Capítulo 27: Calm before the...
[Bullpen, NCIS HQ]
"You all got Abby black roses as well?" Ziva asked, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't anyone think to get something... else?"
Tony shrugged. "It's Abby. Black roses are practically her version of red roses."
"I just hope it's not overkill," McGee said, remembering the sheer amount that filled the lab. The team were gathered at the bullpen. Because of Alex, they had a caught a serial killer in a span of a few hours. While Landis was being processed, his root cellar and house were being forensically analysed, and Gibbs went back to the crime scene.
And... it was Abby's birthday and all of them got her a Bouquet of Black roses, so they were thinking of maybe doing something else for her.
"What did you get her, Alex?" Ziva asked, noticing Alex was conspicuously quiet.
Alex leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "A Red Rose."
"a red rose as in singular. that's cheap, Alex," commented Ziva
Tony blinked, surprised. "Seriously? That's so… traditional. Kinda off-brand for Abby, don't you think?"
Alex shrugged, unbothered. "It stands out, and I baked her something as well, a chocolate coffee cake." At that, the whole team just stared at him in a comical way.
"What? It's caffeine and sugar in a cake form; She'll love it." Alex stated, recalling how the gal basically ran on Caf-Pow.
"We get that.." Tony said, "But it just caught us off-guard, Considering you are a..."
"Food Grinch...You are a food grinch," exclaimed Ziva.
"I have to agree with them on this Alex, "It's just a little shocking." Even McGee chimed in.
"Whaaaaaat?" Alex protested, slightly turning his head to the side and avoiding eye contact.
They were absolutely right. After Alex came to NCIS, he caused one major structural change. He reopened the HQ kitchen. Even though NCIS had a fully functioning kitchen, people rarely used it and was basically shut down. In fact, by the time he joined the crime squad, there had been talks about converting the room into a Juice Bar. Alex was able to convince the management otherwise.
Due to his particular condition, Alex was adamant about cooking his own food and, over the years, had become meticulous about what he ate, especially due to his sensitive palate. In time, he'd emerge to be quite good at preparing his own food, Maybe a little too good.
The mouth-watering aromas that wafted through the office when Alex cooked during free time quickly became the talk of the bullpen. People from different departments would occasionally pop in, making comments like, "Smells amazing, Bishop," or "What's on the menu today?"
Some co-workers, especially a few of the women from accounting, would sneak into the kitchen during lunch breaks, hoping for a small taste of whatever Alex was making. "Could I get just a bite?" or "Ooh..How do you make that?" they'd ask with wide, hopeful eyes.
Initially, Alex was okay with it but soon found out it was a mistake. People who wanted a 'taste' increased, and the quantity they wanted also increased.
Eventually, Alex responded with a —polite but firm. "Sorry." It wasn't meant to be unfriendly, but his meals were his own, and he liked to keep them that way. But he still didn't mind sharing the recipes or had any problem with anyone watching him cook. Most of the NCIS staff was okay with it. Most.
There were a few who were never ones to back down from a challenge, Tony and Ziva. They both made it their personal mission to sneak Alex's food. Ziva, with her skilful and silent movements, thought she could pull off a stealthy swipe. But Alex could sense her long before she reached the kitchen. He let her get close enough, then flipped a spoon/fork in her direction with pinpoint accuracy, sending her retreating with a smirk.
Tony, on the other hand, was far less subtle. One afternoon, against McGee's warnings Tony snuck into the kitchen while Alex was out on a case.
.
.
.
"Still, you baked her a cake?" McGee asked, still processing the concept. "Like... an actual, full cake?"
Alex nodded, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Chocolate coffee cake. Figured it was right up her alley—sugar and caffeine combined. Besides, it's her birthday. I'm not that much of a Gri...Jerk."
"No...You are. Let's not forget what you did to DiNozzo," Kate said teasingly, raising her eyebrows at Alex. "Tony's still kind of traumatised." Alex once again looked away.
"I wasn't stealing it! I was sampling the goods...You know, to see what all the fuzz was about! And you hung me upside down from the second-floor railing like a piñata!"
"I still think you got off easy, Dinozzo."
Tony pointed accusingly at Alex and jumped up. "Easy? I was dangling by my foot, man! You made me recite 'I will not steal Alex's food' a hundred times, in front of all the agents"
Alex smirked, unfazed. "And did you steal anything since?"
Tony hesitated, recalling the incident vividly. "...No."
"Exactly," Alex said, leaning back in his chair, the matter settled in his mind. "If it works..."
Ziva, unable to resist, added her own story of how Alex threw a fork at her to the growing list of food-related grievances against Alex.
"So, why does Abby get special treatment?" Ziva asked, her curiosity piqued.
Alex glanced at her, a small smirk playing on his lips. "For one," he said dryly, "she doesn't constantly bother me like someone. And second, it's her birthday. Everyone deserves a cake on their birthday."
The team nodded, agreeing with the sentiment, but Ziva couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more behind Alex's words. Even though he wore his usual calm expression, she sensed a slight shift, a fleeting trace of melancholy in his voice. She opened her mouth to say something.
"You think Abby will share some of that cake?" Tony asked. They heard happy feet and then a voice.
"Of course! But I'm waiting for Gibbs to get back from the crime scene. He said he wanted to check something" It was Abby, holding a Caf-Pow in one hand.
The team exchanged amused glances as Abby set her things down. "And can I just say," Abby added, flashing Alex a smile, "a home-baked chocolate coffee cake? You, Alex Bishop, know the way to my heart."
Alex raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Pleasure is all mine, M'lady."
"Thank you, Alex. Really."
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "You're welcome."
Ziva, still feeling the lingering question in her mind, caught Alex's gaze for a moment. There was something deeper, something she wasn't quite grasping yet, but she decided to let it rest for now.
Abby, ever her cheerful self, was already chatting away about her birthday resolutions, and the conversation was switching to the usual banter when Alex picked up the sound of Humvees entering the Navy yard at full throttle.
'That doesn't seem like a courtesy visit. What's going on?" thought Alex
Three military Humvees screeched to a halt at the entrance of the HQ. A group of men in Navy uniforms stepped out with purpose and cleared the crowd. Then an older-looking man in in a white uniform exited the vehicle. Even the rank of a military officer should not matter in NCIS; the staff who saw immediately tensed up. The man was a 4-star Admiral who was also U.S. Special Operations Commander (USSOCOM) Admiral Nathaniel Hawkins.
The elevator doors opened, and Adm. Hawkins and his entourage stepped into the bullpen, their presence immediately commanding attention. The tension in the room spiked as Alex recognised most of the men. Hawkins locked eyes with him, his expression unreadable.
Alex immediately stood up, instincts kicking in. "Admiral Hawkins," and saluted, his posture rigid.
Hawkins barely acknowledged the pleasantries. "With me, Alexander." His voice was authoritative, leaving no room for negotiation. He turned and made his way up the stairs toward the Director's office.
Alex glanced at his team and quickly followed the admiral.
'What the fuck is going on?' he thought.
Alex followed Hawkins up the stairs, his mind racing. This was unexpected. Hawkins wasn't a man who made casual visits or any visits for that matter, and the Admiral's demeanour only added to Alex's unease. They entered Director Shephards' office, where she was already waiting, looking like she'd been briefed on something serious.
.
.
.
Jenny Shephard was having a pretty good day. The G-team had successfully completed yet another mission; they caught a serial killer in a span of one hour.
'That has to be some kind of record.' thought Jenny.
Ever since the 2 two additions were made to the Gibbs team, their closing rate had gone up, not to say it was bad to begin with. Gibbs led a pretty tight team, and he was hailed as one of the best or, if not the best, NCIS agent. But add a Mossad assassin and a Navy officer who is widely considered the best tracker in the entire US military into the mix; the results made sense.
But it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows for Director Shephard when assets of such calibre entered the fold; they come with baggage, not to mention the whole web of politics and red tape. But that was OK; there is a reason why Jenny Shephard was selected as the first female director of a federal agency. While she was a good agent, she was a better politician.
Just when she thought things were proceeding smoothly, she got a phone call informing the fricking USSOCOM was coming to NCIS HQ in person very shortly.
Army Special Forces (Green Berets), Delta Force, and 75th Ranger Regiment.
Air Force Special Tactics, including Combat Controllers and Pararescue.
Marine Raiders (MARSOC).
Even though NCIS was a civilian-run agency and functioned as a sort of internal affairs for the Navy, the fact that such a high ranking came to HQ was concerning, to say the least.
The room was buzzed open as the entourage entered Shepard's office.
[Director's Office, NCIS HQ]
Alex knew most of the crew who were accompanying Hawkins.
Director of Operations Adm. Jonathan Aldridge, Rear Admiral. Samuel Drake, Senior Enlisted Advisor Sergeant Major. Victor Hathaway, But the one who stood out the most, was a brunette lass with a pixie cut; Alex hadn't seen her before.
She wasn't in uniform but wore regular-fit jeans and a blue premium linen button-up shirt and looked about 5 feet. The reason she stood out was that she looked young, too young to be with the officers, But despite that, she carried herself like she belonged there.
'Young, prideful and confident...Langley.' inferred Alex.
"Morning, Director. Pardon the intrusion... unfortunately, time is of the essence," Admiral Hawkins greeted as he stepped into Jenny Shepard's office with the weight of authority and urgency evident in his voice.
Jenny Shepard stood from her desk, her eyes sharp as she took in the Admiral's entourage, particularly the young woman who stood among the seasoned officers. She nodded curtly, motioning for them to sit, though it was clear the Admiral had no intentions of getting comfortable.
"Admiral Hawkins," Jenny replied, her tone measured. "In that case, let's cut to the chase. What brings USSOCOM to NCIS today?"
Hawkins wasted no time. "We need Bishop. Immediately."
Jenny raised an eyebrow, her posture stiffening slightly as she processed his blunt statement. " For what exactly, May I ask?" She crossed her arms, her expression neutral but her tone carrying an edge of suspicion. "He's currently involved in an ongoing case with NCIS. You can't just swoop in and remove him without explanation."
Hawkins met her gaze with a steely look of his own, his voice lowering, almost like a warning. "I'm not here to debate. Bishop is needed for a special operation. The details are classified, and He's coming with us."
Jenny's expression hardened. This wasn't a request. This was an open power play.
"Admiral, I appreciate that you deal in classified operations, but Alex Bishop is an NCIS asset. I'm the Director of NCIS, and I have a responsibility to my team. You can't just expect me to hand him over without a reason. And not to mention, this isn't protocol."
Usually, when Alex was assigned a NON-NCIS mission, it came through the SECNAV.
Hawkins' eyes darkened, and his tone became more clipped. "Special circumstances, Director Shepard. It's an order from higher up. You know how these things work. You may run this agency, but when special operations calls, we expect cooperation."
Jenny didn't flinch. She had dealt with enough bureaucratic manoeuvring to know when someone was attempting to bulldoze through the protocol. "Who authorised this?" she asked, her voice cold but controlled.
"The Secretary of Defence," Hawkins replied.
Jenny's eyes flickered, but she maintained her composure. "Then he can contact me directly. Until then, Alex is staying under NCIS jurisdiction. He's integral to wrapping up this case, and last I checked, USSOCOM doesn't have authority to disrupt ongoing investigations without proper reason."
Hawkins leaned forward, his voice dropping low. "The matter of the fact is, The Secretary of Defence should have called himself, but he wants us to resolve this ourselves. And...I agree. The SECDEF can't just pick up the phone for every bureaucratic hurdle. I have my orders, and I expect you to comply."
Jenny stepped around her desk, walking closer to Hawkins, her arms still crossed. Her voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable fire behind her words. "Admiral, with all due respect, Alex is still part of a procedure here. We have a process. If you want to override it, you'll have to give me something more than 'classified orders.' I'm not just going to hand over one of mine because you asked 'nicely'."
Hawkins stared at her, his eyes narrowing. The room was tense, a battle of egos taking place between two powerful figures. "You're making this harder than it needs to be, Shepard."
Jenny let out a breath, the tension finally cracking a bit. "Maybe you're right, Admiral." She turned, pressing a small button on her desk. A low hum filled the room as the signal jamming system activated, ensuring no one outside could hear the conversation.
"This place is now locked and secure. You have my full attention," Jenny said, her voice firm. "But if you want Bishop, you're going to have to tell me why."
For the first time, Hawkins seemed to hesitate; to be honest, he hadn't expected this much pushback since he had come here in person. His eyes flicked briefly to the small woman standing with his officers; the pixie brunette, who had remained silent until now, gave a small nod before he spoke again.
"RED ALERT," Hawkins said finally, his voice quiet but heavy with meaning.
Jenny froze for a moment, the gravity of those words sinking in. "Red Alert?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, the severity of the situation dawning on her.
"You know what that means, Director," Hawkins said, his voice low and measured now. "We don't have time to debate this any further. Alex Bishop is critical to what's coming. I don't need to explain the details because you already understand what the stakes are."
Jenny's eyes narrowed, her mind racing through the implications. Red Alert was the highest level of security threat, one that could cripple the nation if handled poorly. It was a term whispered in the darkest corners of intelligence, rarely spoken aloud unless absolutely necessary.
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