Tim McGee inspects the credit and debit transactions of Marine Corps Lieutenant Jeffery Salo, glancing occasionally at his notes. The public activity of the man isn’t noteworthy, he has about $3,000 in checking and over his lifetime has accumulated a little over $37,000 in combined savings and retirement funds.
It’s the $862,941 in various accounts bearing false names yet accessible only by Salo that attracted NCIS’ interest, that and Soto’s assignment as an Armory officer at Camp Geiger.
It was his assignment at the Camp that brought him to the attention of his superiors, and thence to the Investigators. Weapons that had been reported delivered for disassembling were unaccounted for during a spot check of the facility and so Lieutenant Salo is presently downstairs deep in consultation with Special Agent Gibbs.
As McGee works he feels a presence nearby and turns, surprised to find the Agency’s Chaplain standing beside him, particularly surprised since people very rarely enter this space. He’s also surprised because today’s Monday and she normally has her Shift here on Tuesdays. Otherwise she’s at her main job as Curate of Saint Mary the Virgin Church on New York Avenue.
She’s attired, as usual, in black pants and pale blue back-button shirt with an attached two inch high collar of stiff white that encircles her throat. “Shav! Hi!” He’s always very happy to see her, regardless of reason.
He’s the only one who calls the Reverend Siobhan O’Mallory by this name, for the same reason that makes her the only one who’d enter his space. Lately they can indulge in their very long relationship, a relationship now without masks, and their few moments of solitude are special times. Tony and Ziva are in Observation One during Gibbs’ interview of Salo and they can take their times coming back.
“Hi, Timmy,” she says in that wonderful brogue that makes listening to her, especially in private tones such spiced pleasure. She’s probably unaware that he’s wondering what his chances are of getting up and kissing her. Probably better not risk it here; he’ll kiss her twice later. Or now. Being in love makes some decisions so very interesting. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”
“No!” Rein it in, Tim. You won’t scare her away, but she won’t appreciate a spectacle. “No, I’m just surprised to see you here.” Is she unaware of his thoughts, or does she see through him to that part that wishes, with her surprise visit, that they were alone up here. “Isn’t this your RDO?”
“And when do I get days off, regular or otherwise?” He shrugs. “Actually, I came out to see you.”
“Well, that’s very flattering.” Christmas in summer. No. In love much? Yep. He wonders, however, what can’t be accomplished with a phone call, not that he cares - seeing Shav is a treat whatever the reason.
The red haired woman’s brogue is notably sharp, however, allowing him to hear tension that she won’t let reach her face. The emerald eyes behind her gold framed glasses also display none of the stress her voice betrays.
He knows no one else would read it. It’s only through his intense NCIS Special Agent training – coupled with over fifteen years of intimate friendship – that allows him the insight. “No, you never disturb me.” He carefully glances about to confirm they’re alone. “Don’t be silly.”
She looks around as well, her body language showing her own desire for privacy. Not everyone knows the unhidden fact that they’re dating, but she still prefers a degree of discretion up here. “I came hoping to ask you a favor.”
“You have it.”
She smiles. “You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“When do I ever turn you down?”
“Thank you, a chuisle,” she says gratefully, the endearment coming out ‘a kwìsh-la’ in her brogue. “I knew I could count on you.”
She starts away and is halfway past DiNozzo’s desk when “Shav?” She turns around. “What did I just agree to?”
She grins, coming back. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to teach you a lesson. You know us Priests, we’re always coming to people to get them to do something to help those less fortunate than themselves, people in real need. I have to admit, I wish everyone were as generous and giving as you are.”
He senses impending doom and she’s ladling it on thick. “And how much am I so generously giving?” But then he reconsiders. This is Shav; she may ask, but he knows she’ll never ask more than he can give.
“I can afford that.”
“Nothing but a few hours of your time, this evening and tomorrow evening, to help some young people who truly need you.”
“Young people?” He’s suddenly not sure if he should be apprehensive after all.
“They need your training, expertise and the superlative skills for which you are justly famous.”
He drops his voice. “Shav?”
She’s equally covert, leaning closer to assure privacy. “Yes?”
“Do Priests often get taken over knees for some much needed correction?”
She straightens but keeps her voice as low. “Keep your lusty fantasies to yourself! I am a respected, virginal woman.”
He drops his own voice considerably further. “Respected, yes. Virginal? You were sixteen the first time we–”
“Hush!” Eyes wide, she tries to look everywhere at once, then meets his eyes. “An old flame is a trial indeed.” But then he grins and she sobers. “Seriously, Timmy, I really do need your help.”
“Like I said, you’ve got it. But what is it?”
“We’re running a program at St. Mary’s, a two evening Self-Defense Course and the Instructor – well, there’s been a cancellation.”
“It’s an Introduction, all we can manage. Those who want more we can refer to schools.”
“Well, can’t you reschedule?”
“No. The Hall is booked for most of the month. We rent out to as many Community groups as we can to make ends meet. It’s so expensive running a parish as large as ours and–” she halts at his upraised hand.
“I know. I forgot. But if it’s self-defense, Gibbs is your man.”
“Timmy, this isn’t an Advanced Course. I want these people to learn they can do things to take care of themselves. They need to develop the confidence that they can protect themselves if they get attacked. I want them to learn how to defend themselves, not to put people in the hospital or the grave. This is just a few simple, basic things.”
He nods, holding back his smile. “So you needed simple and basic and immediately thought of me.” She sighs and her shoulders drop hard. He enjoys the resulting view but won’t say it.
“Timmy, please don’t make me beg.”
“I like it when you beg.”
He shakes his head, smiling ruefully, knowing that there’s no way out. When will he ever turn her down? Never, that’s when.
“All right, what time?”
“Class starts at seven, or nineteen hundred to you Enkissers.”
It’s harder to hide this smile. “Fine,” he says, stone-faced. “But not ‘you’ Enkissers, you’re Enkiss too,” he tells her, using her own version she’d started months ago purposely to flummox him. It was while he was still dating Ziva and the idea of equating Shav with Kiss, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, was very bad for his future health.
Thank God Ziva and he have moved beyond that.
“Always,” she grins, her eyes making it very clear it’s not those four letters on her mind.
She takes a step and he can see she’s about to show her gratitude with a hug or kiss, but stops. Though people know they’re dating, a public display is inappropriate to either of their positions. “Thank you, a chuisle. I’ll see you this evening.”
“Until then.” They can get away with a pursing of lips, a silent, secret kiss, then she must be gone. He returns to his work, his mind on the evening.
Young people. What can he impart to these young men in two evenings? Gibbs is the man for this. He thinks back to his own Unarmed Defensive Courses during his early training as an Agent, picking out some of the best techniques to teach Probies who know little of formal fighting skills.
That may not be appropriate either, he decides. It wasn’t strictly Marine training, but a Federal Agent must learn how to put someone down so they won’t get up easily or soon.
Part of him wishes she’d asked Gibbs, but she’s right. He can teach them how to fight, but a Marine’s focus is taking down one’s enemy so he doesn’t ever get up again; not the best skills to be imparting to young people.
Suddenly he realizes he’d forgotten to ask one very important question and snatches up his phone, rapidly punches in her cell code. After a few seconds beeping: //Mother O’Mallory.//
“How young is young?”
He can virtually hear her grin even before she says //Depends on what you have in mind.//
//Relax, Timmy,// she’s giggling at him, //they’re between 17 and 19.//
“Okay, I’ll do it. See you at seven.”
He kisses the receiver, her response telling him she was at least far enough away from any witness. He hangs up, hoping Al Qaeda will keep quiet long enough for him to keep his promise.
Clocking out at a regular time is more a miss than a hit at NCIS, but the current case is winding down – and he remembers he’d better get back on it and spend less time thinking about the lovely Siobhan O’Mallory before Gibbs asks where the money is.
Summary: Tim is called upon to teach a class, but he never expected things to go like this.
Categories: General, General > Humor, Het > McGee/Other Female
Genre: First Time, Friendship, Humor, Romance
Challenges: Sex Ed Challenge
Challenges: Sex Ed Challenge
(Author’s note: This story takes place sometime in my ongoing series of mysteries between ‘Salarium’ and ‘Nosferatu’, during Jimmy and Michelle Palmer’s honeymoon.)
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