People Out There Final Part

V.
Mark returned to his desk, bearing a coffee cup loaded with water, and saw the flashing light on the phone set. He dialed into the system, tensely. But, no. No call of any crime, anywhere. Instead just the Director's assistant letting him know he'd been seconded to a meeting the following Monday with someone named Martine Ketch, a Regulator from the Royal Navy, whatever the hell a Regulator was. Well, please God Gibbs would be back in time to handle that...

Mark dropped the receiver back into the cradle in disgust.

Then his cellphone rang.

Mark dug it out and flipped it open. Ah, this was promising, he thought as he read the name on the ID.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

After several seconds listening, he said, "Right, we'll be there." and flipped the phone shut.
"Okay, everybody, let's go," he barked. "We've got an appearance at Oceana."

"An a-ppearance?" queried Ziva. "Don't you mean disappearance? "

"Nope, said Mark. "A-ppearance."

"Of whom? Man? Wife? Family?"

"Plane," said Gibbs, "grabbing his gear" out of his desk as he'd done so many times in the past. "McGee, Ziva, in the van." he said, tossing the keys to McGee. "Tony, you're with me."

VI.
Mark sat beside Tony as he drove expertly through the traffic toward Oceana Naval Base in Norfolk, Virginia. He knew he had to do something about Tony - the guy was having doubts. And considering the kind of work they were engaged in.... well, not him but Gibbs and his team – Tony couldn't afford to have any doubts in his leader, and vice versa.

"Do you think we have squirrels in the office, DiNozzo?" he asked casually, gazing out the windshield.

"Squirrels, boss? Don't know what you're talking about." said Tony.

"Well, it was a funny thing. I threw my coffee cup in the garbage this morning...and when I came back an hour later, that cup was gone."

"Maybe it was McGee," Tony suggested in his straight-faced way. "I think he's starting a styrofoam collection."

"That must be it. Because no one would go through all the bother of trying to check my fingerprints, when they could just tag along with me as I get my retina scanned to enter practically every room in the place."

"Retina scan," Tony murmured, chagrined. "I should have thought of that."

"Yes, you should...but I guess that's your old cop training coming through, DiNozzo. All they ever think about is fingerprints."

Tony drove on for some minutes in silence, stealing a sideways glance at Mark every now and then.

"It's just...UCLA," he said apologetically.

Mark turned his blue eyes on DiNozzo.

"What about UCLA? The best university in the country?"

"Well..you said you played for them. But you didn't."

"I say a lot of things when I'm playing football, DiNozzo. Don't you?"

"Well, yeah, boss. I say those kinds of things. But I didn't think you'd say those kinds of things."

"Every guy says those kinds of things, DiNozzo."

"That's true, Boss."

They continued the drive in silence.

Almost, I'm convinced, thought Tony.

They finally arrived at Oceana, driving through the security gates and coming to a halt in front of the military police office.

Tony got out of his side of the car, Mark out of the other.

There's one way to be sure, thought Tony. He gritted his teeth. If he was right, he was right. If he was wrong...well, it was a far, far better thing he did...

As Mark came around the side of the car, Tony said, "Put 'em up, Boss." It was the only warning he gave. He then lifted his arm and aimed an overhand right at his boss's jaw, as hard and fast as he could.

Mark had the reflexes of a lifelong athlete, and besides, he'd played this scene before. He reacted instantly, sawying aside, clamping Tony's arm under his right arm, and punching him in the chin, lightly, with his left. He then swept his leg behind DiNozzo's, breaking his balance, and lowering him to the ground.

A carbon copy of the choreography from the first few minutes of "The Boneyard"...

"You looking for more fighting lessons, DiNozzo?" Mark asked, with his left hand pressed hard against Tony's throat.

Tony grinned up at him. Mark stood up, extending his hand to help Tony to his feet. As he pulled, his foot slipped out from under him and he fell backward...hitting his head.

Now.

VII.
The ways of the Televinvisichronomicon are not linear.

Thus, Gibbs, who had spent only a little under 24 hours in the world of Mark Harmon, and who was still sleeping next to Cote de Pablo, opened his eyes to find himself standing up, throwing spirals to Ziva and DiNozzo, at the exact same instant he had been sucked out of that reality...while simultaneously Mark Harmon blinked up at Frankie, Mike and Cote.

"Mark, are you okay?" asked Frankie with concern.

Mark blinked up at her, as he allowed Mike and Cote to help haul him to his feet.

He stared around at the scenery, at the guys around him, then looked closely at Mike and Cote.

"I just had... the most weird-ass dream..." he said...

"What dream? You were on your back for two seconds!"

Mark shrugged, as the memories already started to fade away.

"Yeah, weird. Hey, Frankie, we're playing flag football, ya know!"

And at the same time, Pauley Perrette, who had been at home and who had stood up to get a book, suddenly wobbled, felt nauseous, blinked, and decided she'd better have some chocolate before she did anything else.

"Did the timelines not just become intertwined, Gamma?"

"Merely compressed at different speeds, Alpha. Nothing to worry about. Is that not so, Oh Great One?"

"Perhaps so, Alpha. More experimentation will be necessary in future."

Alpha and Gamma exchanged looks with each other, then surreptitiously each raised an appendage and exchanged the equivalent of "high fives."

"Yes, Oh Great One. Much more experimentation will be needed."