Tiny spoiler for Season 11 episode 'Dressed to Kill'.

Runner Guy

I couldn't fault Park Ranger guy's weather forecasting. It was raining, the sort of determined solid rain that gets you wet, very wet. Not showy rain, it wasn't windy or blustery but rain that came down in lines as straight as the creases on a Marine's dress uniform pants. It was the sort of rain that Gibbs would approve of: thorough and unfussy. I sighed but then my investigative instincts kicked in.

"Shouldn't the park gates be locked by now?" I asked.

"Yeah," came the morose reply. You know, considering that Chris works in the outdoors he was unexpectedly grumpy at being outside but I decided to ignore his bad mood.

"Then someone'll notice they're still open," I said hopefully, "know there's something wrong."

"Nope," said Chris.

"But …"

"They won't notice they're open," said Park Ranger guy.

"Why not?"

"Because they're not."

"Not what?"

"They're not open."

"Why not?"

"Because I locked them at the right time," said Chris.

"Then why are you still here?" I asked.

"I locked them but then I thought I'd better see if you were all right."

"Why?"

"You're not usually late out. And it's part of the job, looking out for people. Even if I didn't swear a pledge about it."

"But why did you think I might not be OK?" I asked.

There was something like embarrassment in Chris's voice when he replied, "my gut."

"O-o-h," I said. "Hey, you didn't used to be a marine, did you?"

"No. I only ever wanted to work in a park. Why would you ask if I'd ever been a marine?"

"No reason," I said vaguely, "you just reminded me of someone. Say, thinking of significant others. Anyone waiting for you at home?"

"Why?" he asked suspiciously as if he suspected me of making a move on him.

I tried not to sound offended at being suspected of making advances to a Park Ranger and said as smoothly as possible, "Just wondered if anyone's going to sound the alarm when you don't show up at home."

"Oh," he said in a tone which suggested that was a very reasonable idea. At least I think that's what the tone meant; it's rare for someone to use that tone with me so I might have been mistaken. Add in a thumping headache and feeling as if I was going to dissolve in the rain and it might well be that I wasn't at the top of my game. "Oh," he continued, "no. My girlfriend's out of town. Nobody to notice. What about you?"

"What about me?" I asked, I was finding it difficult to concentrate.

"Anyone waiting for you?"

"No," I said. I thought that sounded a bit brusque so I added, "Although I can understand why you'd think there would be. Seems unlikely that someone like me would be on his own but that's the truth. Only temporarily, of course. Someone's just waiting to snap me up. But my Boss might notice."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs never sleeps," I said.

"You just made that up," he said. "That's not a real name."

"Oh, yes it is, my Park Ranger friend. In fact he was named after someone so there's more than one. Well, more than one Leroy Jethro. There's only one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I think they probably threw the mould away after they made him."

"And is that a good thing?" asked Chris.

"That's an interesting question," I agreed, "and normally I'd give it some thought but I feeling a bit letharg … tired." I trailed off.

"Did you hit your head when you tripped up?" asked Chris in a worried tone. I'm pretty sure I got that one right. I hear that tone of worried exasperation all the time.

"Probably," I agreed, "I hit everything else so I don't see how my head would have missed out on the excitement."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

"When? When I hit my head on the tree or when you grabbed my broken arm?"

"I've already said sorry about that," said Chris.

"I might have done," I admitted.

"Might have done what?" asked Park Ranger guy who also seemed to be having problems following a conversation.

"I might have been knocked out," I said as slowly and clearly as I could.

"Then you shouldn't go to sleep," said Chris authoritatively. "You might have a concussion."

"I'm pretty sure I have," I said, "at least it's dark now. Bright lights are the worst thing for concussion."

"Glad something's going your way," said Chris bitterly.

My eyes had drifted shut but something in his voice made me open them again. "We'll be OK," I said, "Gibbs will find us in the morning. He may even find us before that if there's a break in the case."

"How will he find us?" asked Chris.

This was another question beyond me at the moment so I simply said, "Because he's Gibbs."

I lay there picturing Gibbs storming down the slope to our rescue. Somehow I didn't think he'd follow us and tumble down but, sometime before tomorrow, I resolved to shift position so I wasn't in the line of fire but until then I'd become almost fond of Quercus Alba. I snuggled down a bit but was then jerked back to wakefulness by Chris shaking my leg. Fortunately not the injured one but it got my attention.

"Hey!" I said. And it might have sounded peevish.

"You mustn't go to sleep," said Chris firmly.

"OK," I murmured, "but there's a flaw in your thinking."

"What?"

"If I'm dying what are you going to do about it? We're stuck here."

There was a pause before Chris said, "well, I'm not going to let you die quietly."

"Great," I groaned. Chris chuckled unsympathetically. "OK," I said, "if I've got to stay awake, answer me this. Why would anyone wear a fake leather jacket?"

Park Ranger guy

I tried to ignore the rain and also tried to forget that I had been hoping for rain tonight as the park ground was becoming too dry. I also tried to ignore the throbbing of my ankle. I was relatively successful in both of these but I wasn't able to ignore Tony's question about fake leather jackets. I tried to remember the symptoms of concussion but couldn't remember eccentric questions being one of them. I resolved always to carry a first aid manual with me in future. Perhaps I'll have to get one of those utility belts proposed by Tony; by the time I'm carrying a signal flare, first aid manual and sturdy phone I'll have run out of pockets.

"It doesn't make sense," said Tony plaintively, "why wear a plastic jacket?"

I realised that I'd drifted off as I'd begun planning where to hang things on my new belt so I snapped back to the present.

"Perhaps he's vegan," I suggested, "or vegetarian."

"Vegans don't eat jackets," said Tony firmly, "or do they?"

"No," I agreed, "but they sometimes don't want to wear animal products. It's not just eating animals that they frown on."

"Oh," said Tony. "Can vegetarians be crooks?"

"Don't see why not," I said, "it's unlikely though, isn't it? A bit like a park ranger being a murderer."

"Don't you believe it," said Tony darkly, "we had a case once where it turned out that the ranger guy was a serial killer."

"You're kidding," I said.

"I wish I was," said Tony, "hey, you don't have homicidal tendencies, do you?"

"Would I have come looking for you, if I had?"

"True. But you might have set a trap for me. Lured me with your wily ways."

"How many crimes do you actually solve?" I asked doubtfully.

"More than you might think," said Tony loftily, "but I don't think you're a criminal."

"Glad to hear it," I said, "what makes you think that?"

"You always made me feel safe," he said drowsily.

"What?"

"Oops," he said, sounding a bit more alert, "did I say that out loud?"

"Yes," I said.

"It's the Park Ranger guy aura," he replied after a few minutes, "you know, kindly authority. You're welcome here but make sure you use the trash containers provided."

I was surprised. I hadn't realised that my nod was so expressive. Perhaps Tony was more observant than I'd expected and perhaps he really did solve lots of crimes.

"I'll think about the vegetarian thing," said Tony, "don't see how it fits in but you never know. Thanks, Chris."

I found myself warming to my companion even if he was still wearing my nice cosy jacket and even if he could be annoying at times.

"D'you want your coat back?" he asked suddenly.

I looked at him suspiciously, wondering just how intuitive he was.

"Keep it," I said, "I've got a thick sweater on. And I'm wearing long pants. I think you need it more than me."

"I'm getting warm," he replied, "so you can have it back if you want."

This didn't sound too good, "Keep it on," I ordered, hoping that I was saying it in a voice compatible with Park Ranger guy aura. "You can tell your congressman about it when you write that letter."

"OK," he sighed, "if you're going to keep me awake, tell me about being a Park Ranger."

"Why? You looking for a career change?" I asked.

"Just interested," he said.

"We have Park police," I suggested.

"No. I think I'll stay put for now. Don't think Senior would approve. No offence."

"Who's Senior?"

"My father. He doesn't think much of me being a federal agent."

"Too dangerous?" I suggested.

"Oh," said Tony, "I don't think that's it. Although he was spooked when I shot a navy commander in front of him."

"What?" I asked.

"He wasn't a real one," said Tony as if this made it all right.

"Like a plastic leather jacket?" I asked.

Tony seemed pleased by this thought, "Yes. I wonder if fake leather jacket guy was just pretending to be a vegetarian."

"Or a vegan," I reminded him.

"Hmm. Anyway, Dad once said I'd end up in the gutter and I think he already thinks that I'm nearly there working in law enforcement."

"And joining Park Police would be even worse?" I asked a little coolly.

"His thoughts, not mine," said Tony, "I think it'd be great. I love old people. You get lots of old people in parks, don't you?"

"Sure," I agreed, "and kids."

"Oh," said Tony more doubtfully, "perhaps it's not for me then."

"You don't like kids?" I asked.

"I love kids," said Tony, "but they don't understand me."

I paused for a moment trying to work out the oddity of this statement but before I had unravelled it, Tony spoke again,

"Who do you think will notice something's wrong first?"

"Either Bull-dog guy or Pink Velour Tracksuit lady."

"What?"

"BDG comes to walk his dog real early," I said, "and PVTL runs past them every day."

"Wait," said Tony groggily, "you give them initials?"

"Do you know how many people visit the park every day?" I said crossly, "it speeds things up if I abbreviate them. I've got a system."

"You're not related to Tim McGee, are you?" asked Tony.

"I don't think so," I said cautiously, "why?"

"No reason," said Tony unconvincingly, "just a thought. Reminded me of someone. Your list isn't in binary, is it?"

"No," I said, "I don't even know what binary is."

"And why on earth should you?" said Tony emphatically before going on to ask, "So you think Bull-dog guy and Pink Velour Tracksuit lady are our best bet?"

"They usually get to the park first," I said, "but they've been getting later recently."

"Yeah?" said Tony in a sleepy voice.

"Yes. I think they're dating."

"Yes?" said Tony perking up a bit, "how do you know."

"BDG's bull dog is getting fatter."

"So?"

"And so's PVTL," I said.

"And?"

"So neither of them are getting as much exercise as they used to. Well, not running exercise anyway. I think BDG and PVTL are spending more time on park benches now and bull dog has to lay around waiting for them."

"Wow," said Tony in an impressed voice, "I didn't realise that park rangers took such a close interest in the visitors. I'll remember that if we have any crimes in a park."

"Just part of the job," I shrugged modestly.

"Er, what did you notice about me?" asked Tony anxiously.

"That you run really well. And you look as if you enjoy it," I told him.

"That doesn't sound so bad," said Tony in a relieved voice.

"And that you must work really odd hours. Oh, and that you run to escape your demons," I continued.

There was such a long silence after this that I thought that perhaps Runner guy had fallen asleep but finally he said, "My Boss is a real hard taskmaster." I waited and then he added, "and it's a tough job. Lots of demons out there." I nodded although I realised he couldn't see it. "And I run to clear my mind," he said, "sometimes I get ideas for solving cases when I'm running."

"Like fake leather jackets?" I asked.

"Yeah. Like I said this is usually a safe place to run. I can let my mind wander. Although the Boss thinks I do that anyway."

"National Park Service aims to provide a safe environment," I said proudly.

"Good to know," said Tony. "Um, seeing that today isn't exactly going well, can I check something?"

"Sure," I said.

"Is there any poison ivy in the park?"

"Why? Are you sensitive to it?"

"Well, not me so much. But McGee. That's one of my co-workers, he breaks out if he even thinks about it."

"No, no poison ivy. And anyway McGee isn't here."

"But he will be," said Tony confidently, "he will be."

I'd had a long day and I was beginning to get tired but I knew I had to keep awake to watch over Tony.

"Tell me about your co-workers," I said.

"I've told you about Gibbs," he answered, "ex-marine, except there's no such thing. Runs a tight ship. Married four times. Building a boat in his basement. Slaps me on the head: I think that's a good thing. Mainlines coffee. Cooks steaks in his fireplace and sleeps on his couch. When grouchiness becomes an Olympic sport he's a shoo-in for a gold medal. Not that he'd turn up to collect it. He's not big on ceremonies. Or giving praise – well, not to me anyway."

"How long have you worked for him?"

"Years and years. We met when I threw him to the ground and he punched me."

"What did you do?"

"Drew my gun and arrested him."

"You feeling OK, Tony?" I asked in concern.

"I'm fine," came the prompt reply.

"What about McGee?" I asked hoping to keep us both awake.

"Ah, McGoo," he drawled, "first met the little man over a melting submariner."

"I like melted cheese subs," I agreed.

"Oh, no," he said, "not a sub roll. It was a submariner. A sailor, he'd been left in an oil drum full of acid. It wasn't a good look. McGoo was McGreen that day."

"What's his name again?" I asked a bit confused.

"McGee, McGoo, McProbie, McNerd," he recited happily, "and then there's Elflord. Thom E Gemcity. He has a plethora of …"

"Of what?"

"Don't know. I feel there should be something namey that goes with plethora but it escapes me at the moment. Ducky would know."

My concerns about his mental state grew. "Ducky?"

"Donald Mallard, our Medical Examiner."

"Donald Mallard?" I asked, "who does that to a child?"

"Good point," he said approvingly, "his mother was a bit eccentric."

"A bit?"

"A lot, I guess," he agreed.

"And these are the people we're relying on to find us?" I said disheartened.

"Absolutely," said Tony groggily but confidently, "just you wait and see. Hey."

My heart sank at yet another 'hey'. "Yes?"

"When you get that utility belt."

"What makes you think I'm getting one?" I demanded.

"Course you are," he said dismissively, "it's sensible. And besides, you said it was a cool idea."

"OK," I said, admitting defeat. Somehow I think Tony wears a lot of people down like that, "what about when I get the Batman belt?"

"Put some food in it too, I'm starving."

"I'll think about it," I said.

"And don't forget a Bat signal," he added, "that would be g …"

But what it would be, he didn't say as I heard him slump back against the tree and this time I couldn't wake him up. I was just trying to decide if I could manage the two mile walk to raise the alarm and whether leaving him was the right thing to do when I heard something from the top of the slope.

"DiNozzo!" It sounded as if someone was using a bull-horn to magnify the sound.

I might not have been able to wake Tony up but the sound of his name from above had the desired effect.

"On your six, Boss," he muttered sleepily.

"Down here!" I shouted.

A few moments later I saw a stern faced man carefully picking his way down the slope. His face was illuminated by his flash light so that his silver hair looked almost like a halo as he came to our rescue. At that moment I was prepared to think he was a guardian angel. I had picked up that Tony might have doubts about what his team thought about him but it was clear to me (and I'm a good observer) that he was important to them.

"Boss guy?" I said.

The silver haired man looked puzzled for a moment but then nodded.

"McGee! Ducky! Down here, watch your step!"

I realised that I had doubted the existence of Tony's team but that doesn't mean I wasn't glad to see them as they took control of the situation.

"Hey, Boss," said Tony as he woke up again, "I think that fake leather jacket guy is pretending to be a vegetarian."

"Good job, DiNozzo, good job," said Gibbs fondly.

Tony smiled and went back to sleep.

Runner guy

I woke up in the hospital. How did that happen? Last thing I remembered was telling Park Ranger guy about the team and then suddenly I'm warm, dry and cosy in a hospital bed.

"Hey," came a voice to my left.

"Park Ranger guy!" I said happily, "what happened?"

"Haven't we done this before?" he asked a bit peevishly.

"Sorry. Originality isn't a priority after the day I've had."

"Your Boss happened," said Chris simply.

"Got a break in the case," said Gibbs materialising from behind a curtain, "called you. You didn't answer. Went to your apartment. Your neighbour said you'd gone out running and not come back. Went to the park and shouted for you."

"And that's how you give a report," I said turning to Chris. "Told you he'd find us. Thanks, Boss."

"Just relieved you hadn't hooked up with a homicidal maniac," said Gibbs, "makes a change."

"What?" asked Chris.

"Going for coffee," announced Gibbs and disappeared. He then poked his head back round the curtain, "broken arm, sprained ankle and concussion, Tony."

"OK, Boss."

"Take tomorrow off," said Gibbs before really going.

I heard a splutter from Chris, "What did he mean 'homicidal maniac'?"

"Ah," I said, "that's a long story. Actually, it's lots of long stories. Let's just say our team isn't always lucky. How long have you got?"

It's odd how quickly people get this long suffering look on their faces when they get to know me but I'm sure Park Ranger guy is interested really. Well, I think so.

AN: decided to let them off the hook and not go into yet another chapter. Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favorited or reviewed the latest escapade. The characters are back in their boxes.