He asked for it

[stringertheory]

mr_razorz, that is. Here in this post. Which is still open to requests, BTW.

This one got a bit carried away with itself, so it gets its own post.

Strangers on a Train

Farmland rolled by for miles.

Cotton fields - specks of white and brown mingled together like a pointillism painting - ticked past the window. The crops were heavy for the harvest, the farmers kept away by nearly a fortnight of wet weather, and in many of the scenes a tractor or two could be spotted, blue or green or red in the white, working against lost time. The sun was high and hot, glinting off the dark windows of the houses and the tin silos in the fields, but wet weather had been promised for the weekend, so the race was on.

Typically, Gibbs preferred to fly. Flying was quicker. Usually there was a bad guy to catch, a lead to follow up on, a body to recover, an investigation to complete. When there was somewhere to be, Gibbs usually had little time to waste and even less patience. But this trip was personal and, for once, he wanted a sedate pace.

He sat back in his seat and watched the fields pass.

---

From the far end of the car, Myka watched Gibbs.

There was an open book on the table in front of her, a mystery novel she'd picked up at the station, but for now she was more interested in the people she was sharing her trip with. All the more since she suspected that most of them rarely traveled by train. The recent spike in airport security that had led her to chose an alternate means of transportation had no doubt influenced others as well. Myka had always loved trains - the history and romance of them - but she knew that not everyone enjoyed the slower pace. She found it more than a fair trade against the crowded security checkpoints she would have had to face otherwise.

And it was easier to watch people on a train.

She knew the man at the opposite end of the train. Not by name - she had no idea who he was; she knew what he was. He looked relaxed, settled back into his seat, gazing out the window at the passing countryside, but Myka knew better. She had watched him as he boarded, the way he handled his single piece of luggage, the way his eyes skimmed over the other passengers as he took his seat. She had noticed the tell-tale lump under his jacket at his hip. Though she wasn't sure which organization he worked for, she knew he wasn't a regular civilian.

The thought of sharing the train with him gave her an odd sense of ease. Perhaps it was the Secret Service agent still inside her, finding comfort in numbers. Or maybe she was just missing Pete.

She liked to think it was the former.

---

"What do you think our children would look like?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Our children," Vala repeated, studying Daniel from across the table, "would they favor you or me more?"

"I'm not sure what 'our' and 'children' have to do with one another -"

"Humor me." Her request was met with a blank stare. "Come on, Daniel, I'm bored out of my mind. We've been on this train for hours. I swear, I'm going to start taking hostages."

With a weary sigh, Daniel closed the file he had been reading and pinched the bridge of his nose. Leaning back against his seat, he returned Vala's stare.

"There's no real way to know. There's software that can give you a general idea of how the features of two people might merge together in a third person -"

"A child," Vala offered.

"- and artists can create renderings that provide some insight into how features can be combined, but there isn't an exact science for it. The genes that pass along traits like facial features, eye and hair color, height and so forth aren't exactly A or B options. There's a - a spectrum, a range that they fall under, so chances are any... " he paused to throw Vala an exasperated look, "offspring would exhibit traits from both parents, to varying degrees of similarity."

Vala eyed him for a moment, head cocked to one side and eyes narrowed, before replying. "I think they'd look more like me."

"Right," Daniel agreed, reopening the file and resuming his reading.

---

He had been worried when they first boarded.

Years on the run had honed his instincts and he knew cops when he saw them, could sense them before seeing them. He could pick out a FBI agent at a business convention, identify the sound of a government-issue vehicle on a city street, knew the pressure of binocular vision between his shoulder blades. The two agents on the train he had seen and he knew they weren't normal passengers, but neither seemed all that interested in the slightly disheveled, shaggy-haired man sitting alone in the middle of the car.

They weren't looking for Orion, and he was only Stephen J. Bartowski. He could rest a bit easier.

The trip to California took a lot longer by train, especially the routes he was taking, but he had plenty of time and no desire to lie his way past airport security in the current state of affairs. He hated buses and certainly wasn't about to drive himself to the other side of the country. Besides, he liked trains, the steady pace, the scenery, the types of passengers they drew.

He knew a con when he saw one, too, but the black-haired beauty across the aisle from him was otherwise engaged. He purposefully kept from making eye contact the few times she glanced over, but kept a watch on her out of the corner of his eye just the same. From the looks of her companion, she wasn't in the game now and most likely wouldn't be again, but it never hurt to be careful. It was a long ride, after all.

Train travel might take longer, but he didn't mind. He had a lot of thinking to do.

Things had changed since he was last in California, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

He wasn't sure at all.

---

There were a lot of men in the car.

They were ranged throughout the space - some sitting alone, others in pairs or small groups - and they outnumbered the women significantly. In fact, so far as Myka could tell, there was only one other female in the car, a dark-haired woman sitting halfway down the aisle. She shared her table with someone Myka couldn't see but who she knew, from the top of the head that was visible over the seat, was male.

Oddly enough, most of the men had a similar appearance. Nearly everywhere Myka looked were dark eyes and slightly shaggy hair; solemn, wary expressions; and silence. She had wondered if they were perhaps part of a college sports team or group, but they seemed too old for that and the individuals or pairs had all boarded the train separately.

She supposed it was just one of those quirks of fate - she shared similar traits with the other female on board as well. Pale skin and dark, curly hair weren't exactly genetic rarities, but it did seem a bit of an odd coincidence given the number of similarities shared between the passengers on board. She couldn't decide if her pale-colored friend at the far end of the train kept it from being too coincidental or was the exception that proved the rule.

She even vaguely wondered if it might have something to do with an artifact. She certainly wouldn't rule it out. Stranger things had happened, after all.

---

"That woman keeps staring at me."

"What woman?"

Vala indicated the back of the car with a subtle nod of her head. "Back there in the corner, sitting alone. I've caught her watching me several times. She has this look on her face, like what Sam gets when she's elbow-deep in an experiment."

"I wonder why," Daniel responded blandly.

"It's not funny, Daniel. In fact, I find it deeply disturbing."

Daniel rolled his eyes and began to slide across the seat. "Well, what does she lo--"

"Don't!" Vala stopped him with a hand on his arm. "She'll see you."

"What do you want me to do, then?"

"Nothing, I just thought it was weird, is all." She traced patterns on the tabletop with her finger before collapsing onto the table with an exaggerated sigh. "How much longer before we get to Chicago?"

Daniel checked his watch. "Another hour or so."

Vala let out a muffled moan.

---

They were up to something, the men on the train.

The fact that they strongly resembled one another in demeanor wasn't the only thing that tipped her off. However quiet they might have been, the looks they shared back and forth spoke volumes. What was more significant was when the looks had started. Early in the trip, the individuals had avoided making eye contact, even with the others sharing their tables, each person staring, almost intentionally, away from the others. But the closer they got to their destination, the more often they would catch one another's gaze.

Myka wasn't stupid. She knew a plan when she saw one.

The bags tucked under tables or stashed on empty seats suddenly took on a much more sinister appearance. A restlessness began to trickle through the group; where once there had been near stillness was a ripple of small movements - a tapping foot, a hand brushed through hair, fingers being popped.

They were up to something, and Myka knew.

Just outside of the city, suburbs already sliding past the windows, the first move was made. When the two men across the aisle from her stood and grabbed their bags, Myka stood as well.

"Hey, guys," she said with a smile. "What do you have in the bags?"

From the corner of her eye, she could see that the rest of the crew had frozen mid-action throughout the car, a tableau held in suspended animation by her simple question. She could also see the man at the far end of the train slide to the end of his bench, ready to spring into action. The knowledge strengthened her resolve.

"May I see your bags, please?"

The men in front of her looked at each other. The rest of the car looked at Myka. Then the man closest to her threw his bag at her chest and the car exploded into motion.

---

Vala wasn't entirely sure who these men were, but she knew for a fact that they were bad news.

Daniel seemed to know it, too.

There were four near them - three across the aisle and one who had been sitting behind Vala and was now standing beside her seat. Everyone had gone very still when the woman at the end of the train - the woman who had been staring at Vala - stood and asked to see one of the men's bags. Daniel caught Vala's gaze and used his eyes to indicate the man closest to her. She gave a tiny nod in response.

---

The first one came at Gibbs sloppily. He swung high, exposing his abdomen, and Gibbs brought him to his knees with a single blow. Another swift fist to the jaw, and he was out like a light.

The second one proved a bit smarter.

He was able to dodge or block most of Gibbs's moves and even got in a few licks of his own, but Gibbs gave better than he got.

While the two fought, elsewhere on the train others got in on the action.

---

When the melee broke out, she was able to sweep the man's legs out from under him before he knew what had happened. Daniel, too, was able to take out one of the members as he attempted to make a run for it. He didn't make it far; as he had turned to run, he tripped over something and landed more or less at Daniel's feet. Daniel made short work of it.

After a few minutes, the scuffling came to an abrupt and pointed halt with the sound of four guns being cocked.

Daniel glanced at Vala.

"Where'd you get the gun?"

She cut him a look. "Really, Daniel. You didn't honestly think I'd go gallivanting across the country without bringing extra protection, did you? You do tend to be a magnet for trouble."

"Well, you're not much better."

"Exactly. Put us together, we might as well be asking for something bad to happen."

"It usually does."

"My point exactly."

---

Myka still didn't know what exactly the men had been planning, but they were taken care of for the moment. Her biggest concern was the three other people in the car who happened to have firearms. Keeping her gun trained on her assailant, she used a free hand to pull out her badge.

"Myka Bering, Secret Service."

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS."

She glanced toward the end of the train. One man at his feet and another at gunpoint, Gibbs was holding up a badge of his own. She threw him a small smile.

"NCIS," she confirmed with a nod. "Nice to meet you, Agent Gibbs."

"Likewise," he replied, returning his badge to his back pocket.

"And you are?" Myka asked, turning her attention to the couple at the center of the train. The man spoke first.

"I'm Dr. Daniel Jackson and this is Vala Mal Doran."

"Pleasure," Vala offered.

"And may I ask why you have guns on a train, Mr. Jackson?" Gibbs inquired.

"We, ah, we work for the government."

"The government," echoed Gibbs disbelievingly.

"Yeah."

"What branch?" asked Myka.

"Military. Air Force," Daniel replied.

"Sorry we don't have any fancy badges to flash," Vala added. "Unless you count the IDs in our bags but, frankly, we're not in a position to get those for you at the moment."

"Where are you stationed?"

"We're civilians," Daniel clarified. "We work for the military in Colorado Springs - Cheyenne Mountain." Myka and Gibbs shared a look at this revelation. "We're headed back there."

"Good enough for me," Gibbs replied.

"Me, too," Myka seconded.

"Great, we're all friends," said Vala. She motioned to their captives with her head. "Now what?"

---

He probably shouldn't have done anything, but he couldn't help himself.

He knew he had to keep a low profile, so he had cowered in his seat when the confrontation began, careful to keep from making eye contact with anyone, careful to know exactly what was going on so he didn't get caught up in the middle. Unnecessary attention could lead to devastating scrutiny, he knew, and any action he took to help would only open that door.

Heroes didn't get to walk away quietly.

But when one of the men started to run, he had reacted instinctively, sliding a leg out into the aisle even as he pretended to sink deeper in his seat at the outbreak of violence. It was a small thing, he knew, but it had tripped up the bad guy enough for him to be subdued quickly. After that, Stephen had refrained from further interference, playing the part of the terrified ex-professor caught up in something much bigger than himself.

Everyone had been detained at the station as the suspects were taken into custody and transported from the scene. While the train was searched, the passengers were questioned closely about the incident, particularly those passengers, like Stephen, who had been in the same car with the assailants. He was the only person not affiliated with either the bad guys or the people who had stopped them. He had maintained that he had been reading at the time that the incident took place and had no idea what was going on until everyone around him started fighting. His destination was questioned ("I'm going to California to visit my son") as well as his choice of transportation ("I'm terrified of flying") and his luggage was searched thoroughly before he was released.

Shouldering his bag, he exited the small station office that had been turned into a makeshift interrogation room. As he walked past small groups of other passengers from the train, he felt someone watching him. Glancing to his left, he met the gaze of the man who had been sitting across from him on the train. The man gave him a small nod.

He returned the gesture and disappeared into the crowded station.

---

Gibbs received the call while talking with the local LEOs.

Three marines were dead, another was missing, someone had hacked into the NCIS database and his train trip would have to wait.

After an hour spent dealing with a group of cops who had never heard of NCIS and were, understandably enough, wary of yet another armed passenger, he was cleared to leave. He hailed a taxi outside the station and headed for the airport, calling McGee along the way to get the flight itinerary. As was to be expected, news of the foiled Chicago plot had already spread back to D.C. and, just as invariably, he was asked about it. McGee posed the question, but he could hear Tony, Ziva, and even Abby in the background, throwing their own inquiries at the phone.

Ignoring them, he gave McGee a list of tasks for everyone to handle until he returned.

"And, Boss, the Director wants to see you in MTAC as soon as you get back."

"Of course he does."

"Sir?"

"I'll call you when I land," Gibbs replied, flipping the phone closed.

---

"Ah, this is much better," Vala all but purred, stretching cat-like in her seat.

"Do I want to know how you got us last minute, first-class seats on a booked flight?" Daniel asked, fastening his seatbelt.

"Probably not."

"Thought so."

"Don't worry, Daniel," Vala assured him, "I didn't do anything illegal."

"Strangely enough, that doesn't make me feel any better."

Vala grinned wickedly.

---

Myka had considered continuing on by rail, but after what had happened, she was a bit too wired to sit complacently.

Instead, she rented a car.

Driving through Chicago wasn't the best idea she'd ever had, but once she was out of the city and its suburbs, she hit open road. She stayed overnight in a tidy roadside motel outside of Rochester and watched the sun come up with a strong cup of coffee in her hands. The owner sent her on her way with a bag of homemade cookies. The road stretched before her with nothing on the radio, but she knew she was getting close to home when the land opened up into rolling flatland and the towns grew farther and farther apart.

It was mid-afternoon when she pulled in at the inn. Before she made it out of the car, Pete was coming down the porch steps.

"Hey, kiddo. Wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow."

"You'll never guess what happened," Myka advised him as he grabbed her bag out of the trunk.

"Really?" he countered with a sly smile. "You mean you didn't have anything to do with the Chicago sting?"

She gave him a look as they walked toward the inn. "Artie told you, didn't he?"

"Claudia, actually," Pete said as he opened the front door.

"Figures."

"Yeah, kid's too nosy for her own good."

"Pot, kettle?"

"Wish kettle?"

"Not funny, Pete."

He laughed as the door shut behind him.


Well, there you have it.

So, Raz, did I protect my awesomeness?