Another Probie

Fourteen

McGee POV
"Delilah, why didn't you wa- how did you get into bed?" I asked, stumbling over my words. Delilah held up her hand.

"You were exhausted, dear. I wanted to see if I could do it alone anyhow. Turns out I can!" Delilah said, beaming. I grinned, too.

"I'm so proud of you, honey!" I said, leaning down to hug her. As I stood back up, my phone went off. I groaned. "McGee." I answered. "Okay, thank you. I'll be there in fifteen." Delilah looked up at me. "Off to the park, dead Naval Captain." I said. Delilah nodded. She made me coffee and got me a granola bar from the cupboard while I got dressed. "Love you, Li." I said, stooping to kiss her. I hoofed it out the door and to my car, texting Tony that I was on my way.

I pulled up as Ducky and Jimmy were parking. I ran over to where I saw Gibbs standing. He was standing how he stood when his leg was bothering him, which it did occasionally.

"Leg hurts, Boss?" I asked. He nodded, and that was that. A man of few words. I got to work, and Tony walked over from taking pictures a few meters away.

"Shot the cap eight meters that way and dragged him here, the dead center of the park."

"Clearly he wished to make a statement."

"Morning, Ziva. And yeah, but why? Murder in itself is a statement." I said.

"Cén fáth Tá mé anseo mar sin go luath?" Why am I here so early? Gibbs chuckled. "i ndáiríre ! Ní féidir le dúnmharfóirí mharú beagán níos déanaí ar maidin ?" Really! Can"t murderers kill a little later in the morning? A grumpy, coffee-wielding Olivia was marching towards us, curly red hair flowing behind her. She marched up to me. "Hold." she growled, pushing her coffee into my chest. She pulled a hair tie off her wrist and proceeded to wrangle her hair into a low bun and then jammed her hat on after fishing through her bag for it. She snatched her coffee back and took a few long swigs from it. She then found a trash can and tossed the empty cup. "Alright, I'm good now. Gibbs, are you sure I'm not your kid?" Liv asked jokingly as she began working.

DiNozzo POV
Remind me not to cross Olivia when she's not had her coffee yet. Sheesh!

"ay , cén fáth go raibh mé ag roghnú post le huaireanta neamhrialta den sórt sin?" Ay, why did I choose a job with such irregular hours? Olivia muttered, heading towards a bit of evidence. "Number, DiNozzo!" she called. I grabbed a number and chucked it at her. She caught it with no problem. SMACK!

"Sorry, Boss."

"That's what I thought. Get to work, Tony, you're acting like a DiNewbie." Ouch.

"Gibbs! teacht cuma , chinn mé rud éigin." Come look, I found something. I shook my head. Now that Liv knew that Gibbs could speak Irish for some godforsaken reason, she liked speaking Irish to him, although I think sometimes she just accidentally slipped into speaking Irish. Gibbs jogged over, asking her what she found. "I think maybe I found what caused Cap there to kick the bucket." Liv held up a gun.

"That looks like a service weapon." I said, and Gibbs nodded. "Was his on him?" I asked, motioning to our body. Gibbs nodded again. "So we're looking for one of two things: a stolen service weapon or a dirty fed or police officer." I said.

"Or a black market weapon, which should only be next to impossible to trace." said Liv. I nodded, thinking what I'm sure everybody else was, in English or Irish: this service weapon better not fucking be from the black market. Just then Tim walked over.

"Our dead guy is Naval Captain Marcus O'Neal." We all looked at Liv, who shrugged.

"Heard of him several times. Never met him, though."

"Duck thinks this was done to prove a point. He was arranged spread-eagle with a gag tied around his mouth." Olivia went white.

"This guy's going to kill again, likely twice more."

"Why do you say that?" Ziva asked.

"Speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil." Liv said. I could see her hands shaking, but I think it was from rage. She certainly had the temper of an Irish girl sometimes. "Ní bheidh an bastaird beo a fheiceáil lá eile má choimeádann sé ag dul i ndiaidh Marines ." The bastard will not live to see another day if he keeps going after Marines.

"Oi, Liv!" I said. "English!" Liv looked at me sheepishly. "Oops. I said, 'The bastard will not live to see another day if he keeps going after Marines." I nodded. Liv couldn't be more right.

Third person POV
Across the park, a sniper was setting up camp. It had worked perfectly. The Irish Marine and her team had showed to work the case. Her back was to him, but even if she didn't turn, he could still kill her easily. Hopefully nobody else got in the way. He finished setting up his sniper's rifle quickly and aimed. The girl had turned during the time. Perfect. He got the Irish girl, Olivia, in his sights and squeezed the trigger.

Olivia POV
I was standing and speculating with Tony about where the weapon had come from. My foot started to ache, so I shifted to get the weight off my bad foot. I had hurt it as a child and it hadn't healed properly so it occasionally acted up. Just as I shifted, I felt what felt like a punch accompanied by a sharp pain in my chest. I vaguely heard Tony yelling and felt warm wetness spreading underneath me. Tony knelt down and pressed on my chest. 'am I dying?' I thought sluggishly. I was lifted and then I saw Gibbs' face appear above mine.

"Fanacht tú , maith go leor , Olivia ? Ní gá duit cead chun bás sa lá atá inniu nó amárach , nó aon lá , leathcheann tú." You stay, alright, Olivia? You do not have permission to die today or tomorrow, or any day, you idiot. I smiled. Then Gibbs' and Tony's faces faded, the feeling of Tony pressing on my chest disappeared, and I slipped into a pain-free place in space and time.