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ncisficathon***Continuation of a Round 4 (2009) Ficathon story. Please check out the Round 5 stories.***
Title: Ligers and Tigons and Tony, Oh My (6a/?)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
justhuman
Written for:spoonyriffic
Prompt: Tony/Gibbs - Supernatural (the genre, not the show) - a series of strange killings in DC leave our favorite NCIS team puzzled, and soon it is revealed that there is something more nefarious behind it all. First Time fic. Rating between R or NC-17, whichever is best for the fic.
Archive: Please ask
Genre: teamfic, adventure, romance
Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo, mentions of canon pairings and maybe a surprise
Rating: NC-17 overall, PG this section
Disclaimer: CBS
Word Count: 11,730 this part
Summary: While working a case, Tony runs into a problem with potentially deadly consequences. Now it's up to the team to do what they do best and investigate until they find a solution.
Part 1 - Harvest Moon
Part 2 - After the Harvest Moon
Part 3 - Hunter's Moon
Part 4 - Hunter's Dawn
Part5 - Drag Hunt
Part 6 - Hunter's Bloodhound
Hunter's Bloodhound
*** Monday, October 5, 2009 - Full Moon, Day 3 - Hunter's Moon ***
While Tony had been showering and dressing, he had been wishing for a bit more sleep until the hunger returned. Then he was ready to move and shot downstairs, bouncing on his feet either wanting to raid the refrigerator or hit the road. The look Gibbs gave him, was it worry because of Tony's condition? Was it anger at having interrupted Gibbs solitary morning routine?
"I hate you for being awake," Gibbs said and carried his coffee cup towards the garage. Tony followed trying to be quiet. Trying, he was really trying, but he needed to point something out before they got on the road and potentially headed in the wrong direction. "Boss-"
"Yes, we're going to stop and pick up breakfast."
By stop, Gibbs meant that he'd slow down enough for Tony to jump out of the car and spend three point five minutes in a local deli. Perhaps not exactly correct, but it was accurate enough to tell McGee and Cassie. That was when the real torture started, because there was no eating in Gibbs' car. There was no thinking about eating in Gibbs' car.
Tony knew it was going to be a problem to just hold the bag on his lap and try and ignore it. To distract himself, he worked on sorting the car smells out. It was distinctly Gibbs' car. There were no car freshener scents or even lingering traces of Tony's scent from the ride home on Saturday. It was Gibbs, motor oil and other car smells. Then it became a challenge for Tony to keep his hands to himself because he really wanted to reach over and run his hand down Gibbs' thigh. With that thought, Tony had another problem in his lap that had nothing to do with the bag of food.
Despite all his instincts, Tony was good and kept his hands to himself, but his left hand did wander between them, close enough to the gearshift that Gibbs' hand brushed over his when he went to downshift for a traffic light.
It wasn't like he could help himself when he glanced at Gibbs, even though a voice in the back of Tony's head was screaming at him not to look. It would break the magic; it would give him away. The blue from Gibbs' eyes shot right through him. If Tony hadn't been holding a bag of food, if they hadn't been on their way to work; if he wasn't thinking completely dirty thoughts about his boss - well technically none of that mattered to him. Tony was about to suggest that they pull over, so Tony could show Gibbs what he really wanted to get his mouth on. Then the part about being a werewolf sank in again. Offering someone an infectious disease was never sexy.
When Tony looked away, it was completely natural. What had him wondering was why Gibbs hadn't snapped at him about keeping his hands away from the gearshift or at some other annoying thing that he was doing.
***
With a sense of relief, Gibbs set the parking break and practically jumped out of his car. "Head up to the squad room. I'm going for coffee." It was a complete cop-out; he knew it and no doubt DiNozzo knew it too. Gibbs still had half a cup from Tony's breakfast stop. What he needed was a little space because Tony in close quarters was becoming intoxicating.
It wasn't hard for Gibbs to admit to himself that he'd had desires for other men before, but the last time he nearly reached out and touched a man was in high school. Ten minutes ago he nearly pulled over the car and … And what? Gibbs didn't know what was more pathetic - that he had spent a lot of his life denying his occasional desires for men, that he had never acted on them, or that now that he was thinking hard about it, that he had no idea what to do.
Not that he would need to because once he had an opening, nothing would slow Tony down, and he'd probably do whatever he was going to do with full narration. Chirst, there was no doubt in Gibbs mind that Tony was a talker. And why the hell was he even worrying about it because nothing was going to happen!
Why the hell now? Why the hell DiNozzo? Maybe he was putting out some werewolf sex hormone or something. Gibbs stopped and lightly smacked himself in the back of the head. The science and the paranormal weren't his part of this operation. Security and keeping DiNozzo's feet on the ground were his jobs.
Before he even asked, his barista had put his usual in front of him. As he picked it up, he figured he could work on an unspoken job - esprit de corp. "I need a giant Caff-Pow too."
***
"Gibbs!" Abby called out, opening her arms and smiling at him.
"Abs," Gibbs accepted a peck on the check as he handed over her caffeine of choice. "Figured you could use a pick-me-up."
"After the way you kept me up all night - I sure can," Abby winked at him.
"Don't start spreading rumors about secrets that don't exist. It'll make it harder to keep the ones we have."
Abby took a long pull on her soda. "I love it when you visit me, Gibbs, but you're usually chomping at the bit for something."
"I just want to know how you're doing."
With a little half shrug, Abby turned away, fiddling with her straw. "A little tired, but it's not the first time I've greeted the dawn before heading into work."
"Abby," Gibbs said, looking for the right words. Before he could frame something to say, she lifted a hand to stop him.
"Gibbs, I'm going to be fine. It's so weird needing to be wary about someone I trust completely, because I don't know how to do that." Abby put her drink down. "I'm not naïve or stupid, but I also don't do well in the gray zone. I like you; I don't like you. I trust you; I don't trust you. I think that you may be aware of some of my previous dating experience."
"Oh yeah," Gibbs said and bit his tongue.
"I think that some of those incident are a testament to what happens when I'm confused about trust issues." Abby said.
"Abs, you are the best person I know. I know that you're the best person that Tony knows," Gibbs said.
"Gibbs, I love Tony!" She held up both hands and frowned. "Well, you not love as in Love, but, you know,-"
"I know," Gibbs cut her off as he pulled out his phone and frowned at the name. "I know a way around the trust issue too. When he looks like Tony, then he's Tony. You treat him like you always have." Gibbs started moving towards the door, hitting the speed dial numbers on his phone.
"And when he's furry…" Abby started.
"You express your trust with a baseball bat," Gibbs said to Abby and then to the phone, "McGee, gas up the truck. Dead Sailor at Pax River."
***
Patuxent River Naval Air Station
Tony moved around the living room, taking pictures of the crime scene and trying not to breathe.
"I don't understand, Doctor," Palmer said.
"How we always seem to be lagging due to your directions?" Ducky said with the faint hint of a snarl in his voice.
"But we didn’t get lost. What I'm confused about is why it takes two hours to travel sixty miles."
Tony was appreciative of all two hours because it gave him a chance to finish breakfast and brunch before they arrived. At first he had objected vehemently to Gibbs handing the keys to McGee, but that changed once he was able to sink his teeth into his first muffin. Now he was just hoping to hold it down.
"Tony, when did you get shy about dead bodies?" Palmer asked.
When I became part werewolf, autopsy gremlin, Tony thought, but out loud he said. "I don't know, something didn’t agree with me this morning." Being trapped in base housing wasn't helping either. They were in the petty officer's apartment, which he shared with another guy of the same rank. It had all the scents of a frat house mixed with a building that had been moldering since the fifties.
Ducky glanced at him, but didn't ask anything in front of Palmer. "My condolences to your digestive system, Tony, but I need photos of the bruising on our young petty officer's neck." Ducky held open the shirt to give Tony a shot.
Taking a breath in the air above, Tony squatted down and lined up the shot.
"Tony, maybe you should consider lighter fare for breakfast. I'm sure he was exaggerating, but Tim said you had breakfast for six this morning," Palmer said. "Fatty food is much more difficult for the body to digest, leaving opportunities-"
"Yes, Yes, Mr. Palmer," Ducky cut him off. "Perhaps we should just let Tony deal with this in his own way."
When Tony needed to breathe, he tried to concentrate on sorting out Ducky's scent from that of the body and the surroundings. It worked - sort of. He was able to block out the worst of the body, but instead of Ducky's scent, he caught Palmers. Alfred.
No that wasn't quite right. Ducky was looking at Tony funny, and Tony realized he had stuck out his tongue to taste the air. He straightened out his face and then took another sniff. Edna, as in Edna Mode from the Incredibles - fashion designer and non-combatant advisor to superheroes. Fashion designer didn't seem right, although, Jimmy did know a lot about women's shoes. The other part, advisor to superheroes, made complete sense to Tony. Even if he didn't get leads on new clothing from Palmer, Tony did get guidance and a latte.
But then there was the other part, the part that Jimmy wasn't showing through his game face. There was girl-scent all over him and something more, something illicit.
"Maybe I'm just after good old-fashion, American simple, Palmer. You get up in the morning, shower, have a breakfast burrito or two." And muffins and bearclaws.. "You know, nothing fancy." As he landed heavy on the final word, Tony looked Palmer right in the eye with the look that he usually reserved for interrogation.
There was a fleeting moment of panic on Palmer's face, and Tony knew that he'd gotten it right. Palmer had had sex for breakfast and was somehow managing not to telegraph that fact in his body language. "What did you have for breakfast, Palmer?"
But Jimmy's embarrassment was quickly replaced by calm and composed, as he responded, "Some yogurt and granola."
Tony filed away the information that Palmer was a good liar.
"Ah, what do we have here?" Ducky held up the victim's hand, turning it palm up. "There appears to be some fibers under the nails, possible some epithelial cells from the attacker. Tony if you would."
By the time Ducky had said his name, Tony was lining up the close up of the victim's hand. "It looks blue to me, heavy cloth." After he snapped the picture, Tony sat back and thought about it. "Could be standard coveralls."
"That's a lot of suspects," McGee said from the bedroom hallway.
"Virtually everyone on base," Tony agreed.
"Ducky! Cause of death?" Gibbs stepped in from the outside.
"Based on the petechial hemorrhaging and the bruising around the neck, I'll give a preliminary cause of death as asphyxia due to strangulation."
"What else you got?" Gibbs leaned over Tony to get a better look at the body. Normally, Tony was fond of being this close to Gibbs, but he was getting claustrophobic between the smells and being surrounded.
"There are defensive wounds on the hands and wrists - possibly a skin sample under the victim's nails."
"DNA is always good," Gibbs said.
"There were fibers too," Tim said from behind Gibbs.
"I'm no Abby," Tony said, "But it looks like it might be from a set of coveralls."
"Time of death?" Gibbs asked
"Allowing for the ambient temperature, I'd say this young man departed this world between 0600 and 0700."
"According to the schedule on the refrigerator, that's after his roommate reported for duty," McGee said.
After roommate reported for duty, meaning there were probably witnesses to say he was at work the entire time. It kind of shot Tony's pet theory that Petty Officer Lawson was killed over the smell in the apartment. "Hey would anyone mind if I opened a window?"
"Not after you check it for prints; we still don't know how the attacker got in," Gibbs said.
"Yeah, prints." Tony would have kicked himself if he could, that was a rookie kind of request.
"McGee-" Gibbs called.
"No signs of struggle or forced entry in the other parts of the apartment."
"McGee, tape out the body, so Ducky can get on his way," Gibbs said.
"Mr. Palmer," Ducky started.
"I'll go get the gurney, Doctor," Palmer finished.
There was a moment of silence after Palmer left the room and then it was like Gibbs, Ducky and McGee were charging him. Tony held up his hands. "Guys, I need some air!"
"Come on," Gibbs said, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket and directing him out the front door and to the side. Ducky was following right on his heels.
"Anthony," Ducky said. "Is it just the intensity of the dead body?"
"It's hot," Tony said, taking in a great big lungful of sea air mix with traces of jet fuel as the sound of fighter aircraft screamed overhead. "And it's not just the body. Hell, I've been around worse smelling bodies than that."
"You smell something else in the apartment?" Gibbs asked.
"Yeah," Tony said. It's just different."
"DiNozzo-" Gibbs started, but Ducky put a hand on his arm.
"Tony, different then what?" Ducky asked.
"Everything important." Wasn't it obvious? Tony thought. He had the super-sniffer, so maybe not. "Gibbs' house, the Navy Yard, my apartment. "They're all home territory."
"This weekend, you were in the park and the grocery store," Gibbs said.
"The park doesn't count because it's outside."
Ducky gestured to their surroundings. "So this is like the park."
"Yes. No. I mean they don't smell anything alike, but they the same class, I guess. They're outside; they're in the open and scents don't get trapped."
"What about the deli this morning," Gibbs asked. "It's a small shop and has been there for a decade."
"Different than the outside," Tony said. "It's got a personality like a house, but it's not like invading someone else's territory."
"You have a problem invading someone else's turf?" Gibbs asked with complete disbelief in his voice.
Tony didn't care for the tone. It implied he did that kind of thing all the time or worse it implied he couldn't do his job. "I don't have a problem walking into that apartment or any other place the investigation will take us. It's just that the smells were intense. Those guys are living there and their smells are coming out of the walls and the carpet. One of them is really not that good."
"The body," Gibbs said.
"No not the body, not that bodies smell good, but something with a real chemical reek."
"Can you describe it, Tony?" Ducky asked. "Alcohol, nail polish remover, ammonia?"
"No, not anything I remember having a name for," Tony said with a frown.
"Petty Officer Lawson worked in a maintenance shop for the fighters," McGee said from the other side of the doorway. "Body's taped off, Boss. Should I take any more photos?" McGee asked while extending his hand towards Tony and the camera.
Tony slapped it down. "I got it. I have to have it, I need to have it together," he practically growled as he took a step back towards the door, but he was stopped short by Gibbs putting a hand in the middle of Tony's chest.
"Boss, I need to -"
"Slow down. We're going to work on it and figure it out. McGee, where's Cassie?" Gibbs asked.
"She's interviewing the neighbors."
Tony's instinct was to argue, but other instincts were at play, because Gibbs hadn't moved his hand. It was kind of pathetic that a small amount of body contact through clothes could hold him place, but he kinda didn't care.
"You go track down Lawson's bunkmate and make sure that he made it to work on time and that he couldn't have snuck back here. Tony and I are going to wrap up the crime scene and then head over to Lawson's duty station."
With a nod, McGee took off.
Gibbs was looking him in the eye. "Let me have the camera."
"Boss-"
"Give me the camera. You check the back of the building to see if there's any signs that they came in through the windows, and then you come back in when Ducky and Palmer have gone."
Tony wanted to argue, to tell Gibbs where he could stuff it, but instead he unslung the camera from his neck, handed it to Gibbs. Then he jogged around the building. At first glance, nothing looked disturbed. The grass was perfectly manicured to a height not less than two inches or exceeding three, just like the handbooks for base housing required. Well, maybe four inches; it all changed base to base. It was also irrelevant since this was a barracks with two-dozen apartments and the residents didn't cut the grass. Although, the grass had been cut fairly recently based on the smell. It wasn't that fresh cut today smell that anyone could pick out in the breeze. There was mixture of fresh cut and, well, Tony wasn't sure. It was a composting smell he supposed; the mulched clippings fading away.
Tony's phone rang as he squatted over the lawn. He dug his fingers through looking for the state of the cuttings as he answered, "DiNozzo."
"Did you find something?"
Tony blinked and then looked up at the building. The Boss was staring down at him from behind a closed window. "No, I was just…" Getting distracted by the smell of the freaking grass? "Nothing in the grass, I was just about to check the bushes."
Tony deliberately got up and stepped up to the planter bed lining the side of the building, just below the first floor windows. Just like the grass, the bushes were trimmed with military precision. "These are sticker bushes, Boss. I don't see anyone climbing through these to get to that window. No broken branches or footprints in the mulch."
Gibbs grunted, "Come back in."
Tony pocketed his phone and jogged back around to the front door. The Boss was going to kill him if he didn't start focusing. Even before he became a werewolf, people used to accuse him of not focusing, but they didn't get it. Talking about random case details was just his way of sifting through the facts to look for clues. The Boss got that, not that he appreciated it as much as he should, but he got that. Now Tony wasn't talking; he was sniffing and that was weirding out everyone, including himself.
The window was still closed when he came back into the apartment. It was still too warm for him, but at least the people smell was down. The only body he smelled now was Gibbs and was once again threatened with complete distraction. "Did you happen to dust the sills for fingerprints, Boss?"
"Nope, I didn't want to water down the odors. Let's figure out how to use that nose of yours," Gibbs said.
"Huh?"
"What's your vision?"
"20/10 - I should have been a fighter pilot. Uniform, pair of wings - total chick magnet."
"Yeah, but you didn't. Now I get to use your fighter pilot vision to look for hair and fibers. I want to know if your nose is the same way."
"You want me to smell out the murderer?"
"If you can," Gibbs said.
Tony said, "OK," but was mostly confused about how he was supposed to accomplish this.
"You said you smelled something chemical, right? Start there. Is it still in the room?"
Tony closed his eyes and tasted the air. Moldy base housing, check. The Boss, traces of McGee, Palmer, Ducky, the dead body and the Boss, again. "Stop moving." Tony opened his eyes and was looking right at Gibbs even though Gibbs was on the other side of the room from where he had started.
"You need to stay in one place and stop mixing up the scents." Tony watched as Gibbs stepped back and leaned against the front door. Tony squatted next to the outline of the body and took a good sniff. Dead body and chemical. Keeping his eyes closed, Tony moved a few feet until he was right on top of the smell. "It's here."
He opened his eyes as Gibbs stepped loser. Tony was kneeling in the middle of the body with both hands planted in the "scent" which was a patch of carpeting next to the body's chest. "Maybe it's a spot cleaner?"
"Pretty coincidental that our dead sailor landed right next to it," Gibbs said.
"And we don't believe in coincidence."
"No we don't. Do me a favor, kneel in the spot with the smell and face the head."
When Tony moved, he saw immediately what Gibbs must have been seeing from above. He reached out with both his hands and "wrapped" them around what would have been the neck of the victim.
"I don't think its coincidence at all," Gibbs said.
"I just found evidence of a murderer with my nose?" Tony asked.
"Maybe. Or maybe you found evidence that someone found the body and kneeled down next to it, but I'm leaning towards the first conclusion."
"Wait," Tony said. "It's not actually evidence. A fiber or a hair Abby could scan and match."
Gibbs nodded. "This is more like your gut."
"Except it's my nose. What do I do with it?"
"Same thing you do with your gut - follow it."
"Follow it," Tony repeated and then closed his eyes and moved closer to the floor. As he slowly moved around he found the edges of the spot. He couldn't be sure without drawing it out, but it seemed to be a pair of knees and calves. That was the problem though; it was only the outline of a person kneeling on the floor.
"I can't find a trail."
"How well can you detect a person once they've left a room?" Gibbs asked.
"Depends on the person and what they touched," Tony said as he stood up. "McGee's scent is really faint, but he wasn't in the room much. Ducky and Palmer were both on the rug and I can smell them more down on the floor." Tony bit his lip and frowned. "I can't smell the dirtbag that did this. The smell, it's not a people smell."
"More like soap or perfume?" Gibbs asked.
"Yeah, an extra, but it's not either one of those. More like something you'd keep under the sink or in a basement."
"Something like you'd keep at maintenance hanger," Gibbs said.
"That's where Lawson worked," Tony said, grabbing his bag and heading towards the door.
"Wait."
"You don't think we should check out where he worked?"
"Didn't say that. I want you to rule out anyone else in the apartment, first."
"Normally I'd have to get some fingerprints or fibers and let Abby compare-" Tony stopped himself and bumped the brim of his hat up a little. "I can - my nose can do that with clothes and stuff. I'm like a little inadmissible lab, but you know it's more a talent then a science."
"Go ahead." With a sigh, Gibbs sat on the arm of the sofa and waved Tony towards the bedrooms.
"You're not coming with me?"
"I'm told that my scent confuses the artist." Gibbs said.
Tony detected a hint of sarcasm. "Right, I'll just do that." He put down his pack and headed off to the first bedroom, automatically pulling on a pair of gloves before he touched the doorknob. From the smell it was Petty officer Lawson's room, but there wasn't a trace of the death smell from the other room. There was a little McGee in the air, but Tony was already working on blocking that.
"Tell me what you're doing." Gibbs called from the living room.
Tony stuck his head out the door and looked down the hall at the Boss, who was still seated on the couch. "Tell you?"
"Yeah, DiNozzo, tell me. You do more color commentary than the sportscasters when we're watching a game, and you can't make a trip to the men's room without letting everyone in the room know you're going. You can tell me what you're nose is picking up."
"Boss, I've had a lot of practice using my eyes, but the whole smell thing needs a little more concen-"
"DiNozzo!"
"On it, Boss!" he shouted and stepped back into the room, mumbling "With running commentary," to himself.
"Definitely Lawson's room. I caught a trace of McGee when I walked in, but it's gone now."
"He cleared the room when we came in. You getting anyone else?"
"He hits a laundromat instead of the base laundry because his clothes are spring fresh instead of Navy-itchy. Did I ever tell you? The laundry was one of the worst parts of living on a carrier-"
"DiNozzo, do you think that Marine laundry comes from a fuzzy bear?"
"Right! You know all about the laundry in the military."
"Speaking of laundry, what are his dirty clothes like?"
With a feeling of distinct horror, Tony mouthed the words dirty clothes, but looked for the hamper or whatever. In the bathroom there was a sea bag. Gingerly Tony opened it up and breathed. He frowned and sniffed again. "I've smelt worse. There's definitely some smells, oil and maybe paint, but not our mystery chemical."
Tony opened the medicine cabinet and found the stuff he expected to find, nothing unusual. "I got nothing in here, Boss," he said as he stepped back into the hall. "Roommate next." Tony opened the next door and felt like he got knocked back a foot. And maybe that was literally because the next thing he knew the Boss was standing next to him.
"Is it the murderer's scent?"
"No-"
"What the hell is that?" Gibbs grimaced.
Tony pushed Gibbs back a little and bravely stepped into the room. "That, Boss, is the distinct smell of a frat house. We have your dirty dishes, rotting Spaghettios, mixed with a little sour beer, and topped with dirty laundry."
"Start with the dirty laundry. If you're onto something with your nose, it should be on his pants."
"I can tell you that you don't want to know what's on these dirty sheets. Do I get some kind of bonus for saving our luminal budget?"
"Sure, you just prove it to the director and I'm sure you'll get something."
Quiet was the better part of valor on that topic, so Tony moved around the room until he found a pair of uniform pants. "Jet exhaust. Apparently all my time on Seahawk wasn't a waste."
"All right, let's go check out where Lawson worked."
"Gibbs?" McGee called from the living room. Gibbs and Tony came down the hall and saw that he had brought someone dressed in ground crew gear. He was white as a sheet as he looked at the outline of the body in the middle of the floor.
McGee tapped him on the arm. "Petty Officer Ranico this is Special Agent Gibbs and Special Agent DiNozzo. This is Petty officer Lawson's roommate.
Gibbs tapped Tony on the arm. "Gather up your gear and wait for me over there. Gibbs pointed towards the couch, but Tony already understood that it was the place behind the Petty Officer. Picking up his bag, Tony stepped close to the petty officer, but didn't touch him. He was able to walk around back, kind of getting a 180 degree sniff.
Gibbs pulled out his notepad. "What time did you last see Petty Officer Lawson?"
Tony didn't have to see the deer-in-the-headlights look on Ranico, because he could hear it in his voice. "Is he really dead, sir?"
Gibbs took pity on the guy with the tone of his voice. "Yeah, he is. Best thing you can do for him now is help us catch the person that killed him. When did you last see him?"
Ranico answered all of Gibbs questions with probably the exact same answers that he gave McGee. They'd compare notes later. Tony jerked his head for McGee to join him. As he passed McGee his knapsack, McGee gave him a puzzled but at the same time annoyed look.
There was method to his madness. McGee was standing on the side of Ranico where Tony didn't get a chance to sniff. It was obvious to all of them that the guy didn't do it, but Tony thought there might be a quiz later. How does one sniff another guys knees without implying things that the Navy would prefer remained unasked and untold?
Tony walked up to Ranico and then squatted down next to the outline of the body. He pointed the laser-measuring tool at the wall. "McGee, 1.2 meters." As he turned his head, he a clear sniff of the man's knee. It wasn't a good smell with all the jet exhaust, but it wasn't the smell of a murderer.
"Huh?" McGee said.
Way to cover, thought Tony. "I said 1.2 meters, did you get that now, McGee?" Ah, there was the light. It was still a confused light but a light none-the-less.
"Got it, Tony - 1.2 meters."
"Petty Officer," Gibbs said. "Your CO has been informed and is arranging for alternate housing. Agent McGee is going to take you back to your room so you can pack a bag."
McGee stepped up and gestured for the Petty Officer to follow him. At the same time Gibbs moved towards the door and gestured for Tony. Once they were outside, Gibbs simply said, "Report."
"I got jet exhaust on his gear just like on the clothes in the bedroom - no trace of the chemical smell that I'm looking for. How'd you like that move, getting a direct sniff of his knees?" Tony asked, feeling very proud of himself.
"It wasn't bad until you stuck out your tongue," Gibbs said.
Tony grimaced. "Got to get a little more subtle."
"Yeah."
"Yates!" Gibbs called out.
Cassie made a few comments to the Seaman she was interviewing and jogged over.
"You get anything from the neighbors?" Gibbs asked.
"Not much. Most of the ones I interviewed are off duty today. I'm going to have to track down the rest of the building occupants at their duty stations. A few of them were up early and heard the normal building activity. There was one long shot in there. Seaman Jannick claims he heard a door slam at about 0645 and running footsteps."
"That's in the window for our time of death," Tony said.
"It is," Gibbs said, "But it could also be someone late for work."
"Like I said, a long shot. Jannick said he heard the footsteps heading north. If I'm remembering the layout of Pax River right, there are some secure buildings a block or two in that direction; they may have security cameras."
"Grab McGee when he's done with Larson's roommate to help you track down the rest of the residents."
Cassie nodded. "How did you make out inside with Ducky?"
"Not much in the way of trace evidence around the body. Ducky thought there might be some DNA under the fingernails. I smelled something," Tony said with a smile.
Cassie was staring at him, seemingly unimpressed with his revelation. "And that would be..."
"Oh! I don't know exactly. It's kind of chemically."
"Uh-huh," Cassie said.
"That's a little vague isn't it Tony?" McGee said as he joined the group.
"But-" Tony sputtered.
"But, it happened to be in the spot where someone could have been kneeling with his hands around the victim's throat," Gibbs said.
"Yeah, what the Boss said."
McGee pressed his lips together and nodded slowly - Tony didn't like that look because it meant McGee was just about to call someone an idiot. "Tony, for the sake of argument, I'll allow that you've got a nose that drug sniffing dogs would envy. Let's also accept for the moment that you smelled something unique to the killer, and he can't get rid of the smell somehow."
"McGee..." Gibbs said
"Boss, there's still hundreds of acres of Naval Air Station out there to sniff and that's only if the killer is still on the base."
Tony thought about it for a moment. "Boss, can we follow-up on Cassie's long shot camera -" The head slap cut him off.
"We're not doing anything here that we wouldn't normally do. Tony hunted around for trace evidence and may or may not have found something useful. We find non-useful things all the time. Instead of getting the CO to line everyone on base up for a sniff test, DiNozzo and I are going to check out the Petty Officer's duty station, while the two of you track down the building occupants and the camera lead that may or may not pay off. Anyone see a big difference from what we do everyday?"
There were headshakes and a murmured No, Boss..
"Then everyone get back to work. I've got the car; you two take the truck. DiNozzo!"
At the top of his lungs, Tony said, "On your six, Boss!"
Once they were in the car, Tony felt the nervous energy creeping up on him again. Once he was sitting still, Tony found that he couldn't. On the ride down it wasn't so bad, because he was surrounded by food in the front seat. McGee shouldn't have had such a bug up his ass about it all, because Tony did share, and it was food that was still in it's sealed original packaging.
Now that they were in the middle of the case, he needed to move. Tony wondered how far it was to the duty station; maybe he could walk. Hell, maybe he could jog along side the car. Maybe, just maybe, he could take a short cut over parade ground and hit a mess hall on his way over for a snack.
"Ow!" Tony looked down at his leg, which hurt like a son of a B where Gibbs had just slapped him. He looked at the man who was being the inscrutable Marine. What Tony really noticed was Gibbs' right hand, ready to smack him again.
"You start thumping that leg again, I swear I'm going to take it off."x
Tony frowned at his leg. Had he been thumping and not even knew it? Well, of course it was possible, because leg thumping was like that, and he might be doing it on any other day of the week, let alone today.
"Boss, if I have to sit still, I may explode and I'm not just talking about a tantrum or a fit of pique."
"No you won't."
"I'm telling you I might, and I really don't want to."
"Then don't."
"Boss-"
"Why do you think I had you sniff that entire apartment?"
"You mean for the inadmissible, untraceable evidence?" Tony frowned. Gibbs didn't like spending time on procedures that weren't going to lead them anywhere. "Why did you have me do that?"
"Because this is your life, DiNozzo. Until we find a treatment or a cure. I'm going to run on the assumption that what we've seen - you've experienced - over the last month is typical. You've got more energy than you know what to do with. You've got a hyperactive nose. It's all making you twitch and distracting you. You NEED to learn how to live with it."
This is what they had been talking about for the last three days - Tony needed to focus. "What if I can't?"
"Do you have enough vacation and sick time to take off three or four days every month? Oh and can you create a good enough cover story so someone doesn't figure out that you disappear for the full moon every month?"
"I converted to Goddess worship and have to get naked with my coven?" Tony said off the cuff. "Yeah, none of that is workable." He shifted in his seat to better face Gibbs. "Boss, how do I do this?"
"Ever spend time with a toddler, DiNozzo?"
"I've seen toddlers."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Here's the thing. They're figuring out what stuff looks like, what it feels like. They spend hours watching things or touching things like they're the most fascinating things in the world. They're learning to walk and it takes 110% of their attention to do it."
"That's what I look like when I'm stiffing thing?" Tony asked, somewhat horrified.
"You do, but that's not the point. The point is that once they learn how to do it, it becomes second nature. Then they figure out how to walk and talk at the same time."
"How to sniff out a room and describe it as you go."
Gibbs didn't say anything but Tony could see that he had gotten it in one.
"How I can sniff things, keep my eyes open, and talk to a witness, so he doesn't even know I'm doing it," Tony said.
"Not to mention acting in away that won't have the director send you for random drug screening," Gibbs said.
Tony winced. "That bad."
"Sometimes."
"This is probably a bad time to mention that I'm hungry again, isn't it?"
Gibbs shrugged. "It's close to 12:30. I'm surprised you held out this long."
"Impressed," Tony said and sat up a little straighter, making sure that he didn't start thumping or drumming.
"I said surprised; it's going to take a lot more to impress me. After we're done at Lawson's duty station, we'll hit the mess hall. It won't be good, but at least it will be unlimited."
Tony nodded. "You know, Boss, since it is actually lunch time, the duty station may be cleared out."
"DiNozzo," Gibbs growled.
***
"Master Chief O'Reilly," Gibbs called, as he and Tony walked into the maintenance hanger. The hangers lined up with military precision in this part of the base. The one they were standing had been subdivided between jets and ground transportation.
Three men turned from the engine they were working on and one said, "I'm, O'Reilly."
Gibbs held up his credentials to reinforce the ball cap and jacket. "Special Agent Gibbs and this is Special Agent DiNozzo."
"This is about Lawson," the Chief said as he joined them. "What happened?"
Tony answered, "Killed in his apartment early this morning." Good, that was good. Keep it simple; don't give away too many details, because a killer might use those to reveal himself.
"This is one of those things you read about in the papers, and it's always about other people," O'Reilly said.
"Chief, we're going to need to talk to you about Lawson, what kind of sailor he was, how he got on with the rest of the crew. Then we're going to want to interview the rest of your men, how many?"
The Chief nodded, "Twelve - now eleven without Lawson. Late lunch shift is out, but they'll be back in about 10 minutes.
Tony's eyes swept the hanger, while in his head a mantra ran, Do not look at Gibbs; do not look at Gibbs; told you so about lunch, do not... He looked at Gibbs and immediately looked away. Yeah, he would have been headslapped into next week, if they weren't with a witness. Something pinged, and Tony said, "There seems to be a lot more than a dozen guys in here."
"There are three different units in here. My group is aviation mechanics. The main motor pool garage is being refurbished, so they made room for those guys in here." The Chief was looking toward the motor pool as he spoke and then he was shouting, "Get that jeep out of my work area!"
A mechanic that had been getting out of the jeep jumped right back in and backed the vehicle up, shouting at his co-workers about finding a place to put it.
Gibbs inclined his head towards the motor pool area. "Is there a lot of tension with those guys?"
The Chief snorted. "Yeah, you could say that. Every time we give them an inch, they take a mile and then there's the pecking order."
"I'm betting your men have a lot more specialty schools under their belts, faster promotion," Tony said.
"And when they leave the Navy, they're all going to have higher paying civilian jobs," the chief said
Tony nodded. This assignment just became more complicated and therefore would delay his lunch. They were going to end up interviewing everyone in the hanger.
"What was Lawson like?" Gibbs asked the Chief.
"Good kid, minded his own business. Respectful - he was probably saying, 'yes, sir' and 'no, ma'am' his entire life. He was smart, real smart. I had him pegged as a lifer. He just got his promotion to first class, ahead of schedule.
"Promotion slots are tight and hard to get a jump on," Tony said.
"That's what I'm saying. He was great at his job, just finished his associates degree and finished his second specialist school in aircraft mechanics. He earned it."
"Everyone agree with that?" Gibbs asked. "Any jealousy in the crew."
"Not in my crew."
A large engine fired over Tony's head and he ducked.
"Did a bird fly in that I didn't see, Agent DiNozzo?" The chief laughed.
There was nothing over his head, just his hearing making a jet engine out of something else. "I did some time on the Seahawk as Agent Afloat. You get cautions when something roars up at you fast. What is that chief? Are they firing up the engines on an F-18?"
"You'd think," Chief O'Reilly said. "It's the other group in the hanger - the paint shop boys." He pointed to a portion of the hanger segregated off by long sheets of plastic. "Some of the equipment that we maintain was originally built before there was a hole in the ozone layer. The Navy is particular about paint color and reluctant to try a new paint because of color variation."
"Seriously?" Tony asked.
"Agent DiNozzo, we are talking about the government of the United States."
Tony held up his hand. "Sorry, I had blocked out the forms I filled out last time I was shot. What does that have to do with the noise?"
"I was getting to that," O'Reilly said. "The consequence is that they're forced to use paints that were outlawed a decade ago. You wouldn't believe the safety equipment and exhaust fans they need when the paint is 99% VOCs."
"What do you do, keep a stash in your garage?" Gibbs asked.
"Hell, no. The Navy's got a stockpile somewhere that they bought before the ban. It normally would have expired by now, but every year they slap a new extended shelf-life tag on every paint can." The chief looked at the floor and then looked at them. "Can't do that for Petty Officer Lawson."
"No we can't, Chief." Gibbs agreed.
"That paint smells pretty strong, you can tell it's loaded with chemicals," Tony said and made sure he caught Gibbs eye. "You mentioned a pecking order, those guys in the paint shop?"
"Someone's got to be at the bottom," the Chief said
"Chief!" rang out from the other side of the hanger.
"Look, I've got to get back to work. Here's a copy of my roster; my men will cooperate with your interviews." The Chief jogged over to the men that had called him.
Gibbs stepped closer to Tony, so close that suddenly he was the only scent Tony could make out. It went without saying that Gibbs had his total and complete attention.
"You smell it?"
"When they fired up the fans for the paint shop." Tony nodded. "Why don't I start over there-"
Gibbs lightly put a hand on Tony's chest. It was probably meant to slow him down, but all it did was make Tony's heart pound in his ears. The Boss touched him all the time and while Tony would never admit it out loud, he relished every one of those headslaps. This was different. There was the scent and the touch and …and the hunt. They were going to track down this bad guy. Tony could feel the adrenaline burning in his veins.
"They all work in the same place. Any of them could have walked in there and spilled something on themselves," Gibbs said.
"Yeah, that could have happened," Tony said. "But that's not what my gut is telling me."
"And if it is one of the men in there - we don’t have any hard or circumstantial evidence. It will be only your nose and both our guts. We're going to work it in the logical way. We're going to start with his crew mates and then move onto the rest of the hanger."
Tony didn't love the plan, but he nodded and took a step towards Chief O'Reilly's crew. But there was Gibbs' hand on his chest, keeping him fully occupied.
"When we get done, I expect you to be able to report on everything you heard, saw and smelled," Gibbs said.
"Just like every time I go and interview someone, well maybe not the smell usually," Tony said.
"Remember how I said you were like a kid, learning how to do things for the first time? We have a word for that," Gibbs said.
Tony puzzled that for only a second. "No! No, Boss, come on you can't - I'm not!"
"Between you and me, you're a probie again, until you can prove to me that you've got control over what's happening to you."
Tony swallowed because it stopped him from ranting for a few seconds. "Did you tell that to McGee and Cassie?"
"What part of 'you and me' sounds like I'm telling them anything?"
"Gotcha," Tony said. The unsaid part was that the Boss would tell McGee and Cassie if he thought that Tony wasn't handling it, if only for their own protection.
"Well what are you standing around for?" Gibbs snapped.
Tony moved like a starting gun had fired.
How long have you known him? Did he have any girlfriends? Any enemies? Any recent confrontations with anyone? Did he go out to bars, maybe step on someone's toes? Blah, blah, blah. Tony diligently interviewed Lawson's co-workers one by one.
At first he tried a formula - sniff, question, watch, sniff. It lasted through the first question of the first witness. How was he supposed to learn, to practice, while he was doing his job?
Since becoming a werewolf… Tony found it weird that that was how his life was now defined. Since becoming a werewolf his perception of the world had become a little like the Wizard of Oz - the movie, because Tony had never read the book. The point was that his team and his surroundings was like Oz - distinct, alive, full Technicolor. The rest of the world was in black and white - well not technically, since everything was still in full color to his eyes. But everyone else in the world was a faded part of the background - other people, other places.
Tony wasn't used to the world being like that. He liked meeting people. He was a people watcher. If some people didn't interest him, that was a whole other story, but he'd still notice things about him. It was hard to focus on the witnesses, it was like they were rocks or trees or F-18 engines.
And then the second guy lied. He had been answering with his head half-buried in an engine compartment. Tony was used to people that avoided eye contact with cops; it made it harder to catch the lies. The eyes weren't the only tell. There was body language and apparently scent.
It was November, it wasn't particularly hot in the hanger, but Petty Officer Johansson was beginning to sweat with no visible perspiration. Add that to the stiffness of his body posture and the extra effort to avoid Very Special Agent DiNozzo's eyes - it was a lie.
"So Johansson, are you sure that he hasn't been involved in any fights in a social setting like a bar?
Johansson turned around and faced Tony. He wiped his wrench or what ever random tool he was holding with a rag, and looked right at Tony. And there he was, in color, standing out from the background and it was almost effortless the way Tony was able to categorize his scent, file his hand gestures.
"Agent DiNozzo, Lawson never started a fight. He wasn't the kind of guy that looked for trouble."
Tony took a step into Johansson's space. "Petty Officer, let me remind you of a pertinent detail or two. Lawson is dead! He's not going to get in trouble if he started a barroom brawl. However, if he made an enemy during a fight that he may or may not have started, it might lead us to a potential killer. Did you get into a fight with him?"
"No! We weren't buddy-buddy, but we got along." Johansson swallowed hard and now he was visibly sweating and looking guilty.
"Did he join a fight that you may or may not have started?" Tony asked. Ping! Johannson's look told him that he got it right. "Ah, got it, didn't I? Where was it? Who else was involved?"
"Look we were off base and maybe I shot my mouth off at some local-yokels about my ability to play pool. When three of them came at me, Joey jumped in and helped me fight them off."
"Why did you just lie to me?"
"Look, the whole base got a lecture about causing trouble in town a month ago. The fight happened out in a parking lot, and we managed to get out of there before anyone called the cops."
As Tony made notes, the fans in the paint shop shut down.
Continued
Title: Ligers and Tigons and Tony, Oh My (6a/?)
Author:
justhumanWritten for:
spoonyrifficPrompt: Tony/Gibbs - Supernatural (the genre, not the show) - a series of strange killings in DC leave our favorite NCIS team puzzled, and soon it is revealed that there is something more nefarious behind it all. First Time fic. Rating between R or NC-17, whichever is best for the fic.
Archive: Please ask
Genre: teamfic, adventure, romance
Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo, mentions of canon pairings and maybe a surprise
Rating: NC-17 overall, PG this section
Disclaimer: CBS
Word Count: 11,730 this part
Summary: While working a case, Tony runs into a problem with potentially deadly consequences. Now it's up to the team to do what they do best and investigate until they find a solution.
Part 1 - Harvest Moon
Part 2 - After the Harvest Moon
Part 3 - Hunter's Moon
Part 4 - Hunter's Dawn
Part5 - Drag Hunt
Part 6 - Hunter's Bloodhound
Hunter's Bloodhound
*** Monday, October 5, 2009 - Full Moon, Day 3 - Hunter's Moon ***
While Tony had been showering and dressing, he had been wishing for a bit more sleep until the hunger returned. Then he was ready to move and shot downstairs, bouncing on his feet either wanting to raid the refrigerator or hit the road. The look Gibbs gave him, was it worry because of Tony's condition? Was it anger at having interrupted Gibbs solitary morning routine?
"I hate you for being awake," Gibbs said and carried his coffee cup towards the garage. Tony followed trying to be quiet. Trying, he was really trying, but he needed to point something out before they got on the road and potentially headed in the wrong direction. "Boss-"
"Yes, we're going to stop and pick up breakfast."
By stop, Gibbs meant that he'd slow down enough for Tony to jump out of the car and spend three point five minutes in a local deli. Perhaps not exactly correct, but it was accurate enough to tell McGee and Cassie. That was when the real torture started, because there was no eating in Gibbs' car. There was no thinking about eating in Gibbs' car.
Tony knew it was going to be a problem to just hold the bag on his lap and try and ignore it. To distract himself, he worked on sorting the car smells out. It was distinctly Gibbs' car. There were no car freshener scents or even lingering traces of Tony's scent from the ride home on Saturday. It was Gibbs, motor oil and other car smells. Then it became a challenge for Tony to keep his hands to himself because he really wanted to reach over and run his hand down Gibbs' thigh. With that thought, Tony had another problem in his lap that had nothing to do with the bag of food.
Despite all his instincts, Tony was good and kept his hands to himself, but his left hand did wander between them, close enough to the gearshift that Gibbs' hand brushed over his when he went to downshift for a traffic light.
It wasn't like he could help himself when he glanced at Gibbs, even though a voice in the back of Tony's head was screaming at him not to look. It would break the magic; it would give him away. The blue from Gibbs' eyes shot right through him. If Tony hadn't been holding a bag of food, if they hadn't been on their way to work; if he wasn't thinking completely dirty thoughts about his boss - well technically none of that mattered to him. Tony was about to suggest that they pull over, so Tony could show Gibbs what he really wanted to get his mouth on. Then the part about being a werewolf sank in again. Offering someone an infectious disease was never sexy.
When Tony looked away, it was completely natural. What had him wondering was why Gibbs hadn't snapped at him about keeping his hands away from the gearshift or at some other annoying thing that he was doing.
***
With a sense of relief, Gibbs set the parking break and practically jumped out of his car. "Head up to the squad room. I'm going for coffee." It was a complete cop-out; he knew it and no doubt DiNozzo knew it too. Gibbs still had half a cup from Tony's breakfast stop. What he needed was a little space because Tony in close quarters was becoming intoxicating.
It wasn't hard for Gibbs to admit to himself that he'd had desires for other men before, but the last time he nearly reached out and touched a man was in high school. Ten minutes ago he nearly pulled over the car and … And what? Gibbs didn't know what was more pathetic - that he had spent a lot of his life denying his occasional desires for men, that he had never acted on them, or that now that he was thinking hard about it, that he had no idea what to do.
Not that he would need to because once he had an opening, nothing would slow Tony down, and he'd probably do whatever he was going to do with full narration. Chirst, there was no doubt in Gibbs mind that Tony was a talker. And why the hell was he even worrying about it because nothing was going to happen!
Why the hell now? Why the hell DiNozzo? Maybe he was putting out some werewolf sex hormone or something. Gibbs stopped and lightly smacked himself in the back of the head. The science and the paranormal weren't his part of this operation. Security and keeping DiNozzo's feet on the ground were his jobs.
Before he even asked, his barista had put his usual in front of him. As he picked it up, he figured he could work on an unspoken job - esprit de corp. "I need a giant Caff-Pow too."
***
"Gibbs!" Abby called out, opening her arms and smiling at him.
"Abs," Gibbs accepted a peck on the check as he handed over her caffeine of choice. "Figured you could use a pick-me-up."
"After the way you kept me up all night - I sure can," Abby winked at him.
"Don't start spreading rumors about secrets that don't exist. It'll make it harder to keep the ones we have."
Abby took a long pull on her soda. "I love it when you visit me, Gibbs, but you're usually chomping at the bit for something."
"I just want to know how you're doing."
With a little half shrug, Abby turned away, fiddling with her straw. "A little tired, but it's not the first time I've greeted the dawn before heading into work."
"Abby," Gibbs said, looking for the right words. Before he could frame something to say, she lifted a hand to stop him.
"Gibbs, I'm going to be fine. It's so weird needing to be wary about someone I trust completely, because I don't know how to do that." Abby put her drink down. "I'm not naïve or stupid, but I also don't do well in the gray zone. I like you; I don't like you. I trust you; I don't trust you. I think that you may be aware of some of my previous dating experience."
"Oh yeah," Gibbs said and bit his tongue.
"I think that some of those incident are a testament to what happens when I'm confused about trust issues." Abby said.
"Abs, you are the best person I know. I know that you're the best person that Tony knows," Gibbs said.
"Gibbs, I love Tony!" She held up both hands and frowned. "Well, you not love as in Love, but, you know,-"
"I know," Gibbs cut her off as he pulled out his phone and frowned at the name. "I know a way around the trust issue too. When he looks like Tony, then he's Tony. You treat him like you always have." Gibbs started moving towards the door, hitting the speed dial numbers on his phone.
"And when he's furry…" Abby started.
"You express your trust with a baseball bat," Gibbs said to Abby and then to the phone, "McGee, gas up the truck. Dead Sailor at Pax River."
***
Patuxent River Naval Air Station
Tony moved around the living room, taking pictures of the crime scene and trying not to breathe.
"I don't understand, Doctor," Palmer said.
"How we always seem to be lagging due to your directions?" Ducky said with the faint hint of a snarl in his voice.
"But we didn’t get lost. What I'm confused about is why it takes two hours to travel sixty miles."
Tony was appreciative of all two hours because it gave him a chance to finish breakfast and brunch before they arrived. At first he had objected vehemently to Gibbs handing the keys to McGee, but that changed once he was able to sink his teeth into his first muffin. Now he was just hoping to hold it down.
"Tony, when did you get shy about dead bodies?" Palmer asked.
When I became part werewolf, autopsy gremlin, Tony thought, but out loud he said. "I don't know, something didn’t agree with me this morning." Being trapped in base housing wasn't helping either. They were in the petty officer's apartment, which he shared with another guy of the same rank. It had all the scents of a frat house mixed with a building that had been moldering since the fifties.
Ducky glanced at him, but didn't ask anything in front of Palmer. "My condolences to your digestive system, Tony, but I need photos of the bruising on our young petty officer's neck." Ducky held open the shirt to give Tony a shot.
Taking a breath in the air above, Tony squatted down and lined up the shot.
"Tony, maybe you should consider lighter fare for breakfast. I'm sure he was exaggerating, but Tim said you had breakfast for six this morning," Palmer said. "Fatty food is much more difficult for the body to digest, leaving opportunities-"
"Yes, Yes, Mr. Palmer," Ducky cut him off. "Perhaps we should just let Tony deal with this in his own way."
When Tony needed to breathe, he tried to concentrate on sorting out Ducky's scent from that of the body and the surroundings. It worked - sort of. He was able to block out the worst of the body, but instead of Ducky's scent, he caught Palmers. Alfred.
No that wasn't quite right. Ducky was looking at Tony funny, and Tony realized he had stuck out his tongue to taste the air. He straightened out his face and then took another sniff. Edna, as in Edna Mode from the Incredibles - fashion designer and non-combatant advisor to superheroes. Fashion designer didn't seem right, although, Jimmy did know a lot about women's shoes. The other part, advisor to superheroes, made complete sense to Tony. Even if he didn't get leads on new clothing from Palmer, Tony did get guidance and a latte.
But then there was the other part, the part that Jimmy wasn't showing through his game face. There was girl-scent all over him and something more, something illicit.
"Maybe I'm just after good old-fashion, American simple, Palmer. You get up in the morning, shower, have a breakfast burrito or two." And muffins and bearclaws.. "You know, nothing fancy." As he landed heavy on the final word, Tony looked Palmer right in the eye with the look that he usually reserved for interrogation.
There was a fleeting moment of panic on Palmer's face, and Tony knew that he'd gotten it right. Palmer had had sex for breakfast and was somehow managing not to telegraph that fact in his body language. "What did you have for breakfast, Palmer?"
But Jimmy's embarrassment was quickly replaced by calm and composed, as he responded, "Some yogurt and granola."
Tony filed away the information that Palmer was a good liar.
"Ah, what do we have here?" Ducky held up the victim's hand, turning it palm up. "There appears to be some fibers under the nails, possible some epithelial cells from the attacker. Tony if you would."
By the time Ducky had said his name, Tony was lining up the close up of the victim's hand. "It looks blue to me, heavy cloth." After he snapped the picture, Tony sat back and thought about it. "Could be standard coveralls."
"That's a lot of suspects," McGee said from the bedroom hallway.
"Virtually everyone on base," Tony agreed.
"Ducky! Cause of death?" Gibbs stepped in from the outside.
"Based on the petechial hemorrhaging and the bruising around the neck, I'll give a preliminary cause of death as asphyxia due to strangulation."
"What else you got?" Gibbs leaned over Tony to get a better look at the body. Normally, Tony was fond of being this close to Gibbs, but he was getting claustrophobic between the smells and being surrounded.
"There are defensive wounds on the hands and wrists - possibly a skin sample under the victim's nails."
"DNA is always good," Gibbs said.
"There were fibers too," Tim said from behind Gibbs.
"I'm no Abby," Tony said, "But it looks like it might be from a set of coveralls."
"Time of death?" Gibbs asked
"Allowing for the ambient temperature, I'd say this young man departed this world between 0600 and 0700."
"According to the schedule on the refrigerator, that's after his roommate reported for duty," McGee said.
After roommate reported for duty, meaning there were probably witnesses to say he was at work the entire time. It kind of shot Tony's pet theory that Petty Officer Lawson was killed over the smell in the apartment. "Hey would anyone mind if I opened a window?"
"Not after you check it for prints; we still don't know how the attacker got in," Gibbs said.
"Yeah, prints." Tony would have kicked himself if he could, that was a rookie kind of request.
"McGee-" Gibbs called.
"No signs of struggle or forced entry in the other parts of the apartment."
"McGee, tape out the body, so Ducky can get on his way," Gibbs said.
"Mr. Palmer," Ducky started.
"I'll go get the gurney, Doctor," Palmer finished.
There was a moment of silence after Palmer left the room and then it was like Gibbs, Ducky and McGee were charging him. Tony held up his hands. "Guys, I need some air!"
"Come on," Gibbs said, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket and directing him out the front door and to the side. Ducky was following right on his heels.
"Anthony," Ducky said. "Is it just the intensity of the dead body?"
"It's hot," Tony said, taking in a great big lungful of sea air mix with traces of jet fuel as the sound of fighter aircraft screamed overhead. "And it's not just the body. Hell, I've been around worse smelling bodies than that."
"You smell something else in the apartment?" Gibbs asked.
"Yeah," Tony said. It's just different."
"DiNozzo-" Gibbs started, but Ducky put a hand on his arm.
"Tony, different then what?" Ducky asked.
"Everything important." Wasn't it obvious? Tony thought. He had the super-sniffer, so maybe not. "Gibbs' house, the Navy Yard, my apartment. "They're all home territory."
"This weekend, you were in the park and the grocery store," Gibbs said.
"The park doesn't count because it's outside."
Ducky gestured to their surroundings. "So this is like the park."
"Yes. No. I mean they don't smell anything alike, but they the same class, I guess. They're outside; they're in the open and scents don't get trapped."
"What about the deli this morning," Gibbs asked. "It's a small shop and has been there for a decade."
"Different than the outside," Tony said. "It's got a personality like a house, but it's not like invading someone else's territory."
"You have a problem invading someone else's turf?" Gibbs asked with complete disbelief in his voice.
Tony didn't care for the tone. It implied he did that kind of thing all the time or worse it implied he couldn't do his job. "I don't have a problem walking into that apartment or any other place the investigation will take us. It's just that the smells were intense. Those guys are living there and their smells are coming out of the walls and the carpet. One of them is really not that good."
"The body," Gibbs said.
"No not the body, not that bodies smell good, but something with a real chemical reek."
"Can you describe it, Tony?" Ducky asked. "Alcohol, nail polish remover, ammonia?"
"No, not anything I remember having a name for," Tony said with a frown.
"Petty Officer Lawson worked in a maintenance shop for the fighters," McGee said from the other side of the doorway. "Body's taped off, Boss. Should I take any more photos?" McGee asked while extending his hand towards Tony and the camera.
Tony slapped it down. "I got it. I have to have it, I need to have it together," he practically growled as he took a step back towards the door, but he was stopped short by Gibbs putting a hand in the middle of Tony's chest.
"Boss, I need to -"
"Slow down. We're going to work on it and figure it out. McGee, where's Cassie?" Gibbs asked.
"She's interviewing the neighbors."
Tony's instinct was to argue, but other instincts were at play, because Gibbs hadn't moved his hand. It was kind of pathetic that a small amount of body contact through clothes could hold him place, but he kinda didn't care.
"You go track down Lawson's bunkmate and make sure that he made it to work on time and that he couldn't have snuck back here. Tony and I are going to wrap up the crime scene and then head over to Lawson's duty station."
With a nod, McGee took off.
Gibbs was looking him in the eye. "Let me have the camera."
"Boss-"
"Give me the camera. You check the back of the building to see if there's any signs that they came in through the windows, and then you come back in when Ducky and Palmer have gone."
Tony wanted to argue, to tell Gibbs where he could stuff it, but instead he unslung the camera from his neck, handed it to Gibbs. Then he jogged around the building. At first glance, nothing looked disturbed. The grass was perfectly manicured to a height not less than two inches or exceeding three, just like the handbooks for base housing required. Well, maybe four inches; it all changed base to base. It was also irrelevant since this was a barracks with two-dozen apartments and the residents didn't cut the grass. Although, the grass had been cut fairly recently based on the smell. It wasn't that fresh cut today smell that anyone could pick out in the breeze. There was mixture of fresh cut and, well, Tony wasn't sure. It was a composting smell he supposed; the mulched clippings fading away.
Tony's phone rang as he squatted over the lawn. He dug his fingers through looking for the state of the cuttings as he answered, "DiNozzo."
"Did you find something?"
Tony blinked and then looked up at the building. The Boss was staring down at him from behind a closed window. "No, I was just…" Getting distracted by the smell of the freaking grass? "Nothing in the grass, I was just about to check the bushes."
Tony deliberately got up and stepped up to the planter bed lining the side of the building, just below the first floor windows. Just like the grass, the bushes were trimmed with military precision. "These are sticker bushes, Boss. I don't see anyone climbing through these to get to that window. No broken branches or footprints in the mulch."
Gibbs grunted, "Come back in."
Tony pocketed his phone and jogged back around to the front door. The Boss was going to kill him if he didn't start focusing. Even before he became a werewolf, people used to accuse him of not focusing, but they didn't get it. Talking about random case details was just his way of sifting through the facts to look for clues. The Boss got that, not that he appreciated it as much as he should, but he got that. Now Tony wasn't talking; he was sniffing and that was weirding out everyone, including himself.
The window was still closed when he came back into the apartment. It was still too warm for him, but at least the people smell was down. The only body he smelled now was Gibbs and was once again threatened with complete distraction. "Did you happen to dust the sills for fingerprints, Boss?"
"Nope, I didn't want to water down the odors. Let's figure out how to use that nose of yours," Gibbs said.
"Huh?"
"What's your vision?"
"20/10 - I should have been a fighter pilot. Uniform, pair of wings - total chick magnet."
"Yeah, but you didn't. Now I get to use your fighter pilot vision to look for hair and fibers. I want to know if your nose is the same way."
"You want me to smell out the murderer?"
"If you can," Gibbs said.
Tony said, "OK," but was mostly confused about how he was supposed to accomplish this.
"You said you smelled something chemical, right? Start there. Is it still in the room?"
Tony closed his eyes and tasted the air. Moldy base housing, check. The Boss, traces of McGee, Palmer, Ducky, the dead body and the Boss, again. "Stop moving." Tony opened his eyes and was looking right at Gibbs even though Gibbs was on the other side of the room from where he had started.
"You need to stay in one place and stop mixing up the scents." Tony watched as Gibbs stepped back and leaned against the front door. Tony squatted next to the outline of the body and took a good sniff. Dead body and chemical. Keeping his eyes closed, Tony moved a few feet until he was right on top of the smell. "It's here."
He opened his eyes as Gibbs stepped loser. Tony was kneeling in the middle of the body with both hands planted in the "scent" which was a patch of carpeting next to the body's chest. "Maybe it's a spot cleaner?"
"Pretty coincidental that our dead sailor landed right next to it," Gibbs said.
"And we don't believe in coincidence."
"No we don't. Do me a favor, kneel in the spot with the smell and face the head."
When Tony moved, he saw immediately what Gibbs must have been seeing from above. He reached out with both his hands and "wrapped" them around what would have been the neck of the victim.
"I don't think its coincidence at all," Gibbs said.
"I just found evidence of a murderer with my nose?" Tony asked.
"Maybe. Or maybe you found evidence that someone found the body and kneeled down next to it, but I'm leaning towards the first conclusion."
"Wait," Tony said. "It's not actually evidence. A fiber or a hair Abby could scan and match."
Gibbs nodded. "This is more like your gut."
"Except it's my nose. What do I do with it?"
"Same thing you do with your gut - follow it."
"Follow it," Tony repeated and then closed his eyes and moved closer to the floor. As he slowly moved around he found the edges of the spot. He couldn't be sure without drawing it out, but it seemed to be a pair of knees and calves. That was the problem though; it was only the outline of a person kneeling on the floor.
"I can't find a trail."
"How well can you detect a person once they've left a room?" Gibbs asked.
"Depends on the person and what they touched," Tony said as he stood up. "McGee's scent is really faint, but he wasn't in the room much. Ducky and Palmer were both on the rug and I can smell them more down on the floor." Tony bit his lip and frowned. "I can't smell the dirtbag that did this. The smell, it's not a people smell."
"More like soap or perfume?" Gibbs asked.
"Yeah, an extra, but it's not either one of those. More like something you'd keep under the sink or in a basement."
"Something like you'd keep at maintenance hanger," Gibbs said.
"That's where Lawson worked," Tony said, grabbing his bag and heading towards the door.
"Wait."
"You don't think we should check out where he worked?"
"Didn't say that. I want you to rule out anyone else in the apartment, first."
"Normally I'd have to get some fingerprints or fibers and let Abby compare-" Tony stopped himself and bumped the brim of his hat up a little. "I can - my nose can do that with clothes and stuff. I'm like a little inadmissible lab, but you know it's more a talent then a science."
"Go ahead." With a sigh, Gibbs sat on the arm of the sofa and waved Tony towards the bedrooms.
"You're not coming with me?"
"I'm told that my scent confuses the artist." Gibbs said.
Tony detected a hint of sarcasm. "Right, I'll just do that." He put down his pack and headed off to the first bedroom, automatically pulling on a pair of gloves before he touched the doorknob. From the smell it was Petty officer Lawson's room, but there wasn't a trace of the death smell from the other room. There was a little McGee in the air, but Tony was already working on blocking that.
"Tell me what you're doing." Gibbs called from the living room.
Tony stuck his head out the door and looked down the hall at the Boss, who was still seated on the couch. "Tell you?"
"Yeah, DiNozzo, tell me. You do more color commentary than the sportscasters when we're watching a game, and you can't make a trip to the men's room without letting everyone in the room know you're going. You can tell me what you're nose is picking up."
"Boss, I've had a lot of practice using my eyes, but the whole smell thing needs a little more concen-"
"DiNozzo!"
"On it, Boss!" he shouted and stepped back into the room, mumbling "With running commentary," to himself.
"Definitely Lawson's room. I caught a trace of McGee when I walked in, but it's gone now."
"He cleared the room when we came in. You getting anyone else?"
"He hits a laundromat instead of the base laundry because his clothes are spring fresh instead of Navy-itchy. Did I ever tell you? The laundry was one of the worst parts of living on a carrier-"
"DiNozzo, do you think that Marine laundry comes from a fuzzy bear?"
"Right! You know all about the laundry in the military."
"Speaking of laundry, what are his dirty clothes like?"
With a feeling of distinct horror, Tony mouthed the words dirty clothes, but looked for the hamper or whatever. In the bathroom there was a sea bag. Gingerly Tony opened it up and breathed. He frowned and sniffed again. "I've smelt worse. There's definitely some smells, oil and maybe paint, but not our mystery chemical."
Tony opened the medicine cabinet and found the stuff he expected to find, nothing unusual. "I got nothing in here, Boss," he said as he stepped back into the hall. "Roommate next." Tony opened the next door and felt like he got knocked back a foot. And maybe that was literally because the next thing he knew the Boss was standing next to him.
"Is it the murderer's scent?"
"No-"
"What the hell is that?" Gibbs grimaced.
Tony pushed Gibbs back a little and bravely stepped into the room. "That, Boss, is the distinct smell of a frat house. We have your dirty dishes, rotting Spaghettios, mixed with a little sour beer, and topped with dirty laundry."
"Start with the dirty laundry. If you're onto something with your nose, it should be on his pants."
"I can tell you that you don't want to know what's on these dirty sheets. Do I get some kind of bonus for saving our luminal budget?"
"Sure, you just prove it to the director and I'm sure you'll get something."
Quiet was the better part of valor on that topic, so Tony moved around the room until he found a pair of uniform pants. "Jet exhaust. Apparently all my time on Seahawk wasn't a waste."
"All right, let's go check out where Lawson worked."
"Gibbs?" McGee called from the living room. Gibbs and Tony came down the hall and saw that he had brought someone dressed in ground crew gear. He was white as a sheet as he looked at the outline of the body in the middle of the floor.
McGee tapped him on the arm. "Petty Officer Ranico this is Special Agent Gibbs and Special Agent DiNozzo. This is Petty officer Lawson's roommate.
Gibbs tapped Tony on the arm. "Gather up your gear and wait for me over there. Gibbs pointed towards the couch, but Tony already understood that it was the place behind the Petty Officer. Picking up his bag, Tony stepped close to the petty officer, but didn't touch him. He was able to walk around back, kind of getting a 180 degree sniff.
Gibbs pulled out his notepad. "What time did you last see Petty Officer Lawson?"
Tony didn't have to see the deer-in-the-headlights look on Ranico, because he could hear it in his voice. "Is he really dead, sir?"
Gibbs took pity on the guy with the tone of his voice. "Yeah, he is. Best thing you can do for him now is help us catch the person that killed him. When did you last see him?"
Ranico answered all of Gibbs questions with probably the exact same answers that he gave McGee. They'd compare notes later. Tony jerked his head for McGee to join him. As he passed McGee his knapsack, McGee gave him a puzzled but at the same time annoyed look.
There was method to his madness. McGee was standing on the side of Ranico where Tony didn't get a chance to sniff. It was obvious to all of them that the guy didn't do it, but Tony thought there might be a quiz later. How does one sniff another guys knees without implying things that the Navy would prefer remained unasked and untold?
Tony walked up to Ranico and then squatted down next to the outline of the body. He pointed the laser-measuring tool at the wall. "McGee, 1.2 meters." As he turned his head, he a clear sniff of the man's knee. It wasn't a good smell with all the jet exhaust, but it wasn't the smell of a murderer.
"Huh?" McGee said.
Way to cover, thought Tony. "I said 1.2 meters, did you get that now, McGee?" Ah, there was the light. It was still a confused light but a light none-the-less.
"Got it, Tony - 1.2 meters."
"Petty Officer," Gibbs said. "Your CO has been informed and is arranging for alternate housing. Agent McGee is going to take you back to your room so you can pack a bag."
McGee stepped up and gestured for the Petty Officer to follow him. At the same time Gibbs moved towards the door and gestured for Tony. Once they were outside, Gibbs simply said, "Report."
"I got jet exhaust on his gear just like on the clothes in the bedroom - no trace of the chemical smell that I'm looking for. How'd you like that move, getting a direct sniff of his knees?" Tony asked, feeling very proud of himself.
"It wasn't bad until you stuck out your tongue," Gibbs said.
Tony grimaced. "Got to get a little more subtle."
"Yeah."
"Yates!" Gibbs called out.
Cassie made a few comments to the Seaman she was interviewing and jogged over.
"You get anything from the neighbors?" Gibbs asked.
"Not much. Most of the ones I interviewed are off duty today. I'm going to have to track down the rest of the building occupants at their duty stations. A few of them were up early and heard the normal building activity. There was one long shot in there. Seaman Jannick claims he heard a door slam at about 0645 and running footsteps."
"That's in the window for our time of death," Tony said.
"It is," Gibbs said, "But it could also be someone late for work."
"Like I said, a long shot. Jannick said he heard the footsteps heading north. If I'm remembering the layout of Pax River right, there are some secure buildings a block or two in that direction; they may have security cameras."
"Grab McGee when he's done with Larson's roommate to help you track down the rest of the residents."
Cassie nodded. "How did you make out inside with Ducky?"
"Not much in the way of trace evidence around the body. Ducky thought there might be some DNA under the fingernails. I smelled something," Tony said with a smile.
Cassie was staring at him, seemingly unimpressed with his revelation. "And that would be..."
"Oh! I don't know exactly. It's kind of chemically."
"Uh-huh," Cassie said.
"That's a little vague isn't it Tony?" McGee said as he joined the group.
"But-" Tony sputtered.
"But, it happened to be in the spot where someone could have been kneeling with his hands around the victim's throat," Gibbs said.
"Yeah, what the Boss said."
McGee pressed his lips together and nodded slowly - Tony didn't like that look because it meant McGee was just about to call someone an idiot. "Tony, for the sake of argument, I'll allow that you've got a nose that drug sniffing dogs would envy. Let's also accept for the moment that you smelled something unique to the killer, and he can't get rid of the smell somehow."
"McGee..." Gibbs said
"Boss, there's still hundreds of acres of Naval Air Station out there to sniff and that's only if the killer is still on the base."
Tony thought about it for a moment. "Boss, can we follow-up on Cassie's long shot camera -" The head slap cut him off.
"We're not doing anything here that we wouldn't normally do. Tony hunted around for trace evidence and may or may not have found something useful. We find non-useful things all the time. Instead of getting the CO to line everyone on base up for a sniff test, DiNozzo and I are going to check out the Petty Officer's duty station, while the two of you track down the building occupants and the camera lead that may or may not pay off. Anyone see a big difference from what we do everyday?"
There were headshakes and a murmured No, Boss..
"Then everyone get back to work. I've got the car; you two take the truck. DiNozzo!"
At the top of his lungs, Tony said, "On your six, Boss!"
Once they were in the car, Tony felt the nervous energy creeping up on him again. Once he was sitting still, Tony found that he couldn't. On the ride down it wasn't so bad, because he was surrounded by food in the front seat. McGee shouldn't have had such a bug up his ass about it all, because Tony did share, and it was food that was still in it's sealed original packaging.
Now that they were in the middle of the case, he needed to move. Tony wondered how far it was to the duty station; maybe he could walk. Hell, maybe he could jog along side the car. Maybe, just maybe, he could take a short cut over parade ground and hit a mess hall on his way over for a snack.
"Ow!" Tony looked down at his leg, which hurt like a son of a B where Gibbs had just slapped him. He looked at the man who was being the inscrutable Marine. What Tony really noticed was Gibbs' right hand, ready to smack him again.
"You start thumping that leg again, I swear I'm going to take it off."x
Tony frowned at his leg. Had he been thumping and not even knew it? Well, of course it was possible, because leg thumping was like that, and he might be doing it on any other day of the week, let alone today.
"Boss, if I have to sit still, I may explode and I'm not just talking about a tantrum or a fit of pique."
"No you won't."
"I'm telling you I might, and I really don't want to."
"Then don't."
"Boss-"
"Why do you think I had you sniff that entire apartment?"
"You mean for the inadmissible, untraceable evidence?" Tony frowned. Gibbs didn't like spending time on procedures that weren't going to lead them anywhere. "Why did you have me do that?"
"Because this is your life, DiNozzo. Until we find a treatment or a cure. I'm going to run on the assumption that what we've seen - you've experienced - over the last month is typical. You've got more energy than you know what to do with. You've got a hyperactive nose. It's all making you twitch and distracting you. You NEED to learn how to live with it."
This is what they had been talking about for the last three days - Tony needed to focus. "What if I can't?"
"Do you have enough vacation and sick time to take off three or four days every month? Oh and can you create a good enough cover story so someone doesn't figure out that you disappear for the full moon every month?"
"I converted to Goddess worship and have to get naked with my coven?" Tony said off the cuff. "Yeah, none of that is workable." He shifted in his seat to better face Gibbs. "Boss, how do I do this?"
"Ever spend time with a toddler, DiNozzo?"
"I've seen toddlers."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Here's the thing. They're figuring out what stuff looks like, what it feels like. They spend hours watching things or touching things like they're the most fascinating things in the world. They're learning to walk and it takes 110% of their attention to do it."
"That's what I look like when I'm stiffing thing?" Tony asked, somewhat horrified.
"You do, but that's not the point. The point is that once they learn how to do it, it becomes second nature. Then they figure out how to walk and talk at the same time."
"How to sniff out a room and describe it as you go."
Gibbs didn't say anything but Tony could see that he had gotten it in one.
"How I can sniff things, keep my eyes open, and talk to a witness, so he doesn't even know I'm doing it," Tony said.
"Not to mention acting in away that won't have the director send you for random drug screening," Gibbs said.
Tony winced. "That bad."
"Sometimes."
"This is probably a bad time to mention that I'm hungry again, isn't it?"
Gibbs shrugged. "It's close to 12:30. I'm surprised you held out this long."
"Impressed," Tony said and sat up a little straighter, making sure that he didn't start thumping or drumming.
"I said surprised; it's going to take a lot more to impress me. After we're done at Lawson's duty station, we'll hit the mess hall. It won't be good, but at least it will be unlimited."
Tony nodded. "You know, Boss, since it is actually lunch time, the duty station may be cleared out."
"DiNozzo," Gibbs growled.
***
"Master Chief O'Reilly," Gibbs called, as he and Tony walked into the maintenance hanger. The hangers lined up with military precision in this part of the base. The one they were standing had been subdivided between jets and ground transportation.
Three men turned from the engine they were working on and one said, "I'm, O'Reilly."
Gibbs held up his credentials to reinforce the ball cap and jacket. "Special Agent Gibbs and this is Special Agent DiNozzo."
"This is about Lawson," the Chief said as he joined them. "What happened?"
Tony answered, "Killed in his apartment early this morning." Good, that was good. Keep it simple; don't give away too many details, because a killer might use those to reveal himself.
"This is one of those things you read about in the papers, and it's always about other people," O'Reilly said.
"Chief, we're going to need to talk to you about Lawson, what kind of sailor he was, how he got on with the rest of the crew. Then we're going to want to interview the rest of your men, how many?"
The Chief nodded, "Twelve - now eleven without Lawson. Late lunch shift is out, but they'll be back in about 10 minutes.
Tony's eyes swept the hanger, while in his head a mantra ran, Do not look at Gibbs; do not look at Gibbs; told you so about lunch, do not... He looked at Gibbs and immediately looked away. Yeah, he would have been headslapped into next week, if they weren't with a witness. Something pinged, and Tony said, "There seems to be a lot more than a dozen guys in here."
"There are three different units in here. My group is aviation mechanics. The main motor pool garage is being refurbished, so they made room for those guys in here." The Chief was looking toward the motor pool as he spoke and then he was shouting, "Get that jeep out of my work area!"
A mechanic that had been getting out of the jeep jumped right back in and backed the vehicle up, shouting at his co-workers about finding a place to put it.
Gibbs inclined his head towards the motor pool area. "Is there a lot of tension with those guys?"
The Chief snorted. "Yeah, you could say that. Every time we give them an inch, they take a mile and then there's the pecking order."
"I'm betting your men have a lot more specialty schools under their belts, faster promotion," Tony said.
"And when they leave the Navy, they're all going to have higher paying civilian jobs," the chief said
Tony nodded. This assignment just became more complicated and therefore would delay his lunch. They were going to end up interviewing everyone in the hanger.
"What was Lawson like?" Gibbs asked the Chief.
"Good kid, minded his own business. Respectful - he was probably saying, 'yes, sir' and 'no, ma'am' his entire life. He was smart, real smart. I had him pegged as a lifer. He just got his promotion to first class, ahead of schedule.
"Promotion slots are tight and hard to get a jump on," Tony said.
"That's what I'm saying. He was great at his job, just finished his associates degree and finished his second specialist school in aircraft mechanics. He earned it."
"Everyone agree with that?" Gibbs asked. "Any jealousy in the crew."
"Not in my crew."
A large engine fired over Tony's head and he ducked.
"Did a bird fly in that I didn't see, Agent DiNozzo?" The chief laughed.
There was nothing over his head, just his hearing making a jet engine out of something else. "I did some time on the Seahawk as Agent Afloat. You get cautions when something roars up at you fast. What is that chief? Are they firing up the engines on an F-18?"
"You'd think," Chief O'Reilly said. "It's the other group in the hanger - the paint shop boys." He pointed to a portion of the hanger segregated off by long sheets of plastic. "Some of the equipment that we maintain was originally built before there was a hole in the ozone layer. The Navy is particular about paint color and reluctant to try a new paint because of color variation."
"Seriously?" Tony asked.
"Agent DiNozzo, we are talking about the government of the United States."
Tony held up his hand. "Sorry, I had blocked out the forms I filled out last time I was shot. What does that have to do with the noise?"
"I was getting to that," O'Reilly said. "The consequence is that they're forced to use paints that were outlawed a decade ago. You wouldn't believe the safety equipment and exhaust fans they need when the paint is 99% VOCs."
"What do you do, keep a stash in your garage?" Gibbs asked.
"Hell, no. The Navy's got a stockpile somewhere that they bought before the ban. It normally would have expired by now, but every year they slap a new extended shelf-life tag on every paint can." The chief looked at the floor and then looked at them. "Can't do that for Petty Officer Lawson."
"No we can't, Chief." Gibbs agreed.
"That paint smells pretty strong, you can tell it's loaded with chemicals," Tony said and made sure he caught Gibbs eye. "You mentioned a pecking order, those guys in the paint shop?"
"Someone's got to be at the bottom," the Chief said
"Chief!" rang out from the other side of the hanger.
"Look, I've got to get back to work. Here's a copy of my roster; my men will cooperate with your interviews." The Chief jogged over to the men that had called him.
Gibbs stepped closer to Tony, so close that suddenly he was the only scent Tony could make out. It went without saying that Gibbs had his total and complete attention.
"You smell it?"
"When they fired up the fans for the paint shop." Tony nodded. "Why don't I start over there-"
Gibbs lightly put a hand on Tony's chest. It was probably meant to slow him down, but all it did was make Tony's heart pound in his ears. The Boss touched him all the time and while Tony would never admit it out loud, he relished every one of those headslaps. This was different. There was the scent and the touch and …and the hunt. They were going to track down this bad guy. Tony could feel the adrenaline burning in his veins.
"They all work in the same place. Any of them could have walked in there and spilled something on themselves," Gibbs said.
"Yeah, that could have happened," Tony said. "But that's not what my gut is telling me."
"And if it is one of the men in there - we don’t have any hard or circumstantial evidence. It will be only your nose and both our guts. We're going to work it in the logical way. We're going to start with his crew mates and then move onto the rest of the hanger."
Tony didn't love the plan, but he nodded and took a step towards Chief O'Reilly's crew. But there was Gibbs' hand on his chest, keeping him fully occupied.
"When we get done, I expect you to be able to report on everything you heard, saw and smelled," Gibbs said.
"Just like every time I go and interview someone, well maybe not the smell usually," Tony said.
"Remember how I said you were like a kid, learning how to do things for the first time? We have a word for that," Gibbs said.
Tony puzzled that for only a second. "No! No, Boss, come on you can't - I'm not!"
"Between you and me, you're a probie again, until you can prove to me that you've got control over what's happening to you."
Tony swallowed because it stopped him from ranting for a few seconds. "Did you tell that to McGee and Cassie?"
"What part of 'you and me' sounds like I'm telling them anything?"
"Gotcha," Tony said. The unsaid part was that the Boss would tell McGee and Cassie if he thought that Tony wasn't handling it, if only for their own protection.
"Well what are you standing around for?" Gibbs snapped.
Tony moved like a starting gun had fired.
How long have you known him? Did he have any girlfriends? Any enemies? Any recent confrontations with anyone? Did he go out to bars, maybe step on someone's toes? Blah, blah, blah. Tony diligently interviewed Lawson's co-workers one by one.
At first he tried a formula - sniff, question, watch, sniff. It lasted through the first question of the first witness. How was he supposed to learn, to practice, while he was doing his job?
Since becoming a werewolf… Tony found it weird that that was how his life was now defined. Since becoming a werewolf his perception of the world had become a little like the Wizard of Oz - the movie, because Tony had never read the book. The point was that his team and his surroundings was like Oz - distinct, alive, full Technicolor. The rest of the world was in black and white - well not technically, since everything was still in full color to his eyes. But everyone else in the world was a faded part of the background - other people, other places.
Tony wasn't used to the world being like that. He liked meeting people. He was a people watcher. If some people didn't interest him, that was a whole other story, but he'd still notice things about him. It was hard to focus on the witnesses, it was like they were rocks or trees or F-18 engines.
And then the second guy lied. He had been answering with his head half-buried in an engine compartment. Tony was used to people that avoided eye contact with cops; it made it harder to catch the lies. The eyes weren't the only tell. There was body language and apparently scent.
It was November, it wasn't particularly hot in the hanger, but Petty Officer Johansson was beginning to sweat with no visible perspiration. Add that to the stiffness of his body posture and the extra effort to avoid Very Special Agent DiNozzo's eyes - it was a lie.
"So Johansson, are you sure that he hasn't been involved in any fights in a social setting like a bar?
Johansson turned around and faced Tony. He wiped his wrench or what ever random tool he was holding with a rag, and looked right at Tony. And there he was, in color, standing out from the background and it was almost effortless the way Tony was able to categorize his scent, file his hand gestures.
"Agent DiNozzo, Lawson never started a fight. He wasn't the kind of guy that looked for trouble."
Tony took a step into Johansson's space. "Petty Officer, let me remind you of a pertinent detail or two. Lawson is dead! He's not going to get in trouble if he started a barroom brawl. However, if he made an enemy during a fight that he may or may not have started, it might lead us to a potential killer. Did you get into a fight with him?"
"No! We weren't buddy-buddy, but we got along." Johansson swallowed hard and now he was visibly sweating and looking guilty.
"Did he join a fight that you may or may not have started?" Tony asked. Ping! Johannson's look told him that he got it right. "Ah, got it, didn't I? Where was it? Who else was involved?"
"Look we were off base and maybe I shot my mouth off at some local-yokels about my ability to play pool. When three of them came at me, Joey jumped in and helped me fight them off."
"Why did you just lie to me?"
"Look, the whole base got a lecture about causing trouble in town a month ago. The fight happened out in a parking lot, and we managed to get out of there before anyone called the cops."
As Tony made notes, the fans in the paint shop shut down.
Continued
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