Shoot First, Ask Later
Acquaintances
"Uh oh. Someone's here."
A chair rolled across the linoleum flooring.
"Do you recognize them?"
The image zoomed in.
"No. But it looks like they're hurt."
- - -
"What have we got, Eric?" The small woman, Hetty Lang, asked as she casually strolled into the darkened OPs room, her hands clasped behind her back.
"I'm not sure. It's a woman and she appears to be injured," the technical analyst said, furrowing his brows as he tapped away at his tablet. "I haven't been able to get anything on facial rec, yet."
"Well, we can't just leave her bleeding out there," the older woman replied with pursed lips.
"But Hetty..."
"Don't worry about it, Mr. Beale. This is a secure location. She wouldn't be here without good reason. Send Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna to see her in, would you?"
Eric hesitated, before sending a quick message to the team's senior agents. He watched the camera, as the woman leaned against the wall, clutching her shoulder. He watched and Sam and Callen opened the doors, Sam catching the petite blonde just as her legs gave way.
"Let's get her in on the couch. Looks like she's lost a lot of blood." Sam carried the girl effortlessly through the building, laying her down on the couch just off the way of their desks. Callen followed closely behind, watching her carefully for any dodgy movements. It appeared she was unconscious, her limbs dangling loosely as Sam set her down on the couch.
She wasn't entirely under, as she groaned as Sam rolled her to get a look at her shoulder. "Looks like she's been shot," he said, brushing his fingers over the torn fabric of her shirt. "Get me the first aid kit from the lockers," he told his partner. "G, get me a cool towel, too. She feels pretty hot." Sam brushed his fingers over her face. "Hey, can you tell me your name?" Sam gave her a gentle shake when she didn't respond.
"...G...ranger..." she managed to murmur between slow, deep breaths.
"What'd she say?" Callen asked, as he came back with the kit and a small rag-towel that he'd rinsed with cool water.
"She said... Granger." Sam paused, looking up at his partner, with deep concern. "Something's not right, G. She comes here, shot, looking for Granger, and we have no idea who she is? Who even let her get this far?"
"I did, Mr. Hanna." Hetty stepped forward. scrutinizing the young woman. "She must be an acquaintance of the Assistant Director."
"Does she have any information on her?" Callen asked, as he kneeled down beside the couch, pulling supplies out of the first aid kit.
Sam dipped his fingers in her pockets, before pulling out a badge. When he opened it up, he paused, looking as bewildered as Sam could. "She's NCIS," he said, flashing the identification card to his boss and his partner.
They looked at the unconscious blonde, all three of them perplexed.
A chair rolled across the linoleum flooring.
"Do you recognize them?"
The image zoomed in.
"No. But it looks like they're hurt."
- - -
"What have we got, Eric?" The small woman, Hetty Lang, asked as she casually strolled into the darkened OPs room, her hands clasped behind her back.
"I'm not sure. It's a woman and she appears to be injured," the technical analyst said, furrowing his brows as he tapped away at his tablet. "I haven't been able to get anything on facial rec, yet."
"Well, we can't just leave her bleeding out there," the older woman replied with pursed lips.
"But Hetty..."
"Don't worry about it, Mr. Beale. This is a secure location. She wouldn't be here without good reason. Send Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna to see her in, would you?"
Eric hesitated, before sending a quick message to the team's senior agents. He watched the camera, as the woman leaned against the wall, clutching her shoulder. He watched and Sam and Callen opened the doors, Sam catching the petite blonde just as her legs gave way.
"Let's get her in on the couch. Looks like she's lost a lot of blood." Sam carried the girl effortlessly through the building, laying her down on the couch just off the way of their desks. Callen followed closely behind, watching her carefully for any dodgy movements. It appeared she was unconscious, her limbs dangling loosely as Sam set her down on the couch.
She wasn't entirely under, as she groaned as Sam rolled her to get a look at her shoulder. "Looks like she's been shot," he said, brushing his fingers over the torn fabric of her shirt. "Get me the first aid kit from the lockers," he told his partner. "G, get me a cool towel, too. She feels pretty hot." Sam brushed his fingers over her face. "Hey, can you tell me your name?" Sam gave her a gentle shake when she didn't respond.
"...G...ranger..." she managed to murmur between slow, deep breaths.
"What'd she say?" Callen asked, as he came back with the kit and a small rag-towel that he'd rinsed with cool water.
"She said... Granger." Sam paused, looking up at his partner, with deep concern. "Something's not right, G. She comes here, shot, looking for Granger, and we have no idea who she is? Who even let her get this far?"
"I did, Mr. Hanna." Hetty stepped forward. scrutinizing the young woman. "She must be an acquaintance of the Assistant Director."
"Does she have any information on her?" Callen asked, as he kneeled down beside the couch, pulling supplies out of the first aid kit.
Sam dipped his fingers in her pockets, before pulling out a badge. When he opened it up, he paused, looking as bewildered as Sam could. "She's NCIS," he said, flashing the identification card to his boss and his partner.
They looked at the unconscious blonde, all three of them perplexed.