Gibbs' Bad Day

A/N--I have absolutely no clue about protocol and emergency procedures on a shooting range.


Special Agent Anthony “Tony” DiNozzo exited the elevator into the modified cubicle city that was his office. He had not had an extraordinarily good day, having spent the occasion attending meetings, workshops and seminars covering the new policies and procedures mandated to all armed Federal Agencies. His boss, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs had delegated the responsibility of attending the conference to DiNozzo instead of attending himself because he didn’t care all that much about policies and procedures and trusted DiNozzo to separate the wheat from the chaff and point out the really vital issues of concern to him as the need arose. As Tony approached his desk he was ready to regale his colleagues with his tales of sacrifice, tedium and misery he had suffered on their behalf. He pulled up short before he had even started when he noticed the battered and drained look of his associates. Special Agent Timothy “Tim” McGee normally paid attention to his attire at the office but it was obvious that something had occurred that made such concerns irrelevant. McGee was hobbling to his desk with the aid of a single crutch. His pants were stained and covered with dust as was his jacket which had been thrown carelessly on the filing cabinet. His shirttail was hanging out and no tie was to be seen. As Tony formed his question to find out what had happened, he turned to his other partner, Probationary Agent Ziva David. He faltered with his question when he saw Ziva. Her left eye was bruised and blackening and he could see cotton wadding tinged with red in her nostril.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded.

“It has been a very, very bad day today, Tony” Ziva said, her voice heavy. Tony wasn’t sure if he did or didn’t detect a catch in her voice as she spoke. He saw her exchange a look with McGee and. . .did she deliberately not look at Gibbs' empty desk?

“Ziva. . .? Where’s Gibbs?” Tony asked when he realized he had not yet seen his boss.

“He is gone.” she said quietly. Tony felt as if he had been body slammed! A hundred different thoughts and images screamed through his head. This can’t be happening. She didn’t just say that. . .noNoNO! Tony couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of Gibbs being. . .gone. NO! Ziva had been wrong, it was as simple as that. There is no way that Gibbs could be gone. Of those hundreds of thoughts, that was the one Tony seized and held. No, wait. . .it wasn‘t Ziva who was wrong. Tony thought maybe he had heard Ziva wrong. Now Tony a better idea to hold on to. He let out a short laugh at the absurdity of the notion that Gibbs was gone and now he could get clarification from Ziva because he was a good investigator and that’s what he did. Rule # 3-double check.

“What?” Tony was all he managed to say by way of a double check. It came out as part gasp and part laugh. He was still in denial that his boss was gone.

“He is gone.” Ziva repeated. Tony’s reaction was visceral. He would have sworn that someone had hit him in the chest with a sledge hammer. He staggered back and collided with his desk, his mind again filled with a kaleidoscope of bad thoughts and worse images. He was starting to get angry now. This can’t be right. Somebody had better damn well start explaining things to him. He turned toward McGee, ready to roar. . .

“. . .home, Tony. Gibbs has gone home. He left about an hour ago.” McGee had noticed Tony’s reaction to Ziva’s simple though perhaps incomplete statement. Coupled with his own and Ziva’s appearance, he quickly drew the conclusion that Tony had thought ‘gone’ meant more than ‘left the building’.

“Ziva!” Tony hissed at her. Ziva looked up at him complacently.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded, again.

“I told you. It has been a very bad day.” she said.

“MCGEE, SITREP!” Tony shouted still glaring at Ziva.

“Well, Ziva ran into a door and I turned my knee when the Gibbs fell on me.” McGee said. Tony looked at McGee. Tony looked at Ziva. Tony looked at McGee. . .Ziva. . .McGee. . .

“Somebody” he said “had better start explaining things to me including why our boss, who has no concept of the 40 hour work week, has gone home in the middle of the work day!” he said his voice growing louder and his face redder as he spoke. There was a pause and then Ziva and McGee both started speaking at once. Tony dropped his chin to his chest, then held up his hands, one palm facing Ziva, the other, McGee. They stopped talking. Tony pointed to Ziva.

“Well, I can neither confirm or deny events that happened outside my presence but apparently on his way into work today Gibbs was burned, shot, stabbed, run over by a car, nearly drowned and almost blown up. I can vouch for the explosion which I witnessed. That is when McGee injured his knee. I was injured during my investigation into the stabbing incident. “ Tony still had his head down and now pointed to McGee.

“Well, I can neither confirm or deny events that happened outside my presence but, uh, yeah, pretty much what Ziva said. I did not see her injury occur but I do know that it was right after the explosion that Gibbs said he was going to go home.” Tony looked up at them on the verge of tears because although he now knew what happened he still didn’t really know what happened. He was building up a really good tirade when Ducky entered the bullpen.

“Hello, Anthony! How was your day?” he asked cheerfully. Tony turned to Ducky, his face a huge question mark, and gestured to Ziva and McGee then made an explosion noise and pointed to Gibbs’ desk.

“Wha. . How. . Whe.. . ?” he pleaded.

“They didn’t tell you?” Ducky asked mildly surprised.

“They left out a few details.” Tony said through gritted teeth.

“Well, from what I understand, Jethro had a bit of an adventure getting in to work today. . .” Ducky began his tale as he led Tony off.
Earlier that day. . . .
Gibbs’ alarm went off at the usual time of 0600. He awoke and went about his usual morning routine without incident. Considering his morning routine was to shower, shave and dress, there was hardly room for error. He was out the door less the twenty minutes from the time the alarm went off. He pulled into his usual parking place at ten minutes till seven. As per his usual routine, instead of heading directly to his office he crossed the street to the coffee shop. It was here that this day started to turn bad for Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Gibbs approached the ‘order here’ station in the coffee shop. He noticed that Alice, the young gal that usually worked the register in the morning was not there. He had seen Kyle, the guy who was now at the register often but he was usually the one making the orders not taking them and a new face was making them. Gibbs didn’t say anything beyond placing his order of a large black coffee. The personnel changes didn’t matter to him. He noticed them because that‘s what he does for a living, notice things. Another thing he noticed was that the line of people waiting to get their drinks seemed a lot longer than usual. On another day that might have bothered him but today he wasn’t concerned. In fact, he really wasn’t even scheduled to be at his desk until much later this particular morning because he was scheduled to go to the shooting range for his annual firearms qualification. That appointment wasn’t until 0830. His plan for the morning was to stop by his office before going to the range to see if there was anything current that he could lay out for his team to get started on. His team were dedicated, professional and responsible people with an intense loathing of reviewing cold case files and would therefore invent any number of activities to avoid having to do that. Gibbs wanted to forestall those activities if possible. Of course, their team instigator leader, DiNozzo, was not going to be in the office today, so it was possible none of those alternative activities would ensue. Gibbs moved up to the ‘pickup’ window.

“What did you have, sir?” asked the harried barista trainee.

“Large black coffee. . .Maggie” Gibbs said reading her name tag.

“Oh, right. That’s easy enough. Here ya go.” she said. She placed the large cup and lid on the counter and picked up the piping hot freshly brewed pot of Organic Bolivia 'Colonial Caranavi' Fair-Trade Coffee
and began to pour. Gibbs reached for the lid as she poured. Kyle called out another order for the barista trainee who did not hear him. As she turned to ask him to repeat the order, the piping hot freshly brewed pot of Organic Bolivia 'Colonial Caranavi' Fair-Trade Coffee turned with her and began to pour onto Gibbs hand. He instantly pulled his hand out, hissing with a sudden intake of air and shook his hand to remove the scalding brew.

“OmigodOmigodOmigodOmigod!” Maggie said. “I am soooo sorry.” She started shoving wet paper towels and napkins at him at the same time, inadvertently, sloshing more of the searing coffee from the counter top at him. When she realized that she was making the situation worse, she started to come around to his side of the counter. He barked at her.

“NO!” then more quietly “Maggie. . .it’s OK. Don’t worry about it.” He went into the restroom and ran cold water over the burned area. He best guess was that it was at most a 2nd degree burn. It was gonna be painful and red for a while and he thought he could see a bit of blistering at the spot where the brew first hit. He wondered how this was going to effect his ability on the range today when he took his qualifying. He only briefly thought about postponing his test before deciding this minor inconvenience might make the test more interesting. He patted his hand dry and noted a very small blister developing. He left the restroom. As he strode past the counter, Kyle held out a large cup of coffee with a gift card resting on top. Gibbs was sure it was for several free coffees. He accepted the coffee and dropped the card into the tip jar.

Gibbs deviated from his planned stop at the office and instead, went back to his car and headed to Cheltenham, Maryland and the firing range. He decided that he’d use the extra time to take a few practice rounds in case he needed to make adjustments as a result of Maggie’s misstep in the coffee shop. He arrived and checked in.

“Hey, Gunny!” said the man at the check-in. “You’re a little early. I’ve got you down for 8:30.”

“Hey, Taylor. Not a problem. I’m hoping you’ve got a practice range available.” Gibbs said. After leafing through a few pages on his clipboard, Taylor told Gibbs he did have space available. They proceeded with the necessary paperwork and Gibbs went the practice range. He made his way to his assigned practice station. Two people were in the station next to him-an instructor and a student. They were dressed in casual civilian clothes. Gibbs nodded a hello to them. The instructor acknowledged but the student hadn’t even noticed yet. The young man seemed a little nervous. Once at his practice station Gibbs readied his first target adhering to the protocols when practicing side by side. The young man was firing a revolver and took three shots and stopped. The instructor gave him a few words and then the student fired another three shots. As the student reloaded, Gibbs set his own target and took a few practice shots then paused. The action of gripping the handgun added a little more discomfort to the dull ache on the back of his hand but it didn’t feel like it was going to be much of a problem. He set his stance and was about to fire a few more times when suddenly

“Bangbangbangbangbang!“ the student again started firing. Gibbs relaxed his stance, took a half step back and glanced over at the instructor, mildly annoyed, as the student fired. Gibbs was surprised at the horrified reaction he saw in the instructor who was already on his way to stop the student. The student was experiencing a seizure and was rigid from head to toe. His eyes rolled back and he started to fall backward. As the instructor caught the young man and started lowering him to the ground, Gibbs started towards them to take the gun from the young man’s hands both of which still gripped the revolver. Suddenly the young man convulsed violently, his hands clenched around the gun and fired the remaining round into Gibbs. Gibbs had kept his eyes on the gun because he was certain only 5 shots had been fired from the 6 round chamber. He had all ready been moving to position himself away from any potential line of fire but the last spasms came just a moment before Gibbs was able to get completely clear. He felt a considerable sting in his left side as the bullet skimmed across his skin below his ribcage.

“Sonovabitch” he hissed. He pressed one hand against the wound, reached down and pulled the gun from the student then pulled the emergency alarm.

An hour later Gibbs was in his car headed back to the Navy Yard having given his statement and contact information to the official investigators covering Cheltenham and left them to deal with the question of how a young man who was prone to seizures was in the facility and allowed to even hold a loaded gun. He overheard a few words having to do with a Congressman and favors. He asked the investigators to forward a copy of the report to his office. He was mulling over the idea of suing the little bastard and his handler but that would have meant talking to lawyers. In the meantime, he promised the EMTs that had arrived on scene that he’d follow-up with his own doctor and only accepted a large wad of gauze bandages applied to the wound. There was a bright side to having a searing pain in his side. He had forgotten about the dull ache in his hand.

Before he had left the range, Gibbs had gone back to the check in window to see if he would still be able to take his qualifying round even though by now he had missed his appointment.

“Well, Gunny. During all the hubbub, I took the liberty of pulling your practice target. All things considered, I‘ll give you a bye this year or call it a ‘pass‘. Your call, but as far as I’m concerned, I don‘t need to see you till next year.” He held up the target which showed three tightly grouped holes in the center circle of the target. Gibbs gave him a nod of thanks and headed for his car.

He pulled into the closest parking spot he could find to his normal spot and once again, headed over the coffee shop. He noticed all of the normal personnel in place as he stepped into line. He was in line for only a moment when Kyle stepped up to him with a large coffee.

“No charge.” Kyle said. Gibbs smiled a bit as he stuffed a few bills into the tip jar on his way out. From the coffee shop, he avoided the cubicle farm and went directly to Autopsy and found Ducky elbow deep in a cadaver.

“Hey, Duck. Whose your friend” he asked approached the eviscerated body.

“First Sergeant Samuel Probst. Twenty-seven years service to his country then he was taken down by something his couldn’t fight-cancer. Still much too young.”

“Yeah. I can’t argue with that.” Gibbs said. He stepped back from that table and leaned against the other examination table. “Listen, Duck. The First Sergeant isn’t going anywhere. Do you think you could take a minute. . .” he didn’t finish his sentence but instead held open his jacket to reveal the blood seeping through his shirt now that the bandages had become soaked.

“Oh, Lord!” Ducky said as he shed his stained gloves and apron and immediately donned fresh ones. “Jethro, what in blazes have you been up to?” Ducky raised the stained shirt and started to pull away the sodden gauze pads. “You’ll need to get on the table.” Ducky said holding the gauze in place.

“No, Duck. Can’t you just sew it up?” Gibbs said

“That’s exactly what I intend to do but I can do that properly while you’re standing.” Ducky was adamant and would give no quarter to Gibbs who acquiesced and lay on the table like the First. As he lay back, he closed his eyes while Ducky gathered the necessary materials, supplies and tools to make proper work of the suturing. Ducky had collected most of what he needed when Jimmy Palmer, Ducky’s assistant, entered the room from the back entrance brandishing a freshly sterilized standard grade stainless steel heavy pattern autopsy knife. He was admiring the blade as he approached the examination table that Gibbs was lying on but had not noticed who it was as his eyes were drawn to the wound.

“Another customer, Doctor?”

“Yes, Mr. Palmer. But unlike most of our patients, Agent Gibbs will not be checking in.” Ducky said.

“Agent Gi. . .” Jimmy turned to see that it was indeed Gibbs, who at that moment opened his eyes. Jimmy gave a startled gasp, jumped, fumbled then dropped the freshly sterilized standard grade stainless steel heavy pattern autopsy knife which landed pointy end first on Gibb’s thigh and promptly sank in a few inches. Gibbs let out a groan almost more out of disbelief than in pain.

“OmigodOmigodOmigodOmigod!” Jimmy said.

“No need for that much concern Mr. Palmer.” Ducky chuckled. “A few well placed sti. . .Good Lord! What have you done?” Ducky rushed to the table, tossing the collected materials, supplies and tools on a tray.

“Gloves, Mr. Palmer.. . .Now, if you please!” Ducky maintained the calm and collected manner of an Air Traffic Controller but the same underlying tension was evident in his demeanor. He grasped the knife and eased it out of Gibb‘s leg. He ripped open the pants where the knife had gone in to get a better view of the wound. He pulled a handful of the gauze pads out of the mix of things on the tray and cleaned the area and glanced at Gibbs. Gibbs had his eyes held tightly shut and was concentrating on controlling his breathing.

“Jethro?” Ducky said quietly.

“Yeah, Duck. . .just do whatever you need to do.”

“Right” Ducky said. Jimmy approached Ducky and chanced a look at Gibbs who seemed to have sense Jimmy’s presence, opened his eyes and glared back at him. Jimmy backed away.

“Yes, Mr. Palmer. Perhaps you should assist me from the other side.”

The day had been extremely quiet in the squad room what with Tony away at a conference for the day and Gibbs. . .

“McGee, where is Gibbs?” Ziva almost demanded.

“He had to do his firearms proficiency qualifications down in Cheltenham today.” McGee said not looking up from his computer.

“I know that but that was first thing this morning. He should have been back by now.”

“Maybe he didn’t score well enough and had to take it a couple of. . . “ McGee paused and looked a Ziva who was looking at him with a ‘Get serious’ look on her face.

“Heshouldabeenbackbynow.” McGee said, quickly agreeing with Ziva. “What do you need him for?”

“They are bringing in the car from the impound that was involved in that hit and run last week. I spoke with Abby and she had agreed to let me help her examine it for forensic evidence but Gibbs hasn’t signed off on that idea yet and the car is one it’s way over now.” McGee looked around the squad room, checked over his shoulder, threw a glance up toward the Director’s office, then finally gave a momentary look toward the elevator.

“Rule 18” he said quietly. Ziva smiled and headed down to Abby’s lab. Once in the lab, Abby wrote a short note to Gibbs and taped it to one of her computers to let him know that she was going to be working on the car. Then she and Ziva headed to the evidence garage.

They arrived in the garage several minutes ahead of the car. While they waited Abby started gather up the tools she would need as she and Ziva chatted and then made lunch plans with a few of the other techs and also called McGee to invite him to join them around 1130. Once the car arrived Abby got right into it, showing Ziva her preferred method of examining vehicles for trace evidence. She started with the outside and the undercarriage, then popping the hood and trunk and finally the interior. Abby pulled the shop light into front seat. Abby took the driver’s side while Ziva observed from the passenger seat. They had only just started the interior when McGee entered the garage.

“So, how’s it goin?” McGee asked startling Abby so that she bumped the gear shift lever. Nobody noticed that it had moved into neutral.

“McGee, you’re early and the boss man’s late. We have lots of good stuff to tell him.” Abby said, extracting herself from the vehicle. She turned off the light but left it lying in the floor of the car. Ziva got out and walked to the back of the vehicle

“In seven minutes, I’ll be right on time but Gibbs will still be late. He’s still not in.” McGee said. Abby scowled at McGee and held out her hand.

“Cell phone.” she said.

“Abby, you’re not seriously going to call to check up on him, are you?” Ziva asked, chuckling. Abby approached Ziva, scowling. The other techs walked in at that moment and broke up the staring contest between the two women. McGee was leaning against the back of the car anticipating the possibility of witnessing another episode of ***** slapping. Ziva however was still smiling and Abby was on the verge of breaking up. She handed the phone back to McGee.

“But if he’s not here after lunch, I’m makin’ the call.” Abby said taking Ziva’s arm in hers as she headed out of the garage. McGee pushed off from the car and caught up to the group. One of the good things Abby had to tell Gibbs about the car was that the brakes had been tampered with. Nobody noticed that when McGee had pushed off the car, it had slowly begun to roll forward.

Gibbs stared down at Jimmy as the ME’s assistant nervously finished up his sewing job. Even as anxious as Jimmy had been during the procedure, his stitches were small, even and neat. He snipped the thread as he pulled the final stitch taught.

“Agent Gibbs, I can’t tell you how so sorry I am about this.” Jimmy said.

“Uh-huh,” Gibbs said as he snatched his newly repaired pants from Jimmy. “Well, Palmer, if this whole medical thing doesn’t work out for you, you could always considering becoming a tailor.” he said as he slipped his pants back on. Jimmy gathered up his suturing kit and moved away as Ducky stepped up to Gibbs.

“Jethro, I used a local anesthetic while I repaired the leg wound but just because your not feeling pain, don’t be fooled. You shouldn’t walk at all on that leg until the healing is well along. You will pull the stitches and you’ll be right back here. That being said, I know you won’t listen to me so I’ve wrapped it as tightly as I dare and covered it with extra gauze. The bullet wound won’t give you much concern once the sting abates and here is a salve for the burn. It’s best if we can leave that exposed. I don’t suppose it will do any good for me to suggest that you just go home for the rest of the day?” Gibb’s only comment was wry smile. He headed for the exit when he noticed the COM link to Abby’s lab on Duck’s desk.

“Hey, Duck? Can you get Abby on that thing for me.?” He asked.

“What? Oh, yes, I imagine an electronic connection with Abigail might be in order for the time being. Yes.” Ducky said, smiling. He turned on the device and an image of the lab came up.

“Good Morning, Abigail!” Ducky announced. The two men watched the small screen expectantly. Jimmy walked up behind them just as Ducky said another “Halloo, Abby! Are you there?”

“No.” Jimmy said. The other two turned and looked at him expectantly.

“Uh, she’s not there. . .in the lab. . .she left a note. . .I saw it earlier when Doctor Mallard sent me to get more. . .uh. . .to. . ..uh. She’s in the evidence garage.” he finally finished a sentence. He then held out a walking cane to Gibbs. Gibbs cast a look to Ducky who merely shrugged. Gibbs left Autopsy with only a slightly noticeable limp and went to talk with Abby in the garage. By the time he arrived, of course Abby and the others had left for lunch. Not knowing they were gone, Gibbs looked around the garage and finally came to a halt in front of the evidence lockup. Intent on finding Abby and distracted by the pain in his hand, the ache in his side and increased throbbing in his thigh now that the local was wearing off, Gibbs had not noticed the car creeping forward during his search of the garage. The car was less than a foot away from him as he turned away from the tool cage. At that moment he still didn’t notice the car was moving because the shop light cord, which had had some loose coils in it when the car was in its original position was now snagged on the rolling tool chest and started it rolling just enough so that one wheel dropped into the grease pit which shifted the weight of all the tools in the chest at once and created enough momentum to make the tool chest fall over, but not into, the grease pit because the tool chest was tall enough to span the width of the grease pit but it spilled a lot of tools across the shop floor including a large hammer which slid into a creeper which rolled into a tire which fell over and knocked over a ladder that fell across an air hose which split open and started whipping and snaking in the air knocking cans of solvent and paint off the shelves and eventually knocking over a lit work lamp which fell onto one of the cans of solvent which had burst open when it fell and now burst into flames.

Under other circumstances, circumstances such as being under fire in combat or on a raid of a suspected meth lab or in a shoot out with armed felons, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was able to react to the dynamics of a situation regardless of injuries. But the circumstances in the garage were normal circumstances and his ‘spidey’ senses were on standby or perhaps they were dulled by the previous events of the day. Whatever the reason, Gibbs was just a hair late in reacting to the Rube Goldberg scenario that had played out before him. He had turned around just as the tool chest had fallen and he watched mesmerized, as the perfect storm of cause and effect unfolded. He had already started going for a fire extinguisher when he saw the work lamp start to fall but unfortunately by that time the car had roll so close to him he wasn’t able to walk away but had to shuffle side ways.. However, today being the kind of day it was, the design of the bumper was such that Gibbs wound up being pinned to the wall and the combination of his injuries and the location of the bumper, right at his knees, allowed him no leverage with which to push the car away. He looked at the fire and noticed that after the initial burst of flame, the fire was actual quite small. The can of solvent evidently had been nearly empty and had all burned away quickly and nothing else was near enough to be ignited by the flames and the heat had apparently not been intense enough to. . . Gibbs looked up. Directly above where the flames had been was a sprinkler head.

“No” Gibbs said quietly to himself and an instant later his small prayer was ignored. He heard a little ‘pfft’ and seconds later was showered by cold water. The fire had been just hot enough and had lasted just long enough to create just enough heat to melt the trigger within the one sprinkler located directly above it. The sprinkler going off also triggered the fire alarm. From his vantage point, Gibbs could see people casual sauntering out of the building to their designated meeting points. None of those meeting points were close enough to the garage for Gibbs to call for assistance and he resigned himself to the fact that he was just going to have to wait until the Firefighters arrived to get him out. In less than four minutes Fire Engines, EMS rigs and other vehicles from both the Navy Yard and the DCFD started rolling up, lights ablaze and sirens ablare. As the first engine arrived, one of the Firefighters jumped down from the rig and rushed into the garage stopping just inside the door. He slowly scanned the scene before him. There was no smoke, no fire and the sprinkler was now just dripping a little bit but the garage appeared to have been the center of some kind of small explosion and a lone individual, drenched and dripping, stood casually against one wall in front of a car.

“Hey” Gibbs said to the guy in a very calm and normal tone of voice. “You mind given’ me a hand.”
The Firefighter walked over to Gibbs.

“You OK?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

The Firefighter saw Gibbs predicament and immediately positioned himself and heaved on the car. After a moment or two, Gibbs felt the pressure across his legs begin to ease. He hadn’t realized that his blood circulation had been slowed and he felt a sort of jolt shoot through him as the blood began to course naturally again. His knees buckled and he caught himself on the car before he went all the way down. He sat back against the hood waiting for the feeling to totally return to his lower legs.

“What happened here?” asked a gruff voice from behind him. The crew chief came into the garage and headed straight toward Gibbs and the first Firefighter.

“Gage!” Gibbs said recognizing the fire chief extending his hand.

“Gibbs, what the hell happened to you?” Gage said seeing his sodden friend.

“John,” Gibbs said then paused to survey the garage. “I‘m having a really bad day.” And with that Gibbs headed through the door to autopsy, his limp a little more pronounced than when he entered.

Jimmy sat at Tony’s desk playing one of the computer games that wasn’t supposed to be there when McGee, Ziva and Abby exited the elevator.

“Better not let Gibbs catch you playing computer games” Ziva said.

“Better not let Tony catch you playing computer games” McGee said.

“Better not let Gibbs catch you playing computer games on Tony’s computer.” Abby said.

All three came to a stop in front of Jimmy. Jimmy kept playing the game.

“Tony won’t mind and Agent Gibbs is going to be busy with Dr. Mallard for awhile.” he said.

“Gibbs is here? It’s about time. I have a lot to tell him about the car.” Abby said and she turned to leave.

“Abby, I wouldn’t go down there right now. It’s not pretty.” Jimmy looked up.

“I’ve seen corpses, Palmer.”

“Uh, no. It’s not that. Agent Gibbs is in kinda a bad mood since I stabbed him. . . “

“PALMER!?“ All three shouted at him.

“Of course, the bullet wound could have put him in the bad mood first and now he’s just mad at me on top of that.” he finished.

“Palmer! What are you talking about?” Abby cried.

“I accidentally stabbed Agent Gibbs.” he said. Ziva and Abby stared at him momentarily then simultaneously gave him ahead slap, turned and stalked off towards the exit to autopsy.

“You’re not going?” Jimmy asked Gibbs. McGee shook his head.

“What the hell happened? Did you say ‘bullet wound‘, too?” McGee asked. Jimmy began to tell the tale.

Meanwhile, Abby and Ziva rounded the corner and stopped in front of the elevator to go down to autopsy. Abby pushed the button to call the elevator to go down. They waited. Ziva pushed the button to call the elevator to go down. They waited, almost an entire second this time. Abby pushed the button to call the elevator to go down, then pushed it again and again and again and. . .Ziva grabbed Abby’s hand and dragged her toward the stairs to go down. As she walked, Ziva tried to comfort Abby, talking over her shoulder.

“Abby, I am sure he is alright. If it were that bad he would have gone to the hospital. Ducky takes care of nosebleeds and the minor bumps and bruises.” BAM! Ziva slammed into the door the janitor she had not seen, had just opened.

Moments later in Autopsy
“It’s just a minor bruise.” Ducky said applying a cold compress to Ziva’s cheek and eye as she held a gauze pad to her blood nose.

“Look at you two, you’re a mess!” Abby said, pacing around Gibbs, Ziva and Ducky. “You’ve got some kind of bad juju going on. Tony’s usually the one to take the fall. . .TONY! That’s it! Tony’s not here today. You sent him away so he’s not here to filter all the negative energy because that’s what he does. That’s his role, apart from all the A1 investigative crime stopper case solving stuff. He’s the energy filter. He traps all the negative crappy stuff and lets the positive good stuff through. But he’s not here today so the negative stuff is just bouncing all over the place. And OOOH!, you two are the closest to Tony so you got the worst of it.” Abby said first hugging Ziva, who had stood watching Abby in stunned silence, then Gibbs, who tried to keep Abby at a safe distance even while she hugged him.

“No, Abbs. We didn’t.“ He said as he pried Abby off and nodded his head toward the evidence garage. “And I don‘t think it has anything to do with Tony. I think it was Rube Goldberg.” Abby almost snapped to attention, looked at Gibbs wide eyed, then headed to the garage. Ziva headed for the elevator, ice pack to her face.

“Give Palmer a heads up that I’m on my way.” Gibbs called to her.

Ziva arrived back in the bullpen as Palmer was finishing updating McGee.

“So then Dr. Mallard told me I should leave for awhile. I heard Agent Gibbs ask Dr. Mallard if his bandages should be changed and he also asked him for some dry clothes.” Palmer said.

“Why was Gibbs wet?” McGee asked.

“I don’t know. It may have something to do with the fire alarm that went off during lunch.” Palmer said.

“Fire alarm. . .?” McGee questioned

“Yeah. There was some kind of fire in the evidence garage.”

“Who is Rube Goldberg?” Ziva asked. McGee and Palmer stared at her.

“What happened to you?” McGee asked Ziva.

“Henry Goldblume“ Ziva said.

“But you just said ‘Rube Goldberg’.“ Jimmy said.

“Who IS Rube Goldberg?” Ziva asked.

“What happened to you?” McGee asked again

“Henry Goldblume“ Ziva said, again

“But you just said . . .” Jimmy started again.

“PALMER!” McGee and Ziva shouted

“Henry Goldblume?“ McGee asked.

“.. is the janitor I did not see who opened a door that I saw in close up.“ Ziva replied pantomiming the door hitting her. “Now, please! Gibbs said someone named Rube Goldberg started the fire in the evidence garage.” she said. “Who is he?”

“The real Rube Goldberg was a cartoonist. He died about 40 years ago. When people call his name up these days they’re talking about a bizarre series of cause and effect events that lead to a simple function being performed like flipping a light switch.” McGee explained. “I’m gonna go to the evidence garage and check it out.” McGee left the squad room and headed to the garage.

“Gibbs is on his way.” Ziva said to Palmer who visibly paled and started to follow McGee back downstairs until he saw Gibbs approaching from the direction he was headed. He turned and took the long way back to autopsy. McGee met up with Gibbs and was about to ask a question when the door next to them suddenly blasted off it’s hinges, crashing into Gibbs who crashed into McGee who crashed onto the floor. Smoke and acrid fumes poured from the small storage room. Several people rushed to the scene. Someone started dousing the storage room with a fire extinguisher. Ziva lifted the door off of Gibbs and helped him up and the two of them helped McGee up.

“McGee, you OK?” Gibbs asked

“I think I wrenched my knee.” he said. “You?” he then asked. Gibbs looked almost longingly at his desk.

“I‘ve had better days McGee.” he said as he limped away.

“At that point, Jethro came down and I gave him a uneventful ride home. The last I saw him he had safely navigated the stairs to his basement.” Ducky said. Tony didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Ducky, what about the bomb?” he asked.

“Bomb? What bomb?. . .Oh, the explosion. That wasn’t a bomb. If you recall the recent power failure we had. . .that occasion prompted the facilities maintenance department to install an independent power supply for the elevators. An array of solar panels installed on the roof charge a large bank of batteries which are housed in that small storage room that Jethro and Timothy we near when a faulty battery exploded.
Tony descended the stairs to Gibbs’ basement. He was carrying a bag in one hand and a six pack in the other. He saw Gibbs standing at the work bench looking over diagrams.

“Starting a new boat?” Tony asked.

“No.” Gibbs said.

“Uh, Ducky told me about your day. I figured you might not be too interested in getting dinner . .” Tony said, trying not to laugh. Gibbs turned his steady gaze on Tony who couldn’t completely wipe the smile from his face. Gibbs relaxed his expression.

“Chinese?” he asked, indicating the bag Tony was holding.

“Palmer really stabbed you with an autopsy knife?” Tony laughed as he unpacked the take out.

“I’m glad this amuses you, DiNozzo.” Gibbs said opening a beer. “What about your day?” Tony suddenly became completely serious.

“Oh, yeah. I brought you this from the seminar. We covered a lot of new information but I thought you should see this in particular right away. A major part of the day was spent discussing this issue. . .” Tony handed Gibbs a pamphlet. “Statistically, one of the most dangerous aspects of our job. . .“ Gibbs looked at then rolled his eyes, crumpled it up and threw it at Tony who was again smiling broadly.

“But Boss. . “ Tony said, pressing out the pamphet and laughing again. “This is important stuff”. Tony laughed even more as he continued to smooth out the pamphlet entitled “Avoiding Hazards in the Workplace.”