NCIS - Coincidences :Ch. 2 - Snow Daze:

Chapter Two: Snow Daze

Snow plows trundled past on the street outside, shoving mountains of snow on top of people's cars and into the ends of their driveways. A few kids ran around outside, screaming and shouting as they threw snowballs at one another and built snow forts in their yards. A few brave souls were outside their houses, shoveling snow from the sidewalks, their heads poking out above the large mounds left behind by the snow plows. As soon as the temperature rose slightly, Rebekah would leave, she wouldn't warn Gibbs (she couldn't bring herself to call anyone 'Jethro' – it sounded like something you'd name your dog) and simply leave. Hopefully they'd never cross paths again.

Turning around from the window, she made her way around the couch and sat down, finding it hard to breathe. Her feet still hurt, as did her hands, and her legs were still weak. But, it was only three blocks, she could reach that even with the pain and Gibbs would be none the wiser as to where she had gone.

"Don't even think about it," Gibbs' voice preceded him as he stepped through the hallway from the kitchen, setting down a cup of coffee on the coffee table before he held up a small piece of lamenated plastic. Her driver's license. The jerk had gone through her pockets.

"HEY! Give that back, who do you think you are going through my stuff?!" Rebekah growled and jumped to her feet, biting back the outrage of her body, as she reached for the card. She bumped the table and the coffee spilt across it, leaving dark smears on the wooden surface and brown stains on her only winter coat.

"According to my forensic scientist this is fake," Gibbs stated calmly, maintaining the distance between her and the card, twitching it in his fingers, "She says that Indiana has a number of anti-fraud devices on their licenses, two of which your license does not have." He was waiting, staring at her as though he were digging through her soul.

Rebekah's response was to simply snarl, snap the license out of his hand and grab her coat at the same time, and walk toward the door. He made no move to stop her, instead waiting where he sat on the arm of the chair. Opening the door, she saw the tracks that lead from the front of his truck where he had left some time in the night. Apparently that had been when he'd gone to visit his friend. Without thinking about it, Rebekah stepped out into the icy air and threw her coat on, ignoring the strong smell of the coffee and the burning in her stocking feet. If she lost her toes to frostbite, it would be worth getting away from the man inside the house.

She didn't even make it to the end of the driveway before an old man stopped her with a hand on her arm. He looked at her closely before turning her and leading her back into the house. As much as she wanted to fight him off and take off running, she couldn't do it. He was old enough to be her grandfather and her parents had held one rule above all others, 'Respect your elders'. Instead of fighting and running like she knew she should because Gibbs was smart, an investigator, and he would find the truth if he kept digging, she allowed this man to lead her back inside to her doom.

"Ducky," Gibbs greeted from inside the doorway, stepping back to allow them passage.

"Jethro," the older man, Ducky, greeted back, "I am shocked that you allowed this young lady to go out in such condition."

"She wanted to, so I let her," Gibbs responded easily enough. Rebekah noticed he was holding a new cup of coffee and that the one from earlier was cleaned up. The only trace of what she had spilt was now on her.

"You can't keep me here," Rebekah snapped, glowering at them both.

"Who said I wanted to?" Gibbs asked, walking ahead of them and pulling the coffee table out slightly.

"I told him to keep you here so I could examine you before he released you onto the world," Ducky stated solemnly, his accent strong as he spoke.

Anger was starting to rise into her throat and she knew it wouldn't be long before she forgot and ignored the rules of her parents, like it always did. If it happened, she was done for, but she wasn't about to let some dirty old man touch her.

"Don't touch me you old bastard…" she was shoving his hands away and pushing back from him, but didn't get to finish what she was going to say.

"HEY! Dr. Mallard is here to make sure you didn't manage to kill yourself. Now sit down and shut up," Gibbs ordered, his voice lowering as he spoke.

Shock stopped Rebekah and she sat up straight again, but speaking as she did so, "You didn't say he was a doctor!"

"My dear, you do remind me of someone I once knew, back in Edinburgh, now that was fiery young lady," Ducky began talking and Rebekah soon forgot to be angry as she listened to him prattle on about his past. Gibbs sat and listened for a short while before shaking his head and leaving.  

*

"She's fine, Jethro, nothing a warm bath and good hot meal wouldn't cure," Ducky was saying as Rebekah pulled her coat back on and began to button it.

"Thanks Duck," Gibbs nodded, walking with him to the door.

"Jethro, she's anemic. I doubt that young lady has seen decent food in months and Abby tells me that you had her check an ID. Did anything turn up?" Ducky was speaking low enough that he doubted she could hear him.

"Nothing yet Duck. All I know is that she's carrying a fake ID from Indiana and she's chomping at the bit to get the hell out of Dodge," Gibbs answered, glancing over at the young woman, watching as she tugged at the first of her boots.

"Take her home Jethro, make sure you know where she's going. There's more to her story than just a young lady who foolishly believed she could walk home in the dark during a blizzard," Ducky stated as he flipped the collar of his coat and opened the door.

"Thanks again Duck," Gibbs said as he held the door and watched the older man walk down the snowy sidewalk toward his parked car.

Ducky waved over his shoulder as he rounded the nose of his car. Snow began to fall from the sky, drifting down to add to the mounds that the plows had left behind.

"Thanks again for all the help," Rebekah's tone was sharp as she thanked him. It was clear she was far from grateful. She was hiding something and she didn't want him digging around to find out what it was.

"I'll take you home," Gibbs stated, turning and walking toward the kitchen. Her groceries sat on the counter in new bags. She hadn't followed him and he had a feeling he'd be driving down the road and stopping beside her as she walked. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like this and it most likely wouldn't be the last.

By the time he got back into the front room, she was gone, leaving only the coffee stain on his coffee table and floor. Next time he'd make sure to put the coffee somewhere else before revealing that he knew someone's ID was fake, not that he normally did that in his living room.

Gibbs packed up the truck and started down the road, sliding every once in a while on the ice beneath the fine layer of snow left behind by the plows. The snow that was hitting his windshield was coming down harder and he wondered how dark this woman's secrets were that she felt the need to escape the warmth of a house so badly.

When he spotted her, she was nearly to the corner of his block, her back bent against the wind and her face lowered to protect it against the pelting rain. Her boots slid on the ice with nearly every step she took and she was too focused on walking to notice him coming up behind her. That was fine. If she saw him, she might do something stupid, like try to take off running.

At the corner, she stopped and looked up. A deep sigh escaped her as he pulled up and reached across the cab, popping the passenger side door open.

"Get in," he'd meant it to sound friendly, but it sounded more like an order.

For a moment she looked around, considering running perhaps, but her good sense must have won as she clambered into the cab and took a seat as far away from him as she could, pulling the heavy door closed with a bang.

"Some people might get the wrong impression, call the cops," Rebekah stated with little emotion.

He looked over at her with a small grin, considering if he should respond or let it go at that.

"But, would that do any good… I wonder, since you're a cop," Rebekah stated, keeping her gaze to the outside.

"I'm not a cop, I'm an NCIS agent," Gibbs answered, focusing on the road, "You're safe, I won't let anyone hurt you. It's been a while, since someone has told you that, hasn't it?"

She stiffened and stayed silent, watching the houses as they went by.

"Where are we going?" Gibbs asked with slight humor.

"Third house on the left after the next street," Rebekah's answer didn't surprise him. The house was not much more than a two story hovel that someone had turned into four apartments. The only saving grace to the place was that the entrances to all the apartments were inside.

He pulled up in front of the house, wincing internally at the poor condition of the place. Shingles were peeling on the roof, along the front, the porch looked as though it was ready to fall down, and the siding was in desperate need of either paint or replacement. He couldn't help but wonder if the interior was in as bad of shape as the exterior.

"I'm not going to thank you this time," Rebekah spat as she slid from the bench seat, gathering a bag of groceries with her as she went.

Gibbs smirked and grabbed the other bag, walking toward the building silently. Rebekah moved ahead of him to unlock the first of two doors.  The 'lobby' area of the house-turned-apartments was dark and musty smelling. A row of metal mailboxes was set up against one wall, each with an apartment number etched into its front. Rebekah didn't even bother stopping. Somehow, Gibbs knew she rarely, if ever, got mail. She lead him up a set of steep stairs, her hand gripped the railing so tightly that he knew her knuckles were white beneath the old, worn-out gloves. There was little doubt she'd fallen down these stairs at least once, if not more. And he could see how that was possible.

At the top of the stairs was a short hallway. Two doors were set into the ends of the hall. Rebekah turned right, opening the door that had a gold 3 set into the center of the peeling, painted, wood door. There was a short pause before she breathed in deeply, held the breath, and opened the door to reveal her tiny apartment.

Like the rest of the house it had seen far better days. It was a tiny studio apartment with a small kitchen off to the side of the living area. A murphy's bed was lowered on the far side of the living area with a pile of clothes strewn across it's rumpled surface. There was no other furniture, save for an ancient table with an old color TV sitting on its top. One day, the TV was going to tumble from the top of that table, but it was staying there for now.

Carrying the groceries to the counter, Gibbs looked at the rest of the place. The paint on the walls was peeling and fading, cracks had formed and grown over the years, and the carpet was threadbare and stained. An old stove sat against a wall with a window set in it, overlooking a trash-strewn lot behind the building. Beside the stove stood the refrigerator, making a racket that deemed it unsafe for the storage of food, but he opened it and found that it was actually cool inside and completely empty.

"Go ahead and say it," Rebekah invited in a sharp tone, throwing her coat over the edge of the bed along with all the other clothes that lay there.

"What am I supposed to say, Rebekah?" Gibbs asked without looking at her. He put her groceries away, noticing she didn't buy anything for in the cabinets. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew why.

"My apartment's a dump, I eat nothing but junk, and I can barely pay the bus fare to get to work," Rebekah stated, sitting on the edge of the bed dejectedly, "I should just go back to Indiana and forget about D.C."

Gibbs shrugged as he shut the refrigerator door, "Why'd you come to D.C. in the first place?"

For the first time, she looked at him with real surprise. It wasn't marred by fear or suspicion.

"My father used to talk about the city all the time, said we'd move here one day," Rebekah answered with a shrug, "When he died…. I decided to move here for him."

"And do you like it here? In D.C., I mean," Gibbs asked, leaning against the counter that split the living room off from the kitchen, waiting.

"I guess… it's not the friendliest of places… why am I telling you this? I just met you. Look, you've been nice to me and all, but I really don't need some old guy looking after me. So you can just take your pity and go somewhere else. Thanks for the lift and all the help, but just forget about me, okay? I'm no one important," Rebekah stated with less venom than she wanted, he was sure.

Nodding, he stood up straight and headed for the door.

"All right, but if you need anything," Gibbs stopped and took out a business card, one with his cell phone number on it, and set it on a small shelf that was painted the same color as the wall, "Give me a call."

Without looking back, he left, making his way down the stairs and out into the snowy day. The lights in the 'lobby' flickered as he walked through. He'd have to come back down later to check on her, make sure she had electricity. Regardless of her protests, he had no intentions of forgetting about her or leaving her to the city. There was something she was hiding and he'd find out what it was, he already knew more than she had wanted him to know and the more she told him, the easier it would be to find out who she really was.