Miss Nothing | OPEN

[Tess Matthews]

Tess just couldn't fathom it. She'd been sent halfway across the world by her boss and the Western Australian Police Commissioner as their best bet to get information from NCIS about a prolific case only to be completely ignored when she had gotten here! Sure, she had a job title. She had an office. She had a security pass to get through the gates of the Naval Yard. And that, it seemed, was where the courtesy ended. She had been trying to make the right contacts, ask the right questions and present her own information so that she could get something out of the tight-knit yanks. Fact of the matter was, she just wasn't one of them.

It seemed like they were all casting strange, sidelong looks at her as she walked down the hall or got a cup of coffee. She knew, of course, that they really weren't. But the nature of the case was definitely getting to her. She had thought that by taking this job offer and coming out here for a while that she would be able to make a breakthrough on the case and, perhaps, remove herself a little bit from the oppression of it all emotionally. She had been wrong. As she came to the large building and worked day in and day out, it almost seemed like the case file and the mysterious factors surrounding the disappearance of her friend and those two poor, poor girls was her constantly – and if she were honest with herself – only companion.

What the hell was wrong with these people, anyway? She realised that here in America the crime rate was higher. Maybe that was it. Maybe one missing girl from a Naval base at home and three victims on a faraway shore was a bit less important than whatever it was they were doing at the moment. Tess couldn't agree. Lives were lives, weren't they? She knew that sometimes hard decisions had to be made about whether to save 5 or 50, and she would have to learn to deal with that. This wasn't like back home. She wasn't just dealing with rapists and petty drug dealers, the occasional crime of passion (although those, in her mind were more than bad enough). She was a small little minnow In a very big pond. And after three weeks of her calls not being returned, her emails seemingly going astray and people being 'busy' when she physically turned up at their desks, she was starting to realise just how small a drop in the ocean she – and her case – really was.

It was lucky that there was a gym on-site. She needed it, on days like these, when nothing would really satisfy her except a round with a punching bag. At lunch time the fitness centre was surprisingly empty; she knew it would be packed after work. Having changed into her sweats and pulling her hair up into a neat ponytail, Tess got her head in the zone and practised her jabs. Soon, though, she was letting loose and punch after punch rained onto the worn red leatherette of the bag. She was furious! Why was she even here if no one was going to pay any attention to her and her work? Punching hard and fast, Tess didn't let up until her knuckles slipped on the bag and jarred her wrist. Pulling her aching hand in to her chest, she felt like kicking the stupid bag.

“Son of a...” she muttered, rubbing the throbbing joint.

[Leroy Jethro Gibbs]

"Aw, come on, Gibbs. Take it easy," complained the forty-something SWAT team member who ate a few too many doughnuts on his days off. He circled the older NCIS agent, who cracked a wry grin at the younger man's whining. He tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"If you're ready to quit," he offered, holding his gloves aloft.

"Yeah, I'm done," the other guy offered, and they both stood up from their ready stances. Gibbs let his grin simmer to a smirk and bumped gloves with the other guy.

"Good spar," he offered. He moved to one corner of the ring, untaping his gloves as he went, and then ducked between the ropes. There were three short steps down to the ground, and then he leaned to pick his bag up off of the ground. He threw the strap over one shoulder and reached for the water bottle in the pocket. He took a large swig, pulling his face into a grimace of satisfaction as he swallowed the chilled water. For no reason whatsoever, his eyes lit on a woman throwing punches at a punching bag as if it had personally insulted her. His shaggy brows knitted together.

When a punch eventually fell awry, he winced on her behalf and silently reached into his own bag. "Have to be careful when you get into fights with inanimate objects," he told her in a light voice as he approached, and pulled an ace bandage out of his pack. "Sometimes they hit back," he finished as he held up the bandage, a silent offer. He then began to unwrap it, and waited for her to offer - or not offer - her arm for him to see to it. He hadn't been a Marine - or a father - without picking up a little bit of first aid, and she looked like she could use a chat. He was willing to do both.

[Tess Matthews]

Tess hadn't really been paying too much attention to who else was in the gym. Her own frustrations and irritation had taken center stage and even though Tess knew from a clinical perspective that it was never a good idea to get overly emotional, she was still a human being after all! She felt a bit more annoyed when she hurt herself, though she was more irritated at her stupidity than anything else. When she was approached by the kind older guy she felt... well. She just felt plain foolish. She threw him a shy smile and held out her wrist to him, feeling that she needed to apologise.

“You got that right,” she agreed, her Australian accent evident. “Guess I thought that if I knocked it out first, it wouldn't have the chance of a comeback round.” Shrugging the shoulder not connected to the hand he was seeing to, Tess pressed her lips together, not really knowing what to say. She didn't know of Leroy Jethro Gibbs, his team or his reputation. If she had've known, Tess would have used the connection to her advantage. She might have known that the mention of a man like Gibbs could make people answer her calls. But she didn't.

He was a nice guy at her new job offering to help her out when she'd been an idiot. “Thanks,” she told him with genuine feeling, her smile a little less shy as she attempted to ignore the dull throbbing that pulsed through her wrist. She wasn't going to be able to write tomorrow. Luckily her computer had voice recognition software! “I guess I'm feeling a bit homesick.” The very thought about being homesick caused mixed feelings for Tess. She missed her family and the foundations of her life back home. But she didn't miss certain other aspects. The blonde fought a shudder and turned her attention to the man himself. “I'm Tess,” she introduced herself.

[Leroy Jethro Gibbs]

"Gibbs," he offered in return as he saw about wrapping her wrist. He had done this enough times for Kelly, he nearly had it down pat. That kid was just like her mother, stubborn, and she had a bit of his wild hair, too, which made for an entertaining combination. When he was home, seldom as it was, he spent half his time patching her up, and the other half chasing her down. It was a rare treat when she finally slipped off to sleep and he got some alone time with Shannon. Some days, like right now, something brought back the memories so strongly that it almost felt like they were going to be there at home, waiting on him to walk through the door. Those days were the worst.

"You got something on your mind, Tess?" he asked as he worked. He began at her palm, putting one end right in the center where the hand cups and then pulling the bandage out around the back of her hand and over the end again. He carefully lifted his thumb and replaced it to hold the end in place as he made another lap around her hand, until the end was held down by the straps on top of it. He moved end over end down her wrist, making sure each round overlapped the other, and kept the bandage tight and supportive without being too tight. The layers would keep her in place. It didn't need to be so tight it stopped her circulation.

The Australian accent had caught him off guard, but he wasn't entirely surprised. The Navy Yard saw people from all over the globe, they just weren't typically privy to the Navy's own gym facility. Usually just NCIS, the Navy, and the few civilians employed on base got in. Perhaps she was one of those. Whatever the case, he thought he'd ask if it didn't come out in her story. That's if there was going to be any story, but he considered himself a pretty good judge of character and he thought Tess was on the verge of really telling him - or someone - what was bugging her. It wasn't a weakness thing; far from it. She just seemed like she was on her last nerve, and the only thing that could ease that kind of tension was sharing a few of someone else's nerves.

Otherwise, you ended up like him.

[Tess Matthews]

The man was officially amazing. Tess' expertise with humans definitely ran towards the mental field, and she'd always been rather grossed out by injuries and blood and whatnot. That was one of the many reasons she had opted for Psychology rather than Medicine, much to the disappointment of her otherwise easy-to-please mother. As he introduced himself as Gibbs and wrapped the bandage professionally around her wrist the pain diminished considerably.

Tess found herself watching his face. He seemed so serious and caring. She could feel her agitation draining away just like the pain, although underneath it all her disillusionment with working for a huge U.S Governmental agency had been , perhaps, cemented already. When he asked her if something was on her mind she took a deep breath. She knew she had probably looked like a crazy person herself, whaling on a punching bag the way she had been.

Without even meaning to, Tess let her problems loose. “It's just that no one will even listen to me! No one's returning my calls, or my emails, or even at their desk when I go by!” she rolled her eyes at the rest of the NCIS staff before offering him a small, apologetic smile. “It's like I have a warning radar on my forehead or something.” Letting out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, Tess seemed to calm down considerably once she had given her problems a little bit of air.

“Why can't everyone here be more like you?” she asked rhetorically.