How many roads must a werewolf walk down?
Oz is the creation of Joss Whedon, NCIS belongs to Donald Bellisario/CBS, and the lyrics mutilated from Bob Dylan.Author's Note:
This is part 5 of my Lost in Music series, and is set after the others; however, the series is only loosely connected, and this contains no spoilers for the preceding stories. It can be read independently / out of sequence, if you so choose.
“Where’s Gibbs?” asked Special Agent Kate Todd as she entered the office, two cartons of Chinese food in one hand and a clutch of files barely staying under her other arm.
“He’s in interrogation,” answered her team mate, Tony DiNozzo.
“Interrogation?” she queried, setting the files down on her desk and taking her seat. She began unwrapping her chopsticks and opening a carton of noodles as Tony responded.
“You know – it’s when the investigator takes the suspect into a little room with a desk and a tape recorder, and they ask him lots of questions. Surely they covered it in basic training – even in the secret service?”
“Ah yes, I remember; it’s a bit like any conversion with you.”
“Well, if you want to play good cop / bad cop, we could go find a little room and—” at this point he was hit by a precision launched piece of chow mein “—hey!”
“Why is Gibbs still in interrogation? It’s been hours since we brought that kid in.”
“He still hasn’t cracked yet.”
“Really? This is Jethro Gibbs we are talking about, isn’t it?”
“When, in all the time you have been working here, have you ever known Gibbs take five hours to interrogate a suspect? This has to be a new record,” she said, rising from her seat.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“To watch! I wanna see the kid who can stand up to five hours of Gibbs questions.”
She got as far as the end of the row of desks before he got up to follow. Partly because he was also interested to see how the interrogation was progressing, but mostly because Kate still had his sweet and sour pork.
“How many times must we walk through this again, before you make any sense?”
Following what had become an established pattern, the question was greeted with silence. What was frustrating Gibbs was that its non-rhetorical companions had received the same response, or lack thereof.
“Yes ’n how many men run into a room, ne’er to emerge from it again?”
He, along with Kate and Tony, had been leaving the Naval College after interviewing a suspect when they saw a fight taking place in an alley behind one of the barracks. Drawing their weapons, they had issued a warning to the combatants to separate, but on hearing their shout one of the men had fled down the alley. The second man with whom he had been fighting, and who Gibbs was now interrogating, had immediately took off after him. Sighing at the reaction, Gibbs and Kate gave chase, with Tony going around the front of the building to attempt to flank their quarry. Both Gibbs and Kate had seen both men enter an open warehouse door at the far end of the alley, but by the time they reached it, they found only one of them present inside what was a large, and more significantly, empty storage room. The bit that was driving him nuts was there were no windows, no other doors, and no access hatches to the roof or a basement.
“Yes ’n how many bodies disappear into thin air; tell me, where is it now?”
He was slightly startled when the interogatee finally answered one of his questions.
“The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind; The answer is blowin’ in the wind.”