The Cold War continues into the 21st century and is on the verge of going hot: as all-out nuclear war lurks in the background, Gibbs and his team investigate the death of Director Jenny Shepard, and the questions raised by her successor's actions.

Rated: FR15
Categories: General > Sci-Fi/Supernatural/Fantasy, General, General > Action/Adventure, General > Drama
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, SciFi/Supernatural/Fantasy
Warnings: Character Death, Language
Challenges: None
Series: None

Washington, D.C.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs's basement


Gibbs sat the glass down next to the bottle of bourbon and read the note for the hundredth time:


mommy told me about two men named mikky and boris.they would have done good. the bad people killed them before they could do good. now the bad men are trying to take over the world including america and fairfax.


mommy used to tell me when she was home and on the computer everything will be okay. people like her are fighting to save the world from the bad people so kids like me can grow up in a world of peace.


i know shes serving but i miss mommy.


Gibbs then, for the twentieth time, poured himself a shot of bourbon and emptied the glass with a single drink.


He followed up by opening the file on his team's most recent case.


Lieutenant Commander Joanna Newsom, US Navy, fought hard to attain her position, harder to prove women could serve their country as well as men, and hardest against her country's enemies. She earned commendation after commendation, most notably in the Saudi War. Newsom had returned home, to Fairfax, Virginia, to see her only daughter on a short furlough before shipping out to Panama.


Gibbs and his team arrived at her home and came upon a near riot. After pushing through the crowd of angry neighbors and protestors, the team found the house a complete shamble. Newsom was executed, as was the neighbor watching her daughter and the house, and the scene had Spetsnaz written all over it.


After it was discovered the girl was missing, Gibbs drove his team to the limit, finally finding her outside a fast food restaurant. Apparently these Spetsnaz had a heart.


Gibbs thought back to what Fornell told him the bastards did at the Army/Air Force Command D facility near New York City. He wondered if Ari was still working with them; Gibbs had a bullet should that particular bastard show up anywhere near his team.


As he went to pick the note up again, Gibbs noted light coming through one of the basement windows. He looked at his watch, and figured he had enough time to make a pot of coffee before heading to the Navy Yard.


Upstairs, as he'd done the past few months, he turned on the kitchen radio while his coffee brewed.


--U.N. General Secretary Chen called upon all nations to come together and resolve their differences ahead of this week's summit in Geneva.


The White House has just released a short statement from President Boehner, quote, I second General Secretary Chen's call for peace but not at any cost. We will not compromise on Berlin, the Panama Canal, Iraq nor Indonesia. Our offer to the Soviets to help rebuild the Siberian oil fields and share research on alternate fuels still stands, end quote.


There has been no official comment out of Moscow--



Good luck with that, thought Gibbs, as he headed upstairs to get dressed. He thought he'd get to work on time, even with all the checkpoints and added security to deal with.



Rock Creek Park


Tim McGee loved coffee, craved it even.


He thought it was due more to the demands of his job and the long hours -- including all the checkpoints and extra security and other associated nuisances -- than the tastes of his boss, Gibbs. But McGee also took his coffee black, just like his boss. McGee couldn't remember what he drank during those all-night gaming sessions; it had been so long ago since he had time for gaming.


The drive down 16th Street Northwest was normal for an early morning weekday. Normal for a road headed into the capital of a country in a cold war threatening to turn hot. That meant tons of added security measures, from random checkpoints to surveillance cameras to military helicopters and jets patrolling the skies over the District.


McGee took it in stride and settled in for what he thought was a routine drive to the Yard, and NCIS.


Traffic was a little heavier nowadays, the drivers having the same idea McGee did about when to leave for work, but flowed. Any slowdowns or stops were due to jams, or the occasional fender-bender.


Just past Alaska Avenue NW, traffic slowed to a crawl. McGee noticed there were a lot of flashing lights ahead, which generally meant a multi-car wreck or someone who was wanted by the cops or feds got caught.


As he sat in his car, McGee tried to identify the vehicles. There were a ton of Metro cruisers, an ambulance, some SUVs, all with more flashing lights than one of those nightclubs DiNozzo was fond of.


There also was another vehicle, no lights, that looked familiar. His gut suggested it might be a certain medical examiner's van.


Ducky? Did we catch a case? McGee checked his cell phone; there were no messages, no records of any calls from Gibbs, DiNozzo, Kate or even Ziva. The phone also was set to ring, so he would've heard any call.


McGee couldn't tell from his seat if it was NCIS. Given that no one was moving, and the police officer was telling drivers to stay put, they weren't going anywhere soon. He turned the engine off, then got out of the car, locked the door, and started walking. After he showed the officer his badge, McGee headed for the scene, pushing aside the feeling that something was wrong.


He got to the medical examiner's van, and it was in fact NCIS. But the men in the cab weren't Ducky or Palmer, and in fact he had never seen either of them before. McGee headed to the van to find out who they were.


Something familiar caught the corner of McGee's eye. He turned, and saw a dozen feds around a black Town Car.


That's Director Shepard's car.


McGee ran towards the car, flashing his badge to the cops holding the crime scene, and approached the vehicle. He saw that the windshield had a bullet hole, and her driver Stanley dead, slumped against the steering wheel and missing most of the back of his head.


After taking a deep breath and exhaling, McGee made himself look in the back seat.


The back window on the driver's side was broken. The director was slumped against the passenger door, with a bullet hole in her temple; her blood was all over the back seat and door, and she had bits of Stanley's remains on her jacket, blouse and face.


McGee felt his coffee coming back up his esophagus, but swallowed it back down. Right now, he had to call Gibbs or Tony, then take control of the scene until they and Ducky could get there.


"What in hell are you doing?!?" a man said to McGee, forcefully grabbing his arm and almost screaming into his face.


"I-I-I'm Agent McGee. NCIS," McGee replied, thrown off guard by the man's demeanor. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and took out his badge and ID. In turn, the man took out his own badge and ID, letting go of McGee's arm and giving him a close look at the credentials:


Assistant Director Riley McAllister.


"Sir. How long have you been here? Who called this in? Where's Dr. Mallard?" McGee asked.


"First off, it's Director McAllister, and I've been here long enough," McAllister told him. "I'm personally overseeing this case. This M.E. is here at my request and will handle the examination."


McGee's gut was in overdrive. This scene, as Abby might say, is really hinky.


"Agent McGee. I have this in hand," McAllister said. "You should go on to work."


"Sir--Director. Shouldn't I call Agent Gibbs and Dr. Mallard? They would normally handle--"


"Listen to me, son," McAllister interjected. "I'm in charge now. Go to your car, drive to the Yard. I'll have police wave you through. Don't say a word about this; I don't want this leaking out before I'm ready to announce it."


"Yes sir," McGee said. "May I ask. Director Shepard. How long has she been...dead?"


"The M.E. has yet to get here," McAllister said. "This was called in a half-hour ago. Unofficially, and I'm no doctor, I'd guess an hour, hour and a team and I will handle things from here. With all the increased Communist activity around here I'm sure your team will be busy enough."


"Yes sir," McGee replied, heading back to his car. He pulled away from the growing line of now-parked cars, the cops waved him through, and he was quickly on his way.


Near the tail end of the jam in the lane headed away from D.C., and out of sight of the crime scene, McGee pulled his car to a stop. He took out his cell phone, only to find it wouldn't work. McGee uttered an expletive, realizing he hadn't charged the battery overnight. It ran out of juice after he parked.



He restarted the engine, then drove as fast as he could towards the Navy Yard.

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