Worst Case Scenario (2/23)

[water4willows]

Title: Worst Case Scenario
Characters: Tony, Gibbs, McGee, Ziva, Ducky, Palmer, Vance, Various OCs
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Muti-Chapter Case Fic
Pairings: Slight TIVA, but blink and you might miss it, other than that None
Rating: PG-13 for Violence & Language
Words: Chapter 1 - 671
Summary:  The death of a child draws the team into web of lies, cover-ups and murder.  Will the emotional case claim the life of one of their own?
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with NCIS.  The character's contained in this work of fiction are the property of CBS.

hapter Text

The elevator came to a shuddering stop and announced his arrival with a cheerful ding. The doors opened up onto an empty floor and Tony DiNozzo smiled at his good fortune. He was the first to arrive and would therefore have a few moments of unhindered solitude to sip his coffee in peace and wonder about the good looking barista at the new coffee shop he'd tried this morning.  She'd smiled and flirted with him while preparing his order and in the end he had left with four cups of steaming hot coffee and the girl's telephone number tucked into the pocket of his lapel.

Life was good.

Disembarking the elevator he entered the early morning hush of the bullpen but only made it a few feet before Timothy McGee, NCIS tech whiz and all around clutz, barreled into his path.  The two agents collided heavily and DiNozzo was instantly drenched in hot coffee from chest to waist as the four cups he'd so painstakingly acquired that morning crushed into his chest.

"Oh SHIT!"  He howled as the liquid soaked his clothes and ran down his skin, scalding in white hot streaks as it went. The file McGee had his nose buried in went flying and it's pages rained down around them and McGee stood for several beats with mouth agape before springing into action.

"Tony!  Oh crap, I am so sorry!" The bumbling agent produced a handkerchief and began ineffectually trying to blot some of the hot coffee from the front of Tony's jacket, the apology on his lips voiced over and over as if on repeat.  In shock, Tony dumbly allowed McGee to paw at him until the anger finally set in and he batted the agent's hand away angrily.

"McGee, damn it, this is my favorite suit!"  And it was. It was his lucky suit, if the barista's number in his pocket was any proof.  Remembering it suddenly, he pulled the sodden napkin from his pocket and noted with increasing fury the running ink and now illegible numbers.

"I'm sorry!  I was heading down to see, Abby.  She might have a break in..."  Tony's eyes narrowed and the look stopped McGee mid-sentence.

"Save it, McClutz!" he snapped, punctuating his annoyance with a flick of his sodden sleeves, showering the younger agent with droplets of coffee that stained McGee's clothes with tiny golden brown spots.  What a waste.

"I deserved that,"  McGee gave Tony an apologetic glance then wiped some of the liquid from his face with his sleeve before stooping to retrieve his coffee soaked report. Tony took some satisfaction in the now sodden and ruined pages that McGee was trying to put back into some semblance of order.

Tony peeled away his damp suit jacket and surveyed the damage to his clothes. His pristine white dress shirt was completely ruined and McGee had the good sense to take a step back when Tony's fists clenched closed in anger.

"Here," he said with an unnatural calm as he fished dripping keys from a sodden pocket and tossed in Tim's direction.  "Black bag in my trunk.  And you better hurry Timothy."

The use of his full name by the senior agent had McGee back peddling away from Tony and towards the elevator.  He watched McGee punch the down arrow more times than he needed to in his hurry and the elevator doors swallowed his last attempt at one more apologetic glance in his direction.  Tony sloshed his way miserably over to his desk, grateful that no one was around to see him in such a sad state.  He flicked the cup holder containing the nearly empty cups of coffee in the direction of his trash can but instead of all of them making it into the bin one cup dislodged, spraying the side of his desk with its remaining contents.  It spun away angrily then came to rest somewhere beneath his desk, dribbling a trail of coffee as it wheeled away and out of sight. What had he been saying about life being good?

Tony flopped dejectedly down behind his computer and searched a drawer for the stash of napkins he usually kept there.  He blotted as best he could at the now cold coffee which was congealing and causing the fabric of his clothes to cling uncomfortably to his skin.  At least he had a spare suit tucked away in his trunk, and he sent up a prayer of thanks for Gibbs rule #17: Never go anywhere without a change of clothes.

Luckily, it didn't take McGee long to return with the packed black bag he always kept in the trunk of his mustang.  The younger man set it reverently on the desk like it was some sort of peace offering and Tony watched him back away slowly with palms up in the universal sign of surrender.  McGee fled to the safety of his own desk then and Tony's glare followed him the entire way.  He kicked the coffee cup that rolled out from under his chair in McGee's direction for good measure then made his way towards the men's room, nearly running Ziva over in his haste to get changed.

"Tony! What happened?"  She asked, a glitter of amusement in her eyes as she took in his sodden clothes.

"My esteemed co-worker over there decided it would be a good idea to douse me in hot coffee this morning,"  Tony deadpanned, shooting another angry glance in McGee's direction.  The younger agent had the good sense to look away and began typing furiously at his computer.  Ziva laughed at him, the vibrations of her mirth battering against his already flared nerves, and she ducked around him to head for her own desk.

Huffing away with all the indignation he could muster, Tony made his way to the men's room to make a hasty costume change.  By the time he got back to their little corner of the floor, Gibbs had arrived and both McGee and Ziva were doing everything in their power to listen in on the animated conversation the elder agent was having on his cell phone.  They were failing miserably at being discreet in their eavesdropping and Ziva flicked her eyes in his direction as he approached and gave him a quick once over with a furrowed brow.  Tony draped his backup jacket over the back of his desk chair and mouthed an annoyed 'What?' to her scrutiny before walking over to his boss' desk.  Gibbs wasn't one for long phone conversations and the archaic flip phone snapped shut just as he approached.

"Grab your gear."

"What've we got, Boss?"  Tony asked as the senior agent dug his badge and gun out of one of his desk drawers.

"Two dead bodies and a missing Marine."  Gibbs grumbled, also looking over Tony's wardrobe change with a critical eye.

"What's the deal with everyone this morning?"  He asked exasperated, looking himself over for signs of what was drawing their attention. He realized the source of their scrutiny a second too late.

"Shirt's on inside out, DiNozzo." Gibbs said and it was true, he realized sheepishly.  In his frustration and hurry to get back to his desk, he'd put the unfamiliar shirt on inside out.  Ziva stifled a laugh behind her hand as she retrieved her pack from the floor and followed Gibbs toward the elevator, a blushing McGee following in her wake and walking as fast as he could past Tony.

"Thanks again McClutz," he snapped at McGee's retreating figure, reaching the elevator last and throwing his gear to the ground. He pulled the shirt over his shoulders then struggled to pull it right side out again.

"Tony, I said I was sorry," McGee piped up quietly from the other side of the elevator.

"Apology NOT accepted," Came the muffled reply from within the shirt over Tony's head.

"Tony, I'm sure McGee had no intention of spilling coffee on you this morning."  Ziva half laughed, watching as Tony tried to find his way out of the shirt.

"He did it on purpose!" Finally the offending fabric gave way and fell down around his torso but not before he'd managed to pop 2 buttons and elbow Gibbs in the process.  The look he earned from the senior agent pulled a quick "Sorry, boss" from his lips.

"I did not." Came McGee's wounded reply from the other side of the elevator.

"There you are Tony. Leave him alone."

"Easy for you to say, Ziva! You didn't have a layer of your derma scalded off this morning!"

"Derma?"

"Skin!"

"You are such a jovial!"

"The word is juvenile and I am not!"  Tony grumbled childishly, trying to find a way to hide the popped buttons before finally settling on closing the front of his suit jacket over the ruined shirt.

The rest of the elevator ride was made in silence. McGee tucked himself as far away from Tony's death stare as he could get and Ziva tried hard to hide her obvious amusement at the entire situation. This was going to be a long day, Tony thought to himself.  And he hated it when he was right.

The drive to the crime scene ended at a quaint little bungalow on the outskirts of Quantico.  The house was set back a ways from the road with an expansive lawn that was shady and well tended.   Someone had put in a lot of time and effort into the summer blooms that filled the air with a sweet smell and Tony almost felt sorry for the vegetation currently being trampled by the swarm of military personnel already on scene.

Gibbs pulled the NCIS van up along the curb in front of the house between two lighted police cars and the team piled out and readied the gear.  A quick flash of Gibb's badge had them under the crime scene tape and headed for the front door in no time.  A self-important looking MP stood guard at the entrance but didn't try to stop them.

"It's not pretty in there."  Was all the man said before stepping aside and allowing the four agents to enter the house.  McGee broke off in search of the first responders and Tony, Gibbs and Ziva made their way through the house to the primary scene in the back.

The ranch style house was as suburban inside as it had been out and as finely furnished as a house could be on a military salary. The rooms were open, well lived in and cozy with picture frames filled with smiling faces of a happy family immortalized at various stages in their lives. The back bedroom, however, was a stark inversion of the lazy calm of the house and of the street on which it resided.

Tony had been an NCIS agent for a long time, and a cop even longer than that, but nothing ever made scenes like this any easier.  The crime had been committed in the bedroom farthest back in the house down a long narrow hallway off the open and airy living room.  He knew it was going to be something bad as each person they passed on their way to the back of the bungalow looked solemn and closed off.  The room appeared empty when Tony swung the bedroom door fully open and took in the scene.

The walls were painted a pale blue and dotted with the colorful painted figures of circus animals. The room brought to mind childhood memories of his own overzealous mother and he couldn't help the slight smile that played at the corners of his mouth at her memory.  Curtains were drawn away from an eastern facing window and a morning breeze was playing with the edges of the fabric and sending the unmistakable and irony smell of blood in his direction.  Tony rounded a child sized bed in the center of the room and found two figures in a pool of crimson.

The woman sat against the wall beside the bed, her head hung to one side with unseeing and milky eyes.  Blood coated the delicate fabric of the summary peasant top she wore and in her arms she held the curled and cold figure of a small boy who couldn't have been more than six years old. The moment would have almost seemed tender, a mother holding her son and rocking him gently, if it weren't for the blunt force trauma to the side of the child's small head and the overwhelming smell of blood.

Anger and nausea boiled together at once in the pit of Tony's stomach.  Ziva issued a small gasp of surprise from behind him when she finally saw and Gibbs held his place in the doorway, unmoving and silent.  Tony lifted his camera to his eye, putting lens and flash between himself and the gore, and began to take the first pictures.  He felt rather than saw the tension in Ziva as she stood behind him in silence until finally she cleared her throat and moved away to begin searching the room and Tony decided he didn't mind she'd left this task to him.  He knew that behind that tough Mossad front she put up was just a regular girl and he didn't mind protecting her from this.  He could detach himself from the horror of what he was photographing, or at least try to.

"Two bodies, Boss.  Woman looks to be in her late 20s with trauma to the chest that looks to be stab wounds, possibly gunshot wounds.  Male child, six or seven years old, blunt force trauma to the head.  I'm going to wait for Ducky to move them." Gibbs nodded and Ducky entered the room seconds later as if hearing Tony's silent, pleading internal call for the ME to appear and give him the go-ahead to get the hell out of the room.

Even the wizened ME was quiet and said little as he slowly pulled the young child away first to examine them both properly.  The mother, not yet suffering the full effects of rigor, was unable to keep her hold on the child and Tony almost wanted to tell the ME to leave them as they were.  Palmer, Ducky's bespectacled assistant, handed him tools without the ME having to ask and without comment and also seemed to be just as affected by the scene in the room.  It was unusual for the doctor not to have some witty quip or story to relay about a long ago adventure the crime reminded him of but today he was stoic and said little.  The bedroom took on the feel of a mortuary, complete with mourners and he left Jimmy and the ME to their trade and went in search of fresh air and other work that would keep him out of that room.  He'd had enough and Ziva mercifully stayed behind with Gibbs.

When Tony returned to the back bedroom awhile later, he found Gibbs still standing guard in the doorway.

"Boss?"  He asked tentatively from behind, afraid to intrude on the senior agent's thoughts.

"Yeah, DiNozzo?"  He didn't turn around.

"McGee talked with the first responders.  They found signs of forced entry at the front door.  Looks like someone kicked their way in.  McGee's trying to get prints." Tony knew scenes like this were just as hard on Gibbs though the senior agent would never dare show it. The murders of his own wife and daughter were raw wounds that never quite closed for Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and something always stirred in Tony's chest when they came across cases like these.  It was an itch to protect Gibbs from it all, but Tony knew that if he ever dared to put voice to those internal thoughts or try to do anything about it, it would be seen as an act of betrayal by their gray haired team leader.  So it fell to Tony instead to do everything in his power to help bring the people responsible to justice and pick up any pieces that fell from his boss in the process with silent loyalty.  It was his job, and he was happy to do it even if it was often a thankless and cold position to hold.

"No sign of our missing Marine." he finished and pregnant silence hung between them.

"Jethro?" Tony reluctantly followed Gibbs bacj into the room at Ducky's call.

"What have you got?"

"My initial observations suggest that they have been dead less than 4 hours. The woman suffered multiple stab wounds to the chest and the… other victim's death appears to be the result of blunt force trauma to the head. I'll see if I can find out anything else back at autopsy.  Do you know who discovered the bodies?"  Tony had the answer to that question.

"Neighbors heard a commotion, called the police."

"Anyone see anything?"  Gibbs asked Tony, his eyes never straying far from the bodies.

"Non-descript white van taking off around 0700, no plates."  Dinozzo answered simply.

"I'm going to get the bodies back to the lab, see if I can find anything further, Jethro." Tony could see the war raging within the two men in the room with him at that moment.  There was an attempt to remain detached, to process the crime scene with a clear mind and critical eye, but the tiny body now being loaded on the gurney by Jimmy was pulling strong emotions from everyone.  There was a hush about crime scenes when children were involved and this was no exception.  The personnel swarming the scene were subdued and thoroughly focused on their work as each piece of possible evidence was scrutinized with well-trained eyes.  When Ducky wheeled the small body out in its black body bag, the entire house fell silent as they passed and the atmosphere didn't ease until the bodies were loaded in the coroner's wagon, doors shut tight and the tail lights disappeared down the street.

Ziva stood at the end of the driveway watching the van's hasty retreat with arms crossed as Tony came up beside her.  He leaned into her side, their arms touching ever so slightly.

"He was just a baby." The Israeli said softly.

Tony sat with her for a moment, watching the road down which Ducky and Palmer had disappeared until she sighed and they both walked back to the crime scene, the impending processing the farthest thing from their minds.

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