Disclaimer: All the usual stuff like –
1. The characters do not belong to me (sob!)
2. Any similarity to people or actual events is purely coincidental (phew!)
3. This is a work of fiction (duh!)
A big runtacklesmoogle goes out to sunshower89 who realized that my first fan fic "A Lovely Day to Play", while showing as complete, truly wasn't. In actuality, it was a prologue to this story, but there is a rating difference and it was my first attempt. Rather than jumping in head first, I dipped a toe in to test the waters…but now I'm plugging my nose with one hand and jumping into the deep end.
On with the plot…
This was not looking good. Oh sure, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping and there wasn't a cloud in the sky…if this was a story, it would be a beautiful setting. Unfortunately, reality mocked him.
It was an ugly scene. Blood everywhere…shouts of anger…weapons of various weights were scattered around him. Actually, in reflection, just another example of NCIS and FBI personnel interacting…oil and water, cats and dogs…some things were just destined to never get along.
It was easy to say it was just a game, but it was more than that. Bragging rights were to be had. Boasting to be done. Bets to be won. Losing just wasn't an option…especially to Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
Ignoring the jeers from the FBI bench, ignoring the skinned knee he received in the 3rd inning while diving for a line drive, Gibbs selected a bat from the options lying at his feet and approached the plate.
It was only the 6th inning and already NCIS was down by seven runs. He looked back at the NCIS bench to see bruised arms, torn shirts and an altogether unhappy looking group.
He realized that it wasn't that they didn't want to win;they really worked well as a team on cases because of their different strengths. Working as a team when it came to sports was an entirely different matter. That and it was pretty obvious that the FBI team had been practicing while NCIS had actually been doing work and solving cases.
Pursing his lips together in frustration, he tapped the outer edge of the plate to signal his readiness.
The pitcher, some young new recruit for the feds lobbed a ball in.
"Strike 1!" Yelled the umpire.
"What!" Gibbs stepped back in disbelief. "That was clearly outside!"
A dark eyebrow raised behind the mask of the umpire. Gibbs heard a chuckle from the catcher.
"Can it, Fornell. I'm surprised you're playing…didn't think your knees could handle it…all that groveling you do…"
"And miss the opportunity to triumph over you, Gibbs? I'll gladly suffer a bit of pain to watch you lose." Came the muffled reply.
"Enjoy the one win. That's all you'll have over us…but the game's not over yet." Gibbs shot out, tapping the outer edge again with his bat.
Raise…set…toss…
"Strike 2!"
Gibbs narrowed his blue eyes in frustration. So much for a lovely day to play – it had started out so well. This was growing old…and fast.
"Strike 3! You're outta here!"
Tightening his grip around the handle of the bat, Gibbs marched back to the bench. He heard the chuckle coming from the catcher and contemplated throwing his bat at him. Instead, he threw it on the ground where the rest of the NCIS equipment had been dejectedly tossed.
"Nice try, boss." Tony said softly.
"Shut up, DiNozzo." Gibbs replied coldly. He didn't like to lose. It was not an option when he was in the Marines. It was not an option when there was a case to be solved. And it most certainly was not an option now. Of course, he could repeat that as often as he liked, but unless the NCIS team came up with a miracle…
"I think they have a ring tone, yes?" Ziva asked.
"Ringer, Ziva." Tim corrected. "Ringer…and I wouldn't put it past them."
"What's their pitcher's name again? I don't think I know him." Jenn asked. The new NCIS Director was not enjoying this either. She had a bet going with her FBI counterpart. Gingerly, she touched her red hair and grimaced at the thought of it dyed blue. Especially with the upcoming springtime ball. She started thinking about possible dress colours that would match blue hair.
"John Senna." Gibbs said, wondering if Fornell had managed to cheat and get away with it. His eyes narrowed.
McGee reached back into his gym bag and grabbed his PDA. A tap here, an entry there and his eyes widened.
"Boss, look at this. John Senna is a pitcher within the Boston Red Sox farm team system."
"What?" Gibbs hissed and reached to grab the PDA. "Let me see that."
He squinted to read the material that Tim had dug up. Sometimes it really paid to have a geek on the team…even if athletics wasn't his strength.
"Fornell will say they've signed him to work at the FBI and will probably have the paperwork sitting on the bench over there to prove it." He remarked unhappily. "But at least we'll know why we lost."
"Ball 4!"
Gibbs looked up at the call just in time to see an ecstatic Abby blowing kisses at the pitcher.
He sensed McGee tensing and shook his head at the boy. There was an obvious crush there…on both their parts…but between his Rule 12 and McGee's uncertainty…
Abby danced her way up the line to first base.
"Looks like NCIS could use their own ringer." An unknown voice spoke behind Gibbs.
Turning, he faced a smiling woman, her face hidden by a ball cap and sunglasses.
Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "And you would be…"
Standing up on her tiptoes, the woman tilted her head to look over Gibbs' shoulder.
"Hey, Uncle Ducky!" She called down the bench.
Gibbs looked back at Ducky…back to the woman…noticed her open gym back showing catching glove, batting glove, shoes, bat….he whipped around to ball diamond.
"Time!" He yelled out. "We call time!"
Forming a T with his hands, the umpire bellowed "Ten minute break! I gotta pee!"
With that a small crowd gathered around the woman, blocking her from Fornell's view. The FBI agent took off his mask and smiled. They were winning. They would win. And no stranger could help NCIS now.