#ncis fiction

[jennywebbyart]

I will always be by your side.

[steviebunny]

Pretty Astute Observations

Coquilles

___

06:00

Will Graham walks through the foyer of Hannibal Lectors home, bags still dark and heavy beneath his eyes. 

“Is it safe to assume you are not sleep walking now?”

“I’m sorry its so early”

“Office hours are for patients. My kitchen is always open to friends… and their partners.”

“Lena?”

“Came to see me just an hour ago, an interesting conversation was had on the topic of evil. Perhaps reaching out to her would be your best course of action. That's why Jack recruited her, is it not?” He says while fiddling with the espresso machine.

“I uh- I don’t know her very well.”

“One could always use more friends.”

“What about you doctor?”

“I’ll have you both…If you’ll have me” The innuendo could almost be unsettling if it wasn’t for Hannibal's air of confidence blanketing the statement. “Onset of adult sleepwalking is less common than in children.”

“Could it be a seizure?” Will asks gratefully accepting a glass from Hannibal.

“I’d argue, good old-fashioned post-traumatic stress. Jack Crawford has gotten your hands very dirty ”

“I wasn’t forced back into the field” 

“I wouldn't say ‘forced’, manipulated is the word I’d choose.”

“I can handle it.”

“Somewhere between denying horrible events, and calling them out lies the truth of psychological trauma.”

“So I can’t handle it.”

“Your experience may have overwhelmed ordinary functions that give you a sense of control.”

“If my body is walking around without my permission, you’d say thats a loss of control?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Hannibal asks, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Sleepwalkers demonstrate a difficulty handling aggression. Are you experiencing difficulty with aggressive feelings?”

“You said Jack sees me as fine china used for special guests. I'm beginning to feel more like an old mug.”

“You entered into a devil's bargain with Jack Crawford. It takes a toll.”

“Jack isn't the devil.”

“When it comes to how far he's willing to push you to get what he wants, he's certainly no Saint.”

—-

08:50

“You know, Hannibal seems to think we should be friends.” The statement shocked Lena, of all the things she expected Will Graham to say at a motel crime scene that was not one of them.

“Does he really, and what makes you think I’d like to be your friend?” 

“....I have dogs?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?”

“Telling.” 

“Good. I love dogs, and now that we have that settled. Room was registered to a John Smith, big surprise there “

“An appalling failure of imagination.”

“They paid cash. There are no security cameras on the premises... another big surprise.”

“John Smith one of the victims?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, according to the register. They were mutilated and displayed. Jack and Zeller think it’s the Ripper but there were no surgical trophies taken, and the Ripper doesn’t exactly profile like the type of man who would vomit at his own crime scene”

“How can you be sure it wasn’t one of the victims?”

“They were strung up antemortem, and the sick was on the bedside table, once you see their positioning you’ll get why thats improbable.”

“Should I brace myself?”

“Definitely. It's not good in there.”

—

“Hooks were bored into the ceiling. A fishing line was used to hold up the bodies and... the wings. At least we know he's a fisherman.”

“Or a Viking.” Zeller chimed in.

“Vikings do this?

“Vikings used to execute Christians by breaking their ribs, bending them back, and draping the lungs over them to resemble wings. They used to call it a "blood eagle." Pagans mocking the Godfearing.” Lena laughed at Zeller’s ‘fun fact’. He raised a brow in her direction at the gesture prompting her to reply.

“Well you can’t say the Christians didn’t deserve it, they bullied their way into a foreign land, tried to murder those who wouldn’t give up their beliefs in the name of the church then moved their ‘savior’s’ birthday from spring to winter so that they could take over the pagan holiday of Yule for themselves. And pagans were also ‘god-fearing’ just not in a monotheistic sense”

“How do you know all that?”

“When I was with the BAU, the resident boy genius was going on a theology kick for a good few months. Each ride on the jet was at least a couple hours…I picked up some things.”

Zeller admonishes the idea and goes back to impatiently swab collecting with Beverly, She and Price laugh under their breath at the man’s childish behavior.

“No, he isn't mocking them. The unsub thinks he’s…transforming them. Elevating them in some way. 

I need a plastic sheet for the bed.”

—-

This is not who you are. 

This is my gift to you. 

I allow you to become angels. 

And now, I lay me down to sleep.

—

"Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws."

“Robert Frost.”

“Jim Morrison.”

“Even a drunk with a flair for the dramatic can convince himself he's God. Or the lizard king.”

“God makes angels. Jesus was fond of fishermen.”

“Are we talking hardcore Judeo-Christian upsetting, or just upsetting in general?”

“This is a very specific upsetting.”

“Increased serotonin in the wounds is much higher than the free histamines, so, uh, she lived for about 15 minutes after she was skinned.” Zeller announced.

“Powder residue on the neck of the soda bottle shows Vecuronium... scotch and soda and a paralytic agent.”

“Kneeling in supplication at the feet of g-dash-d.”

“Supplication is the most common form of prayer.Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

“They weren't praying to him. They were praying for him. He's afraid.”

“What is somebody who could do something like this afraid of?”

“What's in his vomit?”

“Uh, Dexamethasone...That's used for patients with tumors.”

“Kepra... He's epileptic. Radiation?”

“Gamma four, Steroids for the inflammation, anticonvulsants for the seizures, radiation for the chemotherapy.”

“Our guy has a brain tumor.”

“He's afraid of dying in his sleep.  He's making angels to watch over him.”

—-

An eclectically dressed woman, speed walks in her high-heeled shoes down the halls of the FBI looking for her target. Penelope Garcia won tickets to the most exclusive karaoke bar in Virginia (okay maybe she rigged the competition a little, who has to know?) and she’ll be damned if any member of her precious found family denies her invitation. The moment she spots Lena she grabs the woman’s arm pulling her into the commissary.

“You owe me.”

“What-” 

“Technically I’m not supposed to be helping out your team, and- and well you owe me, so you can’t say no to me!”

“Penny, what are you talking about?”

“This weekend, karaoke, you, me, BAU.”

“I’m on a case right now, sweetie. If Crawford doesn’t have us in the field I’ll be there.”

“Oh, you’ll be there alright. I’ll make sure of it!” The grin on Penelope’s face is contagious even as she rushes back off to her fortress of solitude.

—-

12:00

“There is no one and only spiritual center of the brain”

“Any idea of God comes from many different areas of the mind working together in unison.”

“Maybe I was wrong.”  Being wrong in this case seems like an unnatural event no matter how true or untrue it may be.

“How do you profile someone who has an anomaly in their head changing the way they think?”

“A tumor can definitely affect brain function, even cause vivid hallucinations. However, what appears to be driving your angel maker to create heaven on earth is a simple issue of mortality. Can't beat God, become him?”

“You said he was afraid.”

“He feels abandoned.”

“Ever feel abandoned, Will?”

“Less and less each day, if you and Jack keep encouraging me to make friends, either way, abandonment requires expectation.”

“What were your expectations of Jack Crawford and the FBI?”

“Jack hasn't abandoned me…I didn't expect to be working so closely with others…Lena wants to meet my dogs or rather insinuates she wants to meet my dogs. Definitely didn't expect that.” 

“Perhaps Jack hasn't abandoned you in a discernable way.”

“Perhaps in the way gods abandon their creations.”

“Is Jack God to you?”

“No more than you are.” If Will had looked at Hannibal's face he might have just seen a smile.

“You say he hasn't abandoned you, but at the same time you find yourself wandering around Wolf Trap in the middle of the night.”

“Well... This should be interesting…Please, doctor, proceed.”

“Jack gave you his word he would protect your headspace, yet he leaves you to your mental devices”

“Are you trying to alienate me from Jack Crawford?”

“I'm trying to help you set proper boundaries between employee and employer…I am also trying to help you understand this angel maker you seek. Well, help me understand how to catch him. If he were a classic paranoid schizophrenic, you might be able to influence him to become visible. What, scare him out into the daylight?”

“Might even get him to hurt himself, if he hasn't already. If he were self destructive, he-he..he wouldn't be so careful.”

“Unless he's careful about being self-destructive, making angels to pray over him when he sleeps.”

“Sleep is sacred, and who prays over us when we sleep?”

---

19:00

“Why angels?”

“Well, it isn't biblical. His angels have wings.”

“Um, angels in sculptures and paintings can fly, but not in scripture.”

“Technically not…if we're accounting for the angels that amass as giant winged amalgamations of eyeballs one would assume they could fly too?” Lena now always being a foot behind him is a fact he'll need to get used to at scenes.

“He's drawing from secular sources?”

“His mind has turned against him and there's no one there to help.”

“Uh, Jack... look at this.”

Are those… What are those?”

“Somebody got an orchiectomy real cheap.”

“Doesn't look like the victim.”

“So they're the angel maker's?”

Lena might just need to stop threatening to castrate men who frustrate her now, something about actually seeing the after-effects is more than unsettling.

“He castrated himself?”

“So he isn't just making angels; He's getting ready to become one. Angels don't have genitalia.”

“So he was afraid of dying. Now he's, what, getting used to the idea?”

“He's accepting it or he's bargaining. Heh, bargaining chips!”

“So, does this mean that he's done making angels, or is he just getting started?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, he's not just killing them when he's sleepy. I mean, how is he choosing them?”

“I don't know. Ask him.” Will begins to sweat almost profusely, removing his glasses and wiping his brow.

“I'm asking you.”

“You're the head of the behavioral science unit, Jack. Why don't you come up with your own answers if you don't like mine!?” Will’s voice raises in frustration. Crawford's face begins to morph into a threatening scowl.

“I did not hear that! Did I?!” he screams back at Will. Lena steps forward separating the two men.

“Jack I think its time for you to take a step back.”

“Do NOT get involved Gibbs”

“You brought me in to get involved! He’s obviously overwhelmed and looks like he’s on the verge of passing out, pushing your team won’t get you shit.”

“I know how far I can push my own team”

“Graham isn't officially on the team, you made that clear, and I’m telling you he’s done with the psycho-predicting today”

“I don’t need to be protected, I can see the rest of the scene,” Will says with a dejected rasp.

“I didn’t say we’re leaving, just to stop getting into the Angel Maker's head. I’m sure Dr. Lecter would agree with me if he’d seen that interaction.”

Jack's face screws back up and he storms away from Will and Lena. Beverly then approaches with a friendly smile and a gentle hand on Will’s shoulder. “My ears rang like the first time I heard my mom use the f-word. Are you ok?’ (he chuckles) ‘I know it's a stupid question considering that none of us could possibly be ok doing what we do, but… are you ok?”

“Do I seem different?”

“You're a little different, but you've always been a little different.”

“Brilliant strategy… that way no one ever knows if something's up with you.”

“Maybe not anymore, you’ve got a guard dog now.” Bev smiles and nods at Lena, then leads the two behind her further into the scene.

—-

19:20

“Meet Roger and Marilyn Brunner. You might recognize them from such lists as most wanted.”

“He likes to rape and murder, she likes to watch.”

“We got a DNA match. They falsified the motel registry and were driving a stolen car, so it took a second to identify them.”

“I wonder how long it took Angel Maker to identify them.”

“He didn't choose them randomly. He knows something about them.”

“He sees something we don’t.” It gets harder to not think of Sherlock, why the hell is Virgina so full of artistic and metaphorically motivated criminals?

“The murdered security guard wasn't actually a security guard. He was a convicted felon.”

“Could Angel Maker be a vigilante?”

“Well, vigilantes are pragmatic, they're purposeful; They don't lay down and sleep under their crimes.”

“In his mind, he was doing God's work. That spells vigilante.” Feels eerily similar to a certain terrorist too.

“Well, playing at God has other advantages. One of them…Is always being alone. So he makes angels out of demons.”

“How does he know they're demons?”

“He doesn't have to know. All he has to do is believe.

—

22:00

Will escorts Lena to a joint session with Hannibal practically the second after the both of them had been dismissed from duty for the evening.

“It's difficult to lie still and fear going to sleep.”

“What is there to think about?”

“You listen to your breathing in the dark and the tiny clicks of your blinking eyes.”

“I dream more now than I used to.”

“Well, your dreams were the one place you could be physically safe, relinquishing control. Not anymore.”

“Yeah, I thought about zipping myself up into a sleeping bag before I go to sleep, but it, heh, sounds like a poor man's straight jacket.”

“I’ve always found another body to be helpful…Sherlock would drape himself over me like a blanket when we slept. Bit hard to thrash during a nightmare if you’re simultaneously being squished.”

“Are you offering yourself to Will as a duvet, Lena?”

She laughs dismissively “We don’t know each other that well yet, Lecter. I’m sure at least one of your dogs is large enough to keep Graham still.” 

Will grimaces and huffs, “The dogs don’t sleep in my bed, I sweat sort of profusely…so even if they start there they’ll move off during the night at some point.”

“Well, then I guess I’m getting you an expensive sleeping bag for Christmas.” Will can’t actually tell whether she means that sarcastically or not, he looks to Dr. Lecter prompting the psychiatrist's next question.

“Have you two determined how this angel maker is choosing his victims?”

“Our killer, Well, he doesn't see people how everyone else sees them. He can tell if you're naughty or nice, or he thinks he can.”

“So God has given this person insight into the souls of men.”

“God didn't give him insight; God gave him a tumor.”

“God… rapidly dividing cells that keep trucking along. Seems so human, what deity would work so hard?”

“He's just a man whose brain is playing tricks on him.”

“You are not unlike this killer.”

“My brain is playing tricks on me?”

“You want to feel such sweet and easy peace. The angel maker wants that same peace .He hopes to feel his way cautiously inside and then find it's endless, all around him.”

“He's gonna be disappointed.”

“You accept the impossibility of such a feeling, whereas the angel maker is still chasing it.”

“I don’t think peace is impossible, I think the point of life is just striving for it, having it for a short amount of time. Then chaos ensues again. Balance, good and bad, Evil and righteousness. Peace and terror.”

“ And what or your life Lena has it been balanced between this sense of peace and terror?”

“More terror than peace, lately. But I think the scales are starting to level again.”

“If the Angel Maker got close to peace, that's why he will look for it again. I've tried to reconstruct his thinking and find his patterns.”

“Instead you find yourself in a behavior pattern you can't break. You realize you have a choice.”

“What is it?”

“Angel Maker will be destroyed by what's happening inside his head; You don't have to be.”

“That would require him telling Jack to screw off and stop pushing him,” Lena says as Hannibal stands from his place at his desk.

“Do you feel that Jack Crawford has bad intentions when it comes to dear Will?” 

“I’ve known Jack a long time. We’ve always had an antagonistic relationship, we first met through his wife when I was young. She helped my father on a case…he was not thrilled, I’ve never known why. He then tried to poach me back when I was with the BAU, but he chose to wait until our unit chief was going through difficulty…I suspect he might have even had a hand in convincing Director Strauss of her ‘motivations’. I didn’t want to be manipulated so I left. Went to Scotland Yard, and well… you know the rest, terror struck, Crawford sunk his claws in and here I am. The least I could do in my task to help Will is make Jack's life a little more annoying don't you think?”

Both men seemed to take in Lena’s perspective though whether her opinions on Crawford landed with Will is unknown. Hannibal seemed a bit more accepting. Nodding as he leaned into Will, sniffing the detective.

“Did you just smell me?”

“Difficult to avoid. I really must introduce you to a finer aftershave. That smells like something with a ship on the bottle.”

“Well, I keep getting it for Christmas.”

“Have your headaches been any worse lately? More frequent?”

“Yes, actually.” 

“ I'd change the aftershave.”

—-

07:00

“Elliot Budish: 35-year-old truck driver.”

“He's got a fishing license too. Uh, match came from the national cancer database.”

“Married, two kids… they haven't seen him in four months.”

“He was diagnosed five months ago.”

“Meet the angel maker.”

—-

“This'll be the last one.”

“It's Budish?”

“He made himself into an angel.”

“It wasn't God, it wasn't man. It was his choice to die.”

“His choice?”

“As much as he can make it.”

“I don't know how much longer I can be all that useful to you, Jack.”

“Really? You caught three. The last three we had, you caught. You caught three of them.”

“No, I didn't catch this one. Elliot Budish… surrendered.”

“You know, I'm used to my wife not talking to me. I don't have to get used to you not talking to me too.”

“No one wants to know your relationship issues Jack.” That earns Lena a glare, and if it was anyone else probably the uptick of a certain favorite finger.

“It's getting harder and harder to make myself look.”

“Well, nobody's asking you to look alone.” He says, angling a hand to the red-head.

“All due respect I am looking alone.”

“None taken, I’ve kinda made a career of playing sidekick.”

“You wanna go back to your lecture hall? Read about this stuff on tattlecrime.com?”

“Would you let him?” Lena says at the same moment Will announces “No, I don't…But that may be what I have to do. This is bad for me.”

“You go back to your classroom. When there's k*lling going on that you could've prevented, it will sour your classroom forever.”

“Maybe. And then maybe I'll find a job as a diesel mechanic in a boatyard.”

“You wanna quit? Quit.”

—

Entree (part 1)

“In the night. In the dark. Journey’s end and yet lover’s meeting.”

[crazycurly-77]

Masterlist stories -

Part 2

Links to all of my

written stories (in

progress and finished)

Works in progress:

Healing processes (NCIS)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

(There is 1 more to come)

The Neverending Kiss (NCIS)

Chapter 1

(There is 1 more to come.)

Finished Works (NCIS):

(look at Masterlist stories - Part 1)

A beautiful day (4 Ch)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Two Fools (5 Ch)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Who's Dracula? (NCIS) 🧛���👻

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Finished Works (no fandom):

The Artifact (magic) - 1 Ch

(maybe there will be a continuation, since the Artifact must be protected against several evil magicians 😉😊)

-------------------------------------------

Links to other stories I've written to date (Masterlist stories - Part 1)

Links to a short plot of the fics (Masterlist plots - Part 1)

Links to the short plots of my fics above (Masterlist plots - Part 2)

----------------------------------------------

[television-overload]

You know, for a while there I was convinced Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny were the absolute kings of off-camera complicated chemistry and insane press junket appearances, but I really do think Cote de Pablo and Michael Weatherly are a close second if not tied 😅

[nellarw95]

Happy Birthday Linda 🥳🎂🎈🎁🎉

April 2,1945

Buon Compleanno 🥳🎂🎈🎁🎉

2 Aprile 1945

[ami-ven]

Happy 68th Birthday, Tobias Fornell!

[28turnips-in-a-trenchcoat]

Kinda feel like just shoving Abby from NCIS into the BAU team. I think them having a lab person makes sense since they always say “send it back for our people to test at Quantico”.

(This is 85% just because I haven’t been watching NCIS because reasons but I love Abby so much and 15% because Abby and Garcia as a team is an incredible thing to think about.)

Who knows maybe one day I’ll write the BAU working with Jeffersonian from Bones.

[ejzah]

It’s Baby Time, Part 2

***

“Deeks!” he heard Kensi shout from across the house. He paused with an Allen wrench in one hand

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I’m pretty sure my water just broke,” she called back. He didn’t say anything for a moment as his brain froze.

“Um, sorry but it sounded like you just said your water broke,” he said, jogging through the house, until he found Kensi. She sat in the middle of the master bath with her legs slightly bent, a slightly shocked expression on her face. “Baby?”

She held up her wet fingertips in answer, nodding to the small puddle of liquid on the tile.

“Ok, that a few weeks earlier than what we expected. But Sheila said that wasn’t unusual with twins, right?”

“Yeah. I just thought there’d be more warning signs.”

“I guess the whole semen thing isn’t such a myth after all,” he said, and Kensi look up at him incredulously.

“Are you really joking about sex right now?” she asked. He shrugged.

“You know how I am. It’s either that or panic a little bit.”

“Mm, I have complete faith in you,” Kensi assured him.

“Ok, I’m going to call Sheila.” He belatedly realized he was still holding the wrench and tucked it into his pocket as he grabbed his phone. “But first I’ll grab you some shorts and a towel,” he decided, seeing how Kensi was awkwardly crouched on the floor.

When he returned a couple minutes later, Kensi had moved back again the sink cupboard; she inhaled slowly through her nose, eyes shut.

“Baby, are you ok?”

She opened her eyes slowly, taking a few extra seconds to focus on him. “Yeah, it’s just a lot more intense than I expected. Most of the mommy blogs, and books, and Instagram posts all talk about a dull ache and pressure, but this feels like super strong cramps.”

“Well, let me help you put these on, you can get back in bed,” Deeks suggested. “and then I’ll call Sheila.”

Kensi reached up, grabbing ahold of his forearm when he offered it, and laboriously pulled herself up. She used his shoulder as a brace while she clumsily pulled the shorts on. “Laying down sounds horrible right now. I think I’m just going to walk around for a while.” She winced suddenly, hand clamping down on his arm while she squeezed her eyes shut for about five seconds.

“Was that a contraction?” he asked, automatically resting a supporting hand on Kensi’s lower back. He found it a little disconcerting that she was already in this much pain.

“I think so. It wasn’t too bad,” she insisted, and he wasn’t sure which of them she was trying to convince.

While he made the call, he started pulling out various supplies from the garage. With his cell tucked between his ear and shoulder, he dragged out the pool, as Sheila asked him about Kensi’s condition, and gave precise instructions. He’d always found her to have a calming, reassuring presence, and today was no different. By the time they ended the call, he felt more at ease.

He found Kensi walking the length of their bedroom, her hair pulled up in a loose bun now. He could swear her bump looked lower than just a few minutes ago.

“What did Sheila say?”

“She was with another client, but she’s coming her as soon as she finishes. She estimates about an hour,” Deeks related. “I told her that you were already having some contractions, which she said is fine. We only need to worry if they dramatically increase in duration and frequency. At which point, we should head to the hospital and she’ll meet us there.”

“How long for the contractions?” Kensi asked shortly, panting slightly as she paced quickly, one hand braced underneath her belly.

“Around a minute long every 3-4 minutes.” He watched for a few more seconds, knowing the answer before he even asked, “You’re there already aren’t you?”

“Yep. I don’t think we’re gonna make it to the hospital.”

“Ok, we’re doing this, this is happening,” Deeks babbled breathlessly. He’d delivered a few babies over the years, but never twins. Although he’d prepared just in case, he’d never seriously considered having to deliver his own children.

He closed his eyes, pausing to inhale as deeply as he could, then blew it out slowly, centering himself. When he opened his eyes again, he felt calmer, focused on the task at hand. “Alright, let’s get you in the bathroom.”

Kensi nodded, walking slowly with Deeks besides her. She paused in the doorway, lips clamping tight as she rode out another contraction. “Oh, that was a good one,” she muttered from between her teeth.

Once they were in the bathroom, Deeks helped her settle on the closed toilet, immediately turning to rush back out. Kensi grabbed his arm before he could leave.

“Where are you going?”

I gotta grab the birth kit. Unfortunately, I don’t think we have time to fill the pool up.”

“Yeah, probably not,” Kensi agreed with a faint smile. “Maybe grab a bottle of vodka while you’re down there.” He kissed her temple, lingering for a second, then he was off again.

He gathered everything with a single-minded focus, the immediacy of the situation not leaving time for him to worry. It only took a few minutes, but when he made it back to Kensi, she’d moved to the edge of the toilet, her left hand gripping the side of the counter so tightly, her fingers were bright white.

“You better make this quick, because it feels like these babies are ready to come right now,” she warned him.

Deeks threw one of the tarps across the floor, laying out gauze and other supplies before he turned back to Kensi.

“You ready?”

“Not even a little bit,” she said with a soft laugh, that morphed into a moan of pain halfway through.

“It’s ok, you’re going to be amazing,” Deeks told her, reaching out with both hands. Kensi took them, squeezing tightly as she stood, grabbing the counter again while Deeks helped her out of the shorts.

He was still kneeling, when Kensi let out a strangled noise, her free hand instantly finding his shoulder. “I need to push,” she gasped out in between short, panting breaths.

“Ok, it’s alright, just breathe with me, baby. I’ve got you,” Deeks said, modeling a steady pattern, Kensi following along after a few cycles. He gently reached between her legs, shocked when he felt the soft crown of a baby’s head beneath his fingers.

“Oh my god,” he muttered without thinking.

“I told you they were ready.”

“Yeah, yeah, you did.” He didn’t have time to say anything else as Kensi exhaled, long and shaking, and the baby’s entire head popped out. “Ok, good, that’s really good, baby. Keep on pushing as steady as you can,” he encouraged, gently freeing one shoulder. Kensi gave another hard push, and he held a baby in his hands.

He swiped the fluid away from its mouth and nose, marveling at the tiny human in his arms. His strength wavered ever so slightly as he rested his hand over the baby’s chest, fingers trembling. Then he made a sound of relief when he felt the tiny beat of a heart thumping back against his palm. A moment later, her little mouth opened and she cried, head turning, seeking out the warmth of his skin.

“Deeks?” Kensi said, and he realized he’d been silent for too long.

“It’s a girl.” He grabbed one of the blankets, quickly swaddling the baby, and held her up. Kensi made a soft sobbing sound, reaching out to brush her fingers over the baby’s head.

“She’s perfect,” she whispered, then winced again. “I think it’s time for round two.”

Deeks set the first baby to the side, securing her in a second towel, and set her in the sink of all places, then returned to Kensi’s side.

The second baby, a boy who was equally as tiny, came even faster, taking just a few short pushes, which was good since Kensi’s legs were trembling with the effort of standing. As soon as he’d ensured the baby boy’s mouth and nose were clear and he was breathing, Deeks helped her to the floor.

She brushed a handful of damp hair out of her eyes, reaching for the baby boy. Deeks cradled the other baby, gently wiping away the fluid and vernix. He gave a soft whimpering cry, burrowing his little face into Deeks’ hand.

“Oh, he’s beautiful.” He’d never heard such awe in Kensi’s voice before.

Deeks carefully placed the other baby in her arm, tears forming in his eyes, as he looked down at them all.

“They both are,” he said, slightly dazed now that it was over. Kensi nodded slightly in agreement, kissing each baby’s head.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” she whispered, sounding just as stunned as Deeks felt. “We just delivered our twins all by ourselves.”

“It’s insane,” Deeks agreed with a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Thank you for being her with me.”

“Like I’d be anywhere else. Besides, you did all the work.” And he was in complete awe of her.

“I’d never have been able to do it without you,” Kensi insisted. She leaned forward, waiting for Deeks to meet her halfway, catching the corner of his mouth with her lips. When she pulled back, she look back down at the babies. “Look at what we made.”

“Pretty freaking amazing,” Deeks said, cupping the back of a tiny head.

***

A/N: I don’t think Kensi and Deeks actually have a spare bedroom, but we’re not going to make them go through the ordeal of moving to a larger place just now.

And yes, I realize certain aspects of this scenario are slightly unrealistic. But, I know that it is quite possible to have a baby that quickly. A relative of mine had to unexpectedly help his wife deliver their baby at home in a similar situation.

Also, it’s quite tricky figuring out what to do with a baby still attached to an umbilical cord, when there’s another baby on the way and there’s no one to hold said first baby.

Small part three to follow.

[fictionalcraze]

I had been thinking about writing this oneshot for quite a while. I really wanted to see Gibbs appear and say goodbye to Ducky and to have a funeral for him. It would have been so much beautiful and poignant if you ask me. So since we didn't get it, I worte it.

Saying Goodbye - Ducky's funeral through Gibbs' eyes.

I have posted it on Wattpad, Ao3 and Fanfiction. Net. Give it a read. ❤️

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

beyond the michael weatherly of it all and the apparent future surprises, brian dietzen wrote a really good tribute episode for david mccallum 😭 the flashback clips were perfectly chosen even if they did make me sad about the passage of time

[catlailasgf]

me and abby from ncis are canonically girlfriends

[jennywebbyart]

Season 2, episode 3:

I was blushing so much in this scene that I wanted to redraw it. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!

[boyapologist]

I was watching law & order svu (a good show!) and an episode of regular law & order came up afterwards and I was too lazy to turn it off and it was just. 40 minutes of pro-israel propaganda. like, actually. so blatantly that I just turned it off I'm sitting here confused wondering if I didn't hallucinate this whole thing

[crazycurly-77]

MASTERLIST

Useful links for this page:

Masterlists of my stories:

Links to all of my written stories (in progress and finished) - Part 2

Links to all of my written stories (finished) - Part 1

Masterlists of my plots:

Link to the short plots of my written stories (in progress and finished) - Part 2

Link to the short plots of my written stories (finished) - Part 1

----------------------------------------------

[television-overload]

I hope my coworker isn't ever on NCIS tumblr because I'm about to tell you I just mentioned NCIS in the break room and excitedly told her about the Tiva spinoff, and she said "ugh" and talked about how much she dislikes Ziva and how her character "made no sense" LOOOOL

[twistedtummies2]

Gathering of the Greatest Gumshoes - Number 25

Welcome to A Gathering of the Greatest Gumshoes! During this month-long event, I’ll be counting my Top 31 Favorite Fictional Detectives, from movies, television, literature, video games, and more!

SLEUTH-OF-THE-DAY’S QUOTE: “How did people survive before there were pattern-recognizing sparse representation algorithms?”

Number 25 is…Abby Sciuto, from NCIS.

I’m cheating a bit with Abby, because she technically breaks one of my rules I established at the start of this event: no “side detectives.” What this rule means is that I’m supposed to only count the focal detective characters in the series, not any allies or assistants they may have. (For example: Sherlock Holmes would and will count, but Inspector Lestrade would and will not.) However, I’m making an exception in this character’s case, on the grounds of a.) the fact she’s my favorite character in the series, and b.) the way this show works.

“NCIS” is very similar to our previous entry’s source, “CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.” (Indeed, while this might be a coincidence, the two even SOUND sort of similar.) Rather than a typical detective/mystery series, where the focus is on a single chief sleuth solving baffling crimes, these shows are more “crime dramas,” and feature ensemble-type casts, where various different characters have different roles to play in the crime-solving process. And, just like CSI, the show does cycle itself through a sort of revolving cast, with major characters coming and going every several seasons. Our focus today, Abby Sciuto, is no exception: she is not the main character of the series, and in fact she left the show in Season 15 (the series is still going strong and will soon be having its 21st season, for reference). Therefore, many would say this is mammoth cheating, and it sort of is…but after tossing the idea of including her in the ranks or not around in my head for a while, I basically just threw up my hands and decided, “Fine. She’ll count.” Because I just love Abby that much.

For those who don’t know, “NCIS” focuses on the crime-stopping adventures of a team from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, stationed in Washington D.C. For the first fifteen seasons of the program, Agent Abby Sciuto – played by Pauly Perrette (whom some comic-loving folks may know for voicing Lois Lane in “Superman vs. The Elite”) – was the chief forensic specialist of the team. She is at one point described as, “a paradox wrapped in an oxymoron, smothered in contradictions of terms,” and later in the same scene as “the happiest Goth you’ll ever meet.” Both of these descriptions pretty much fit Abby to a tea. On the one hand, Abby is cheerful, hyperactive, kindhearted, eccentric, and at times downright childish. On the other hand, she’s got a morbid and macabre sense of humor and style, a feisty and spunky edge to her personality, and can kick butt when the going gets tough (often surprising other members of the team when she does). On still another inexplicable third hand, however, she’s also deeply spiritual and at times shows a hidden vulnerability. She’s the youngest member of the team, and she’s also quite possibly one of its most brilliant: a genius years ahead of herself. It’s quite often Abby, specifically, who provides the final links in the chain to whatever puzzle the rest of the team are trying to solve, and her skills with electronics are easily matched with her perceptive talents of observation.

While I enjoyed “CSI,” as I said on my previous pick with Grissom, I felt the problem with the show was that a lot of the other characters just didn’t interest me as much as he did. NCIS, in some ways, has a similar and yet different problem: I actually think the whole cast of NCIS, generally speaking was pretty strong…for most of its run. (I mean, for God’s sake, you had David McCallum in the cast – may he rest in peace – that definitely had to count for something.) However, Abby was the primary reason I think I kept watching it; while the rest of the characters were fun, and I could actually say a LOT about ANY of them if I was asked (unlike most of CSI’s cast), she was truly something special. I’m going to be honest, it wasn’t long till after Abby left the series that I stopped watching it; I haven’t really caught up with most of the past five seasons since then. There were a LOT of behind-the-scenes issues that resulted in Perrette leaving the program, which I’m not going to go into here; suffice it to say, no one could fault her for her decision. It is a pity, all the same, that it seems Agent Sciuto will never return to spot out hidden details while downing enough caffeine to kill weaker souls.

Thanks for the good times, Abby.

Tomorrow, the countdown continues with Number 24!

CLUE: “No matter what the anthropological reasons, we fight to make the world a better place.”