A Few Well-Chosen Words

by Calliatra

Rating: FR13

Summary: Gibbs is a man of few, but well-chosen words. Written for the NFA Man of Few Words Challenge.

Disclaimer: All recognizable NCIS characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: It's exactly 500 words with the title. :D

Gibbs had been called 'a man of few words,' 'the silent, brooding type;' even 'a functional mute.' He himself tended to think of it in different terms. Why talk a mile a minute when just a few well-chosen words will do the trick?

"…so she says to me, 'get outta here,' but not the way girls say it when they really want you gone, more like she was playing hard to get and-"


"…Thank you, Boss. Focusing on Staff Sergeant Bentley. So far, all we know is that he was bludgeoned to death in his apartment. Ducky's with the body, Abby's with trace evidence and we've been doing background on him. Not much there. Broke up with his girlfriend a year ago, hasn't had anyone steady since. No family, or anyone with any motive to kill him. Neighbors didn't see or hear anything, but according to Grumpy the Grouch he was playing music 'loud enough to raise the dead' that evening; that would've covered up the sounds of a struggle."

Gibbs continued to look at him expectantly.

"Uh, that's all we got, Boss… but we're going to have more soon, 'cause Ziva and I are going to go interview the ex!"

"I'm going to dig through Bentley's financial records, see if there's something there that might give us a lead," McGee supplied quickly.

Gibbs nodded, satisfied, as his team rushed to work.

"Gibbs! Perfect timing, I just identified the weapon Staff Sergeant Bentley was killed with! It looks like he was hit over the head with a mace. And I don't mean the pepper spray kind, 'cause even though that stuff sure packs a punch, it can't actually kill you. Well, maybe it could, if someone hit you over the head with it really, really hard. Actually, that would be kind of funny, 'cause you'd be bludgeoned to death by mace and that's the way a real mace is used-"

He gave her a look.

"…and you really don't want to hear about that. So, Bentley, killed by a real mace. And guess who has a well-known collection of medieval weapons? That's right, Bentley's next door neighbor, Grumpy!"

She held out her cheek expectantly and he kissed it in affection and acknowledgement of a job well done.

"MacDonald confessed, Gibbs. Apparently he asked the Staff Sergeant to turn his music off and when Bentley refused, he killed him. He is now in temporary confinement awaiting his trial."

His team was looking rather the worse for wear, Gibbs noted. McGee had a split lip, DiNozzo a large gash on his shoulder, and Ziva was sporting a spectacular black eye. In the end it had taken all three of them to tackle the surprisingly agile "Grumpy" MacDonald (and his mace). They were all hurt, exhausted, and preparing to start typing their reports.

"Good job, everyone. Go home, I'll see you all tomorrow." Why talk a mile minute when just a few well-chosen words will do the trick?