#young mike franks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

garbinge · 3 months ago

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THE CASE THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING

Mike Franks x F!Reader // Leroy Jethro Gibbs & F!Reader // Word Count: 10.3k Summary: When an unexpected, all-hands on deck, case unravels you, Mike does everything he can to try and keep you grounded. But it's not enough. As the investigation continues, so does your unravelling which ultimately starts to push you down a path neither Mike or Gibbs want to see you on. As the pieces of the puzzle begin to fit together and your luck seems to be running out, you're left to make a decision that you're not sure is the right one.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angst. Mentions of reader having a brother who has PTSD/trauma/manic episodes. Brief mentions of a side character having suicidal thoughts/struggling. Stress, anxiety, as the kids say these days 'crashing out'. Case is focused on murder, drug addiction, violence, overdosing. All canon-like things. Canon-level violence. Hurt/Comfort. Fighting. Giving up a dream. Dealing with family members with mental illness. Light fluff at the end, but not like a happy go lucky ending. Let me know if I missed anything! Know this is heavy-stuff so please do not read if any of that makes you uncomfortable. A/N: Mike Franks brain rot really took over on this one. I tried really hard to make this case make sense but if it doesn't, apologies. I have a new respect for people who write investigation stories lol. More from this universe

The sound of the pager beeps going off made both of you turn over and haphazardly search your nightstands.

“It’s me.” Mike groaned as the security department number flashed on the tiny screen, sleep still in his eyes.

“Mine’s going off too.”

That made both of you sit up rather quickly in bed, if you both were being paged then something serious had to have happened.

Without thinking, you both got dressed, rushing to get out of the door as fast as possible. You threw on your NIS sweatshirt, grabbed the first pair of sweats you could find and put your slippers on.

The jingle of keys turned your attention to the door as you stood in the dining room. Mike was standing there in his long sleeve gray henley and jeans, attaching his badge to his belt and opening his safe to pull both your weapons out.

“I’ll drive, your car takes 10 years to warm up.” His voice still had traces of sleep behind it.

You were at his house phone, dialing the security number to get the info of the alert. “They’re not giving me anything. Just ‘dead body on Pendleton Beach’.” You lifted your hands up, frustrated that they weren’t giving you typical details but you also knew that being woken up like this didn’t exactly put you in the best mood either.

“S’alright. We’ll get answers when we get down there. Giddyup.” He tilted his head to the door, your gun being held out in his hand for you.

With a nod you put the phone back on the receiver and moved toward him, grabbing your gun from him and badge.

The car ride was silent, the wind howling from the windows being down and the calm of the night being the only noise to fill the space. Normally you’d have the radio on, but it was incredibly early for either of you to be thinking straight.

Your eyes moved over to Franks whose eyes were glued on the road, the wind doing a good job at blowing his hair back to its normal position compared to how it was when he woke up. As your eyes trailed down you realized he was wearing jeans. At 4 in the morning.

“You put jeans on.” Your eyes jumped back up to his face.

“And?” His gravelly voice didn’t seem to care why you were making that statement.

“It’s 4 in the morning, we’re barely functioning and you put jeans on.” You were more embarrassed by your own brain not making the decision for yourself. Mike looked put together, it wasn’t his normal work attire but it was presentable. You were in a damn mismatch sweatsuit for fucks sake.

“Ain’t no one gonna notice, babe.” It was like he could read your mind.

“No one would notice if it was you, Franks. I’m one of the only women leads here, people notice everything I do.” You were looking around the car, searching for something, anything to make the situation better. “I mean I don’t even have a place to put my gun, what the fuck was I thinking?” Now you were frantic, unbuckling your belt so you could pick through the back seat.

“You left a pair of jeans back there a few weeks ago.” You didn’t need to be looking at his face to know he had the biggest smirk on it, and him lightly slapping your ass as you were bent over the middle console doubled down on that.

But despite his teasing, he wasn’t wrong, you did leave a pair of jeans back there. Quickly grabbing it, you fell back in the passenger seat, pulling your sweats off using the backrest of the seat to hold your balance as you did. Mike couldn’t help but let his gaze trail down to your bare legs, taking in the sight of you in your underwear next to him in the car was driving him nuts.

“Eyes on the road, Tex.” You smirked, now shimmying into the pair of jeans before letting out a deep breath when you plopped back down on the seat, buttoning them and adjusting your badge on the belt loop.

“Have a second holster in the glove box if you need it.” Mike pointed and you were fast to grab it and clip it onto your jeans. It wasn’t as utilitarian as hooking it to a belt but it was a lot better than the sweats you were wearing just minutes ago.

“2 minutes out, hot stuff.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” With one more deep breath you took in the scene as you pulled up to Pendleton Beach. There were tons of cop cars, multiple caution tape perimeters, it would’ve been hard for a passerby to keep track of just how much was going on, but not for you or Franks.

“Press is here.” Your breath hitting the window fogged it up slightly as you passed a press van that was chatting with a local officer.

“Means every agency with an acronym is about to show up.” He went white knuckled on the steering wheel, pulling into the farthest open spot.

He got out of the car so swiftly you double checked to make sure he put the car in park before getting out yourself. As you stood up out of the car, you looked around, past the red and blue lights, past the caution tape to the beach that was packed, but your eyes followed it down to where no one was. Where it was peaceful and calm, the horizon was a bit distorted, the heat coming up from Mike’s car engine was making it wave in and out. The sun wasn’t out yet, but on that side of the beach you could see the sky get just a bit lighter as the morning slowly crept up.

Mike was in front of you, NIS hat in hand, a protocol for all crime scenes. He was dangerously close to you, likely why he parked so far so no one would see you two show up together. For someone who had just woken up, he was so damn sharp.

As he stepped even closer to you, you felt his hand rest against your front, right where your jeans were buttoned, the warmth of his hand just placed there as he stared into your eyes. Just as you were about to question him, you felt his fingers touch the zipper that was sitting at the bottom seam and heard the metal starting to zip together. He started off slow but finished zipping it up fast, hard enough that the seam of the crotch in your jeans rubbed against your sensitive area and you let out a small moan.

“Fly was down.” He whispered before taking a step back and putting on his own hat. “We’re about to walk into some shit.” He said it as he turned around, taking in the beach himself.

There was no answer from you because from across the way you saw two people from your team pull up and you were already jogging over to them.

You were the first person on the beach from NIS. Franks was debriefing with the local team that responded to the call. Your team was chatting with witnesses. Leaving you standing over the body.

He was just a kid. Maybe 20?

“Witness called in saying they saw a lifeless body on the beach around 3:25.” Mike’s voice was speaking to the rest of the team that had gathered around you. “We got a time of death, Dr. Tango?”

“Bout an hour ago.” The medical examiner you knew as Tango was standing up from looking over the body. “Have to take a look officially but unofficially, looks like an OD.”

“Why’s the press here?” You heard Lala’s voice now. She likely had just arrived on scene.

“Marcus Pardo.” You could tell Franks didn’t want to say the name. But it was all that needed to be said for everyone to understand why the press was here. “Deputy Director’s kid.”

It was a Navy town, this–this would be on the local news and papers for days.

“Dominguez, start taking photos. Randy, measurements. Gibbs, I want you canvassing the area, make sure these local uniforms didn’t cut us short in their perimeter.” Franks was calling out directions for his team while you stood there taking everything in, letting the information soak in your brain before giving your own team orders.

You felt Mike’s eyes on you, it wasn’t the only set, the three people on your team were waiting for your word too.

“Mac, I want you to go back to base, start researching every OD in this area in the last 6 months. I want dealers, users, drug names, what’s popular on the streets, how much, where they're getting it.” Cassidy Monroe was a computer genius, it’s why everyone called her Mac. She was the only one who knew those machines inside and out, the microfilms, computers, fax machines, how to find ways into other online databases to find information that was otherwise untouchable. If it was tech related, she was a natural at it.

“Teo, talk with more locals, take the jacket and hat off if you need to. Charm it up, see what you can get that they normally wouldn’t tell brass.” Mateo Rivas wasn’t just a looker, but he had a way with words that made anyone and everyone comfortable with him. He could get pretty much anyone to open up by just flashing a smile.

“Nash, work with Gibbs on the perimeter, think the local blues cut us off too short and used their tape to block off press more than the scene. Do that until you see FBI, DEA, NSA, HOMESEC–you see anyone with a fuckin’ acronym that doesn’t say NIS, I want you to pull Teo and do what you do.” Nash was a force to be reckoned with. He was confrontational, didn’t take no for an answer when it came to his job, but with that said he respected the hell out of authority. Never argued or pressed a single thing you said. Him and Gibbs were cut from the same cloth, a little reckless but loyal. He’d talk someone in circles so much he’d eventually get them on their side, and if that wasn’t working he had a very intimidating way about him.

“We’ll debrief with Franks and team when we’re all back at HQ.” It was then that you broke off to the side. The sand didn’t stop you from picking up your pace as you broke from the crime scene’s outer edge, your hand lifting up the tape as you b-lined for the rocks by the shoreline. The tide was low and would stay that way for another 30 minutes.

Your eyes searched the area, you weren’t sure what you were looking for, just that you were looking for something.

“What’s that gut telling you?” Franks had followed you over. He was standing on the sand while you were 2-3 feet higher than him on the rocks.

“When Auggie had to go to rehab— the program that was part of his settlement...”

Your brother had been dishonorably discharged a few months ago. After the death of his long-time girlfriend, the trauma of losing someone he loved to a murderer ate at him. His time in the Navy became weathered. He dove straight into active duty, happy to take on any tour they assigned him to. The issue was, he was dealing with trauma, he’d have manic episodes all the time and one thing eventually led to another and he started getting violent, disappearing off base in the middle of foreign countries. When he punched his C.O. in the middle of an airstrike that’s when he was sent home.

“The days that Paratransit couldn’t take him, I’d drive him in, wait for him, then grab burgers and eat them on the beach.” Your eyes moved along each crevice of the rocks, looking for any sign of something abnormal. “He’d tell me that on the days he’d come here by himself, he’d sit on the rocks and hope that the tide would take him.”

Franks was looking out to the horizon as you spoke, his hands on his hips, head falling when you mentioned the dark thoughts of your brother. He was fully aware of everything with Auggie. How it wrecked you seeing him this way, how you’d give up anything for him. He was at your place when August showed up on your doorstep having an episode, searching for his deceased girlfriend. He also was there when you found out he had been dishonorably discharged, a fact you learned about a few months after he was already home. Mike supported you in the best way he knew how. Watching out for you. He saw how much this all had broken you down, made you more erratic, your mind wasn’t 100% on the job anymore and while that was perfectly fine for a regular 9-5 office job, NIS was anything but that. NIS called for a lot more than a regular job, and Mike was doing a lot on his side to fill the gaps for you, even if he’d never admit it.

You picked up on the energy shift from him, Mike might not have said much about it, hell, he usually kept his mouth shut whenever you’d have to deal with someone regarding Auggie, but you could tell he had opinions.

“My point is, every time he’d come out here, he didn’t let it.” It was at that moment you saw something about 20 feet from you, right where the water was starting to come up to the rocks.

“You’re thinking this wasn’t accidental suicide.” Franks was staring at you now, seeing how your personal life was coming to play in how you were breaking this case apart.

“I’m thinking that Marcus Pardo was freshly back from war.” Your voice was getting louder now as you walked away, projecting out to him as you bent down and grabbed the object with a gloved hand. “The Deputy Director talked about it a lot–about the trauma his son endured and how he was finally coming home to accept his accolades. Was actually pretty vocal about it– especially for a promoting year.”

The Deputy Director knew he had an opportunity to be moved up the chain, and it was clear he was tugging at people's heart strings to get there. ‘The next NIS Director whose son was going to be receiving stars and ribbons.’

“What you gettin’ at here?” Franks was stepping up on the rocks to start following you, curiosity floating around as he tried to put his own pieces of the puzzle together. You were insinuating a lot in your words and while he picked up on that, he was still racking his mind around it all.

“I think Marcus would come here to let the tide take his thoughts instead of him.” Now you were holding the bracelet in your hand for Mike to see. It was a dainty chain with the letters M and L on them with a heart in between. “Someone was here with him.”

Franks was always impressed by your process, this time being no different, but he always challenged your thoughts because he knew not only would your boss, Wheeler, challenge it but so would the courts. They needed substantial evidence.

“All circumstantial evidence, could be anyone's bracelet and even if he wasn’t alone, doesn’t mean he didn’t OD and the little lady left him here. Hell, she coulda been the one to call it in.”

“You arguing with my gut, Franks?” You were walking toward him now, slowly as you maneuvered through the rocky terrain. In front of him, he pulled an evidence bag from the gear bag he had acquired on scene. Holding it open for you, his eyes didn’t leave yours.

“Never.” It was one word that he needed to let marinate in the air for a few seconds before continuing. “We’re just gonna need this one to stick like gorilla glue. No gaps.”

“I think Marcus Pardo was struggling.” Dropping the bracelet in the bag, you kept your eyes trained on Mike just as his were on you. “I think he was struggling and it made it hard on everyone around him.”

Franks did everything in his power not to flinch at that statement. It was a direct projection of your own current issues with your brother.

“I think someone turned their back on him.” Those words were haunting for you.

It was at that moment that the tide had started to come in and the slight blanket of water washed over the rock you were standing on causing it to get slippery. You began to lose your balance but Franks so easily gripped your arm to steady you not losing an inch of his own footing as he did.

He kept his hand firm on your arm, letting you know he was with you. “And we’ll get the sumbitch who did.” His teeth weren’t gritted tightly together, but there was a tightness to his lips as he spoke. Reading his eyes you could tell he was saying a lot in his head.

—

“You hear me?” Mike’s voice got a little louder as he tried to break through your focus. When you looked up, he was at the furthest point of the table from you. His brows furrowed, eyes squinting as he stared at you. Your head was in another place, which might not have seemed like a big deal but everyone on the team knew keeping some part of your mind grounded when working on a case was a necessity.

“Huh?” You looked up, trying to bring yourself back to reality.

The TV in the conference room was on, your eyes focusing on it along with some of the other team members who had been watching it. A press conference where the Deputy Director was addressing the town about the loss of his son.

“Said I’m gonna go pick up breakfast for everyone, wanted to know your order.” His eyes were still so focused on you. He was searching for something on your face and you were looking everywhere but his.

“Whatever breakfast sandwich is fine. Black coffee, lots of sugar.” You went back to looking at the file in front of you, searching Marcus Pardo’s squadron logs from his two tours, trying to find anything that would put you closer to finding out what happened.

“Why don’t you come with me, pick it out yourself. Let the team take a stretch without their overworking, married to the job, bosses breathing down their backs.” He let out a laugh looking around at Teo, Nash, Cassidy, Gibbs, Lala, and Randy.

“Think we could all use some fresh air ‘nways.” He was standing up now, putting his holsters through his arms and situated on his back. He still had on the same outfit from the night before like you, none of the team having the chance to swing by home yet.

“I’m good, the rest of you take a lap, a bathroom break, grab a coffee, I’m good.” You waved your hand as you flipped to the next folder. It wasn’t that Marcus had gotten into that many incidents, but you were reviewing every log his squad had, looking for a morsel of a clue to help your theory move forward.

“I insist.” Mike’s face was back on yours, he was trying not to sound pissed or like he was talking to the woman he was sleeping with, he tried to keep it professional. Hopefully the others on the team would think that… he was technically senior to you. He was a supervisory agent longer than you which in theory put his rank above yours but in the chain of command on paper you both were at the same level.

Gibbs seemed to be the only one to pick up on the tension, the other team members happily taking Mike’s words as an order and moving out of the conference room to take a breather.

Gibbs was staring at you, his own hand going through the incident reports that you split up between you. “Hey, I’ll look through the rest of the reports, I’ll call if anything pops out.” His face was softened as he looked at you.

Gibbs and you had sparked up a friendship about 6 months ago when you were at the office late working on an old cold case and he was stuck with probie paperwork. He wasn’t a member of your team, you’d only work together on cases in situations like this, which made your friendship easier to navigate. Neither of you ever felt like you fell in the giving and taking orders flow. Him offering to go through the papers was because he was just genuinely offering. Now, there was the added element that he was the only one on the team who knew you and Franks were a thing. He’d never spoken a word about it since the night he drove you home from the office and Franks was on your front porch, but he could tell that there was something else happening with you—something Franks was very much in the know of.

He knew Franks well enough to know he wasn’t and wouldn’t practically demand you went with him because of relationship issues, it had to be something else. Gibbs noticed you were a little off your normal kilter. He tried to talk to you a bit when you were at Daly’s some nights but he also wasn’t the type to pry. His actions were how he’d support, like right now offering to take this off your plate for now.

“We can stop by the forensics lab on the way back, see if Woody has anything with that bracelet.” Mike’s eyebrows were raised now, like he was getting impatient but also reaching at straws, anything to get you out of this conference room.

“Alright, yea.” Standing up, you handed the stack of files over to Gibbs. “Got through the top 6, there’s 3 more. Only pattern I’m seeing is that he’d log at the mail tent everyday.”

“I’ll take a look.” Gibbs smiled, which was unusual for him and that made your brows furrow, just as you were about to ask him about it, Mike cut you off.

“C’mon, I’m hungry.”

—

As you walked into the deli, despite Mike holding the door open for you, you let him take the lead. It helped that the guy behind the counter called out to him.

“How’s it goin’, Joey?” Instead of putting a cigarette to his mouth, he grabbed a toothpick from the top of the clear glass counter and popped it between his lips, letting his tongue twirl it around. His arms rested on the case, waiting for who you assumed to be Joey to approach him.

“Let me get my usual. But triple it, gotta bring some back for my guys.” He looked over his shoulder at you. “You good with the sunrise sandwich?” It was what you’d get normally, it was half of what ‘Mike’s usual’ was. It was then that Joey looked at you, a small smirk playing at his lips before looking back down to the register. Mike always ordered two sandwiches, but you were never usually accompanying him to get them so you were a mystery who finally had a face.

“Yea my usual.” You nodded and made yourself seem busy in the back, staring at the photos on the wall of every person of notary who had eaten here.

“I got chipotle hollandaise today.” Joey called out looking directly at you.

You smirked, sometimes you’d have to settle with a mayo ketchup mix, but whenever the hollandaise was available, that’s what Mike would get. It was funny how this man, Joey, who you never met before knew your sandwich preferences.

“Put a little extra on it then.” You went back to looking at the photos, feeling less awkward than before which allowed your mind to start thinking back on the case. Reasons why someone would go check for mail everyday verse waiting for it to be handed out. The thought was mulling over in your head. Waiting for something important, too eager to wait the extra hours for it to be delivered out. Letters from family could do that. It could have been a routine thing, your brother told you he’d try and get out of his space as often as he could when he was overseas, take a walk around the camp.

“Keep at it like that, and you’ll be runnin’ on fumes.” Mike knew better than to be overly affectionate when you were still on the clock, but since it was just you two, he got close to you, his chest against your side.

“When you were enlisted, if you were expecting letters would you go check if things came in? Or wait for them to come to you?” You were still looking at the wall but your eyes were focused on what you were working on in your brain.

With a sigh and a drop of his head Mike closed his eyes and brought his hand to scratch his head. “Uh,” he pushed his original thoughts aside to think about your question. “Would depend on the day, some days when I knew I was gettin’ a letter from my mama or sum I’d stop by the mail tent.”

“He was expecting something. Something that came consistent enough that he’d check back everyday.”

“Or he was expecting something that never came.” Mike hated to feed into the gears turning in your head right now but he’d be lying if you weren’t on to something.

“Something that never came.” It was spoken under your breath as you thought through it and then you turned to look at him. “Who interviewed the Deputy Director, did he mention Marcus having any close friends– a girlfriend?”

“Randy and Mac did, put Teo in the room too.” Mike’s face was serious.

“You used it as an opportunity to get the quiet ones some face time,” you let out a laugh, “you’re twisted you know that?” You saw straight through it, in a case like this it was unspoken protocol for someone like you, Franks or even Wheeler to do the honors of interviewing someone like the Deputy Director.

“You’re the one who reminded me. It’s a promoting year.” He wasn’t wrong, it was the year they were going to appoint agents up, every second counted to earn face.

“He mention a girlfriend?” You asked the question again that he purposefully avoided the first time.

“No mention of a girlfriend, just a best friend that Lala went to interview last afternoon. He just landed back in town at 1PM yesterday, was in Bozeman Montana visiting family when our T.O.D occurred.”

Dead end again. You turned to Mike as the first statement he made clicked in your head. “What did you say before?” Your face twisted up in confusion.

“You’re runnin’ yourself ragged.” He had a coffee in his hand that he was holding out to you.

“And here I was under the impression that you thought I was pretty.” Teasing him, you took the coffee and immediately took a sip that earned a bitter look on your face while you searched for the table with sugar packets.

“Put damn near 5 packets of sugar in that thing.” He brought his own cup up to his mouth.

“You act like we haven’t worked all-nighters before.” You were focused on taking the lid off the coffee and pouring more sugar into the steaming cup, not wanting to discuss your coffee with him.

“Not since your brother came back, no.”

That made you stop what you were doing and look at Mike, reading his face was always more difficult than you cared to admit.

“My brother came back when I started working on that cold case. I had plenty of all-nighters.” You corrected him.

“I meant since you found out he was dishonorably discharged. Since I got his case put on my desk. Since you’ve been practically living at my house because you can’t find it in yourself to go home and share the space with him for more than an hour.”

It was harsh, but that was something you could always count on Franks for. Not holding back.

But despite knowing that, you couldn’t help but feel your ego get bruised a little bit. “If you don’t want me staying at your place you just had to say that, I’ll pick up my stuff when we wrap this up.”

“Now you know that ain’t what I meant. Hell, I’ve told you just to pack up the rest of your shit and move it in. I want you there. But I also want you here.” His hand pointed to the ground and then to your head. “And with whatever you got goin’ on there, it’s taking you away from here.”

“I’m fine.” You turned your attention back to the coffee and took a sip, it wasn’t perfect–not the way you liked it, but you didn’t want to stand there anymore. You popped the lid back on and moved away from Franks, hoping if you got closer to the counter and the people working behind it, he’d drop it.

“You know I’m right. I know you feel yourself losing it, that part of yourself that keeps grounded. You’re putting too much energy into your gut and not the evidence. You’re doing exactly what you beat yourself up for.” He was whispering it, because he didn’t want the employees to hear, but he also wasn’t going to let this go.

What you beat yourself up for. The case that started your fucking issues. When your brother’s girlfriend went missing, NIS was assigned to the case, when there was a second victim, you practically begged Wheeler to be assigned on it. That was when you had your first big fuck up. Following a lead that had no legs, and even though your gut told you not to, you lost valuable time. From that day forward you never doubted your gut, but now, with how things were mentally for you, maybe you were taking that so true to heart that you were making the same mistake again.

“You don’t think my theory is right?” With that sentence, your head snapped to look at him, your lips pursed and nostrils flared.

“If you were 100% here, you wouldn’t be asking me that.” His nostrils flared back. “I have never once questioned your gut. Still ain’t. Don’t think you're wrong either, or that this theory of yours is. But that’s the thing, it’s a theory, and you’re spending all night chasing it verse connecting something we already have to it. You’re getting lost.”

It was then that the bags of food were being placed on the counter. “I’m havin’ my guys deliver the rest to the office for you, Franks. Bagged up both your orders, though.” He was smiling, like he had finally cracked the case of Mike Franks’ mystery woman. Another day, you might’ve been more inclined to chat with him, tease Mike together and bask in the glory of being the mystery California Sunrise sandwich girl, but not today.

“Thank you, Joey.” You offered a soft smile and grabbed the bags but it was short lived before Franks politely took them from you. It was likely a chivalrous thing, but you got annoyed, shooting him a look as you made your way to the door.

“Hope to see you next time, hollandaise!” It was the first time you had earned that nickname, and while you wanted to laugh, it’d probably make Joey’s day if you did, you just gave a slightly bigger smile and waved before stepping out the door that Franks was holding open for you.

“Yea, I do too Joey.” Mike called out while you walked to the car. He knew he was on thin ice with you right now.

“Let’s get to the lab so I can start connecting my theory to real evidence, yea?” You yelled it to him as you plopped in the passenger seat. It was crazy to think it had been 24 hours since you were in this car driving to the crime scene. The time really was getting lost and you were spending most of it following your theory. The difference in your head was that you weren’t putting your team on it, you were giving them the evidence to follow, so you weren’t wasting time or following dead ends.

Mike handed you the sandwich as he backed out of the spot, sunglasses perched on his nose, one hand on the wheel as he looked around but still just barely. He acted like he owned the road, like he knew better than it. If you weren’t running on 4 hours of sleep from the day prior, it probably would have been hot, but mixed with what he was just saying inside the deli, you felt like you were just staring at a very entitled Mike Franks in this moment.

—

As you entered the lab, Woody was looking into a microscope. “Michael Franks.”

“Curly.” He nodded at him as Woody stepped back from the microscope.

“Good timing, just processed that bracelet. Was taking one last look to see if we missed any prints.”

“What’d you find, Woody?” It wasn’t like you to rush the man, but you weren’t in the mood to fuck around right now.

He looked at you and then his eyes moved to Franks. He was about to ask what was up with you but Franks cut him off, knowing it’d be the best for everyone involved.

“Missed any prints? That mean you found some already.” He was stepping towards the table.

The entire room was fluorescent white from the lights, it gave off a sterile feel but once you moved past the horizon line of the room, that feeling disappeared as the mess of the lab took over.

“Matched one print to the deceased, but couldn’t pull anything else. We did look into manufacturing and it was done by a local jeweler, cheap metal, probably one of those pick a chain pick a charm shops.”

You felt defeated. Like all the work you just put in was nothing, you were hoping there was at least one print from who it belonged to.

“Let’s get back to HQ.”

Mike’s face was in its usual resting position but you could tell there was something in his mind.

“We know Marcus had to have been with our mystery bracelet lady and that it’s not just a random piece of jewelry. I’d like to think that’s a step in the right direction, agent.” Agent. Yea, he was reaching his limit and so were you.

Before you could respond, your beeper was going off.

NIS HQ

“Woody I’m using your phone!” You grabbed it off the wall and hit the numbers for HQ before taking a step out into the hall.

“NIS, Mary Jo speaking.”

“It’s me. Got a page.” Your voice fell into a more cheery tone, it was almost impossible to have anything but when talking with Mary Jo.

“Hey sweetheart, yea, it was Gibbs, let me transfer you.”

It took longer than normal to be transferred, and you knew it was because Gibbs had no clue how to answer a transferred call.

“Hello?” His voice sounded flustered, confirming your suspicion.

“You gotta just hit the line number that’s flashing, Gunny.”

“Where are you?” He skimmed right by the question.

“Forensics.”

“Think you were on to something about the mail. The sergeant that gave us these folders put the mail log in the files so I pulled the registry, he was getting letters from a Lauren Carey.”

“Our mystery bracelet woman.” You nodded, and started walking back to the lab. “You got an address for me, Gunny?”

“She lives two blocks from the lab. 45 Mulberry.”

You smiled at that, it’s why he asked where you were before starting to tell you. Smart ass fucking agent.

“Thanks, Jethro.”

Before you made it to the door, you stopped short. Walking in there you’d have to give a break down, you’d lose valuable time, so instead you dropped the phone and made your way there.

“She takin’ a while to you?” Franks began his steps to the door.

“I wouldn’t say she’s being quick.” Woody shrugged and turned his attention back to the microscope.

“Goddammit!” Franks yelled out as he pushed out the door to see the corded phone abandoned on the ground. “This woman is going to be the death of me.” He mumbled that line as he let a hand trail down his face.

—-

You walked up to the apartment, knocking twice before letting your eyes keep scanning the area around. Plants were mostly dead, cigarette buds were tossed in an ashtray next to a rocking chair on the porch, but you could tell they were old based on the aging of them.

“Yea?” The door opened and the woman looked like she saw a ghost as you made eye contact.

After giving her your name, you went to grab your badge to show when your head was being slammed into the side of the door frame. Everything went black after that.

—-

“Hey, you seen our girl?” Mike was walking back into HQ, stopping at Mary Jo’s desk as he mindlessly searched through the files on her desk.

Normally, she’d swat his hand away but with the information she’d have to share, she decided not to. The endearment Mike used wasn’t what made her look at Franks that way, a knowing way, it was something he’d call you to Mary Jo because well, you were both their favorites.

Her knowing look had a flicker of something, Mary Jo was the eyes and ears of NIS headquarters, and Mike knew better than to question the flicker. But he did question the fact she wasn’t her normal self.

“Mary Jo?” He repeated now dropping the files.

“She’s at base medical, got hurt when going to question the bracelet girl. Last I heard it was a concussion, maybe some stitches.”

Franks was walking down the hallways with swiftness and purpose, the steam from his anger fueling his speed as he skipped over every other step to get to the medic upstairs. He practically took the door off its hinges as he opened it, freezing as he saw you on the table with a bandage on your forehead.

“Jesus Christ, Franks. You’re lucky they were done stitching me up, I’d need to get stitches from my stitches.” Your hand fell to your heart and you took a deep breath. “I’m all good here, doc, thanks.” The doctor nodded and left the room past Mike who didn’t even look at him, his eyes were glued to you, staring between your head and your eyes.

“Don’t freak out, please. I have a headache and can’t deal with another.” Your eyes closed.

“You’re a supervisory special agent.” You weren’t sure where his statement was going. “Right?”

“Where you goin’ with this, Franks?” Your cheeks raised as your eyes squinted.

He stepped closer to you now, standing in between your legs, it was the closest you two had been at work ever. His left hand raised and cupped your face, his hand so large that his fingers brushed along the gash that was about half an inch on your forehead and another full inch onto your scalp.

His face had softened as he looked at you, you flinched at the grazing over the wound, your whole head pounding from the concussion.

“You’re a fuckin’ supervisory agent.” It was spoken through gritted teeth at a whisper, the anger growing back on his face. “And you’re acting like a damn probie.”

You pushed his hand away then, the pounding getting worse.

“Going to question someone alone is not only incredibly stupid but against the book.” His voice was raised now.

“Don’t lecture me about the book, Mike. You haven’t even seen the cover of the damn book.” Now you jumped off the table and went to gather your things.

“What about our book? Our rules.” He was stepping closer to you again. Our rules. You had a small set of them, something you put in place when you both decided to start extracurriculars together outside of work.

“I got hurt because our number one lead slammed my head into a door frame when I went to grab my badge. I didn’t go looking for shit.”

Rule 4: Don’t go looking for trouble without backup.

“You did the dip. If you had a partner with you, it could’ve been clocked and you could’ve been out of there without a scratch!” Now he was fully yelling.

“Stop fucking yelling!” As you raised your voice you immediately regretted it, the pounding in your head was felt everywhere.

“And what about the fuckin’ forensics lead? Because there’s no prints you just hit a dead end? You’re not thinkin’ straight! Woody got the information on the store that fuckin’ made it, we could’ve found her from that but you’re so caught up in your own head you’re missing shit–important shit!”

“We didn’t need the forensics lead, we had gotten something from the fucking letters Mike!”

“We didn’t get shit. You did. A fucking concussion and 5 goddamn stitches because you wanted to handle shit by yourself!” His voice was getting louder with each sentence.

“Gibbs was on scene two minutes after I got hit. He brought me to the ambulance before chasing after Lauren. Who he caught, I might add.”

It was then that it clicked. He realized who was on the phone with you when you pulled your disappearing act. Within seconds, the doors were being slammed open and Mike was moving just as fast as before back through the halls of NIS. The only time he slowed down was when he found the doctor that was in the room with you earlier. Stopping dead in his tracks he stepped in front of him.

“The good doctor!” He called it out to get his attention. “I want you to run every diagnostic and test you can on that young woman up there. Full work up. Alright? And if she asks why make some shit up!” He was back to moving to his bullpen before the doctor could even argue with him.

All eyes were on Mike when he entered the room.

“Whose team are you on?!” Mike was leaning on Gibbs’ desk, his fist slamming onto the table when he didn’t answer within half a second and everything on his desk jumped in the air and if it didn’t topple over, it lost its balance for a second. “Who do you call boss?”

They were rhetorical questions, but Gibbs was still very much married to military life so he went to answer Franks but he shut it down pretty quickly. “You got a tip, you call me. Everything goes through me. You know who calls her?”

Another rhetorical question that Gibbs had enough time to answer this time. “You.”

That made Mike even more mad. He knew Gibbs knew. But it was never spoken out loud, the two just went on without any word on the matter. To Mike, Gibbs one worded answer felt like he was throwing it in his face and that didn’t sit right with Franks.

“Teo. Nash. Mac.” His voice was dripping in frustration, correcting Gibbs on this felt so entirely personal. “That’s who the fuck calls her. Her team.” His finger was slamming into the desk now, his frown was drooping down his chin and his face was wrinkled in anger. “She’s up at the medic with a concussion and gash the size of a fuckin half dollar on her face. So the next time you want to give tips, follow the right channels.” He was pushing off the desk to go into interrogation now, planning to start questioning the girl you had attempted to bring in. “And you pull some shit like this again and you’ll be off the damn roster.”

Gibbs didn’t realize you were back yet, he had assumed you were in the hospital but he should have known better than to assume you’d put your health first.

He knocked on the door before peeking his head in. You were back on the exam table, this time with a folder across your lap. When you saw who was at the door, your face softened and you let your lips pull together a brief smile.

“Hey, Gunny.”

“Didn’t think you’d be back.” He entered the room fully now, being careful as to closing the door softly so it didn’t make too much noise.

“I’d be in interrogation right now but the doctor came back wanting to do a full work up. Extra precaution he said. Apparently concussions are NIS legal nightmares or something.”

“Probably for the better, Franks just went down.”

You nodded at that, looking back at the folder. “She say anything when you brought her in?”

“Lauren? Yea, she was going on about a set up but it was hard to understand her, Lala turned the radio up because she was still having a fit.” Gibbs explained as he went to lean on the exam table across from you. “How you feelin’?”

“Like shit.” You answered looking through your brows with a smirk. When you looked at him, you could see through his expression, you could see him hurting. “How bad was he?”

“I should have called him first.” There he was. The Gibbs who respected authority to a fault.

“It was a job I assigned you, you did it by the book.” You thought if you got technical with the probie, it’d make him feel better.

“Technically I volunteered. I should have called Franks.”

“You were being a good friend.” Maybe that angle would resonate with him better.

“Yea, a great one.” He pointed to your head.

“You had no idea I’d go all cowboy on this. I’ve shown no track record of being impulsive like this. This isn’t on you, Gibbs.”

“I knew something was off, I picked up on it this morning, s'why I took the files from you.” His arms were crossed.

“It that obvious to the team?”

“No, just me.”

With a sigh, you took the file off your lap and placed it next to you on the exam table and leaned your elbows on your thighs to catch your head. Massaging your figures on your scalp, you were hoping the small release would relieve the tension, spoiler alert�� it didn’t. When you sat straight up again you caught Gibbs eyes with your own and shook your head.

“I’ll argue with him all day about it but he isn’t wrong. Franks– he knows me too damn well. My head isn’t here.”

“You’re running on empty. We got woken up in the middle of the night and haven’t slept since.” Gibbs was defending you to yourself and you had to appreciate it.

Smiling, you nodded. “I wish it was just that, Jethro.” What you were about to say was hard and you weren’t able to look him in his eyes when saying it. “I’ve been struggling since my brother got back. I was able to disconnect from that shit after that damn murder case wrapped and we found Jessica’s killer. August was back on base, waiting for his deployment papers and I just put myself so deep into work, it was a couple years of me just not having to deal with it.”

“When he came back, so did everything else.” Gibbs wasn’t a stranger to that, to grief flooding over you, to not dealing with it.

“He came back so broken, I felt like shit that I was just okay.”

“You weren’t okay.” Gibbs corrected you. “Just because you acted like it doesn’t mean you were.”

“It just all came crashing down but I didn’t deal with it again–I couldn’t. I had to be okay because Auggie wasn’t.” Remembering back to when your brother came to your front door, thinking he couldn’t find Jessica, his memory flashing back and forth between past and present, reliving the trauma of losing her. You didn’t find out he was dishonorably discharged until Mike pulled you aside at work one day.

–

After Mary Jo left the bullpen, the post-it note on top of a folder that she left on Mike’s desk made his heart drop. He stared at it for a bit before reading through the papers and then staring at the note Mary Jo left for him again. Everyone in the room was either in their own conversations or nose down into their paperwork. Mike getting up went unnoticed by everyone, even you, until he tapped his knuckle on your desk and tipped his head for you to meet him.

With no words, after a few minutes you got up and walked to the bathroom, taking one last look around before entering the men's room and locking the door behind you.

“Couldn’t wait till shift change?” You teased before you got a chance to clock his face but when your gaze moved from the lock to him against the sink with his arms crossed, one hand rubbing his face along his mustache, you knew something was up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Look, this ain’t easy news.” He lowered his hand from his face, letting it now rest against the sink. “It's your brother.”

“August?” His full name was saved for moments like this, tense ones.

With a nod Frank’s lips pursed for a minute before speaking. “Few months back, when he showed up, wasn’t because his tour was over, Navy sent him back.”

“Doesn’t shock me if they discharged him for health reasons, he was struggling–still is.”

Mike nodded again, seeing how the desperation was starting to pool around your eyes. You knew there was more, you were just waiting for Franks to say it.

“He was dishonorably discharged, kid was starting fights, going AWOL. Enough times to cause serious concern.”

Those words felt like boulders dropping on your head. While you were here, laughing with the team, drinking after work, getting tangled up with Mike, your brother was crying out for help.

“How long did you know?”

“Just found out. But I had a feeling there was more to the story.” His head dropped down, staring at the floor, it was clear he was as upset about it as you were. This was more than just someone he worked with’s family member. This was you. He had gotten to know Auggie pretty well over these last months. Shared drinks with him, a cigarette or two as well. They’d go out together to Daly’s when you were working late. Sometimes even would hit the range together, or go fishing from time to time.

“Why are we finding out now?”

His expression turned tight, each step of this conversation was uncomfortable for him. “Just got word that he made a threat to his old C.O. NIS has been called in to investigate.”

The room got smaller, you felt like it was taking all the air with it too. Your mind started to jump from thought to thought. You knew you wouldn’t be on the investigating team. It was a stretch that Wheeler put you on Jessica’s murder case when the second victim was found.

“What kind of threat?” The dread was soaked in your tone. He didn’t speak, just looked at you with knowing eyes. “Tell me it’s not serious, Mike.”

“I don’t want to lie to you.” He didn’t break eye contact. “It was bad enough to raise some eyebrows. Mary Jo left the report on my desk. He’s on the radar now. Wheeler pulled favors and got me on the case. I'm not going to pull the team on it though, I’m going to work it with Strickland. Keep it quiet.”

“What’s your thoughts on the final outcome?” Now you were trying to jump back into your professional brain. How was this going to play out? You needed to think logically.

“Best-case? Community service, mandated rehab and anger management, few restraining orders towards his squad and some places on base and a huge dark mark in his file.”

“Worst-case?” You could come up with the idea in your head of both case scenarios but since Mike had read the file he knew more in depth realities.

“Worst-case? He puts in some time in lock up, waters still murky on if it’ll be civilian or military since the assaults and threats are spanning across active and inactive service. He already lost his benefits, salary, and housing. He won’t be allowed on any base for any reason.”

“He’s being washed out.” You’d seen it with a few vets since starting at NIS, luckily in those scenarios their family helped them get back on their feet. You would be that. You would do anything to help him get back on his feet.

Mike pushed off the sink and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, bringing you in for a hug and quick peck on the head before making sure the coast was clear in the hall. “C’mon. Let me drive you home.”

—

“I would do anything to save him. I think that’s the thing with this job, we get used to it. Being able to solve things for people. I wish I could just shake him out of it. I wish I could shake me out of it.” You looked back at Gibbs when you spoke that line and his eyes looked knowing until there was a shift in his face.

I would do anything to save him.

Gibbs tried to bring his face back to neutral and it seemingly worked because when he went to say goodbye by squeezing your shoulder and offering his help wherever possible, you let him go without a second thought, bringing the file back onto your lap and diving right back into work.

As soon as Gibbs was out of your view, he was fast-paced headed in the direction of interrogation. Lala was in the room where the TV was hosting the live feed of the interrogation room.

“She’s claiming to have gotten the drugs from a new source.” Lala’s pen was attached to her mouth as she spoke, focused on the screen. “Gave us a description–guy, glasses, widow's peak. It’s not much to go on but Mac’s research shows there’s no new sources in the Pendleton area, so it’s gotta be someone on the outskirts, she’s casting a wider net on her fancy computer program.”

That information on top of the gut feeling your words had caused him was all he needed. He remembered the news broadcast he caught this morning in the conference room, where the Deputy Director spoke out at a press meeting about his son passing by suicide. Next to him was his assistant, who had glasses and a widow's peak.

“The Deputy Director did it.” The words were spoken with finality, like he had no room to be swayed.

“That’s an intense accusation.” Lala had moved the pen down from her mouth, frowning in pure confusion.

“He’d do anything to save his son. He was trying to get rid of the girlfriend. She had been writing Marcus letters, tons of them, everyday. When he came home, Marcus leaned on Lauren versus him.”

“Lauren got Marcus mixed up in the drugs.” Lala was slowly starting to wrap her own understanding around the accusation.

“The Deputy Director was trying to drug Lauren. Wasn’t expecting his son to be with her that night.”

Franks voice made both him and Lala turn around. “You better have some damn good evidence to back that up, probie.”

—

He did. Lauren identified the man who sold her drugs as the Deputy Director’s assistant, who very quickly unraveled in interrogation. Admitted to the whole thing. Gibbs’ theory was correct. The drugs had a chemical in it that would have killed anyone who did them. It was meant for Lauren, who they knew had dabbled in her fair share of drugs, but before she took her share, Marcus took his. They even pulled the letters between Marcus and Lauren, all detailing how Marcus’ father was trying to get him into NIS and use him to buff up his own legacy, despite his very vocal disagreements with both things. The Deputy Director was losing his son and in his attempts to pull him closer, he pushed him directly into what would cause his demise.

“Rumor has it, Elaine Peschi is being promoted up to Deputy Director.” Mike had just gotten in, you were on the couch, staring at the TV showing the press conference where both you and him were at earlier in the day together.

“A woman Deputy Director, makes my decision a little more bearable.” You smiled, not a real smile though. One that was filled with many emotions. Sorrow. Understanding. Inevitability.

Mike didn’t give you a verbal response, just looked at you, his eyes squinting as he tried to search your face. He knew the look you were wearing well, he’d been around you long enough to recognize it. There was a feeling he knew what you meant, and by the look on your face there wasn’t anything anyone could do to sway your choice.

As he kicked his shoes off, he moved closer to you, his eyes only jumping from you twice. Once to look at the group of you on the TV and twice to see that your badge wasn’t on his entry table where it normally was. Now he fully realized.

“You sure about this?” He spoke quietly.

“No.” It was blunt but true, that was something you and Mike could count on each other for. Being honest. “But if I don’t leave now, I’m gonna get someone besides me hurt. And I can’t live with that.”

Mike nodded, moving to sit on the corner of his coffee table, not directly in front of you, but so your right leg was in between his. With one hand resting on the inner section of your knee, he squeezed it in a comforting manner.

“That pull to walk away before it eats you alive…it’s the hardest choice to make. Selfishly, I wanna tell you to stay, tell you that it’ll get easier.”

“But you’d be lying.” You smiled, placing your hand on his.

He nodded, staring directly at you with a look only a woman Mike loved could get. The team would never believe it. The softness in his features, the kindness in his eyes.

Pushing off the coffee table he plopped down next to you, his left arm moving around your back to pull you against his chest, his right securing you in that position before he rested his chin over your head.

“Tell me I’m making the right decision.” You spoke it at a whisper, if the TV volume had been any higher he wouldn’t have heard you. As he stared at the screen, seeing you and him stand next to Wheeler as he spoke at the podium, he mourned it a little. Not having you in the office with him anymore, not looking up from his desk to see that dimple that would form when you were in deep thought, no more driving in together, sneaking out together.

His jaw tightened, he wanted to take a deep breath but he knew that’d give off the wrong message. So he just took a few more beats, letting this sink in before he answered you.

“It’s gonna feel off for a bit.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “But if you need me to tell you you’re doing the right thing, I will. Because I trust you know you’re making the right choice.”

It was such a Mike Franks answer and you couldn’t help but laugh at it while bringing a hand up to wipe a stray tear.

“Gonna miss this.” You pointed to the screen where you two stood tall next to each other.

His mouth mumbled against the top of your head. “We’ve always found a way,” he pursed his lips and left a kiss there, then brought it down slightly to kiss where your stitches were lightly, “this’ll be no different.”

“We can make out at the holiday party now without worrying that anyone is going to write us up.” Sure, it might’ve been a joke to ease the tension, not think about the weight of all of this anymore, but there was definitely some truth in the joke. “If you’ll take me as your plus one.”

Now it was Mike’s turn to laugh, the chuckle causing your head to move against his chest. “If I don’t bring you, Mary Jo or Lala would be the first to rope you in as theirs.”

“You pawning me off already?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” He kissed your head again and then frowned at the screen.

“Good because now that I don’t have to act professional, those parties are about to be a lot more fun.” Squeezing into his side you tightened your own grip on him.

He teased back with you. “I’m countin’ down the days till Christmas.”

You both sat quietly, watching the last few minutes of the press conference, the weight of the decision sitting heavy in the room but right now, you felt safe in this little bubble on the couch with Mike. Like the weight couldn’t get to you there. He must’ve thought so too because neither one of you moved from that spot on the couch, both falling asleep there and letting tomorrow be the day that you faced this head on.

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