NCIS x reader

Gibbs - Private Lives - Pt 1

A/N: this was requested by @KlaraMarieLindemann

I am so sorry this took so long to write. I have been really busy with work and my social life has just blown up (we haven't had any Covid cases in my area since maybe April last year) and so when I do have some time I've been too tired to write. 

This one doesn't really have a plot or issue. I did have one that I was going to put in but I just couldn't write it. I'm going to try and write it because I know what I want to happen but it will probably just take a hot minute. 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. 

xoxo 

"Jefferson!" I yell and the agent turns from the witness she was talking to. I beckon her to me and she excuses herself from the man and makes her way over to me as I reenter the house crouch beside the body in the living room.

"Yes, boss?" she asks, stopping beside me.

"What's different about this victim?" I ask. She moves around to the other side of the body and crouches.

"Um," she says, studying the victims face. "He's older?"

"The second victim was the same age," Davies says from where she was photographing the messy kitchen.

"He lives alone?" she tries again.

"The third one lived alone too," Jones says as he comes out of the bedroom. "He also had a lover like the first one."

"I don't know," Jefferson says, giving up and standing, walking over to the bookshelf to snoop. "I give up."

"Can anyone tell me what's new about this one?" I ask as our ME, John, enters the room and takes Jefferson's place. None of my team answers.

"This one is military," John says.

"How'd you guess that?" Jefferson asks, abandoning the bookshelf to peer over John's shoulder.

"Short hair, simple living, scarred hands," John says. "There's also a photo on the coffee table."

Jones picks up the frame. "Huh."

Davies stops beside him and snaps a photo of it.

"Do you think he's got a boat in the basement?" I ask. John chuckles. I don't miss the looks my team exchange but I ignore them.

"I guess we'll have to call him in," John says. "It is his specialty."

"You know I hate interagency cases," I say. John gives me a pointed look. "We'll call him when we have more than a photo of our victim in a uniform."

"Speaking of which, who is our victim?" John asks.

"Jackson Hart," Davies says, showing the ME the bagged drivers license. I stand and glance over at Jones as John does his thing.

"What did you find in the bedroom?"

"He primarily lives alone but there's 2 sets of toothbrushes and some makeup products in the bathroom, so he has a female partner," Jones says. There's a commotion outside and I scrunch my eyebrows.

"Jones, help John with the body," I say before the ME could even open his mouth. I make my way outside and find a woman arguing with one of the officers.

"What's going on here?" I ask, stopping beside the two.

"I live here," the woman says. "What's happened? Is Jack ok?"

"May I ask who you are?" I ask.

"I'm Lillian Swan," she says. "Jack's my partner. Please, what's going on?"

"How long have you known Jack?"

"I met him last year," she explains. "We started dating not long afterwards. Please, tell me what's going on?"

"I'm really sorry, but Jack has been killed," I tell her softly.

Her face turns white and she takes a step back. "That's impossible."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I tell her.

"I was only talking to him this morning," she says. Tears begin falling down her cheeks. I guide her over to a car and let her sit as she cries. After several minutes, she looks up at me.

"How did he die?"

"He was shot," I tell her. "He didn't suffer."

The knowledge of that seemed to reassure her, like I knew it would, even if it wasn't the whole truth.

"May I ask what he did?" I ask.

"He was a Navy officer," she says. "He was back for 3 months."

I nod. "It's hard having a marine for a partner."

"Do you stay up at night, praying he's still alive, too?" she asks.

"I met him after he got back permanently," I tell her. "But it's hard watching him struggle through the memories."

"I never thought I would lose him at home," she says quietly, sniffling.

"This may be hard to hear, but he isn't the first person the killer has gone after," I tell her gently. "We have 4 other people this person has killed. If this is too much to take in right now, I completely understand. You can take some time to process everything and we can talk when you're ready."

"You have a serial killer on the loose?" she asks. I mentally prepare for her to go off, having experienced grieving loved ones getting angry for not catching killers sooner.

"Unfortunately, yes," I say. "We have several suspects but nothing concrete."

"I can help whenever you need me to," she tells me. "Whatever you need, I'll help."

I was taken aback with her instant willingness to help. "That is very appreciated, but we can let you mourn for a few days. Is there anywhere you can stay?"

"I have my own apartment," she says.

"Do you have family nearby? Or friends you can be with?" I ask.

"Am I in danger?" she asks.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "We haven't found any connection between our victims but you just might be safer with loved ones, just in case."

"I can find somewhere to stay," she says.

"If you need anything, give me a call. I'm available at any time," I say, pulling my card out of my pocket before waving over an officer. "Officer Higgins here will collect your details."

I step away from the pair and make my way back into the house. Jackson Hart was now on a gurney and John was preparing to leave.

"Can you give me anything?" I ask.

"We found this in his pocket," John says as Davies hands me an ID card. It was his military identification. John looks up at me with a pointed look.

I sigh but pull out my phone. I dial a number and hold the phone to my ear. It's answered on the third ring.

"I hope you're not busy," I say. "Our killer has just claimed one of yours."