Chapter Three: Chryslers and Crime Scenes
The entire car ride home was filled with laughter, smiles, and more introductions. While in the limo, I learned that Tim, who was nicknamed “McGeek” by Tony, is the “techy,” so to speak, of team Gibbs, a junior field agent, and an MIT graduate. I learned that Tony was like a younger version of Gibbs – always following his gut and protecting those who are important to him. I learned that Ziva, who had just recently attained her citizenship, was a former Mossad agent whom who father sent out on a suicide mission, then later, joined NCIS. Uncle Ducky also told me about his medical assistant, Mr Jimmy Palmer, a rather distracted young man that would be meeting us all at the house later that evening. Gibbs, however, remained silent for the duration of the ride, observing my every move. At one point during the ride, I caught him staring. As if that would get you any closer to my secret I sneered inwardly, smirking to myself. I just glared back until he smiled and turned away. Note to self, I thought, Gibbs= strange blue-eyed man who laughs when people glare at him. I stashed that little note deep in my subconscious for later. When we finally arrived at Uncle Ducky’s mansion-like house, every one helped me carry in my luggage, silently thanking me for the free limo ride.
My luggage was put on the floor of my room, on the west side of the second floor. My room was painted royal purple with white trim and a light violet colored ceiling. The floor was carpeted with a soft violet rug that matched the ceiling perfectly. Attached to the room are a fairly large walk-in closet and a personal bathroom – complete with a huge whirlpool bath tub. I smiled contently, sitting down on my plush, queen-size bed. “Do you like it?” Uncle Ducky asked, appearing in the doorway. I smiled, getting up to hug the man for the millionth time that day. “I love it, Uncle Ducky, thank you, for everything.” I squeezed him tighter. “Nonsense, my dear,” he said, releasing me, “you know I’d do anything for my favorite niece.” “I’m your only niece, Uncle Ducky,” I laughed. He smiled, kissed my forehead, and went back downstairs to entertain our guests.
I was in the midst of unpacking one of my many suitcases, when I heard a knock on my door frame. I looked up to be met with Abby’s moss green eyes, hovering in my doorway. “Hey Abby,” I said, “what can I do for you?” “The question is not what can you do for me,” said Abby, walking into the room, “but what can I do for you?” “Kennedy?” I questioned the origin of the quote. Her smile grew as she gave me a sharp nod, picking up my suitcase filled with my electronics and music. I had brought three surround sound stereo systems – one for each room – my iPad and docking system, three iPod nanos – one red, one black, and one violet – a few sets of head phones and a small portion (121) of my CDs.
Abby just stared at the surplus of music and electronics that sat before her. “Abby?” I said, snapping her out of her trance. She rushed over to me, squeezing the life out of me with a hug. “Aw, Madi, you’re like the little sister that I’ve always wanted!” I smiled and hugged her back. “Aw, Abby, I feel the same way about you!” We released each other at the sound of a knock at the door. I opened it up to reveal McGee. “Ducky sent me up to get you,” he explained, “there’s a man at the door saying something about a snake or something.” My face lit up as I brushed passed him and ran down the stairs. Running outside, I was greeted by a man who had pulled up in one of my mom’s boutique vans. Using the highest degree of caution, he lifted my baby out of the trunk. “Your father had it registered for you this morning,” said the man as I signed the delivery papers.
I heard the front door open as the man got back in his car and drove off. I looked over to see Abby, Tony, and Tim walking towards me. “This,” I said, patting the imported leather seat of my bike, “is the Black Mamba.” I saw a wave of relief pass through Tim’s eyes, thankful that the “black mamba” that the delivery man was referring to was a motorcycle and not a highly venomous snake. Abby was the first to make a move, running her fingers over the soft leather seat. “Where did you get this?” she asked, facing me, a confused expression painted on her face, “I’ve never seen anything like it.” “That’s because there’s not anything like it,” I said, “at least not on this planet.” She looked at me like I was crazy, waiting for me to proceed. “I built it myself,” I elaborated, “engine and all.” They all stared at me, mouths agape and eyes wide in disbelief. “There is no way you built this,” said Tony, only half aware of the words that had just been spoken. “And why would that be, Agent DiNozzo?” I challenged, ticked off by his sexist attitude. I glared at him for a moment longer before letting out a sigh and letting go of it. “So,” I said, picking up my helmet, “who wants a ride?”
