Shared Jurisdiction

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/NCIS crossover (also DMC because the Redgrave thing => different halloween.  not much impact yet on the main story.)
Summary: Case notes: Shared jurisdiction pretty much always sucks.
Word Count: 833
Rating: Gen

            Gibbs isn’t a happy man when he walks into the conference room, and both the director and the intruder can tell that.  Morrow notes his displeasure, while the newcomer seems completely oblivious.

            Gibbs sizes the enemy up.  He’s fairly tall, but not the tallest, and he’s not particularly intimidating.  The jacket at least looks potentially military, but the rest of the outfit is civilian.  He almost holds himself like a soldier.  Almost, but that slouch is definitely not regulation.  There’s an eyepatch, which possibly suggests that he’s actually been out on the field.  Still, the goofy demeanor and the crumbs on his coat make him out to be some desk jockey, here to get in the way.  At least he doesn’t look serious (or formal) enough to be a lawyer.

            “What’s this about, sir?” he asks, completely ignoring the newcomer, who looks a little put out.  That’s fine with Jethro.

            “I got a call from the Secretary of the Navy.  We’re to give him and his people whatever they want.  He checks out.”  By the looks of things, the Director isn’t completely happy about all of this either, and no wonder.  Some other organization butting in on an investigation never sits right.

            The intruder holds out a hand to shake.  Gibbs considers just leaving it, but instead shakes the hand firmly.  The man surprises him with a firm grip and a respectful but undaunted look.  “My name is Alexander Redgrave, though most people call me Xander.  I realize this is an imposition, but we can’t just ignore our Prime Directive over the sake of a little inconvenience.  So, let’s get our meeting on.”

            He sits at the table and puts his feet up, pulling out what look like more donuts from a bag sitting there.  He’s already acting like he owns the place.  “Sorry about the eating during the meeting, but it’s either this or I fall asleep.  Rough flight.”  It takes a few moments of Director and Special Agent staring at him in silent disbelief before he even remembers they’re still there.  “Oh, yeah.  I was told to bring goodies.  Here.”  He holds out a mug of coffee.  At least, that’s what Jethro assumes is in the travel mug.

            Gibbs, after a look at Redgrave again, takes a sip.  He doesn’t make a disgusted noise, but his expression doesn’t change either.  “What is this?”

            The goofy smile and look in the guy’s eyes almost puts Gibbs at ease.  “Ethiopian coffee.  From actual Ethiopia, while I was there.  I figured somebody’d end up enjoying it.”  It’s still hot, so this intruder must have prepared it while Morrow was hounding everyone he knew for information on this ‘Xander’.

            “You bought it?”  Maybe if he asks a few more questions, he can get more insight into the mind of this man.

            He both gets more and less than he expects.  The man’s words are fairly short, uninformative, but the slight flinch, the slight unfocusing of the eyes as a memory rises to the surface, those tell him that there’s something there.  “I stayed with a family.”

            Unfortunately, Redgrave isn’t about to actually tell him the answers, but that doesn’t mean that they’re not there to be found.

            “So, what agency are you with?” Gibbs asks, watching the lone brown eye.

            He gets a snort and a respectful nod in return.  “Okay, fine, a guy who wants it straight.  I can appreciate that.  Here’s the deal.  This case you’re on?  It’s now ours, ‘ours’ being the ISWC, which, yeah, you’ve probably never heard of, by orders from up high.  Yeah, I’d be shocked and probably think less of you if that wasn’t already being investigated to make sure it’s legit.  You’re helping us out, but given the lecture I got about state secrets by the President there are some things I’m not allowed to tell you, and if we’re skirting around the edges of those you might get kicked out.  I have my own team.  We’d be working this case on our own if we were really equipped to deal with inner city investigation.  As it is, we’re kind of the clean up squad.  It’s a sucktastic situation, I understand, but we’re going to deal with it because neither of us want any more people to die, and we’re not going to put pride or anything else above the mission.”  The look Gibbs gets is complex.  There’s no fear.  The newcomer is aware that he’s dangerous, reads his skill like a book, and there’s respect for his abilities, but the lone brown eye doesn’t look away, doesn’t back down.

            He’s not wrong, either.  Gibbs hates many things, but people dying when he could stop it, even in a situation he dislikes?  That’s the worst.

            Still, he doesn’t have to pretend he’s happy about this situation.  And the fact that this intruder gets that…more than gets that, is happy, not that he’s unhappy but that he’s the kind of guy who cares this much?  That he’s professional.