Wanting for Independence: Chapter 1

Standard disclaimer: Don't own any of the show. I think you all would know it if I did.

Summary: NCIS agents and teams around the world race against the clock to investigate a murder and a possible terrorist plot on the National Mall on the Fourth of July.

A/N: Yay! I'm back! I actually haven't gone far; I've just been over at Fictionpress, working on a story there that has turned into an epic debacle (check it out; my Fictionpress name is the same as on here). I'm still working on that one, but I missed my NCIS fans so much that I had just to start this one. Since it's been so long since my last story, the standard summary of the series (the most recent of which is Timing in Everything), will be appearing right after this author's note. I recommend you read them first, because this series went AU somewhere in mid season 6. As with the other stories in the series, we have an established Tiva relationship (they're married, with a kid on the way). And as with the other stories, writing has been a bit slow (I'm still working on Hitting Hard, over at Fictionpress, and I still have a full-time job), so posting will be a bit slow. But be patient; I would never leave you hanging.

On a side note, now that there are images associated with the stories, if there's anyone who likes doing that sort of thing (my artistic ability is limited to writing) and would be interested in making images for any of my stories without getting paid anything at all, aside from a mention (what can I say? I'm not getting anything for writing), I'd love to have some pictures. Just drop me a line and let me know.

And here are your brief (very brief) rundowns:

Deep Lacerations: A former Army medical examiner joins the NCIS team temporarily, and almost immediately, the MCRT has a case that makes them realize that there is more to her story than they previously realized.

Of Jews and Gentiles: The murder of a Navy lieutenant and attempted murder of his active duty, Jewish girlfriend gets the attention of the MCRT. As they look into the case, they realize that it is only the most recent of a string of attacks against Jews and their non-Jewish significant others. Tony and Ziva go undercover as a couple, and in the process of running down leads and figuring out who is responsible, their relationship becomes much less undercover than they ever planned.

Truths and Covert Lies: Ziva's father is hospitalized in Israel and requests for Ziva, and by extension Tony, to fly to Tel Aviv. What Director David asks of her is so appalling that she fails to realize what is happening right in front of her eyes, and after the director is murdered, it is up to her, and the rest of the MCRT, to figure out why.

Consequences of Love and War: A Navy physician is abducted from her office in Afghanistan, and her husband, a former Marine scout sniper, calls the only person he could think to call: his former gunnery sergeant, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The investigation takes them through the underground world of the Taliban and those who finance the organization, making Gibbs realize that there is more to his team than he previously thought.

Lethal Fractures: Dr. Sonja Gracy is back from Hawaii, and her first case is actually the latest in a series of her old cases, the most recent murder of a serial killer she had been following throughout her career. This time, the killer made a mistake and killed a Marine sergeant, and the MCRT is determined to figure out who it was and why. The why, however, proves to be too close for comfort for Dr. Gracy.

The Price of Honesty: NCIS Special Agent Stan Burley is murdered in his apartment in Bahrain, and Director Vance assigns Gibbs and the rest of the MCRT to the case to figure out why. After they solve the case, Vance promotes DiNozzo to Burley's former position, and the director of Mossad reassigns Ziva to join him.

Fallen Angels: a senior JAG goes missing in Bahrain. A junior pilot falls from the skies under suspicious circumstances. Although these seem completely unrelated at first, it doesn't take DiNozzo in Bahrain nor Gibbs and McGee in DC long to realize that there's more going on than they first realized. And while McGee finally gets a girlfriend who is neither crazy nor involved in criminal activity, Tony and Ziva tie the knot in a way that only they can.

Timing in Everything: a bomb goes off on an aircraft carrier during a Family Weekend and an Israeli training exercise. Ziva investigates the Israelis, DiNozzo and his new team work up the bombing, and Gibbs and Abby fly to Bahrain to help. In the end, Tony and Ziva discover that who was behind the attack wasn't the only surprise Bahrain had in store for them.

I also recommend Falling on Unyielding Ground, over on Fictionpress, as well as Hitting Hard, the work in progress over there (same pen name; there's a link on my profile here on FFN). There are going to be appearances of characters that are introduced in that story. I'll try not to make this one too dependent on that one, but it might help with the background and figuring out the relationships.

I hope you enjoy this one, and don't hesitate with any reviews/thoughts/questions/feedback/suggestions/etc. I love to hear from my readers.

September 2009

The Arlington bar was busy, just like it was every Tuesday night for trivia night, and the two bartenders couldn't manage to keep up with the people standing three-deep in front of them. Kasey Khalid leaned his forearms against the bar, waiting for his turn and trying to keep his ears open for the start of the next round of questions. He glanced over at his table—his trivia team—and couldn't help but smile, despite his frustration at getting another round of drinks. It had only been six weeks since he and his wife, Cora, moved to the DC area, but sometimes, like at pub trivia, it was like they had lived there forever for how easily they had found a group of friends. Cora said that was all him; their college orientation group nicknamed him 'Mr. Charisma' for his ability to strike up a conversation with anyone and everyone. Of course, the fact that they were both Ohio State alumni and their friends were also in the OSU DC Alumni Association might have had something to do with it as well.

"What can I get you?" The bartender's voice intruded into Khalid's thoughts and he turned to face the man, pouring a beer for another customer.

"Water, Guinness, two Harps, and a cider," Khalid recited the drink orders of the table.

"Over there?" the bartender asked, nodding at the group.

"Yeah."

"Have a seat. I'll get the waitress to bring it over. You have a tab?"

"Here, keep it open," Khalid replied, handing over his credit card. The bartender nodded and turned to enter in the drink order into the system. A minute later, he nodded again and gestured Khalid back to his table. The engineer gave a wave of acknowledgement before returning to his booth, sliding into the seat next to Cora and giving her a kiss on the cheek. She barely acknowledged his return, deep in a debate about immigration reform with Stan, the pudgy middle-aged man across from them.

"That's not what I'm saying," Cora argued, her thick dark hair swaying as she shook her head emphatically. Born in El Salvador and part of a big, loud, Salvadoran family, there wasn't much she did that wasn't emphatic. "What I am saying is that the difficulties immigrants face in getting healthcare—and I'm talking illegal and legal immigrants here—is costing the healthcare system much more—"

"But I don't want my hard-earned money going to taxes that are paying for the medical insurance of people who don't work—"

"I'm not just talking about the fact that so many immigrants are without insurance coverage," Cora interrupted. "I'm talking about language barriers, office hours, costs of medication, costs of doctor's visits, of hospitalizations, of procedures—"

"We're ready for round four!" the trivia announcer said over the sound system.

"Just in time," Khalid joked. His comment was toasted by two of their teammates, who obviously felt the same way about the discussion as Khalid—it was far too heavy for a trivia night.

"American history!" the announcer continued. Two of their teammates made faces, but both Kasey and Cora smiled and leaned forward in anticipation.

"You can't tell me you're happy about the category," Kevin, an advertising executive, complained. "You're an engineer and a nurse practitioner."

"Have you ever tried taking a citizenship exam?" Cora asked rhetorically. "It's nothing but American history. I know more about this than almost anyone born in this country. And Kasey knows just as much."

"Almost as much," Khalid joked. The fact that they were both immigrants to the United States was what brought them together out of their orientation group before they even started college, even though their immigration experiences were completely different. Cora was eight when her well-off family made the move from El Salvador to Toledo, Ohio, where her father, a Ph.D. in microbiology, accepted a teaching position at the University of Toledo. Kasey's family, on the other hand, were refugees from Somalia who arrived to Columbus when he was fourteen. It wasn't easy, arriving in a country on the other side of the world with only his parents, memories of his siblings, and his UN refugee card, but Kasey was nothing if not determined. He wasn't content just staying in his Somali community; he was going to learn English, get an education, and make money. America was always seen as the land of opportunity, the place where everyone had whatever they wanted, and he was going to make that a reality. Nineteen when he started college on a full-ride scholarship, married at twenty-three, graduating with a degree in electrical engineering and a position to begin training for his professional engineering certification when he was twenty-four, he was going to make something of himself.

And now, four years later, he had traded in his status as a refugee to that of a naturalized citizen, had a beautiful wife and a kid on the way, owned a townhouse in Alexandria, was a professional engineer in Washington, DC and making more money than he had thought possible back when he was fourteen and overwhelmed by the foreign land he had found himself in.

Life was good.

He turned and gave his wife a kiss on the temple, earning him that smile he loved to see as she strained to hear the trivia question. Of everything in his life, it was Cora he was most grateful for, more so than the scholarships and the jobs and instant friends from the OSU DC Alumni Association. He didn't know where he would be if she hadn't been there encouraging him, and didn't want to think about it.

After seven rounds of trivia, the Buckeyes finished in a respectable third place—the highest since the Khalids started coming after their move from Columbus—and they all stuck around for a celebratory round. "I'll get it," Khalid volunteered, sliding out of the booth. "I still need to close my tab, anyway."

If anything, the bar was more full than after the third round, leaving Khalid in his previous position of leaning against the bar, waiting to be noticed. It wasn't too long before he was, but not by the people he was hoping to be noticed by. "Kaseem Khalid," a deep voice behind him said. He turned, confused; nobody except his parents called him by his full name, not since he was in high school in Columbus and none of his classmates could pronounce it properly.

He turned and found himself facing two large, solidly-built black men wearing suits and carrying briefcases, and he was sure he had never met either of them before. "That's me," he finally replied. "Can I help you?"

The two glanced at each other and back at him. "We have some business to discuss," one said. Khalid could tell by his accent that he was Somali.

"Well, this is not a good time," he replied dismissively, turning back toward the bar. "I'm here with friends."

"I suggest you make the time," the other man said. Khalid frowned as he turned again. He was ready to tell these men just what he thought and tell them to get lost, but the man's next words stopped any protests he might have had. "It concerns your family. Specifically, your father. Ali Khalid."

Khalid wasn't especially close to his parents. He didn't know if he had ever been. He was the third of four children back in Somalia, an older brother, older sister, and younger sister rounding out the family. Mohammad had been sixteen when the war began and had been convinced by his friends to join the fighting. They found out a month later that he had been killed in less than a week. Both Fathia and Mariam had gone in the same way as most adolescent girls in their village when the rebels had come through: raped and beaten and left for dead, if they weren't already. Kasey was sure that neither of his parents got over the loss of three children so closely together, and even though he was sure it wasn't intentional, they managed to make him feel guilty about being the one who survived.

It didn't help his relationship with his parents that, while he was focused on becoming an American and living the American dream, they were content to remain Somali. They learned just enough English to get by and rarely left their small section of Columbus. It was hard for Kasey to reconcile this with what he knew of his parents before the war—two well-educated professionals who daily spouted the importance of education to their children—to the isolated people they became after. If it weren't for his two younger siblings, he probably wouldn't have had any contact with his parents after he started college, but as the much-older brother, he felt like it was his job to keep fifteen-year-old Alex and eleven-year-old Sarah from falling into the same trap as their parents, isolating themselves from the world around them by surrounding themselves with people just like them.

Despite his differences with his parents, though, they were still his parents, and he didn't want anything bad to happen to them. "What about my father?" he finally asked. Again, the two men looked at each other before responding.

"To put a long story short, his involvement in certain activities at the beginning of the civil war would likely be of great interest to the United Nations. I am certain they do not realize that refugee status was offered to a person with such a past."

"What past?" Khalid scoffed. "He managed a bank."

"The rebellion was funded somehow."

Kasey Khalid was a pretty smart man, and he was starting to see just how the dots were being connected. He had no idea if anything that the two men were saying was true, but he knew how the United States responded when there was even a question of criminal activity in the pasts of those they offer asylum. "What does this have to do with me?"

They seemed incapable of answering questions without first looking at each other, which was exactly what they did. "Someone with your talents and your position is of great interest to us," the one on the right finally said. "Think of it as being on retainer. Only instead of money, you are being paid by our silence in this manner." They looked at each other again, then at him. "Do you understand?"

He understood perfectly. Every time a government building had to be built or renovated, the plans had to go by a professional engineer to make sure they were sound, and his new employer had quite a few contracts in the federal government. That sort of information—building schematics, strengths, weaknesses—was classified because of the potential security treat involved if it fell into the wrong hands.

He was looking at the wrong hands. Four of them.

There had to be a way out of this.

He couldn't think of one.

"I understand."