Work Text:
Leap of fate
by Ceindreadh
They were chasing after a petty criminal named Richards when it happened. Gibbs was in the lead, having just gotten out of the car on the side closest to Richards when he’d noticed them and taken off. Tony, having had to wrestle his way out of the seatbelt and scramble around the car, was only a few meters behind and gaining fast.
And then Gibbs went down, stumbling forward to land on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. “Oh boy!” Tony heard him exclaim as he approached.
“Boss! You okay?” Tony was torn between continuing his pursuit of Richards, and stopping to ensure that Gibbs was all right. On the one hand, Richards – while a dirtbag with a long rap sheet for petty theft – was a potential witness and not a suspect. While not being able to question him might slow down their current investigation, he wasn’t a violent criminal and his freedom to roam wasn’t likely to prove much of a threat to the general public. On the other hand, stopping to help Gibbs would be more likely to earn a head slap than thanks. Tony glanced quickly at Gibbs as he passed by, and was relieved to see him wave him on. “You catch your breath there Boss,” he called out as he accelerated past. “I’ll be back with Richards.”
It was, Tony thought to himself, somewhat worrying that Gibbs hadn’t glared at him or yelled “DiNozzo!” in response to the comment. But he was probably just winded by the fall. And speaking of winded, Tony grinned as he saw Richards start to slow down ahead of him. It was only a matter of minutes before Tony clapped his hand on the shoulder of the panting man and took him into custody.
“Honestly Richards,” said Tony as he led the handcuffed man back to where Gibbs had fallen. “All we wanted to do was ask you a few questions about one of your partners in crime. Why did you have to run? Now I’m going to have to arrest you, process you through the system, and have you any idea of the paperwork involved? You’re just lucky I didn’t have to shoot you, that’d keep me writing reports half the night! Of course the worst part for you now is that Gibbs is going to be really pissed that he fell while chasing you. Not that he’d be worried about grass stains on his clothes or anything, but now his knee will probably be acting up and that’ll have him in a bad mood for the rest of the day, and hey Boss, you okay there?” Tony quickly changed the subject as they reached the spot where Gibbs had fallen.
By this time, Gibbs had regained his footing. As Tony approached him, he saw Gibbs shove his badge and wallet back into his pockets and look at him without a trace of recognition.
“Boss, are you all right?” Tony was starting to get a little worried. “You want to sit down for a bit while I load up Richards?”
“I’m fine,” said Gibbs. “Let’s get out of here.”
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Tony glanced over at Gibbs as they drove back to NCIS. ‘Fine’ was not a word he’d have used to describe how Gibbs was acting. Oh sure, he didn’t seem to have any injuries, wasn’t even limping, surprisingly, after the tumble he’d taken. And Tony was well used to Gibbs shutting down the conversation if he felt his travelling companions were being too chatty, or just too ‘DiNozzo’. But this was a different silence thought Tony. Gibbs hadn’t glared at him once during the whole journey. Something was up.
Tony’s suspicions were intensified when they got to the Navy Yard. “I’ll see what McGee picked up on the background checks while you bring Richards up to interrogation,” he offered. He glanced over at Gibbs and could have sworn he saw a look of panic cross the older man’s face. It quickly disappeared, leaving behind a carefully neutral expression. “Gibbs, are you *sure* you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” was the reply. “You deal with Richards. I…I’ve got paperwork to do.” He was out of the car almost before it had stopped moving.
Tony watched in disbelief as Gibbs headed for the elevators.
“That’s the famous Special Agent Gibbs?” said Richards, breaking through Tony’s thoughts. “Doesn’t seem like all that much to me.”
“Shut up,” snapped Tony, “You’re just lucky you’ve caught him on a bad day.” But at the back of his mind, he just knew that something hinky was going on.
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Gibbs made his way to the first restroom he could find and stumbled over to the sink, splashing water on his face. Drying his hands on a paper towel, he took a good look at himself in the mirror. “Oh boy!” he said.
“You can say that again, Sam.” A noise and a voice from behind made him turn around.
“Al! Where the hell have you been?” Sam Beckett – currently looking like one Special Agent Gibbs – hissed at the man who had appeared behind him. “I’ve been here for ages, trying to figure out who on earth I am, and what I’m supposed to be doing here.”
“Easy there Sam.” Al punched a few buttons on his hand-held computer. “Trust me; I haven’t been having it any easier.”
- 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 -
One minute Gibbs had been chasing down Richards - and taking some pride in the fact that he was still able to outdistance DiNozzo – the next thing he knew, everything had gone white around him and when he opened his eyes he was lying flat on his back in a room he’d never seen before. It was white enough to be a hospital, but didn’t smell like any hospital ward Gibbs had been in.
“Can you tell me your name?” “What date is it?” “What’s the last thing you remember?” The questions came quickly from a woman in a white coat.
“What the hell is going on?” was Gibbs’s initial response. “Where’s DiNozzo?”
“Sir, we’ll tell you everything in a few minutes, but right now we need to know your name and the date.”
“Jethro Gibbs, NCIS Special Agent,” said Gibbs. “I’d tell you my serial number but I never memorized the damn thing, and that’s all you’re getting out of me until you tell me what the hell is going on!” He watched as the woman tapped a few keys on something that looked like McGee’s latest toy, only a lot smaller.
“I think we have enough information for Ziggy,” the woman appeared to address the empty air. “Inform Admiral Calavicci.”
“If you’ve got an Admiral on board,” said Gibbs, “Then tell him to get his sorry ass in here right now and tell me what the hell is going on.”
“All in good time, Mr. Gibbs,” said the woman.
- 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 -
“So was Agent Gibbs able to tell you anything that might help us figure out why I’m here?” asked Sam as he paced up and down. “Or was he too shell shocked by the transition?”
“Well he was certainly firing on all cylinders when I told him what was going on,” said Al.
- 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 -
“You’re telling me that I’m in the future, in the body of some *scientist*,” Gibbs said the word like it had left a bad taste in his mouth. “And meanwhile he’s walking around ten years ago looking like me, trying to ‘fix’ something in my past so we can swap back?”
Al nodded. “Yeah, that’s about the size of it,” he said.
“Just one question then, does the psych ward at Bethesda *know* that you’ve escaped, ‘Admiral’.”
- 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 -
“The good news is that once I shoved a mirror in his face, he started to believe what I was saying,” said Al, “Bad news is, Ziggy can only give odds of maybe 30 to 40% on what you’re here to do. Best thing is to just play it by ear until she can run some more simulations.”
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“Play it by ear,” thought Sam, “Story of my life.” Al had filled him in as best he could on Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and the members of his team. He’d also whistled up a set of blueprints of the building they were in to show to him, so at least now he knew where he was going. That is, if he knew where he wanted to go, he was pretty sure he’d be able to get there.
“Gibbs!”
It took a few seconds for Sam to react, and he turned to see the Agent he’d met when he’d first leaped in. Anthony DiNozzo, he told himself, Gibbs’s right hand man…oh boy.
“Good news, Boss,” said Tony as he approached. “Turns out Metro have a bunch of outstanding warrants out on Richards. They said as soon as we’re finished with him, they’ll take him off our hands. He’s already started spilling everything he knows about his good buddy Webb. Not that he knew all that much, but it ties in with Webb’s confession. I have McGee checking the Intel as well. You want to have a ‘chat’ with Richards before we turn him over?”
Sam shook his head, “No, I’m sure you’ve covered everything. Get the paperwork in order, oversee the transfer,” he looked at his watch and had a flash of inspiration. “You can take off as soon as you’re done, tell the rest of the team to head home as well and I’ll see you all in the morning.” He smiled at Tony and walked off briskly. If he had thought to look behind him, he would have seen Tony standing there with a dumbfounded expression on his face.
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“This is not right,” Tony told himself as he drove through Gibbs’s neighborhood. “Something hinky is definitely going on.” He’d watched as Gibbs had walked away, wanting to follow him and find out exactly what was up, but orders were orders, and sorting out Richards took priority.
Ziva and McGee had looked at him skeptically when he’d told them about their unexpected free time. McGee had gone as far as accusing him of trying to get them in trouble with Gibbs. Suddenly frustrated, Tony had phoned Gibbs, putting him on speaker so that the others could hear. Gibbs’s almost pleasant reaction had only added more fuel to Tony’s suspicions, which was why as soon as he’d finished all the paperwork, he’d hopped in his car and set out for Gibbs’s place.
“Maybe he’s just tired,” thought Tony as he pulled in to a parking space. “Being a bastard has to take it out of you, and Gibbs isn’t as young as he used to be. Maybe he figured he could use a break.” It wasn’t exactly a convincing argument, Tony had to admit. He was pretty certain Gibbs hadn’t hit his head when he had fallen, so it couldn’t be a concussion. Unless it was some sort of brain fart, maybe he’d lost his memory again. Tony resolved to try talking to Gibbs one more time, and if he was still acting…nice…well then it’d be time to call in Ducky and let him sort things out.
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Meanwhile, Sam, with Al acting as a SatNav, had found his way to Gibbs’s house, hoping to do some of his own research into current events that he might possibly have an impact on.
“Al,” said Sam, “I thought you said this was 2009.” He shut a cupboard door and sighed in frustration.
“March 2009,” said Al, checking the date again. “Why?”
“Because I can’t find a computer anywhere, there’s no sign of a broadband connection. Shouldn’t they be around by now?”
“Oh they’re around all right,” said Al, looking at his screen, “But it looks like Agent Gibbs doesn’t get hooked up to an ISP for the first time until 2011. Guess he’s not all that technically minded. Look, I’ll go and hustle Ziggy along, see if she can come up with anything more conclusive. You just sit tight and we’ll figure it out…” He was interrupted by the sound of knocking on the front door. “Hold on, let me see who it is before you let them in.” Moving over to the door, he walked through it, disappearing from Sam’s view, before returning a few seconds later. “Bad news kid, it’s Agent DiNozzo.”
“Al, I can’t let him in. He’s Gibbs’s second in command; you said they’ve worked together for over seven years. He’ll figure out something’s wrong.”
Al shrugged, “Well if you don’t let him in, he’ll *know* something’s wrong. Just let him do the talking, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He activated his doorway and stepped through.
“Oh boy,” said Sam, to himself. “Oh boy!”
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If Tony had needed any more proof that Gibbs wasn’t behaving normally, at least not Gibbs-normal normally, then the locked door in front of him was evidence enough. Although he could imagine the reaction he’d get if he phoned Ducky to tell him that Gibbs had started locking his door. No, he was going to have to confront Gibbs first and *then* if necessary call Ducky for reinforcements. But for now he was going to have to act like nothing was wrong. Plastering a big grin on his face, Tony waited for the door to open. “Hey Boss!”
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Sam bustled around the kitchen, opening cupboards as quietly as he dared, not wanting his unwanted guest to hear that he hadn’t a clue where anything was. Tony DiNozzo hadn’t taken no for an answer and had walked into the house like he owned it. He’d said that he’d have his usual coffee, black, no sugar, and had promptly settled himself on the couch saying that he’d order some takeout and did Gibbs want Mexican or Pizza. Sam had told him to please himself and escaped to the relative safety of the kitchen.
“Just as well he doesn’t take sugar,” said Sam to himself as he plugged the kettle in, “Because if there’s any here, I can’t find it.” He had opened a few more doors in his quest for coffee before he heard a noise behind him and turned to see Tony watching him, a concerned expression on his face.
“What’s going on, Boss?” asked Tony. “You’ve been acting strange all afternoon; you’re looking round the kitchen like you don’t recognize a thing in it. Hell, you were even looking at me earlier like you didn’t know who I was.”
“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong, Tony,” said Sam, in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. “I’m a little tired. It’s been a long day, and I’m not as young as I used to be.” He smiled, but didn’t get one in return.
“So tired that you’ve forgotten how I take my coffee?” said Tony. “Milk, three sugars, with hazelnut syrup for preference but I’ll take it without when you’re making it. You hide the sugar in the bread bin because you’re damned if you’ll make it easy for me to rot my teeth on your watch. And when I ask about takeout…you should have asked for pizza to let me know you’re okay or Mexican if you’re in trouble. First time I went undercover on your team, that was the safety code we picked. Gibbs, let me get Ducky over here, have him check you out. If you’re having problems with your memory again, we can deal with it, just don’t; don’t shut me out this time.”
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Al opened his door into the living room and wandered towards the kitchen just in time to hear Tony start his speech. “Crap,” he muttered under his breath before running back through the doorway and making for the waiting area where Gibbs was being held. “Agent Gibbs,” he said, almost out of breath. “Your boy’s making trouble for Sam. I need you to feed me some lines for Sam to use to prove there’s nothing strange going on.”
“No,” said Gibbs, lying back on the bed. “You want to help out Sam, then you have him tell Tony the truth.”
“Are you crazy? We can’t tell him what’s going on. For one thing, he won’t believe it.”
“And for another, he’s not going to stop snooping around until he’s figured out what’s behind all this.” Gibbs stood up and walked over to Al. “Look, the sooner you lot figure out what Sam has to do, the sooner I get the hell out of here and back in my own body. You won’t find a better investigator than Tony, and frankly, there’s nobody else I’d rather have on my six…even if it’s not technically *mine*. I trust him with my life.”
“Yeah, well you’d better be right,” snapped Al, “Because I’m trusting him with *Sam’s*.”
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“You have got to be kidding me,” said Tony. He was sitting across the table from Gibbs, or rather ‘Sam’ as he’d told him his real name was. He shook his head in disbelief, “Seriously Boss, that sounds like something you’d see in a movie. Well maybe not you, cause you probably haven’t seen anything since Star Wars came out…”
Sam interrupted, “Al says that Gibbs says I should slap you on the head to shut you up.”
It took a lot of talking and a lot of back and forth between Tony and Sam and Al and Gibbs before Tony was finally convinced. Or if not fully convinced, at least on board with trying to figure out what Sam was supposed to do. “It’s probably work related,” said Tony, eventually. “Best bet is to just show up tomorrow and see what case we get thrown.” He looked at his watch, “Okay, that gives us about twelve hours to give you a crash course in acting like Gibbs.”
“What did I do wrong?” asked Sam.
“I’ll make a list,” said Tony.
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The next morning found Tony and Sam hard at work in the bullpen, going through every active file on the NCIS database to see if anything clicked with Ziggy.
Sam had been given strict instructions to avoid interacting with anybody. “Trust me,” Tony had told him on the drive in. “Saying nothing will only help keep your cover.” Inwardly he gave silent thanks that Abby was away at a forensics conference that week, as it would take him more than a single night to brief Sam on how to avoid arousing *her* suspicions.
Sam was in the men’s room when McGee showed up. “Good morning, McSleepyhead,” said Tony, watching as McGee yawned. “What’s the matter, stayed up all night playing elf…no, what’s that new one you’ve been on the last few months?”
“Voyage to Kismet,” said McGee. He dumped his bag on his desk and sat down, yawning again as he switched on his computer. “I just can’t get past level seventeen. *Nobody* on the forums can get past it. It doesn’t matter how many life points we store up, the last boss on the level always manages to drain them.”
“And this is me not caring,” said Tony, turning back to his screen.
“You need to disarm the purple mage without killing him.” Gibbs’s voice cut through the air as Sam returned. “That way you can turn him to your side and use your combined strength to beat the final warlord.”
It was hard to tell whether Tony or McGee was more surprised. Tony though was the first to react, jumping from his seat and pushing Sam back towards the elevator, “Need a word with you in private, Gibbs.”
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“What the hell was that all about?” hissed Tony, as he punched the emergency stop button. “What part of ‘don’t talk to people unless absolutely necessary’ did you not understand? And giving gaming tips to McGee? Gibbs still plays solitaire with real cards!”
“I’m sorry,” said Sam. “I remember acting as consultant to the company when that game was in development and giving them a few suggestions. I couldn’t help myself.”
“Yeah, well let’s hope that McGee is too sleepy to remember you or rather *Gibbs* saying that.”
“Actually, he’s not too sleepy,” said Al, who had been following Sam. “It looks like thanks to your little tip, Timothy McGee becomes the first person on the Eastern Seaboard to get to level eighteen. He gets a lot of attention on the forums, and eventually hooks up with some of the people he meets there to develop a whole new system of communication that makes the internet look like two tin cans on a string.”
“You mean I’m ready to leap?”
Al nodded to Sam as Tony interrupted. “Wait a minute, did Al just say something? What’s going on?”
“Goodbye Tony,” said Sam. “Gibbs probably won’t remember too much about what happened, but I know that you’ll have his six.”
“Goodbye?” Tony watched as Sam smiled at him, and then Gibbs crumpled in front of him. Tony barely managed to catch him before he hit the ground. As Gibbs’s eyes flickered open, Tony said, “How’re you doing, Boss? Want to get some takeout?”
Gibbs rolled his eyes, “Pizza at this hour of the morning?”
“It’s good to have you back, Gibbs.”
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“Here’s all the information you’ll need for the protection detail.”
Sam blinked as the world around him came into focus. The voice continued, “You’ll be responsible for their safety until the case goes to trial, and I should warn you, this guy is liable to try anything to avoid a guilty verdict.”
“Okay,” said Sam, taking the file he was offered. He flipped it open and came to a stop at the names of his protectees, Shannon and Kelly Gibbs. “Oh boy!”
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“I always meant to ask you, Boss,” said Tony as he and Gibbs waited in the car. “What got you into N.C.I.S. in the first place?”
Gibbs took a swig of his coffee before he replied, “Shannon was a witness to a murder, almost twenty years ago. Perp didn’t want her testifying and put out a hit. Nearly succeeded too, she and Kelly were lucky to escape with their lives. After that I swore that I would never let my work take me so far away that I couldn’t protect them, so I took an honorable discharge and came home. Figured that N.I.S. had done a good enough job looking out for them that maybe I should return the favor. So here I am.”
“And here’s Richards,” said Tony, looking at his watch. “Cool. We’ll get his statement, close off the Webb case, you’ll be home in time for tea and Shannon won’t have to smack me on the head for keeping you out late…again!”
“Better get to work then,” said Gibbs, stowing his coffee and stepping out of the car.
The End