the bottom, causing the post-mortem injuries you see here.”
Gibbs nodded, he had come to that conclusion already at the scene. He had seen many a murder in his days with NCIS and he knew a body dump when he saw one. Just one thing still tugged at his gut and set it in motion.
“Somethings troubles you, Jethro?” Ducky asked.
“Yeah...The rifle. Thrown out at the same time as the body where it could be easily found? Whoever did this wanted it to be found along with Sgt. Nelson.”
“Indeed, that is peculiar.” Ducky agreed. “most criminals would tend to want to hide the murder weapon, toss it in a body of water or destroy it as it might connect them to the crime. But in this case, assuming that the rifle is the murder weapon, it is as though they practically handed it over.”
Gibbs nodded as he thought and Ducky caught sight of the gears turning in his friend's head.
“What are you thinking, Jethro? That it is some sort of.... red herring meant to throw you off the trail?”
“I don't know yet. We'll just have to see what Abby says about it.”
Gibbs made to leave and headed for the door, but not before Ducky called out to him.
“Jethro....” Ducky walked up to him, closing the distance between them in just a few of his short strides. “I spoke with Anthony's doctor this morning as I am listed as his primary physician and he says that he should be released by the end of the week.”
“Good.”
“Yes, he is doing very well in his recovery, but the doctor is concerned with where he will go after he gets out of the hospital. Anthony lives on the sixth floor of his building and his apartment is anything but handicapped friendly.....”
“Ducky, Tony's not handicapped.”
“Strictly speaking, he is for now. He will be in a wheelchair until his back has healed and his left leg can be taken out of the cast and he can support his weight on it. Then after that, he will need crutches for at least six weeks before he will be allowed to walk on his own and even then he may still require a cane for some time.”
“Is there a point to this?” Gibbs asked.
“Yes. Agent DiNozzo is going to need help when he comes out of hospital and a place where he can easily get around. He'll need someone who can look after him until he can take care of himself, someone to take him to his physical therapy appointments and make sure he is following doctor's orders. However, I fear that Anthony's doctor took it upon himself to inform his father of what has transpired and learned quite quickly that he has no family that is willing to take up the mantle of Anthony's continued care.....” Ducky saw the muscles in Gibbs jaw clench as he ground his molars together upon hearing about Tony's father and his refusal to help his own son.
“He doesn't need that lousy family of his, Ducky....” Gibbs interrupted. “I'll do it.”
“It is quite the commitment, Jethro...I was simply going to suggest we consider a rehabilitation facility or a nurse...”
“I said” Gibbs glared intensely at Ducky “I'll do it.”
Ducky smiled and clasped Gibbs' shoulder.
“That's what I was hoping you would say.”
OOOOOOOOOO
“Good-morning, Mr. DiNozzo.” Lisa, the pretty blond, pony-tailed nurse that Tony had come to associate with his breakfast and sponge baths, walked in carrying a meal tray and set it on the table before rolling it over and bringing it up next to him. Tony used the button on the side of his bed to raise the back of the bed and bring him to a seated position.
“Good-morning yourself, Lisa. " He greeted in kind. "But please,call me Tony. You help me with a bed pan every morning and if that doesn't make us friends by now, then I don't know what will.” He smiled as charmingly as he could muster despite the discomfort sitting up caused him and she grinned back.
“Alright...Tony.” She lifted the cover off the tray and revealed a pair of unappetizing, rubbery eggs accompanied by some burnt bacon and dry wheat toast. “breakfast is served.” She beamed at him.
“Mmmmm, looks....yummy.” He frowned as he poked at the institutional food. “Any chance I can get some coffee?” He asked hopefully, turning green eyes her way.
“Sorry, it's not on your diet orders.”
“C'mon.” he winked “One little cup isn't going to kill me.”
She made a hesitant face and he could see that she was torn between pleasing him and going against doctor's orders. He raised his eyebrows and pulled out his best puppy-dog eyes that no woman could resist... well, almost all women- except Ziva of course, but she didn't count.
Finally, he saw the tide turn in his favor and she sighed in defeat-victory was his.
“Alright, fine. But just one cup and no more, got it?”
“You're an angel, know that?” He turned up the charm and batted his eyes.
“And you're the devil.” She shot back. “You're gonna get me in trouble if you don't watch it.”
“Promise not to tell.” He crossed his heart.
“Better not. Just remember who it is that changes that catheter of yours.” She pointed to the Foley location and at her serious face, he dropped his smile and gulped audibly.
“Yes, ma'am. My lips are sealed.”
“Alright, be right back.” She left the room and Tony called out to her backside before she left , “Don't forget sugar and cream.”
She just shook her head without turning around and exited the room, but Tony could tell she was smiling to herself, even though her back was turned to him. Tony picked again at his food after she was out of sight, but did not really care for much of what was on his plate. A minute later Lisa was back with a steaming hot cup of coffee, it wasn't very big, but it did have cream and sugar, for which he smiled gratefully.
“Bless you.” He told her as she set the cup down on his table.
“De nada.” She replied. “Oh....this came in for you.” She pulled out an envelope from her scrub top pocket, most likely yet another get-well card from someone at headquarters. She set it on the table for him to open when he was ready.
"Thanks, Lisa." He told her.
“I'll be back in a little while. Call me if you need anything.” Tony nodded and waved as she turned and left the room, leaving Tony alone.
He gave up on trying to eat his meal and focused on the coffee, savoring its flavor as he knew he wouldn't be able to get away this later when the shift change occurred and Lisa was replaced with Dan, his male night nurse or was that murse?.
Tony laughed internally at the dozens of male nurse jokes that ran through his head right then.
Suddenly growing curious about the card sitting on the table and wondering who it was from, Tony reached for it, but froze as soon as he saw the return address.
He stared at the envelope for a long time before finally deciding to quit being such as pussy and open the envelope, pulling out the card inside.
Tony read the card about five times while absentmindedly folding the corner of it back and forth until it broke off. He looked at the front of it again. 'Get Well Soon.' was written in flowing script just above a picture displaying a bouquet of sunflowers. He knows me so well. He thought sarcastically of the cheap $.99 card and tossed it onto the side table next to him.
He should have thrown it away, but somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. After all, the last time he received a card like this, he had nearly died of the plague and for some reason he couldn't quite explain, he had held onto that card as well, even keeping it in a drawer in his home where it still sat today.
It was just a stupid card, he told himself. He knew it most likely wasn't even from him personally, so why did it cause so much turmoil inside? In fact, it probably wasn't even signed by the old man himself, he most likely just had his newest secretary send it as an afterthought when he learned his only son had nearly died and then had proceeded to forget him all over again before heading into his next business meeting.
Maybe what hurt the most was the fact that his father had remembered that he still had a son yet chose to send a crappy piece a paper filled with empty sentiments in poem form with weak rhymes instead of actually seeing him or calling- it showed just how much or how little he cared for his own flesh and blood by sending it and he had to admit that he would have been better off if he had done nothing at all.
Sighing, he leaned his head back on his pillow then caught sight of the balloons Abby brought him that she had carefully chosen as they flopped and bounced around above his head. He smiled and was reminded of that despite everything, he had friends who cared. McGee had brought him some new games for his PSP, Ziva dropped off a giant stack of movies the other night and had even stayed to watch one with him, Ducky gave him a book, which he didn't plan on actually reading, but it was the thought that counted and half the secretarial pool had sent him flowers, filling up nearly every flat surface in his hospital room. Gibbs hadn't brought anything but pizza, however he couldn't think of a more appropriate gift to receive from his usually reserved and stoic boss.
When he thought about it, his friends were closer to him than any of his actual family members and they certainly cared way more, but there was still that gaping hole in his heart when he contemplated what it meant to have a father's love. It was something he hadn't felt in very, very long time; not since before his mother died and he feared that the gap between the two of them had widened too far to be bridged any longer.
For all intents and purposes he was more than just cut off from his father's money, but from his love as well and he tried rather convincingly over the years to fool himself into believing that he didn't need or want that sort of affection from him anymore, that he was doing just fine without it. But lying in a hospital room with nowhere to go and nothing to do but think, brought that former confidence crashing down.
Now, as he chanced another glance at that damned card with its fugly sunflowers, he wasn't so sure he was all that fine without it after all.
TBC....
The T.A.D. by Angie