#parknight: 20 winks universe

[le-amewzing]

Unsightly

Revisited an old detail from "Token" to add more to one of my fav fic universes. -w- *Note: This is set in my "20 Winks" universe and occurs during the gap between the oneshots "Minor Details" and "What's Yours Is Mine, What's Mine Is Yours," but this can be enjoyed on its own~ I just highly rec reading the previously published stories first for major feels and Parknight fun. B3

Fic: "Unsightly" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: lightlyestablished!Jess Knight/Alden Parker

Rating: T

Words: ~3,120

Additional info: romance, hurt/comfort, 3rd person POV

Summary: Parker's not fond of his personal canvas, but Knight shows him some art appreciation anyway.

      "Never thought I'd get the chance to wear this thing," Knight remarked with a twirl as she stepped onto the curb. As if the click of her heels weren't reminder enough, the full skirt of her burgundy dress was plenty of evidence of tonight's special occasion. When the soft fabric settled against her knees, Knight glanced up and caught that amused little smirk of Parker's.

      "Hard to imagine the ever-prepared Jess Knight doesn't have an outfit for every occasion," Parker quipped. He fell into step beside her as they passed by the other small stores that dotted the shopping strip on their way towards their destination.

      But Knight shook her head, gently, so as not to mess with the smooth way she'd pinned her hair back. "Nah. My closet's full of steamed pantsuits, worn jeans, loved tees, comfy blouses, and cozy sweaters. I can probably count the special-occasion dresses on one…maybe two hands?"

      He did that scoff-chuckle of his, but it was heartier than usual, so his shoulder bumped hers as they walked. "What about that dress for your cousin's wedding? You looked lovely in that."

      Knight smiled. In the end, she'd been glad for her cousin mailing her that heap of photos, because there'd been some nice shots of just Knight in her dress, which she'd shown Parker the week before last, not long after he'd returned from his medical leave. She shrugged. "Ah, that? I had to borrow that." Knight averted her eyes. "Same as tonight's, actually."

      Parker glanced at her, eyebrows raised. But his dark eyes roved over her before he looked away. "A shame you'll have to return it," he commented.

      Knight blinked, pleased with the sudden attention. Truth be told…she'd been half lying. Tonight's dress was one she'd borrowed from her sister years ago, and her sister had long since given up asking for it back, so it might as well be Knight's, right? And it looked nice on her—and it was perfect for going dancing—and it made Parker's eyes linger—

      Knight only managed to stop her train of thought from charging full speed ahead when they arrived at the dance studio Parker had mentioned and he held the door open for her. "Well, I think we're right on time for dance lesson numero uno, Jess…" He got his words out, but he winced, and his grip on the door's handle turned steely, judging by his blanched knuckles.

      The sudden change in his countenance was cold water on tonight's excitement. Knight was only a step behind him, but she rushed to him, placing a hand on his chest and studying his neck and his face. She could see the vein in his neck pulsing, it was that strong. On top of that, little beads of sweat started to form. "Alden, holy crap, you—"

      "I'll be fine," he said through gritted teeth. But he started to lean forward, making to rest his head against the door for support. "Just—I need a sec."

      Knight frowned, her brow furrowed. "…Alden, tell me the truth. You're not chained to your desk anymore. You were cleared to be back in the field. But what else have your doctors said?"

      Parker took a few shaky, steadying breaths. With Knight's help—one hand on his back and one on his chest—he straightened up. Parker also relinquished his death grip of the door and let the door close, even. But he reached up and loosened the knot of his tie, too.

      Her frown deepened. She didn't take offense at the action, but she couldn't help but be sad to see her new gift coming undone already, a replacement for the tie Parker had used as a wrap for Knight's injured ankle over a month and a half ago when they were trapped in a collapsed parking garage, courtesy of the Raven's followers.

      Parker hooked a finger under her chin so their eyes met, and he mustered a small smile for her. "I'll get a chance to look dashing for you another night, Jess, suit and tie and all," he promised.

      She did her best to return that smile. How could she not, when he so easily read her mind? But Knight wasn't easily wooed or distracted, and she noted that he hadn't answered her question. She held her hand out. "Keys."

      A pinch formed between his eyebrows.

      "I'm not letting you drive home. I'll take you home, and you can tell me on the way or when we get there what the doctors told you."

      At that, Parker pursed his lips and grumped. But he didn't argue, and he settled down when Knight tucked her arm into his and they took their time strolling back to his car parked in the small lot across the street.

      The fresh air helped a little, and the sweat mostly had dried from his face when Parker got into the passenger seat. Knight kept an eye on him as best she could, but she had the road taking most of her focus for the next twenty minutes.

      It didn't help that, despite all the strides they'd made, how much closer they were now, Parker chose right now of all times to revert to one of his quiet moments. How infuriating!

      Knight huffed slightly, to herself, and poured on the speed. Fine. She wasn't going to play Twenty Questions with him again; they'd done that once before—only because things were dire, and Knight didn't want to relive the parking garage. But she wasn't going to twiddle her thumbs or beat around the bush anymore.

      She'd done her share of waiting. Hell, so had he, waiting for the two of them to get to this point! Enough was enough.

      Surprisingly, even faced with traffic and without the aid of the radio for filler, those twenty minutes between the dance studio and Parker's apartment flew by. Knight was able to park behind where she'd left her own car earlier this evening, too, right alongside the building out front. Relief from this tiny victory washed over her as she cut the engine. She turned to Parker. "Mind if I see you up?"

      Parker had been leaning his elbow against the door, with his mouth hidden by his hand. But he turned her way when Knight spoke up. "…I'd like that," he answered after a beat.

      Tension left Knight's shoulders as they exited his car. She scurried back to his side, just in case, but Parker seemed steadier on his feet after sitting for a while. In fact, he seemed his normal self, heading inside and taking the elevator up to the top floor. When she followed him inside to his spacious home, Knight worried he might stupidly pipe up that they ought to turn back around and catch the last half of that dance lesson anyway, since they'd already paid for it.

      That was why Parker was greeted with a frown when he turned to close the door behind Knight. He shook his head and smiled. "I'm fine now, Jess, really," he insisted.

      "The key word being 'now,' Alden," she pointed out. She yanked off her heels, depositing them with his other shoes inside the door, and padded behind him in bare feet. "You still didn't answer me. What have the doctors said?"

      Parker's taut back and shoulders gave him away. He lingered by the armchair before slowly shrugging out of his dark gray blazer and draping it over the chair's back. He finished loosening his tie and placed that atop the blazer next. While he unbuttoned his shirtsleeves to roll them up, he cleared his throat. "It's nothing major. I wasn't lying to the team when I said I was cleared for duty, and Director Vance is fully aware of my status."

      Knight frowned at his back.

      "The doctors… What Jimmy told you guys was correct. My head trauma from the garage collapse was minor, so I really was lucky. But the fact is that doctors still had to insert a catheter to get the swelling down, and." He paused there.

      Her frown deepened. She drew closer, though, and reached up behind his left ear. He didn't jolt but turned towards her touch as she felt for that tiniest of bumps, from where the needle had been…as if she couldn't recall. Her memories of his hospital stay were burned into her mind.

      Parker reached up and covered her hand with his, lowering it as he faced her. "Everything's good, honest. I'll…probably be on blood thinners indefinitely, given the hematoma they drained, but sometimes there's just." He shrugged. "A little bit of pressure. Just enough to give me pause."

      "Alden, I thought you were going to faint."

      "I won't. If I do, then promise me you'll sue for medical malpractice, because all the docs have assured me that I won't."

      Knight shook her head but found herself smiling and wanting to laugh. "Only your family can sue, smarty-pants."

      He shrugged again but rolled his eyes, not commenting.

      That caught Knight's attention—but she dismissed it, because not only were they nowhere near that point yet, but they hadn't even discussed it. So that'd be something for another day. Still… Knight leaned against him and reached for his ear again while Parker wrapped his arms around her waist. "Hard to believe such a tiny scar is all that's left of something so…serious."

      Parker frowned. "…scars can be a lot of things, Jess."

      "No, I—" His words gave her pause. "Wait. I thought you'd otherwise healed from then?" Without waiting for him to reply, Knight pushed back the collar of his Oxford and felt behind his neck, where he'd had what she'd thought was a minor burn from the heat of the initial blast. …no, it'd definitely been minor. His skin was smooth and new.

      Pink dusted the apples of his cheeks, bold on his already peachy complexion. "While I appreciate the tactile inspection…that's not what I meant."

      Knight blinked. She blushed, too, for two seconds, before laughing and relaxing against him, toying with the back of his collar. Just a few weeks of dating and already she'd grown this comfortable being inside his personal bubble. "Then what?"

      Parker lifted one hand to point at a familiar spot two inches above his heart. "Sometimes scars are dregs, the aftermath. But other times, they're a reminder, like saying we've used up our one get-out-of-jail-free card."

      She swallowed her laughter. Knight stared at that spot and let her hand hover over it, the image of the spider web-like splat blooming in her mind as if Parker were showing it to her once more, just as he'd done back at the hospital, simply because she'd asked if he'd ever been shot. She gently traced her fingertip over it through his shirt as Parker rested his forehead against hers.

      "… I'm sorry I ruined our special night out," he mumbled.

      "You didn't. The Unkindness did, hurting you that bad," Knight corrected. "Besides, we've had plenty of other lovely nights out, and we can always reschedule with the dance studio. I wouldn't mind a night in."

      He went quiet.

      Knight froze, realizing how her words sounded. While she'd been over to his home several times, she'd never been over to his home, and to bring it up now just…felt so wrong. Heat came rushing back to her cheeks, and suddenly Knight wished it weren't in the middle of summer, that she had something to cover up with, that she had more than this silly little halter dress on and that stupid ideas and possibilities weren't flooding the front of her mind at this exact moment. She pushed away from Parker. "AH! Um, sorry, what I meant was— I, um— I think I'll just le—"

      But Parker caught her arm, not letting Knight turn away and head for the door. "Jess, stay. It's all right. I get it."

      She still wanted to crawl into a hole right about now, but Knight managed to exhale. "Oh."

      He drew her back to him and brushed back a stray lock of hair that had gotten free from its bobby pin. "…I recall telling you I've got worse scars than the gunshot one." The rest was conveyed in his heavy-lidded stare: Do you want to know the stories of the rest?

      Knight's mouth went dry, but she nodded. Her eyes were half closed when he kissed her, but he lingered near, head still resting against hers, their noses bumping and their breaths mingling…

      …all while Parker began to unbutton his shirt.

      He managed that part just fine, as well as untucking it, but he hissed slightly when he went to shrug it off, so Knight shot him a look of reproach. He replied with a grin and accepted her help, though, and they tossed his shirt on the back of the armchair, as well.

      Parker was down to his thin, short-sleeved undershirt—but Knight saw right away what he meant by other, worse scars. She traced her fingers along old welts indenting his arms, below his shoulders and above his biceps, right below where the undershirt's sleeves stopped. The welts ran around back and likely circled each arm.

      Knight gasped. "How?"

      Parker touched one of the welts briefly before untucking the undershirt, too. "Op gone wrong. Hostage situation. And I was the hostage, along with a few civilians. It…it was how they had us tied up. Made it damn hard to escape or even move." He paused and pursed his lips. "…Jess, there are…matching rings, here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he guided her hand to his left thigh. Even through the thick material of his pant leg, already she imagined what the matching set looked and felt like.

      "When you said the other scars were worse, you meant it."

      He nodded. Parker sighed, but Knight realized a second later that had been a breath to steel himself before he shed the undershirt, too.

      Knight didn't gasp this time. Instead, her eyes itched as she took inventory of what marred his torso.

      There was a grouping of pale, twin dots, clustered together under his right breast. "Taser burns, from someone a little too happy not to use a gun," Parker explained.

      His skin was discolored on the left side, by his stomach, under where his arm might hide it if his arm were down. "Skin graft, after a house fire set to destroy evidence. …there was another victim inside, too, but we, ah. We didn't…get to her in time."

      Worst of all were the crisscrossed lines scoring Parker's gut. They were a variety of pale shades, some close to white and others close to his natural tone, and the lines were assorted lengths and widths, too. Some scars were perhaps the length of Knight's knuckle. Others nearly cut Parker in half, running from one of his sides to the other.

      Knight stared at him in horror, her heart aching with worry.

      But he shook his head. "All ancient, I assure you. The stomach's a real popular place to stab someone, especially an FBI agent, in my case. But I've been stitched up time and again by the best."

      "What are you, Humpty-Dumpty…?!"

      "No…although I'd really like not to be stabbed again. There's a lot of internal scar tissue. I don't want to think about what things would be like if everything became scar tissue."

      Knight swallowed an anxious lump and eyed his gut. "Does it still hurt?"

      "That? No. Jess, none of this does. It'll take far worse than this to take me off the board."

      Still, Knight had to know for herself. She pressed her palm against his middle and looked up into his dark eyes, searching for any hint of pain.

      But the sly sonuvabitch either was a good actor or had told the truth. He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head towards her, as if to ask, Satisfied?

      She narrowed her eyes at him. Then, surprising them both, Knight pressed a soft kiss to his spider web scar. "I don't want anything taking you off the board," she stated. "And I don't want you in pain, either."

      That amused smirk from earlier tonight toyed with the ends of Parker's lips. "Planning to do a thorough inspection?"

      "Yes," Knight decided. She reached a slightly shaky hand behind her to catch the zipper between her shoulder blades. "But…I also want you to see that your scars can be—well, not a badge of honor, that's cliché." She took a breath and unzipped her dress, and then she gathered her hair over her right shoulder and turned for him to see. "But they're definitely a mark of the good we do in this world, Alden. That our efforts leave this world a better place."

      Parker went quiet again, but his hands were warm as they glided over the lower half of her back, the half she always kept hidden, even by the few dresses she owned, because none of them were backless. …no, they couldn't be, because Knight's back was scored with little, scratchy scars, some like carvings and a few raised, and it wasn't something pretty to behold or something she liked to show off.

      Knight let Parker take in the sight for another minute before she inhaled and explained, "From my second year being a REACT agent. A small group of friends hoped to turn into homegrown terrorists, and we'd rounded up some of them, but two ended up taking another as hostage, the last who wanted to turn himself in. I'd just talked one of them into letting their hostage go and joining me when the other suspect tripped over the stash of explosives they'd collected. It wouldn't've been so bad if they hadn't, uh, already modified one." She let her hair fall back into place and faced Parker once more. "Shrapnel went everywhere…but! Everyone survived. The worst culprits are doing twelve years, but hey. We take what we can get, right?"

      Parker held her gaze for two heartbeats. Then he cupped her cheek and kissed her. "Your efforts definitely leave this world a better place, Jess Knight. You make the people around you better people, too."

      She smiled against his lips. "I try…but only if people let me," she quipped. Knight tugged on his waistband, pulling him flush against her.

      "You are more than welcome with this grouchy guy, if you'll have him," he consented, and Parker kissed that smile again, more deeply, and let his hands glide over her back once more, heading lower this time, just as Knight reached back to unfasten the snap keeping the halter part of her dress up.

:D This is a fic I've had in mind for a little bit, to deliver on my promise of Knight taking a scar count on Parker at some point. ;3 They were rly beaten up quite a bit back in "20 Winks," Parker more so than Knight, and having this set after "Minor Details" allowed for some worries to exist still and for me to show that they're still navigating this new relationship, which only began for reals in the 3rd fic. :') But I'm still so charmed by "Token," hence the nod to his tie, as well as the nearly fulfilled promise of dance lessons. X'D I did think about how far Parknight might go here…but I wanted this to be more sensual than sexual here, so I chose to leave things to readers' imaginations, esp since there was so much meaningful stuff for Parknight in here. :'D As Parker would say—baby steps, for them. XD Also, since I originally began this "20 Winks" universe after s19e17, "Starting Over," I'm ignoring the s19 finale/how they developed the Raven thread, *lol*, esp since I kinda like my uni's take on things. ;P So no Parker going on the run! Ahhh, I just rly enjoy writing in this universe… Last note: This fic was brought to you by the album road to nowhere by saturn genesis, on loop. XDDD (But srsly, it's v good and soothing—highly rec!) So go read the other stories in this universe if you haven't already, and then catch up on my other Parknights if you crave more charrie dvlpmt with both or either of them! :D Still need more? Feel free to request fic or art from me, come chat with me about Parknight or NCIS in general, and swing by the parknights tumblr for more PK goodness~ Three cheers for these two, yeah?

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[le-amewzing]

36 Hours

Just when I thought I was out of this universe, a missing moment pulls me back in. ;P *Note: This is set in my "20 Winks" universe and is set during the events described in the oneshot, "What's Yours Is Mine, What's Mine Is Yours," but this can be enjoyed on its own~ I just highly rec reading the previously published stories first for major feels. :3c

Fic: "36 Hours" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Tom Dalton, Timothy McGee, & implied Alden Parker/Jess Knight (so please tag with Parknight, ty~ c:), with cameos from Nick Torres, Ronnie Tyler, & Dale Sawyer, as well as a background OC

Rating: light T

Words: ~4,710

Additional info: suspense, friendship, romance, 3rd person POV

Summary: Disgraced former Special Agent Tom Dalton has some visitors, but it's the one who has nothing to say that frightens him. -—Or, McGee and Parker question an imprisoned suspect, and McGee leaves with more questions than before.

      Dalton had come to appreciate exercise more behind bars. He'd been fit enough, during his days as an NCIS REACT Agent, and less so once he'd become Supervisory Special Agent. But being behind bars had robbed him of distractions that once kept him from focusing on his physique.

      Not to mention being in prison meant he couldn't enjoy his cigarettes the way he had, long ago, atop the roof of NCIS headquarters. No, cigarettes were currency, and he couldn't acquire them like a free man. Dalton had to be careful when he had them, and he risked a smoke only when he absolutely needed it.

      "Dalton!"

      One of the guards—ah, that was Ewing, because only his shrillness could cut through the post-lunch clamor inmates produced—stood by the doors leading out into the yard. Ewing squinted in Dalton's direction and beckoned to him with an impatient wave of his hand.

      Dalton ground his teeth, gnashing the freshly lit treasure hanging between his lips. Of course today, one of his rare smoking days, the guards decided to get on his case. Normally they looked the other way when it came to these things, because little vices were nothing to concern themselves with, but Dalton dutifully dropped the cigarette on the dusty concrete and stamped the butt out with his shoe. So far, his stay at this particular Camp Fed had been agreeable, but that was thanks mostly to his good behavior. Dalton didn't want to mess with that.

      "You could use some sun, Ewing," Dalton quipped once he was within earshot of the pasty corrections officer.

      Ewing frowned, not partaking in their typical polite banter. He stepped aside for Dalton to pass, closed the door behind them, and unhooked the pair of cuffs from his belt. "You have visitors, Dalton."

      Procedure explained the lack of friendliness. Dalton held his wrists behind him and eyed Ewing while he was shackled. "Anyone I know?"

      "A pair of feds, from NCIS."

      Ah. Dalton's eyes widened at the news, an amused spark burning to life in him. Suddenly, he no longer cared about today's wasted cigarette…especially if the agents here right now were here because of previous ones well spent.

      Ewing gauged his reaction and narrowed his blue eyes (pale, like the rest of him). "Surprised? I was, too. Didn't think you had any friends left at your old agency."

      Dalton shook his head. He tamped down his excitement as Ewing came around front to lead the way to the visitors' area. "No," he answered honestly, "I don't think I do, either."

      Their path from the inner courtyard exit where daily recreation occurred snaked through the prison at long intervals and ninety-degree angles. It wasn't a maze, but the length was an abysmally boring though healthy one, and Dalton had never bothered memorizing the path, understanding he'd never get out of here on his own. Besides, the visitors' area was right up by the main entrance and not far from the warden's office—meaning it was one of the most heavily guarded places in the prison. Making a mad dash out of here, even in decent shape, was not a risk Dalton wanted to take.

      Dalton followed Ewing to the entrance and past it, catching the eyes of some other personnel. Some of them looked at him curiously (maybe they wondered over the visit, too?), but many ignored him, as they tended to do with all the inmates, unless the inmates gave them a reason to pay attention.

      Ewing halted him outside a room that was little more than another cell, just slightly bigger in size and with solid, enclosed walls, the kind of room needed as though this were a visit with Dalton's lawyer. Ewing signed a clipboard another guard held out, and the latter then unlocked the door while Ewing re-cuffed Dalton's hands in the front. But before Ewing walked Dalton in, he turned to Dalton and said, "A reminder: Tom Dalton, you are in the care of this facility and have been on good behavior from the start. But you will remain handcuffed while speaking with these agents, and you will remain seated, or else."

      Internally, Dalton rolled his eyes. Ewing's "or else" was such an empty little threat.

      "I'll be right outside, Dalton," he added, and then he walked the prisoner in.

      Standing in the room were two male agents, one Dalton recognized and one he didn't. Both turned his and Ewing's way the moment the door opened, and their eyes never left Dalton's face as Ewing got Dalton seated in the lone chair on the door-facing side of the small, metal table centered in the room.

      Ewing faced them. "This is Prisoner Tom Dalton, as requested. You may freely question the prisoner on matters pertaining to your case, as indicated by word sent by his attorney this morning ahead of your meeting—"

      Oh, really? Dalton's currency must've worked, if his lawyer knew the pickle he was in was a legal quagmire that would've sucked in both of them. He fought down a grin and a laugh.

      "—and you are to follow house rules. Please stay on your side of the room at all times. Do not feed the prisoner. Do not give the prisoner anything to drink. Do not pass the prisoner anything—not even a pen or pencil to write something down for you. Dalton will remain handcuffed and seated at all times, as well, and I will be on the other side of this door, should you need anything."

      The agent Dalton recognized nodded his head and gave Ewing a fleeting, professional smile. "Thank you."

      Ewing returned the gesture, and then he was gone, leaving Dalton alone with his company.

      Dalton decided to settle on that familiar face and let some of his own smile show. The links on his ugly, forced bracelets clinked as he leaned forward on the table and pointed up at the younger man. "McGee, right? One of Gibbs'."

      McGee pursed his lips and cleared his throat. He pushed his jacket back, flashing his NCIS tin, and then gestured to himself and his partner. "Dalton, Special Agents Timothy McGee and Alden Parker. We have a lot to discuss."

      Dalton shook his head at the formality. "Down to business, huh?" He glanced behind him at this new Parker fellow who took several steps back to lean against the far wall. He had no recollection of such a man in NCIS' history, so Dalton assumed he must've been some sort of outside hire or transfer. Ah, well, whatever. Dalton focused on McGee. "I'd say Gibbs has changed his tune, taking on not just young blood anymore—"

      Parker didn't flinch at the prod.

      "—but, then again, word gets around even in here. Especially about a man like Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

      McGee hesitated. His pause was long enough for Dalton to continue.

      "How's retirement treating the old dog?"

      McGee grimaced at the choice of words. "We're not here to talk about Gibbs, Dalton."

      Dalton dropped his shoulders in what he hoped was a relaxed, tired pose. "Hey, I don't get to see many people, McGee, least of all anyone from my NCIS days. And you and I are a bit alike, you know."

      He could laugh, predicting the tiny furrow that formed between the guy's eyebrows. "How?"

      Dalton shrugged. "I didn't hear only about Gibbs retiring. Your team fell apart. So did mine."

      McGee bristled and clenched his jaw. "That's where you're wrong, Dalton. Our teams didn't fall apart. The one I'm a part of evolved. You literally destroyed yours."

      …damn it. So, McGee had more of a backbone than Dalton imagined. Well, seeing as there was no use in being amiable towards him, Dalton dropped the pretense, as well as the half-assed smile. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest as best he could while handcuffed, which meant he managed primarily to tuck his hands under his armpits. "Fine. You want to talk business, talk business."

      "We're here because you're trying to finish what you started, Dalton. Yesterday morning, Special Agent Jessica Knight's apartment was blown up."

      Hearing her name brought the old investigation to mind. "My ire didn't lie with her, initially, you know. If Madden had just kept his nose out of my business with the vests—"

      "We're not here to discuss Special Agent Madden."

      "—but then he made it his business, and one thing led to another." Dalton frowned and tucked his chin into his chest. "I told her before: I didn't really want to take out the entire team."

      Silence. Someone's foot ground on the floor in here. "Agents Madden, Ono, and Vargas are still dead, Dalton. If you never wanted to kill them, then why attack Knight?"

      Dalton stared at McGee, gritted his teeth. "Because she's too stubborn for her own good. She refused to let up on the investigation that landed me in here." He knew the statement was inculpatory. NCIS agents never showed up unless they already knew at least half the story. Dalton could guess at which parts they were missing. "So—she survive?"

      Parker stood eerily still in the back of the room, casual-like with his hands in his pockets, but that was the only notable thing about him. McGee's reactions were far more entertaining. The pale guy (not quite as alabaster as Ewing, but close enough) flushed with color at the thinly veiled disregard for Knight's status. He glared at Dalton, took a breath, and calmed, which smoothed out his round features. "Special Agent Knight is alive and safe, but her neighbors weren't so lucky. Three people were hurt in the blast, and two are critical. One of the critical is a five-year-old child, Dalton."

      Again, he shrugged. They were collateral damage. But saying that aloud wouldn't help him right now. "Well, you've come to the right place."

      "We need all the information you have about the person who took up the hit you put out on Knight."

      And here Dalton couldn't help but offer a commiserating smile. "McGee. Come on. 'Person'?"

      Another beat of silence. McGee's eyes widened, showing the whites all around his irises. "Dalton, exactly how many people did you hire?" He put down his notepad and pen, even, splaying his fingers on the cool tabletop.

      Dalton withdrew his left hand from the warmth under his arm and scratched his shoulder by the seam of his shirtsleeve. "…hmm…"

      "Dalton!"

      He stopped scratching and held his hand out, fingers extended. "One for each member of my old team."

      McGee paled (ah, now he looked like Ewing!). "Four?!"

      "Hey, I led them, McGee. Count again." He waggled his fingers, thumb included.

      The younger agent pulled a face. "Five. You hired…" He shook his head in disbelief and jotted it down. "We need names, numbers, addresses—everything. And now, Dalton."

      But here was where Dalton figured his lawyer had caved too quickly. He pursed his lips and gave McGee the tiniest shake of his head. "I can help, but not yet. If I'm going to fork over information, I expect to get something for it. And I want a better cell than what I have."

      This didn't impress McGee, who frowned but noted it regardless. On the other hand…

      Dalton's demand made Parker twitch at last, which finally drew the prisoner's attention to the older agent.

      Alden Parker, McGee had called him. …no, the name bounced around Dalton's head, but it didn't sound familiar to him, so he stopped trying to place the man in his memory. Besides, presently Parker was far more interesting, and Dalton sized him up. Parker dressed the part of a fed, with the suit and its pressed creases in all the right spots. He even wore a tie—a tie, for crying out loud! That put Dalton in mind of the relics running the different agencies nowadays. But that was where reading him stopped being easy.

      Parker's hair was silver, and he had lines on his face, densest around his eyes. But Dalton couldn't determine his age. Older than Dalton? Younger, even by a few years? The multicolored scruff made it hard to say. And yet that wasn't what snagged the lion's share of his attention.

      Parker's eyes… They were dark and seemed unfocused, but Parker's eyes unnerved Dalton when he realized Parker was, indeed, focused on him. Parker's dead stare burned holes in him, even as McGee resumed with the questions, of which Dalton only caught snippets thanks to this eerie concentration zeroed in on him.

      Dalton swallowed a lump in his throat. It was funny, almost. After everything he'd seen in his REACT days, he didn't think there was much left that unnerved him.

      "…ton. Dalton."

      He actually was grateful for McGee to yank him back into the conversation. Dalton dropped his eyes to the table, ignoring the itchy feeling he had now, sitting here with them. "What?"

      McGee huffed. "As I was saying, start from the beginning, with each name. And don't leave out any burners or any alternate…anything you can even guess at."

      Dalton swallowed a second, tinier lump and nodded. "You'll—You'll need to start with Metro PD. There's a lieutenant there, an old friend I used to play cards with who's putting in his papers in a few years anyway…Jonathan Spence…"

      McGee's pen flew over paper, and McGee flipped the pad as he filled the pages and Dalton handed him names and details. But their interaction wasn't the distraction Dalton hoped it would be, especially as this visit stretched out and certain points during the interview were punctuated by a dull cracking sound coming from the back of the room.

      Dalton's eyes flew back to Parker's still form. The agent was still…mostly. Except he took to clicking his jaw every now and then, as information came to light. "It—It was Spence's job to scout her address, get her routine down as best he could…"

      Click.

      "…Miles Seba was Spence's partner for a time, and someone we both knew—but he owed me personally, for covering his ass during a drug bust gone wrong, since I happened to witness a certain transaction—"

      Click.

      "—and there's an ATF agent I met on an old case: Stevie Colfer. She was my best option for access to explosives—"

      Click.

      "—but not just Colfer!" Dalton rushed. He stared at McGee's pen, wishing he could tune out the sound now that he'd discerned it. "There was… There was someone in the local fire department, too. Rocco Ortega." He licked his lips. "…and her building supe? Spence built that connection, actually. But Terence St. George is no saint, and I'm sure he was hoping for additional favors of his own, in the future."

      Click.

      Dalton barely managed to bring to mind the actual details McGee requested after he gave up the names, so concerned was he with the menacing, foreboding motion aimed at him from barely eight feet away. Ewing stood on the other side of the door, yes, but Parker's simple action made Dalton wary that he might be attacked by this unknown factor. And, case aside, he had no clue why, especially because Parker refused to talk, to utter a single syllable or release a lone breath during this interview.

      And yet there Special Agent Alden Parker stood, radiating a thinly veiled rage in the back of the room as Dalton counted off and detailed the numerous people he'd sent after Knight.

      It felt like forever, sitting there, reviewing with McGee Spence's last known whereabouts, Seba's backup cell number, Colfer's preferred meeting place for taking odd jobs, Ortega's reasons for getting his hands dirty. They reviewed, McGee noted, the clock on the wall ticked the hours by—and all Dalton could think was how much he wanted to be back in his cell.

      But there was something to be said for wish fulfillment. McGee clicked his pen then and stowed his notes in his inner breast pocket. "All right, I have everything," he announced, pushing his chair back to stand.

      Relief flooded Dalton, enough to embolden him to remind McGee of his demand. "That's because I gave you everything, McGee. I helped. Wh-What about that cell move I want?"

      At that second, Parker finally took a step toward the table, as if he'd be the one to answer.

      But Dalton's hackles went up, and he shrank back in his chair, the metal feet screeching as he hastily put any extra distance between him and this man with obvious bloodlust.

      McGee and Parker both made nothing of Dalton's reaction. "I'll…talk to the federal prosecutor," McGee said at last. He tipped his head at Dalton in acknowledgment—the closest thing a traitor got to thanks, Dalton supposed—and followed Parker out of the visiting room.

      For the third time that late afternoon, Tom Dalton swallowed an unwelcome lump in his throat, still trying to make sense of how that interview had gone. Ewing came in to find him a bit paralyzed and reluctant to leave the chair, but Dalton was compliant by the second attempt to heave him up.

      It wasn't until Dalton was halfway back to his cell that he realized the agents had left and McGee had made no verbal promise and also not left behind anything in writing regarding Dalton's side of the exchange.

      He ran a hand through his thinning hair, grinding his teeth and wishing he'd spent his cigarettes more wisely. "…fuck!"

      McGee double-checked that his gun and holster sat correctly on his belt as he and Parker exited the prison after their interview with Dalton. Parker didn't do the same, walking in confident, evenly paced strides ahead of him. McGee followed his boss' silhouette with his eyes and squinted. Parker seemed oddly stiff after what had been a successful venture out here.

      Frankly, though, McGee knew that wasn't the first odd thing about Parker today. No, the first thing had been Parker's strange request a couple hours ago, when they'd first arrived. "You'll do all the talking once we get in there," Parker had told him.

      McGee had cocked his head at him and pulled a bemused smile.

      But Parker had gotten ahead of any questions or objections, saying, "I believe in you, McGee."

      Which…was a nice vote of confidence, sure, but McGee was smart enough to know by now when there was something else behind a person's request. And McGee knew, too, that it wasn't only today but yesterday, as well.

      Something was off about both Knight and Parker since the explosion at her apartment yesterday morning. From Knight and Parker butting heads a bit at the scene to later talking quietly amongst themselves on and off at the office…

      Still, McGee had tabled his curiosities and followed through with Parker's request this afternoon. After all, the case—and Knight's safety—was their top priority. And McGee was glad they weren't walking away from Dalton empty-handed. He said as much while he and Parker traipsed back to the car, but he also tried to lift Parker's mood at the same time. McGee grinned slyly, pointing out, "With any luck, no prosecutor's going to rise to the bait. If anything, all Dalton's done is helped to add years to his time."

      Parker nodded rather absentmindedly. He slowed his steps once they were by the car, and he stood beside the passenger door, in no rush to get in.

      McGee squinted at him again, from across the roof.

      Of the past thirty-six hours, what Parker did next had to be the strangest thing McGee witnessed yet. The older man released a low, slow breath through his nose and slipped the tie from his neck, winding the neckwear around both of his hands, and he pulled. He pulled and pulled, hard enough to blanch his knuckles and fists, hard enough to stretch the fabric taut and thin and, holy shit, was he actually tearing his necktie in two—

      McGee nervously laughed. "H-Hey, uh, Parker? What… What're you doing…there?"

      The interruption appeared to snap Parker out of his momentary trance. He glanced at McGee and pocketed the trashed tie. "Venting. And I really didn't want to take it out on your car, McGee."

      He hadn't expected an honest answer! McGee gawped at Parker, hesitating to get in the car with him.

      But whatever version of Parker had been on display seconds ago was buried deep elsewhere, because normal Parker piped up, "McGee, come on. We're still on the clock, and we've got to track Dalton's people down, otherwise Jess is going to remain a target."

      Reality brought him to his senses, and McGee slid in behind the wheel. He turned the engine over and got them on the road back to NCIS, but a part of his mind was still back in that prison parking lot.

      The ride back was a quiet one. McGee kept glancing at Parker, not looking for an opportunity to talk, really, but just to observe. And Parker either didn't mind or wasn't aware of the scrutiny—the latter, McGee supposed, since Parker rested an elbow inside the passenger door, cupped his cheek in his palm, and stared out the window for the entire ride, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

      McGee wondered about how dark those thoughts were, and why. Parker claimed he'd vented, and yet he still seemed as taut as his damaged tie.

      And, to think, McGee thought he and Torres had enough to worry about, with Knight being Dalton's target.

      Daylight was disappearing on them by the time they arrived back at the Navy Yard. McGee tried not to think about how Parker hadn't spoken an extra peep during the ride back—not unlike his stony silence during the interview with Dalton—and he pushed the memory of the shredded tie down as he and Parker took the elevator upstairs at NCIS. And the tie? Really, what was that? Just a footnote, if McGee actually thought about it.

      Knight's head popped up from her desk like a meerkat's when they exited the elevator. "Hey! How'd it go?" she asked.

      McGee went to exchange a glance with Parker, but Parker's tired expression was reserved for Knight as they entered the bullpen. McGee instead nodded at Torres and at Ronnie and Sawyer, whose shift as part of Knight's protective detail would've started just a few minutes ago. "Well, actually, I'd say it was a major success."

      Torres raised his eyebrows. "You're kidding. Vance's national security threat worked on the jerk's lawyer?"

      He nodded. "Yeah, lawyer wasn't there. Dalton was ours so long as we stuck to the details of this case only."

      Ronnie crossed her arms in front of her chest and shared an annoyed look with Torres. "Well, damn. If we'd known it was gonna be that easy…"

      Parker leaned on the front of Knight's desk and pulled his eyes away from her to settle the others with a frown. "The director didn't make a threat," he corrected. "NCIS still had to go through legal channels, which took a ridiculous amount of time considering how quickly we figured the likelihood it was Dalton yesterday." He practically spat the word, and Knight mustered a sympathetic smile for him and patted his nearer arm.

      "Hate to state the obvious, but…" Sawyer rolled on the balls of his feet and jerked his chin at their little gathering. "What's next?"

      McGee pulled his memo pad out and, since Parker didn't object, gave the sitrep. It wasn't just the names Dalton had given them, either, but also a list of other tasks—notes about which fellow inmates Dalton had paid off in some form to pass along messages, a reminder to check Seba's accounts under a recurring misspelling of his surname as "Seiba," even McGee's passing idea that perhaps Dalton's lawyer might've been instrumental in this and required checking. …and, the more he recounted, the larger McGee's worries loomed.

      They'd had big cases before, but this one—as quickly as they needed to get to the bottom of things—finally might be too big for just the four of them to handle.

      Ronnie picked up on that, dropping her arms to her sides and offering McGee a tentative smile. "McGee. We can help with this, too." Her curls bounced when she jerked her head at Sawyer, who shrugged noncommittally. "We've got Knight's back during watch, of course, but we can help you sift through this info when our shift's over."

      McGee wanted to jump on the offer. But he, Torres, and Parker had been spending as much time at NCIS with Knight and her protective details as possible, because they'd all suspected Dalton might still have connections worth using, maybe even still at NCIS.

      That meant that Ronnie and Sawyer, and Finley and Dawkins, weren't off the hook, even though the MCRT felt they knew them well enough.

      So McGee deferred to Parker.

      Parker straightened up but didn't take long to assess the offer. "We'd appreciate that," he said a beat later, ignoring McGee's look of surprise.

      When McGee glanced over his shoulder at Torres, he saw his own expression mirrored on his friend's tanned face.

      Ronnie grinned, though, none the wiser. "Great! I'll actually feel useful to you—not that looking out for you isn't important," she directed at Knight.

      Knight smiled and tipped her head. "Nah, I get it. I hate waiting around, too, Ronnie."

      While McGee dropped his things at his desk to settle back in, Parker dragged his feet, looking to leave the bullpen again. The older man ran a hand over the back of his head as he glanced upstairs. "I guess I'll go update the director, in the meantime."

      "I'll join you," Knight said, eagerly pushing out of her chair. For someone who'd nearly been blown up the other morning, she was awfully chipper at the moment.

      Parker hesitated, but the tension in his body language ebbed from him the longer Knight worked that soft smile on him. He nodded, and they fell into step together as they headed for the director's office, with Ronnie and Sawyer shadowing Knight at a polite distance.

      McGee stood by his desk, watching them until they faded from sight, and his curiosities from before returned in the office's quiet.

      Knight and Parker… Parker and Knight.

      His curiosities bubbled up, forming into something more solid. There was, of course, wonder over how much the past thirty-six (really, pulling up on forty now) hours had affected the team as a whole… And yet McGee wondered just how close Knight and Parker were.

      Butting heads at the scene.

      Talking closely, just the two of them, at the office.

      And not just earlier, when leaving the prison—there'd been a few other times McGee must've misheard Parker, calling her "Jess" instead of "Knight," during this case.

      But it wasn't just how they were acting around each other, McGee realized as it hit him, finally, why Parker's behavior in the prison parking lot had caught him by surprise. It wasn't only that McGee had been scared of that side of the man.

      McGee knew he'd seen that kind of reaction before, in others.

      Sure, he'd never witnessed anyone murder a necktie before, but—that rage? That was a special kind of rage, and McGee had seen it several times before, when certain people—loved ones—were in danger.

      Tony, with Ziva.

      Ziva, with Tony.

      Bishop, with Torres.

      Torres, with Bishop.

      At that thought, McGee's eyes wandered over to his friend, and Torres lifted his head, quirking an eyebrow at his audience, as if asking, Who, me?

      …ah, right. Torres' clueless expression helped snap McGee out of it, and McGee finally planted himself in his desk chair, determined to pry himself from this silly train of thought. And it was silly, even as his mind wandered back to when Parker and Knight had been trapped months and months ago in the parking garage explosion and he ventured that perhaps things had evolved for the two since then…

      But no. No! This was Parker and Knight, after all, and McGee was overthinking about these two. Clearly he was just seeing things, hearing things that weren't there….

OMG I don't think I've ever turned an outline into a draft so fast. XD SO! As with many of my Parknights, I wrote this before the s19 finale, so who tf knows how that changes hcs, but who cares?! Esp bc I love the "20 Winks" universe too much to change course with it much, I think (I'll hafta see how much I like the canon as we head into s20, *lol*). ANYWAY. This is the missing moment I referred to in "What's Yours Is Mine, What's Mine Is Yours," bc, the more I thought about it, the more I at least wanted to show an enraged Parker reining in his temper but also show how others take in Parker and Knight without knowing about Parknight; this is, indeed, one of my fav storytelling techniques, the ship-thru-others'-eyes, which I've employed before in NCIS fic (see "Sartorially Suited"), have done once for HQ!!, and enjoy on and off for HariPo, bc it's so much fun! It was also kinda fun scaring the shit out of Dalton, who thought he had the upper hand for a hot minute, and also torturing Parker a leetle bc Dalton was practically boasting about getting revenge on Knight bc sour grapes. X'D Poor bby deffo needed Knight's smile and frankly a hug and a smooch when he and McGee returned to the office, but a protective detail makes that difficult! Also, also! The tie murder (*LOL*) felt appropriate, considering the ways Parker has expressed his rage before canonically, but the more I thought about it, the more it felt right to have McGee draw the comparison in this manner to Tiva and to Ellick. But, ofc, Timothy McGee laughs things off, bc nooo, he can't possibly be seeing Parknight with his own two eyes! Anywho. Also, Ronnie & Sawyer cameo bc yay. c: (I rly do adore the minor charries across my fandoms~) -w- Lastly: Do take the prison/lawyer stuff w/a grain of salt, even if Vance did claim national security, bc yeah no. :O So you know the drill, if you read my stuff! Check out the others in the "20 Winks" universe if you started with this one first, go read some other Parknights bc I have what feels like a million of them now XD, enjoy some art by me (on my pillowfort) as well as other content (on the parknights tumblr), feel free to request (fic or art!), and always feel welcome to come chat! Idk where this universe will go (if anywhere) next, but we'll see! I'm just so happy to write 3 Parknights in a week, *lol* (as of writing, this, "What's Yours," and "Late-Night Promises" were all written within just a couple days of each other, and another two stories were edited…luckily before I started feeling like crap again bc thanks, allergies). ;P

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[le-amewzing]

What’s Yours Is Mine, What’s Mine Is Yours

Sometimes a charrie's early line turns into gold for your ship later on. XD *Note: This is set in my "20 Winks" universe and comes long after the oneshot, "Minor Details," but this can be enjoyed on its own~ I just highly rec reading the previous stories first for major feels. :3c

Fic: "What's Yours Is Mine, What's Mine Is Yours" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: established!Alden Parker/Jess Knight, with cameos from Nick Torres, Timothy McGee, Leon Vance, & Jimmy Palmer

Rating: K+

Words: ~4,290

Additional info: romance, 3rd person POV

Summary: Knight asks to borrow an item, and Parker realizes something crucial in the process.

      Knight barely managed to lift her boot to nudge his door shut behind them, exhaustion sinking deep into her bones as she took the arm Parker held out for her. Her tiredness flowed out from her fingertips into him from where they touched. "I…am completely done with explosions and people seeking revenge," she declared.

      Parker's mouth quirked up, just the right corner, while he took in the sight of her in one quick sweep and reached around Knight with his free hand to get the locks. "I'd like to say they're done with you, too, but our track record's not looking too great," he quipped.

      She stared up at him without craning her head, so he got the full effect of her unamused expression. "Not the time to remind me, Alden."

      He exhaled, heavily, and drew her to him, prying her claw-like grip from his arm and not minding when she clutched his back instead. A hug was better right now, anyway—better than a small point of contact, better than words.

      Better, because Parker finally got to have Knight in his arms properly, and not because the world was crashing down around them.

      He mulled that thought over for a beat. Months and months ago, he'd gotten to hold Knight like this, once before. But that had been a result of trouble at the hands of…well, they still hadn't determined that, actually. The Raven? His Unkindness? Steven Jang, former member? Someone else entirely? And Parker had held Knight then because explosions had rained down part of a parking garage on them.

      They'd been lucky to escape the concrete cascade and subsequent tomb with their lives. Parker's head had gotten a few extra knocks during the initial fall, sure, and sometimes Knight or the others glanced at him with worry if he took too long to answer them, but he'd recovered fully. He'd recovered, Knight's minor wounds had healed, and they… Actually, he and Knight were better than ever.

      Knight pulled away a bit at the same time Parker did, looking up at him again. He still felt the tension and tiredness in her arms around him, though, so he pressed a brief kiss to her lips. "You can get a proper night's rest tonight, Jess."

      "Mm, but can I?" She sighed and let him go, dragging her feet to his worn, black, leather couch set dead center in his living room. Knight sank into the couch's middle and half toppled over. "I dunno—I still feel wide awake."

      He snorted and toed his shoes off by the door before joining her. "Spending the last seventy-two-plus hours working on a case where you were the intended victim… I guess I can see how you might still have some adrenaline pushing you forward."

      Knight straightened up, draping an arm on the couch's back and turning her body to face Parker. She pouted and furrowed her brow. "They blew up my apartment."

      He frowned at the reminder. "But we quickly discovered 'they' were executing favors cashed in by Dalton from behind bars."

      She huffed and ran a hand through unkempt hair. Parker thought he heard Knight mutter a curse under her breath as she stared at a fixed point on the couch leather. "…damn Tom. Dalton," she corrected. Parker had noted she'd been forcing herself in earnest to drop the familiarity with her former mentor the last several days, but it was still a work in progress. "Damn him and his stupid ties to law enforcement, making me hole up at the office."

      Parker shed his blazer and reached for the fist Knight had clenched in her lap. "Hey. That was the best place to protect you, Jess, and you know that." He raised his eyebrows until she rolled her eyes and conceded with a nod.

      What he didn't point out was how having Knight at NCIS had made it easier to assign her a protective detail she wouldn't shake. Parker vaguely recalled Special Agents Finley and Dawkins from his time in the hospital after the garage explosion, but Knight got on well with the pair of agents, apparently precisely because of that time, so Parker considered that a win. Additionally, Ronnie and Sawyer had assisted with their watch shifts during the night.

      As for the rest of the MCRT—well, Parker still kept his foot down when it came to McGee and working overtime, since the guy had a family to go home to. But whether McGee was at the office with them or Parker had just Torres as his second set of eyes, they had Knight's back. Yes, she'd had a protective detail throughout the investigation, but Parker had assured her that he, Torres, and McGee would keep an extra eye on her detail, for reasons she'd just stated.

      Of course, keeping an eye on her detail while working the case had come with its own perks. Being part of Knight's detail and not just working the case like usual had allowed Parker and Knight more moments at the office together, had allowed them to be closer, more often and in a way that didn't arouse much suspicion. Though it'd felt like a small consolation, given that deep dives into Ronnie's, Sawyer's, Finley's, and Dawkins' backgrounds hadn't crossed them fully off Parker's list during the case. Tom Dalton had the uncanny ability to make friends and acquaintances in a hot minute, even if not every last said friend or acquaintance necessarily owed him anything.

      "But," Parker began, shoving the memory of briefly meeting the bastard in prison to question Dalton aside and instead running a comforting hand along Knight's upper arm, "that protective detail's over now. We got Dalton's for-hires, we did our due diligence and found no loose ends—we can put this case behind us, Jess."

      She mustered half a smile for him. "You're just glad I've simmered down," she poked with a chuckle in her voice.

      Parker didn't deny that. He flashed back to a couple days earlier, when they first arrived at the scene to find a soot-stained Knight and every agency outside her apartment building—

      —and she stamped her foot on the curb, still too close to the building despite the fire crew constantly herding people away. It wasn't until Parker and the others arrived that Knight could be pulled from the mess that was…had been…her apartment. "Son of a bitch!" she snarled, her eyes still glued to the hole in the cream-colored stucco where her window had been.

      Parker kept tugging, gently, on her elbows, and even Torres poked at her back to move her along. "Knight, how bad are you hurt?" Parker asked.

      She did a double-take at him, as if finally realizing he was there. Knight grabbed a handful of his NCIS jacket to steady herself and then, seeing not only Torres but McGee and Jimmy, too, let the fabric go. She shook her head. "I'm—I'm fine. I'm—"

      He settled her with a dry look. "Did you let one of the EMTs look you over yet?"

      Even with her face darkened by grime, Knight visibly paled. He knew her well.

      Parker caught Jimmy's eye, and the doctor hustled over. "Jimmy, if you would."

      "Of course, Parker. Jess—"

      But Knight found her voice again. She glared at them. "I told you, I'm fine!" She threw a hand behind her, where the fire had died out but black smoke billowed outside. "We have better things to be doing right now!"

      "And the rest of us will offer NCIS' resources to the other agencies who arrived first," Parker said, his tone even but straining against his own irritation. Bad enough he'd gotten used to seeing Knight in dire straits. The last thing he wanted was for her to ignore an injury that turned serious later.

      She flared her nostrils and glared up at him. "People—my neighbors, people I know and some I even like—got hurt." She paused, and he could hear the implied "Alden" she normally might've tacked on for emphasis there. "If someone wants me, they better just come after me and not get others involved!"

      Parker gritted his teeth, matching her glare.

      But it was Torres who interrupted with the obvious: "Uh, Jess, can you not shout an invitation to anyone who might be listening?"

      Knight smiled now, pulling Parker from the reverie. "While I'm happy to be kicking back here at last…I am surprised Director Vance didn't make me keep the detail for a few more days, while the Cyber team finishes their deep dive into Dalton's background and his associates."

      "If Cyber hasn't pulled up anything by now, I doubt there's anything to find," Parker remarked. "Plus, with Vance, we did shoot that offer down." He raised his eyebrows again, but this time it was accompanied by a smirk and a quick glance around his condo.

      She laughed. "All right, point taken. I do prefer being here without other agents snooping around and wondering why I'm not holing up at some hotel or crashing at my sister's."

      It was something Parker didn't want to imagine, either. Although the scene with Vance barely an hour ago replayed clearly in his mind—

      —and Vance stood behind his desk in his office, hands clasped behind his back, eyeing all four members of Parker's team. Finley and Dawkins stood outside Vance's door, still on duty at the moment. "Congratulations on a job well done," the director told them.

      There was a collective sigh of relief though none escaped them, although Parker thought he heard McGee exhale behind him, sitting at the conference table. Still, the minor, remaining tension in Vance's office dissipated.

      "It's always a dark day to put away one of our own or to add charges," Vance continued, "but the reward is far greater." The last part he said with a nod to Knight on Parker's right.

      Even with an inch between them, Parker felt her relax, and Knight smiled. "Thank you, Director."

      Vance glanced at a form on his desk. "Former Supervisory Special Agent Dalton will be moved to a different federal facility and have no contact except with his lawyer for the time being, given his new charges." He lifted his dark eyes and looked between Knight and Parker. "That said, I am inclined to keep Special Agent Knight's protective detail in place for a bit long—"

      "Ah—" Parker began.

      "That's not necessary!" Knight blurted at the same time.

      Vance blinked at them and straightened a little; behind them, also at the conference table with McGee, Torres shifted in his seat. Parker thought he heard one of Torres' familiar little snickers. "It's not, Agent Knight?"

      "No! No, no, no," she said with a little too much enthusiasm. Knight put her hands up, dismissing the idea and bumping into Parker at the same time, close as they stood. Out of the corner of his eye, Parker noted how much color flooded her cheeks. "That is— I mean, during the case was one thing. But now? We've closed it, right? You just said so yourself. We did a good job. So we don't really need to burn through more resources, and everyone could use a rest right now."

      Parker took that notion and ran with it. "She's got a point," he piped up. "If there's anyone else, they'd be stupid to come after her while we're on high-alert and expecting something. Besides—" He gestured behind him to McGee and Torres before motioning to himself. "None of us are that far from Jess. She's still in good hands," he added, realizing half a beat late his slipup.

      Perhaps Vance hadn't noticed Parker's use of her first name? Vance looked at Knight instead. "My understanding is that your apartment will be unlivable for a while yet, Agent Knight. You have another place to stay?"

      "Yep." She didn't supply details, just smiled.

      The director nodded. "Very well. If you change your mind, know the offer still stands. You're all dismissed. Have a good night, all of you."

      They mumbled their thanks, and Knight ushered the other two from the table. Parker heard Torres snickering again and Knight hissing, "Shut up, Nick!" as Parker went to leave with them.

      But Vance stopped him. "Agent Parker?"

      He turned on his heel. A funny lump formed in his throat while Director Vance's eyes rested on him, too curious.

      At last, Vance broke the tension with one of his smooth smiles. "Send in Finley and Dawkins, will you? I want to update them on their assignment."

      "Of course, Director. Have a good night." Parker tipped his head to him and did as asked without delay, sending the reed-like fellow and the California giant in before catching up with his team near the staircase.

      But Vance wasn't the only one giving him curious looks this evening. Even McGee kept glancing at him, squinting and smiling oddly. McGee opened his mouth, ready to ask—but then he stopped himself. It was clear as day on McGee's features, especially as he nodded to himself when the team descended the stairs. He was willing to doubt his ears and eyes back in the director's office…even though there'd been a few other times during this case where Parker had slipped up, too, using Knight's first name without thinking.

      But Parker hadn't dwelled on that long, just as he hadn't wanted to hypothesize on the director knowing or even guessing about him and Knight then and he didn't want to hypothesize right now, either. It was one thing, Torres working it out for himself, as Knight had told Parker shortly after his return to the office from his medical leave. As for anyone else… The mere thought gave him a fledgling headache.

      "Hey."

      Parker glanced at Knight.

      She rested her head on the couch, her eyes meeting his. She shifted the arm she had draped on the furniture so she could reach up and comb her fingers through his hair. "You said it yourself. We can put this case behind us."

      He nodded. "Although Vance wasn't wrong. You're not going to be able to live there for a while yet, unless another apartment in your building opens up."

      Knight shrugged. "And one might, considering people get spooked by this sort of thing." She frowned. "Is it strange I'm not more concerned about the things I lost? Though I did lose a lot of memories there."

      Parker shook his head. "Things mostly can be replaced…but we tend to tie memories to tangible items. It makes sense."

      She mustered that half-smile for him again, though it was less mischievous this time, with her eyes a bit glassy. Then Knight blinked and sat up straight as if something occurred to her. "Oh! Wait— I wonder—" She was up on her feet and she kicked off her boots before disappearing down the short hallway to the bedroom.

      Parker shook his head again, chuckling to himself. Tired but running on the dregs of adrenaline—so he'd been right about Knight's current state, after all. Nevertheless, he got up and followed her. And the sight on the floor by his closet and bureau dampened his grin. "Jess," he intoned.

      But she ignored him and continued rifling through things, expanding her mess. On the one hand, anything of his she gently set aside. But her own things she tossed willy-nilly, with some things getting dropped on the floor and some flying towards the foot of the bed. A sweatshirt—her burgundy track jacket, he realized as he caught it midair before it smacked him in the face—went flying, followed by the pair of leggings she tended to wear with it. At last, the frenzy screeched to a halt when Knight sat on her haunches and yanked from the bottom of a pile in the closet a large, black-and-silver duffle bag of hers that…Parker didn't even remember when it had taken up residence there.

      Huh. He knew they'd been making up for lost time and spending a lot of it together…and it'd been primarily at his place, perhaps more often than Parker had appreciated.

      "There's more here than I thought," Knight stated, surprise, delight, and laughter mixing in her voice. She beamed up at him.

      Parker shrugged and offered her a hand up. They sat on the side of the bed while Knight dug through the bag's contents. "I'll second that—just how much does that bag hold?"

      She grinned but gave him an apologetic look. "Unfortunately…your favorite shirt you definitely left at my place. It's not here, Alden."

      "Eh, I'll have another favorite shirt." He quirked an eyebrow as something peeked out from amongst her clothing. "…am I really this sleep-deprived or is that a stuffed walrus in your bag?"

      Knight glanced down and laughed, withdrawing the plush with a huge sigh of relief. "He's here! Oh, jeez, I thought I'd lost Rufus."

      "Rufus."

      Knight pursed her lips at Parker. "Don't hate the name, okay? That's what you get from a middle schooler hopped up on pain meds while she has her tonsils out." She tugged on one of the off-white tusks. "Hm. I wonder if my fondness for mustaches started here…"

      Now it was Parker's turn to roll his eyes, which made Knight laugh again.

      She exhaled, though, and calmed while she hugged the old toy to her middle and leaned into Parker's side. "Rufus must've gotten mixed in with my laundry last time I did it… …I'm relieved to find him, as well as some of my other things. But—" Her voice caught. Suddenly the room sounded so quiet. "—mostly I'm just glad to be safe again."

      "I'm glad you're safe, too," Parker mumbled against the top of her head. He pressed his lips to her hair, lingering, as if staying this way, staying close by would wipe away the more unsavory memories from the last several days.

      After all, unsavory memories like attempts on their lives were quite the heavy price to pay for the softer, intimate moments like these.

      But Parker mentally swatted away that thought as a surge of relief flooded him, precisely because he and Knight had come this far. He kissed her nearer temple, feather light, and propped her up, since she was drowsier now than before. "Well, we grabbed a bite on the way home, but if you need something else to eat before crashing—"

      Knight shook her head and tucked Rufus back into her bag. "The only thing I need is a proper shower." She stood and stretched, removing her blazer and stuffing it in a ball on top of the other things in her bag. She pulled a face at Parker. "Ever since they installed those eco-friendly timers in the stalls at headquarters a few years ago, a person can't take a decent, de-stressing shower there…!"

      He chuckled while she sorted through her mess of clothes and found something to wear. "Yeah, after this case and holing up at NCIS, I can understand the need for a soak. Take all the time you need."

      She offered him a smile in thanks but paused, her copper eyes widening as she finally realized how it looked as though a tornado had blown through in here. Daubs of pinkish red appeared on the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes zoomed back to Parker's face.

      "Jess, seriously, go on. I'll take care of this."

      Knight ducked her head, only scooting out and hooking right in the hallway to the bathroom after Parker ushered her out.

      He meant to change out of his own work clothes first, but…alas, that required a little bit of excavating. Still, once comfortable in sweats and a t-shirt, Parker gathered up Knight's things, folding and looking for proper places for everything. It turned out his closet was bigger than he thought (or maybe he'd been making room for her subconsciously? hmm), because quite a bit of her belongings fit back in there, including her jackets, which he hung up alongside his, even the blazer she'd balled up and thrown atop poor Rufus. The drawers in the bureau would take more rearranging, though—especially, Parker noted, if Knight were to be here awhile, with no apartment to return to.

      While he set about straightening up, Parker's thoughts did briefly wander back to the case as he thought of her apartment, despite both of them having reminded one another that the case was over. He hadn't mentioned it to McGee or Torres, not even to Knight, and he had a hard time admitting it to himself, but Parker still mused over whether Dalton's case had been too easy. Following the trail of clues back to Dalton… Getting access to Dalton… Chasing down every last lead and capturing the remaining persons who owed Dalton favors…

      But, no, they'd done a good job. Vance had said that. Parker believed as much. So why did this idea niggle at him so?

      He considered the visit to Dalton in prison. He and McGee had gone, so as not to give the bastard the satisfaction of interacting with the agent who'd taken him down, but Parker had let McGee do the talking, not trusting himself in that interview while his thoughts swirled with concern for and rage over Knight's safety. The last thing they'd needed was for Dalton to spy something in Parker and use it against him and Knight. But, still, Dalton had been one man with a few favors. He wasn't the Raven with a wide-cast network that NCIS still hadn't comprehended fully…

      …ah. That was it. Parker exited his room, coming to a stop in the doorway as things clicked into place: He wasn't worried about the specifics of their most recent case. Parker was just worried about the next time Knight would be in someone's crosshairs.

      The water from the showerhead shut off then, and Parker heard cursing coming from the bathroom, which pulled him from his worries and made him chortle. But Knight groused from the other side of the door, "Oh, stop laughing, Alden! And loan me a towel already." There was a small thud and soft footsteps before the door cracked open and she jabbed a hand out amongst all the steam that escaped. "After all, mine are all ash, and I'm fonder of cotton."

      Parker stifled his amusement. "Yep, just a sec," he replied, turning to the tiny hall closet across the way from the bedroom door. He slid the door open, found one that was the right size, and passed it in to her—but the action gave him pause, his brain halting and summoning to the front of his thoughts an analogy he'd once made to Vance a very, very long while back, about getting acquainted with the team—

      —and the odd atmosphere in the room, Vance clearly wishing for Parker to adjust to NCIS and their way of life and Parker still coming to terms with having been fired from the FBI only for NCIS to come in and scoop him up without blinking.

      And Vance, studying him after Parker's "I'm not ready to call anything mine" had left his mouth. Director Vance seemed so insistent on people being part of teams, owning teams, feeling at home here.

      These were things that didn't make a whole lot of sense to Parker, who hadn't quite experienced the same welcome during his tenure at the FBI.

      But Vance didn't miss a beat, remarking with aplomb, "I'm sorry to hear that."

      And, shit, at the time that had sounded as though Vance was about to pull the plug on this little experiment, Parker and the MCRT. Parker was new to these faces—Knight and McGee and Torres—and they were new to him, too, but he wasn't ready to go looking for another new job so soon. So Parker fidgeted and said the first assurance that came to mind. "Eh, it's—it's like dating. I met someone. Someone great. But me and that someone still have to fall in love with each other before we start sharing bath towels."

      Of course, thankfully Vance had taken the analogy in stride, but that wasn't what Parker focused on right now.

      And, speak of the devil, Knight emerged from the bathroom then, wrapped cozy in one of his towels and patting the ends of her hair dry. Yet her brow was furrowed, looking at Parker. She reached up and touched his cheek. "Hey, something wrong? You've gone so quiet."

      His own words had caught him unawares, so of course he'd gone quiet. But this…this was a big step, for Parker, realizing he didn't just enjoy Knight's company or like Knight. By his very own standards—

      Parker was in love with Knight.

      But the realization was too fresh, and he wasn't ready to say those words yet, especially in the hulking shadow of the last several days. No, something like this, the timing needed to be better, even though he was sure—

      "Alden?" Knight's voice pitched a little higher in the quiet.

      "I'm good, Jess," he assured her. "Just thinking about you," he admitted.

      She smiled. "Hey, I'm still safe and sound," Knight reminded him, rubbing her thumb along his cheekbone.

      "I know." But it was better right now, to envelop her in a big hug—better than a small point of contact, better than words. Parker didn't mind the dampness of her skin that spread through his shirt. He loved Knight's content chuckle as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and then another to her lips.

      Yes, this was better, because Parker finally got to have Knight in his arms properly, and he finally understood just how much she meant to him.

-w- Oh, man, the feels. So, this story…the main idea was to seize a chance to use those old, canon words (quoted verbatim from the ep, btw) of Parker's against him. XD And BOY did I! ;D I always thought that was a funny exchange btwn him and Vance, back in s19e11, and my muse (or, as my pal justto has dubbed it, my "mewse" XD) rly ran with it. This also was the aforementioned story in the closing A/N to "Minor Details" since, the more I reviewed the outline for this, the more I wanted to frame this in the "20 Winks" universe (altho can I get some kudos for not mentioning the damn handkerchief for once? ;P). But I also can't get the premise of turning Dalton into a bigger villain out of my head, *lol*, hence using that as a bkgd case for this story…and, as I write this (towards late May, while still I wait for the season finale to droppppp), I actually have an idea for a missing moment that cropped up for this particular case, so clearly the "20 Winks" universe isn't done with me yet. c: I also wanted to explore smthg in this universe from Parker's POV since the previous stories have all been from Knight's, and I wanted the readers to catch some of Parker's anxiety, too, wondering if Vance and/or McGee knows about Parknight by now. Which brings me to another point: There's quite a big timeskip btwn this and "Minor Details," I know. I drew up a list of pros and cons before ultimately deciding to make this part of the "20 Winks" universe, but I felt that the timeskip could work esp as cozy details showing Parknight have grown closer would be written in (it's cute seeing Parker caught off-guard by certain things here XD). Plus, since the story didn't harp on about the Raven, I didn't feel that this would be repetitive, even tho Knight lost her apartment in the process. :P Besides… *cue domestic scenes* Anywho! Pls look forward to the missing moment, "36 Hours," and feel free to lemme know if there's another missing moment you'd like to see written or even if you'd like to see the Dalton case in its entirety, *lol*! In the meantime, enjoy my hordes of other Parknights, fic and art alike, as well as additional content found on the parknights tumblr~ And always feel free to request or just chat with me about these stories or Parknight or NCIS! :D

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[le-amewzing]

20 Winks

Exploring hcs while the OTP is under duress. :3c *Note: Set any time after s19e17, "Starting Over," but no major spoilers for that. This was also a request by justtopostmyfic on AO3, asking for a Parknight wherein they play 20 Questions bc Knight's got to keep a concussed Parker awake.

Fic: "20 Winks" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: pre?Jess Knight/Alden Parker, with cameos from Nick Torres & Timothy McGee

Rating: light T

Words: ~7,470

Additional info: hurt/comfort, romance, 3rd person POV

Summary: Knight's got to keep Parker awake, because somebody will come for them. Eventually. Hopefully. So—he's got to keep his eyes on her.

      "You'd think someone would pick a better meeting place than a parking garage," Knight griped as she and Parker walked across the sixth level of the concrete structure, keeping an eye and ear out for incoming cars. She swung her hands around in her coat's pockets and turned around in the same motion, catching Parker's eye while she walked backwards for a few steps. "You sure we shouldn't be wearing gas masks after what was pulled last time, with Kasie and Jimmy?"

      Parker grimaced but cocked his head to the right, considering it. "Not the worst idea. But Jang is a loose end, a former member of their early days before the group—narrowed down their interests," he said with a discerning sniff.

      Knight didn't need him to elaborate. Steven Jang was their first lead in a long while into the Raven's followers. Even a former member of the Unkindness was better than nothing, but Knight hadn't really been joking when she brought up gas masks just now. They'd nearly lost Kasie and Jimmy to a biohazard. Even if Jang claimed to be out of the Unkindness…well, it didn't make him kind.

      Parker tapped her shoulder, pulling Knight from her anxious thoughts, and pointed towards the stairwell in the right-side corner with a silent gesture. After a quick glance behind her, she met his eyes. Parker nodded, and they picked up the pace.

      In the early evening, a parking garage held countless shadows. Or, rather, this place was horribly lit, Knight realized in annoyance, as she and Parker passed under several broken lights and one flickering one. Nothing crunched under their feet, though, so likely these lights had been broken for a long time and garage management couldn't be bothered to fix them.

      Parker took the lead as they drew up on the enclosed stairwell. He poked his head over the railing and glanced down first before craning his neck to scan the upper level. "Must've just been some trash or a rat," he said of whatever had drawn his scrutiny.

      Knight frowned and checked her watch. "But he said 6:30. We're here, we're on time—" She huffed and brushed her hair over her shoulder. She looked behind them out at the sixth level. There were more than a dozen cars scattered in spots in the wide open space. But there wasn't a soul in sight. "Parker, I don't like this."

      "We did extensive background checks on him," Parker reminded her. He waited until he caught her eye again and raised his eyebrows. "McGee did a deep dive, Kasie helped out… The Cyber crew pulled an all-nighter when Jang presented himself as a tip into the Unkindness." He took a breath and pulled a face. "So, yeah, I don't like this either."

      She closed the distance between them, her nerves on high alert, and they crept into the stairwell together. Though Parker didn't draw his gun, Knight felt calmer thumbing the latch on her holster while they surveyed things.

      Parker descended a few steps to get a better look at the level below. Then he heaved a sigh, came back up, and climbed a few. Dissatisfied, he jerked his head towards the sixth level entrance where they'd arrived. "Something's not right. The info we have on him profiles him as punctual to the point of OCD. He's already more than five minutes late."

      "Then let's quickly check the floor and get out of here. If the Raven knows Jang reached out to NCIS—"

      "You don't have to tell me twice," Parker quipped. Knight noted that his practiced calm evaporated, too, because he palmed his weapon.

      Their next problem sat right in front of them, though. This space was huge, as if it'd been built to accommodate traffic for a mall and not the medium-sized skyscraper attached to it by intermittent walkways. Yes, Jang's message was to meet him on the sixth level at 6:30PM—but two agents would need a lot of time to search this place properly. And Knight feared time wasn't something they had.

      Parker didn't order her to split up, at least. They stayed within a couple yards of each other as they jogged to each vehicle in the different aisles, checking for signs of struggle. But, with those undisturbed, that left the perimeter. And even that was a mess of useless clues, just wear and tear and refuse.

      Knight was already marching to their car before the curse left Parker's mouth. "Last idea: We stake out the exit and wait for him."

      He pursed his lips. She wasn't certain he'd heard her until he smacked the car's roof and got in the passenger side. "Half an hour," Parker agreed.

      She drove down the levels without ease, since the shadows kept making her jump. They were sitting ducks in a car in a parking garage… Knight debated driving back to headquarters instead. They could revisit the Steven Jang lead another day. There—There would be other leads.

      "Knight."

      She jolted again. But, thankfully, they were parked out of sight on the other side of the attendant's booth by the exit. She turned to Parker.

      He furrowed his brow. "You all right?"

      "No," she confessed with more force than she meant. She laughed at herself. "But we already covered how neither of us likes this, so."

      Parker opened his mouth and closed it, nodding. "True, but…" He bumped his knuckles against hers, which were colorless from the death grip she had on the gear shift. "We've been through worse so far."

      "So far," she echoed.

      He waited another beat before adding, "If you want to leave, let's leave."

      Knight finally swallowed her heart. Funny. Just hearing him say that relieved her. "Parker—" But she stopped short, because something white and wispy caught her attention out of the corner of her left eye. "Oh, my—Parker, get out, now!"

      He moved as she fast as she did, covering his nose and squinting as they left the car behind and white smoke flowed out and dissipated behind them. Parker coughed and his eyes watered. "What the hell was that?!"

      "Either Jang's welcome or the Raven's latest message," Knight guessed. She let Parker tug her further into the ground level, away from the likely chemical mixture, and she armed herself.

      "I say we take a quick look for either of them," Parker growled. He dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief and folded it before passing it to her to use. He armed himself, too, and added, "Whoever rigged our car can't have gone very far."

      Knight sniffed, clearing her throat and blinking away tears. She tucked away the cloth and scouted at Parker's back. And, yet, despite Parker's assumption, the place was empty, even the attendant's booth.

      He motioned her to follow him upstairs. They couldn't risk getting back in the car now, taking something potentially deadly to NCIS, but they also didn't have the whole night to scour each and every level. The lights on the other floors were no better than they were on the sixth, and they were losing the last dregs of daylight fast. So, unless they spied something worth noting from their position in the corner that warranted further inspection, they cleared the other levels at a glance and moved on.

      Knight's eyes had stopped watering by the time they made it to the eighth level. "Well, I guess we were lucky with one thing tonight," she muttered at Parker's back.

      Parker kept his eyes forward but tilted his head her way. "What's that?"

      "They set a gas off in the car, but they forgot to lock us in."

      He lowered his shoulders. Parker turned around to face Knight, his eyes narrowed and questioning.

      She blinked. "What?"

      Parker took a step back into the enclosed stairwell with her. "They didn't lock us in."

      "Right, so—"

      "What if they never planned to lock us in?"

      "…so, the gas was a lure?"

      She saw his eyes widen brilliantly, frightfully, as light flooded the stairwell. The deafening booms came seconds later. And the remaining spring chills in the air were replaced by the scorching heat of explosives.

      Knight squeezed her eyes shut and ducked on instinct, grabbing on to Parker's jacket's lapels in the process and pulling him down with her. She'd been through one too many explosions before, but this was the first time she finally understood the meaning of feeling everything in slow motion. Grabbing Parker, losing her gun, feeling the ground crumble beneath her—

      —and the falling. The falling felt like forever.

      Falling was silence.

      Falling was no air in her lungs.

      Falling scared her more than the impact, because falling was uncertainty.

      The impact was a sure thing.

      But she didn't trust even the impact, because Knight didn't know when that occurred. All she knew was one moment they were falling. The next, she opened her eyes, slowly, as if waking, and found her and Parker on a rough concrete floor, surrounded by rubble.

      Parker coughed. The motion jostled him, but she felt it throughout her body, too.

      Well, at least they were alive, even if by the skin of their teeth.

      "Parker?" she rasped. Knight licked her lips. Ew. She tasted the gritty dust. "Parker," she repeated. She couldn't see. Even with her eyes open, she couldn't see.

      But Parker relaxed his hold of her head, and light hit both of them. "Alive. Hurting like hell, but alive. Knight?"

      "Same," she murmured. Ugh, it hurt to talk… …but, more than that, she didn't like the way Parker's hair was matted against his head. Knight nudged him gently off her, helping him roll onto his left side. "Shit. Parker, does your head hurt?"

      "Everything hurts." But he hissed when Knight gingerly prodded the top and back of his head.

      Knight grimaced. "Parker, you need a hospital. Right now." She shrugged out of her coat, balled it up, and tried to tuck it under his head to elevate him.

      But he snatched her wrist. He was back to squinting at her, although he pouted this time. "If I need one, so do you." He reached up as though to touch her, but the motion exhausted him and his hand fell in her lap. "You've got blood running down your face, Knight."

      She swiped at her forehead. Her hand came away slick with a smear of red. "It's not that bad," she assured him. "Head wounds just—they bleed a lot." But, even as she said it, she hated seeing the smirk on his face. At least he didn't throw her own words back at her.

      Parker rolled onto his back with a groan and sat up after a minute. "Definitely not the way I saw our night panning out," he remarked.

      Knight took inventory of her arms and legs and, with her muscles protesting, got to her feet. "Agreed." She glanced down at Parker. "…you're so banged up, Parker."

      He, too, took a look at himself. It wasn't just the blood in his hair and questionable bumps to his head. His face was dotted with scrapes and scratches from the tiniest debris. There was a minor burn on the back of his neck, too, and his hands were red as if he'd been in the sun too long. "On the bright side, nothing feels broken," Parker assured her with a flex of each arm and leg in turn.

      She shook her head at him. "You didn't need to cover me," she rebuked. Knight tore her eyes away and began scanning their surroundings for a way out.

      Parker cleared his throat but didn't directly address her chastisement. "I did what I felt was right in that moment," he finally said after a minute passed.

      "We didn't have enough time to think about anything."

      He shrugged. "Important things don't always require forethought."

      Knight wished she had a retort for that. Honestly, though, she was too busy replaying the last few minutes (it'd only been minutes, right? they hadn't been out longer?) in her mind. She…was so used to doing the protecting, and it did little to lessen her anxiety, seeing the end result of Parker trying to protect her himself. "I'm not sure where we are," she said, switching topics.

      Parker hummed in agreement. "I'd guess the stairwell or what's left of it." The ground crunched around him as he struggled to a crouched position to stand, though he wobbled. "Let's—whoa."

      "Parker!" Knight winced at pain in her left leg as she threw a hand out for Parker to catch. "Are you all right?"

      "Yeah. Yeah, just… Lost my balance, is all."

      She threw him a tiny glare. "You shielded my head, but yours took the brunt of the abuse. We have no idea what trauma you suffered, so plant yourself."

      Parker raised his eyebrows and cocked his head a bit, but he shrugged and got comfy on the floor, leaning back with his hands on her coat. "So, you were saying?"

      Knight pursed her lips at him to keep from frowning but took in the dimensions of the…well, it couldn't quite be called a room. They had a floor and five walls at odd angles, and the ceiling had a crack through it, as though more debris could come through with a minor tremor. A light hung dangerously from the ceiling with exposed wires, but at least it worked and wasn't sparking at this second. They stood on concrete, of that she was certain. And they were surrounded by broken bits and chunks of concrete and rebar and steel, but… "Yeah, I think you're right." She pointed to the top of the giant, slanted pile in one corner of the room. "Underneath the debris, I think I can make out the stairs."

      "Good." Parker took a breath. "Then let's rest a bit and see if it's safe to move any of that ourselves, because I don't see any other exit."

      "Me neither." She patted her holster. "Dammit. I had my gun in my hand, but I must've lost that when we fell."

      "Same. Here's hoping Jang or the Raven or whoever doesn't come looking for us first." Parker pulled his phone from his suit jacket's inner pocket. "Well, I have a charge still but no bars. You?"

      She pulled hers from her back pocket and was relieved to find it wasn't much past seven o'clock, given the time they'd spent scouring the other floors before the explosion. Knight's phone had a new crack running along the screen, but it still worked and had its charge, too. But— "No bars here."

      "Figures." He sighed. "And McGee and Torres were waiting to hear from us, how the meet with Jang went."

      "They won't wait long before trying to get a hold of us. Plus, they knew we were coming here." That was right. Somebody knew they were here. Somebody would come for them. They'd just have to wait. Knight hated the idea of waiting, but stating the facts aloud lit a fiery hope in her chest.

      However, Parker remained quiet.

      Knight stopped checking the floor for weaknesses and scrutinized her scruffy companion instead. "…what?" she asked, knowing she wasn't going to like what he had to say.

      "They knew we were coming here. But we're assuming the blasts only went off in this stairwell." At least he had the decency to avoid her eyes when he robbed her of that hope.

      Her shoulders fell. "Shit. If the person gunning for us took even half the garage out—" She all too easily imagined the night, the next day first responders were about to spend scouring the wreckage for survivors. Knight didn't finish her thought. "We can't wait."

      "Knight—"

      "No. You rest a little while longer." She limped over to the pile of debris. Her ankle, it was her ankle. Now that adrenaline abandoned her like the receding tide before a storm, she became terribly aware not just of the pain in her ankle but that she had an ankle. Feet—a person just walked on them like nothing until something hurt real bad. Knight would laugh if she had the energy to spare. "I'll clear a path," she asserted through gritted teeth.

      "Knight," Parker repeated.

      But she ignored him. She ghosted her hands over the top layer of broken concrete and, avoiding metal bits that stuck out and yearned to claw her, began taking the pile apart. She left the top layer at the bottom alone, since she might use it later to climb towards the top.

      "Knight."

      "Not right now. Unless you're ready to pitch in, Parker."

      "Knight. You needta…ress…" He sighed.

      She whipped her head around. Her hands were literally full with debris, but she dropped them when she saw Parker slouch on the ground. "Parker." She backed away from the pile and hobbled back to him, gingerly tucking her left leg under her as she sat beside him. "Parker!"

      He snapped his eyes open. The smile he gave Knight was tired. "You're resting," he pointed out.

      "And you're starting to slur your words."

      "No, 'mnot…"

      Knight frowned. She wiped her dusty hands on her slacks and cupped his face in her hands. "Parker, look at me."

      He met her eyes. "I'm fine," he said clearly.

      "No, you're not." Her pulse raced as his eyelids drooped and his head lolled forward. She didn't need a medical background to fear that he was concussed. That sleepy state of mind sent off every alarm bell in her head. "Parker," Knight whimpered, scared to shake him awake.

      Parker opened his eyes again. "I'm here," he said. "I…just need rest. You…need rest. Then…" He gestured vaguely at the pile blocking the stairs.

      Knight huffed. "You know, it's one thing, avoiding therapy or just talking with someone. But downplaying actual injury is not something I'm going to let you make part of your repertoire," she ground out. She hooked a finger under his chin, raising his head and forcing his dark eyes on hers. When he held her gaze for five steady beats, Knight nodded. "Good. I'll continue working on our way out, but you'll talk with me. We've got to keep you awake, Parker."

      He did that scoff-chuckle of his. "Must we?"

      "We must, because you haven't seen me really angry yet. You close your eyes, and I'm going to be more explosive than what landed us here in the first place."

      This time, Parker properly laughed. "Roger that." His eyes followed her as she stood and resumed her task. "So what's our topic? Piecing together Jang's absence?"

      She scrunched her nose up at that. "No. I think the possibilities are clear. Jang betrayed us. The Raven got to Jang and set this up. Or someone else altogether is involved."

      He exhaled. "I'm surprised we weren't crushed."

      "Me, too. I'm guessing the devices were arranged at key points, but maybe something didn't go off at the right time…" Knight glanced at him, saw his eyelids drooping again, and snapped, "Hey! What did I say about you closing your eyes, Parker?!"

      "Yep. Sorry, sorry…"

      "If our demise is boring you, then how about Twenty Questions?"

      Parker was the most alert she'd witnessed in the past fifteen minutes when he settled her with a dry look. "Twenty Questions," he echoed.

      "It won't hurt."

      "Depends on what's asked," he grumbled. He pouted, too, but his attitude only made her smile, especially now that he was more awake. Parker sat up straighter and drew his knees up, resting his arms atop them. "…all right. Standard or casual?"

      "I'm definitely not going to pretend I'm an animal, food, or inanimate object. Casual's best," Knight insisted. "Plus, you'll have to think harder."

      "Fine. You first."

      Knight lightly tapped her finger on a rectangular-ish chunk of debris the size of her hand. "You said you envisioned tonight differently. How so?"

      "That's an easy one. You and I would've found Jang, he would reveal a critical piece of the Unkindness' organization if not the Raven's weakness, we would've taken him back to NCIS for debriefing and to get him into protective custody, and then we would've gone out for drinks."

      She laughed in spite of herself. "I'm sure Torres and McGee would've appreciated the thought."

      He didn't comment. He was quiet long enough to draw Knight's attention back to him, but…no, he was wide awake. Parker stared at her, one eyebrow quirked, as if saying, Maybe, or, That's not quite what I said.

      Knight blinked and turned away, tucking his expression away to contemplate later. "Your turn."

      "Did you win a lot, when you ran back in your college days?"

      She snickered at the reminder of Parker having once dug up their secret talents. "Hmm…yes and no. I posted my best times in my junior year, but there were these two other athletes from two other schools in my same races when I ran track. I always got second place to one of them, without fail. That earned me the nickname the 'Silver Knight.'" Knight rolled her eyes at the memory.

      "As far as nicknames go, that's a pretty great one, at face value."

      "What about you? Any nicknames?" With a glance at his sour face, she knew she'd hit a nerve. "Sorry."

      "No, it's just—your story got me thinking how names choose us sometimes instead of the other way around." He elaborated when she shook her head in confusion, "Me and Billy. Very few people call me 'Al.' He prefers to call me 'Park.' But the brats in our neighborhood when we were really little…" He grunted. "…'Trailer Park.'"

      Knight gasped. "Oh, Parker. I'm so sorry."

      "It's not your fault. And those kids were idiots. There weren't any trailer parks in the neighborhood—not that there's anything wrong with them, because there are some very nice homes, y'know—but kids are so quick to pick up their parents' bad habits, so quick to judge. And with Billy and me being at the bottom of the social scale and my surname being what it is…" Parker shrugged.

      She frowned. "You know, you do that a lot."

      "Do what?"

      "Shrug things off. Things that matter." Knight dug into her pockets, searching for a hair tie. She put her hair up. The stale air in here felt warm on her skin.

      "Hmm. I never noticed."

      Knight did a double-take. Parker seemed genuinely surprised by the revelation.

      "My turn," he said. "Do you have a sprained ankle?"

      She tensed. "…it's not that bad."

      "Have you had worse?"

      Knight shuffled around to face him. "Actually, I was lucky enough to avoid and prevent a lot of the injuries track runners tend to get. My first day at FLETC was a close call, and REACT training was hell."

      "I'll take that as an assurance, then." Parker curved his right index finger at her and motioned to the pill of rubble in front of him. "Good thing I wore a tie today."

      Knight frowned but understood when she sat and he carefully pulled her left boot off. She winced while he held her foot, but the pain lessened after he wrapped the necktie around her sock and tucked it tightly. "…oh."

      "Been a while, but I'm hoping I did that right and it holds."

      She didn't risk flexing her foot but did pull her boot back on. "No, no, it's great. Thank you, Parker." With the boot laced, she stole a peek at him. "Technically, you asked two."

      He settled her with that dry look of his again. "…go ahead," he said, quirking a skeptical eyebrow now.

      Knight was tempted to poke that eyebrow back down into place. "Where'd you learn to do that? That's not standard first aid."

      Parker exhaled a low, slow breath. "Academy training. Classmate was stupid but didn't want to alert the instructors and get sidelined from our first day with firearms, so another classmate who came from a family of EMTs patched him up. He still got discovered and was sidelined, but it's something useful I've never forgotten."

      "So…what? You saw someone else do this, once, and you just picked up the skill by osmosis?" She couldn't help but gawp at him.

      He smirked. "We all have our talents, and we're allowed more than one talent. That, by the way, was also two questions."

      Knight's cheeks flushed. Damn, he was sly. "All right, do your worst. Although I'll save you your turns on the less-interesting curiosities: I don't have any other pains right now, just my ankle. So ask away."

      Parker nodded in appreciation. His eyes roved over her face before he asked, "If we get out of here, will you go to the hospital, too?"

      She flinched at the question. "Why would you even ask that?"

      "Because you claim I need one and yet you're fine. We've just survived some sort of bombing, Knight. And your history so far isn't that great. McGee said that you tried to get the EMTs to leave you alone after you walked out having wrested a gun from a suspect during the Radner case. After the Stargazer, you didn't linger long in medical care there, either." Parker paused and licked his lips, as if he debated telling her the rest. "And…a certain someone told me you tried multiple times to escape the hospital when your REACT team was…when you lost them."

      Knight scowled. With Bishop who-knew-where in the world, that left only Torres to have blabbed to Parker. But she put effort into relaxing her face, since her irritation wasn't primarily with Parker. "…if I…absolutely must, then sure," she promised.

      "You really hate the idea of getting patched up," he observed.

      She stood again and sighed on her way over to the pile. "No, it's not that. I just hate the idea of wasting time healing when I should be doing something else." She huffed when he chuckled. "Parker! What the hell?"

      "No, sorry. That I understand."

      Knight deflated. "Oh." She rested a hand on another chunk of rubble, paused to admire his appraising smile, and tossed the concrete aside. "You still have a turn left," she reminded him.

      "Hmm…"

      Knight moved half a dozen pieces while he thought. "You know, I'll have us out of here by the time you think up—" But she screeched to a halt and whirled around, finding him struggling to keep his eyes open as if he'd been awake for days on end. "Oh, no. No, no, nonono," Knight said. She hustled back to him and dropped to his side, taking his nearer hand and squeezing it painfully. "Parker, c'mon. Parker, stay with me."

      "…'mhere…"

      "No, you're not. You're slurring your words again." Damn the catch in her voice! Knight swallowed the lump in her throat and tugged his hand behind her. "Come on. Enough sitting up." She snatched up her coat, brushed off the dust, and folded it properly into a pillow she placed on her lap. She tugged on his hand again, pulling his arm along more forcefully. "Parker, you were right. Let's both rest. Okay? We're going to rest now."

      He lay down, his shoulders butting her right thigh and his head and neck propped up by her makeshift pillow. But, with a sigh of relief, he opened his eyes. Parker stared at her easily, since the light wasn't directly overhead. "…hey, did you know?"

      She furrowed her brow.

      "You've got flecks of gold in your eyes." He smiled softly. "Guess they can't call you the Silver Knight anymore."

      Knight choked out a laugh. The sound was wet to her ears, but she couldn't help it. She shook her head at him. "Parker…!"

      "Your turn."

      She bit her lip. "…do you think we're going to make it out of here?"

      "We have to." When she tilted her head at him, he turned his face towards her. "I knew what this team was when I came into it. But, the more I got to know you, the more I realized: I can't let you suffer another loss, least of all so soon."

      Her smile was small but thankful. "The team has been through a lot—"

      "I mean you, Knight."

      Her heart stuttered. Clearly, she hadn't heard him right. Besides, Parker was concussed. Knight fixed her eyes on the buried stairwell. "Next question."

      But Parker seemed to realize the effect that answer had had on her. "Do you prefer safety in numbers?"

      She understood he wasn't referring to being out in the field or out in a crowd. "I like my own company well enough. But it's easier, being around friends and family. I like interacting with them, watching over them—"

      "Protecting them," he supplied, as if he'd been privy to her thoughts nearly an hour ago. "You tend not to put yourself first." It wasn't a question but another Alden Parker observation that hit home.

      Knight groaned. "Maybe? I don't know, Parker." She tugged her hair free, running her fingers through her tresses, never minding that both her hair and her skin were grimy. "I could just be a people-person. …all right, so I'm not the best with all people, but I genuinely like people, as opposed to the polite lone wolf vibe you emit." She winced. The moment the words left her mouth, she knew how harsh they sounded.

      But Parker didn't mind. "Mm, fair," he conceded. "I'm choosy about my experiences and those with whom I share them."

      That sparked her own question. "You know…it always surprised me, when I was looking for some backup at my cousin's wedding. You don't seem like the party type, wedding or otherwise. So why didn't you turn me down flat out when the guys suggested it?"

      "I do like a good band."

      But she could hear the teasing lilt in his tone. "Parker."

      He was quiet for a beat, but his eyes were open. "…you didn't ask me yourself."

      She raised her eyebrows. "I— That was— I already had someone— But—"

      Parker gently rolled his head side to side. "Don't worry; I wouldn't've expected you to ask me as your first choice. Just…instead of McGee and Torres suggesting me. It would've been different, if you'd asked me yourself."

      Knight closed her mouth. "I…" She hadn't known. But she also knew why she hadn't pressed him or asked to begin with, and she wondered just how far into this dangerous territory they were going to wander with Parker's next turn.

      His smile was soft, easy when he looked up at her, though. "Did you dance much that night?"

      She quelled her panic, caught off-guard by the question. "Oh. Uh, no, not really. I'm not a very good dancer, and I wanted to save Jimmy from too much embarrassment, so I pushed him towards another one of my cousins. Still had fun, though." There. That was easier. Knight managed a smile for him. "Do you dance? I can imagine you cutting the rug."

      "Not without hours of practice beforehand."

      "No! Seriously?"

      Parker nodded. With him this close, his head brushed her middle, leaving some red behind on her cream-colored sweater. His blood was dark and didn't bloom as though it came from a fresh wound…but this wasn't good, for him still to be bleeding after all this time. He sighed, but the sound was much softer this time.

      "Parker?" Knight tentatively brushed some loose strands of hair back from his face. "Hey, Parker."

      "Hmm?"

      "Tell me about those two left feet. Come on now."

      He sighed again and turned his face away, in towards her hand. "I'm not…so bad…that you'd…call them both…left feet…"

      "Yeah?" Her eyes stung, hearing him drag out his words, close to slurring again.

      "Just lessons… I see it… I pick it up…'ventually…"

      Knight clenched her teeth. They were running out of time. Parker was running out of time. She needed to do something. Anything was better than waiting and—

      She jostled him in setting him on the ground, and Parker reached for her hand. "Knight?"

      "It's all right." Knight squeezed his hand and pulled away, going back to the blocked stairwell. "You just keep telling me about your dancing lessons, Parker." She spied the opening and a path there. If she cleared enough, she still wouldn't fit through…but…

      "Hmm…mambooooo… Foxtrot." He paused. "I can w…waltz with the best of them…"

      "That's a slow one, right? Maybe even I can manage to pull that one off someday." Yes…yes, if she just moved—four large chunks. Four pieces of rebar-studded concrete blocked her path. She could move them and climb partway and throw her phone up. It was useless down here, but, up there, it stood a chance of picking up a lone bar. And a lone bar meant McGee or Kasie could ping their location.

      Suddenly, Knight wished she'd played softball in college instead of run track. Even if she cleared a path, that opening looked only five inches wide and she had no idea if she'd lose her phone on the other side of this pile once she tossed it.

      Knight glanced behind her. Tears pressed at the backs of her eyes, seeing him so still. "Parker!"

      "…waltz…slow or fast…," he mumbled, but his eyes were fluttering closed. He said something else while Knight hastened to yank pivotal pieces free from the pile.

      "What was that?" Knight started climbing up but paused to catch another look at him.

      From this vantage point, he tilted his chin, able to meet her eyes high above him. "You don't…have…to stay a…terrible dancer." Parker's smile was weak. "Dance with me, Knight?"

      She stared at him in horror, worried he'd forgotten where they were. "You mean now?!"

      "…no…lessons…"

      Knight choked back a relieved sob and resumed her climb, not even flinching when a steel fragment shifted in the pile and she slid back an inch. "You know what? Dancing lessons from you or with you sound fantastic, Parker. Just stay the hell awake."

      There! She was within three feet of that tiny opening. Knight situated herself so she had a grip on the pile with her left hand. She grabbed her phone in her right and positioned it like a Frisbee. Before kissing it goodbye, Knight checked the screen once more.

      Still no signal. This was their best chance—and she'd worry about risking Parker's phone next if this failed.

      Knight aimed and flung it.

      She held her breath, but she heard the device clatter elsewhere above them.

      It had landed! It wasn't lost in the rubble with them! Her phone could be pinged now!

      Knight released a nervous laugh that had bubbled within her. She practically guffawed by the time she hopped off the bottom line of debris. "Parker, did you see that?!" She beamed at him.

      But Parker was silent.

      Her tears threatened to surface as she shuffled back to him. "Parker?" she whispered.

      In the silence, she at least heard him breathing.

      But the knowledge didn't soothe her. If only she'd thought to throw her phone sooner…! Then she never would've had to move him and put a hold on engaging him… Knight slumped against the nearest wall and slid down to the rocky floor. She reached a hand out to Parker's chest.

      He was breathing. His chest rose and fell. His heart still beat. But he was so, so quiet.

      Knight scooted closer, timidly bringing his head back into her lap. She was cautious of moving him too much, but it hadn't seemed to matter earlier, when he was awake and moving on his own. Now, all Knight could think was that Parker was safer in her arms, certainly if everything came crashing down around them. She stroked his hair, ignoring the matted parts. She folded in on herself, half hugging him to her. "Dammit, Parker. It's your turn. You're supposed to ask me something. Anything. Just talk to me."

      Parker inhaled. Parker exhaled. His breath stirred her hair and brushed her cheek.

      She mustered a smile for him, looking at him as if he might come back to her at any second and meet her eyes. "Hey. Hey, if you're passing your round, then I'm taking my turn." Knight's voice cracked, but she could care less. "Parker… When you brought up drinks tonight—you meant just you and me, didn't you?"

      He inhaled; he exhaled. Nothing about him changed.

      But Knight replayed that moment in her mind's eye. Parker, so casually rattling off his hypothetical for how tonight should've gone…and all but correcting her when she'd assumed he meant a team-bonding outing to celebrate.

      It made her panic less about dancing around discussion of her cousin's wedding.

      At the time, Knight knew she wouldn't've asked Parker and risked showing her curiosity in him. But…in all the weeks, months since…and even a few times before…Knight knew she could pinpoint his own brand of curiosity in her. And, try as she might to have ignored his signs tonight, he had given her signs. She—She was pretty sure.

      She was just…scared. Not for only tonight but in general. Happy, good things only occurred, in Jess Knight's opinion, before the other shoe dropped. And she always held her breath, waiting for that drop.

      The other shoe hadn't dropped yet tonight, though—no, that'd just been the parking garage's structure around them. So, knowing Parker wouldn't reply and that help was too far away, Knight embraced her fears and spoke. "Parker."

      His heart was steady, same as his breath.

      She crushed the fabric of his jacket in her grip and blinked tears back. "I don't expect you to answer," she continued, heart hammering, "but I'm taking the next few questions, too, okay?"

      Parker exhaled. But his movements were so subtle that she removed her hand from his jacket and spread her palm out on his chest. His heartbeat was the only reassurance he could give her right now.

      "Parker…do you realize how often you take me with you instead of the others? Have you noticed how often my name's the first if not the only one out of your mouth?" Her smile was bittersweet, but the memories of these little things at the office and even in the field warmed her, and they snowballed, making her think of the stupid, heroic things he did but also the passing things he did, like glancing at her when sensitive topics came up or just—just keeping an extra eye on her after she swore to him that, yes, she was fully healed from the workday's "fun" the day prior. She knew she worried over him, but he was so easy to catch in his concern, too. "Am I imagining things? Or am I allowed to have some hope?" She laughed and swiped at her eyes. "And I don't mean the lone wolf finally accepts that he's getting used to having a partner. I mean—fuck. Just open your stupid eyes, Parker."

      His breath was quiet, but his heartbeat was even. He didn't react to the caress of his hair.

      She couldn't hold back anymore. The hot chunk of anguish burning in her chest boiled, and tears cut warm, damp paths down her cheeks. Knight swallowed her first sob and subdued the second, but they'd piled up, too many, countless like the rubble all around them, ready to crush her under their weight if she didn't find a way out.

      That was when she heard, off in the distance, sirens.

      Knight tamped down the anticipation that blossomed at the sound. Those…could be any sirens… This wasn't some empty neighborhood they'd come to… Surely, that ambulance and fire truck might be passing—

      But the logical part of her brain told her doubt to shut the hell up. The sirens were getting closer.

      "DOWN HERE!" she hollered.

      Sirens drew nearer, and she heard a helicopter far, far above, and there were people, too. But they weren't near.

      Knight wasn't moving away from Parker again. She bent over him in the likelihood that new activity would cause a cave-in. He'd protected her, but damned if she weren't going to protect him, too. "HERE! WE'RE HERE!" she screamed.

      It felt like forever for the noise to reach them. But, finally, multiple sets of footsteps over rubble caught her attention.

      Knight licked her lips, preparing for another shout despite the scratchiness of her throat. "HERE!" She hoped it was enough.

      "Knight?!"

      She did a double-take at the stairwell opening.

      "Jess, where are you?!" Torres' voice was more desperate this time.

      Knight couldn't believe this was real. "Down here! What used to be the stairwell!"

      "Jess, hang on!" McGee called down. A couple minutes later, his face and Torres' appeared through the opening but from a safe distance. "Jess, is Parker with you?"

      She instinctively squeezed the man in her lap. "Y-Yeah." Her voice caught as tears formed anew. "Guys, he's hurt."

      "You'll be all right. We've got first responders here, the full alphabet—we'll get you out the moment the fire crew deems it safe. You'll both be better in no time."

      "No, McGee—it's bad. Parker, he…he hit his head. He was good for a while, I kept him awake, but he started slurring and I couldn't keep him awake. He's—" She didn't care if they saw. Knight cried, relaying reality to them. And it didn't help that both of her friends paled at the news.

      But Torres collected himself first. "Jess, listen to me."

      She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to clear her vision. She met his steady gaze.

      "You kept him awake as long as you could. But we will get you two out of there and we will get Parker the best care he needs. Do you copy?"

      "Nick…"

      "Special Agent Knight, do you copy me?"

      She swallowed her grief and nodded.

      Her reunion with McGee and Torres was interrupted then by the firefighters coming to assess the situation. They had an EMT with them, but the opening was too narrow to pass through anything useful other than a bottle of water.

      Knight sipped it while she waited for the way to be cleared. She didn't dare risk giving any to Parker, in case he choked, and she kept trying to wake him, to no avail.

      By the time the first responders pulled Knight and Parker from the wreckage, it was well and truly night outside. McGee and Torres were waiting for her by their car, and both of them enveloped her in a group hug.

      "Ow," she moaned.

      McGee and Torres jumped back as though she'd slapped them. "Wait, did the EMTs clear you yet?"

      She shook her head, her eyes drifting past their shoulders to where Parker was being loaded into an ambulance. "They checked me briefly since I could walk out on my own, Tim."

      "Jess, you still need to go to the hospital. The garage was rigged to come down completely—"

      "Delightful." She pulled a face but limped over to Parker's ambulance with McGee and Torres trailing her. "But I've got a ride to catch."

      The EMT prepping to close the doors raised her eyebrows at Knight and looked back to McGee and Torres for assistance.

      McGee smiled at the woman and gestured to Knight. "She's our other missing agent."

      "And there are other ambulances," the EMT stated, jerking her head towards the scene around them. There were enough flashing lights to compete with New York City on New Year's Eve at that moment.

      But Knight glared at the woman and grabbed the other door, keeping her from closing it. "He's not going anywhere without me," she said, her tone clipped.

      Again, the EMT looked back to McGee and Torres, but Knight turned in time to see both men nod. With a shrug, the EMT hoisted herself up first.

      Knight climbed in after her, her anger draining fast. "Thanks, guys," she mumbled before she took the open seat beside Parker's stretcher. She grabbed Parker's nearer hand, half to let him know she was there, half to calm herself.

      Before the doors shut, though, Torres' eyes flickered to hers with some passing understanding, witnessing her actions.

      Ah. Well, she'd worry about that later.

      The sirens were deafening this time, now that she was in the ambulance with him and the driver peeled away from the scene. In the back, the other two EMTs worked like a well-oiled machine, getting Parker set up with fluids and stabilizing his head throughout the ride.

      The entire time, Knight kept hold of his hand, watching over him once more and musing whether Twenty Questions had been a wise idea in the end, whether he would even remember it…

      …but she set aside her concerns when, even with the rest of him still, Parker squeezed her hand back and wouldn't let go.

So…I'm not crying, you're crying! TTwTT This wild ride actually spun out of control from this wonderful request I received and my drafted notes, which—already tiny—contained the most crucial part of the story in under 200 words??! So how we ended up over 7k later…idek. XDDD This was a lot of fun to write, tho! This is now the 7th fic I've written after s19e17 aired and before s19e18 aired (as I write this A/N, it's still early April), and you can just tell I'm totally grooving with this OTP. ;3 Whereas I touched upon a few hcs in "infatuations," I built in some fun, random, new ones here since them playing 20 Questions was requested. And this only scratches the surface of things I hc for them! ;D Honest to goodness, tho, the canonical deets that I can work in to the shipping… Damn, they have mighty fine chemistry. I want to see him take her dancing now! ;w; AHHHHHH. Also, I decided to tie this in with the Raven/Unkindness thread since the show doesn't always wrap up big [potential] baddie threads before the season's out, and this was just fun to write since I don't write action v often. I just wanted this to read kinda like an episode, and I hope that comes across! :'D And lastly—Nick being a good bro for his bro, Knight, but also that look at the end…those were for me. XD *long live bros!Torres&Knight and the Ellick empathy* But yeah. Go read my other Parknights if you've missed out, or feel free to request! I hope you enjoyed this one, as well, jtpmf! Tysm for requesting, as always~ (Also, I'mma spill the beans now: While editing, inspo for a sequel occurred to me, so…that's happening. XD Pls look forward to it, everyone! Bc I've got it outlined—time to write… ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ)

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[le-amewzing]

Minor Details

So Knight and Parker won't let me leave the universe of "20 Winks" alone, I guess?? XD *Note: This is set after my oneshot, "Token," so spoilers for that! I highly rec reading that first~

Fic: "Minor Details" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Jess Knight/Alden Parker, Nick Torres (bros!Knight&Torres), Timothy McGee, & Jimmy Palmer

Rating: K+

Words: ~5,340

Additional info: romance, friendship, 3rd person POV

Summary: Parker returns to work, Torres offers his two cents, and Knight finally does something she wishes she'd done sooner.

      Every ding of the elevator doors made her jolt. With as sly a peek as she could pull off, Knight would slide her eyes that way, twisting her head slightly, each and every time. And, each and every time, it was some other agent, or a visitor, or some other employee who was part of the NCIS machine keeping this vessel afloat.

      Still no sign of Parker.

      She tamped down her frown, masking her disappointment, and checked her phone in the shadows her desk cast across her lap. Sure, the hour bothered her a little—it was after eleven already—but Knight pulled up her call logs.

      They hadn't talked a whole lot these last couple weeks, but Parker needed rest after they'd survived what was supposed to have been a total collapse of a parking garage. Still…her call logs were a nice reminder that they'd chatted at all. Last night's call (twenty minutes long and shortly before bedtime—she'd had to threaten to hang up on him before he admitted that, yeah, he was yawning quite a bit) was when he'd informed her he'd be back at work the next day, on the late side, in the morning.

      But it was getting too late to call it "morning" still, Knight thought with a swipe up. She went into her texts next. She and Parker had fewer exchanges here, but—

      "Knight, did you finish reviewing the witness statements from the Connelly case?" McGee asked, interrupting her glum train of thought.

      She covered her jumpiness this time, making a show of closing the folders on her desk while she tucked her phone under her thigh. "Hm? Oh, yeah. Here, you can have them, McGee." She handed them over after he crossed the carpet for them.

      McGee nodded his thanks and turned Torres' way next. "Nick, you gonna be ready when Mrs. Connelly takes the stand in a few days?"

      Their friend groaned at his desk and slumped over, his head hitting the edge with a thud. "I hate court," he moaned.

      "Yeah, not what I asked."

      Torres picked his head up, grimacing at the pair of them. "Court is so…stuffy. The suit? That's fine; I'm sexy in a suit. But staying awake during the proceedings?" He groaned again, more vigorously this time, and covered his face with his hands before ultimately pushing his fingers up into his dark hair.

      Knight's eyes flickered to McGee, who was trying his very best to maintain his usual even temper and not grimace himself. McGee sighed. "You're not the one testifying; Mrs. Connelly is. You had the best rapport with her, so we need you there with her, Nick, otherwise her husband and brother are going to get away with murder. She needs you there."

      "I know," Torres huffed. "I don't hate helping her, for the record. It's just—court. It's the most boring part of the job."

      "Yeah, well." McGee shrugged and sat back down, plopping the witness statements onto an already large pile to the right of his computer. "Our time on the docket comes up every now and then. It's probably for the best that it's right now, being a man down."

      Knight understood McGee didn't realize how blasé he sounded, but the casual reference to Parker's absence stung. She dropped her eyes to her keyboard.

      But Torres cleared his throat, and Knight glimpsed the subtle shake of his head which he sent McGee's way, along with a reproving look. At least he didn't jerk his head in Knight's direction, too. Still, it was nice to see McGee flounder like his usual self as he reconsidered his words.

      A muffled chime came from her chair, soft enough in the general office din that only Knight heard it. Oh, right, her phone. She shuffled it under her legs and turned slightly away from the others to read the new message. It was from Parker:

-H

      Knight furrowed her brow, confused. "H"? What the hell was "H"? Was it supposed to be shorthand for "Hi" or "Hello"? Her heart ached, summoning a memory of when Parker spoke with her in the hospital after he woke; though not the first thing he'd said to her, "Hey" had been their first exchange once the nurses checked him over.

      But Parker also didn't use shorthand. Oh, God. What if this were a sign, just like someone's speech being garbled? Wasn't that a thing? If someone suddenly spoke funny, get help. If someone suddenly texted funny, get help. Except where was—

      The elevator dinged, and a few people began applauding before a familiar, smooth voice insisted, "Ah, hey—I appreciate the welcome back, but I'm good, and I'd hate to disturb everyone else. So if you don't mind?"

      Knight stood so quickly, her chair slammed into the cabinet behind it. But she could care less about disturbing others right now. Least of all when her eyes met Parker's dark ones as he walked the short distance and turned in to the bullpen.

      He held her gaze for an extra Mississippi before addressing all of them. "'Morning. Barely."

      McGee and Torres got up, too. McGee's grin was almost too bright, as if admitting he was ready to cede command again. "Parker! You're finally back!" he said, half hugging the older man.

      "Pretty sure you knew today was my first day back, same as Director Vance," Parker commented, one eyebrow quirked skeptically. His smile flitted to Knight as she came around to the front of her desk to join the welcoming party.

      "True, but, the later it got, I thought maybe you or Vance pushed your return out until tomorrow."

      Parker shook his head. "Nah, no use for it. Not much to do at home." He ran a hand over the back of his head and pulled a face. "To be honest, I would've loved to have been back sooner. Nearly a week in the hospital. Then they released me, only because the Doyles were kind enough to take me in; Tess is great as ever, but Billy and I were getting on each other's nerves after a week in their home. And just when I thought I'd have peace and quiet recuperating back at my place—" He sighed.

      Torres angled his head away, as if literally smelling something bad. "What? That ex-wife you never tell us about show up out of the woodwork?"

      Parker, Knight, and McGee all sent him exasperated, unamused looks for the rude reminder. "No," Parker answered forcefully. "Fornell kept 'dropping by,' trying to make himself useful."

      "Ohh. Okay. Not as bad, but a giant pain in the ass. Got it."

      "Three weeks out of commission, though," McGee pointed out. He raised his eyebrows at their team leader.

      Parker held up his hands in defeat. "I know, I know, McGee. I'm on desk duty, just the light stuff, for another week." He did that scoff-chuckle of his. "Is that all right with you, Boss?"

      McGee's shoulders sank a fraction, but he clapped Parker gently on the back. "Just glad to have you back, Parker." His phone rang then, pulling him back to his desk.

      "Hey, Parker," Torres began, just as Knight was searching for her own words of welcome.

      Parker pulled his attention from Knight back to Torres.

      "If you're doing desk duty, then you probably are cleared to go to court, right?"

      But McGee paused in the middle of his phone call, covering the receiver to hiss, "Nick! You cannot send Parker to court on the Connelly case in your stead!"

      Torres cursed in Spanish under his breath and shuffled back to his desk.

      Parker half sighed, half chuckled, his eyes finding Knight's again. He dropped his volume when he next spoke. "Now that Thing One and Thing Two have had their say…"

      Knight laughed, abruptly, and covered her mouth to stifle the sound. Go figure Parker would open with an ill-timed joke while she stood there, wracking her brains, trying to settle on something much more suitable than a simple "Welcome back" that might encapsulate everything she felt these last few weeks.

      …oh. Duh. Felt. She was using her brain to do something it couldn't.

      That was why Knight put a pin in her jumbled-up thoughts and let her feelings—relief, primarily, along with concern and…—wash over her. And her eyes scanned him, just once, looking for any signs he really hadn't recovered yet. Then she hugged him, throwing her arms around his neck, squeezing him against her.

      Knight thought she heard the softest "oh" escape him, but—if one did—Parker's surprise vanished. He slowly, gently wrapped his arms around her back. His hands were warm. His hands were real.

      They'd survived. All that had transpired was real.

      He turned his head slightly, in towards her hair, and took a breath. "I missed you," Parker whispered, so quietly his words were damn near imperceptible.

      But, of course, Knight caught them. Her heart stammered (did he notice, being so close?). "Took the words right out of my mouth," she mumbled, a wet chuckle in her voice.

      Their hug and exchange lasted for all of one minute, but it felt so much longer and yet not nearly long enough when Parker released her to stand straighter. At least he didn't glance at or motion to the others, reminding Knight they had an audience. No, he gave her a nod and let his eyes linger as he passed by her on the way to his desk.

      It wasn't the reunion she'd hoped for, but it would do. Satisfied, Knight returned to her chair and righted a few items she'd knocked over…pointedly aware of another stare diagonally across the room. That one she ignored.

      McGee hung up then. "All right, have a body." He scanned the notes on his memo pad. "Unidentified woman, dressed in a sailor's uniform. Divers pulled her from the Potomac in Harpers Ferry after guests from a local b'n'b stumbled across her during a post-breakfast walk." He glanced first to Knight and then to Torres, who already was shouldering his bag, before settling on Parker.

      Parker met each of their gazes in turn. He rolled his eyes at McGee. "You're Senior Field Agent, McGee, and you're in charge while I'm chained to my desk. So don't mind me. Go on." He motioned, too, with his hand, to emphasize that they hustle.

      Torres shrugged. "Shotgun," he declared, breaking the ice and racing to the elevator.

      McGee groaned and jogged after him.

      Knight grabbed her bag but paused at Parker's desk. "We'll catch you later. Take it easy, yeah?" She gave him a soft smile.

      Her worries ebbed when he returned it. "Will do, Jess," Parker promised. And, much as he had upon arriving, he let his eyes trail her when she left.

      "Ooh, that's quite the slope," Jimmy remarked when the team met him at the scene in Harpers Ferry. He pinched his nose and put a silicone clamp on it to handle the odors in addition to what he slathered on his upper lip. "I thought you said they'd pulled the body from the water?"

      McGee frowned alongside Knight and Torres. They peered down the riverbank, which, after recent rain, looked more like a muddy ravine. "That's what I was told," McGee said. "I can't believe they just got her out of the water and left her down there."

      Knight held up a finger and reviewed her notes. "That's the decision of both the new dive team and the old, small police department here. The dive team doesn't have all their equipment yet to bring the body up further, and the police department lacks resources."

      A siren interrupted them. The noise triggered an unpleasant memory of nearly a month ago for Knight, being trapped, but she quickly shook off that anxiety since she knew it was ludicrous to fear the sounds of those who'd saved her and Parker. Plus, Torres whistled and remarked, "Looks as though the cavalry's arrived."

      The fire truck backed up close to where Jimmy had parked his M.E.'s van. Then McGee left to speak with their chief. Two minutes later, he returned, still frowning. "I've got good news and bad news."

      They collectively groaned. "Good first," Jimmy requested.

      "The good news is that the fire truck has what we need. The firefighters can lend us everything we need to haul up our Jane Doe the rest of the way."

      Torres' face fell. "Tim, you gave us part of the bad news. They're going to lend us—?!"

      "Oh." McGee's eyes widened at his mistake, and they groaned again. "Uh, sorry. But yeah. So as not to disturb more evidence—apparently they've had some liability scares, so they're really wary right now—they'll loan us gear to send down two people to secure the body and any other evidence. The captain reminded me, too, that the ground's extra crumbly, having dried out from all the recent storms, so they want us to be mindful about not sticking so close to the edge."

      Knight darted back from the edge as if someone had shot at her feet. "How crumbly, McGee?!"

      He threw up his hands to placate her. "Not that crumbly! We can stand on it just fine. But no dancing or stampeding. That sort of thing." He audibly swallowed the lump in his throat. "…I think."

      Knight bit down on her tongue, keeping from offering certain words she was only "thinking" right now. But she did shoot him a withering look.

      Jimmy, more focused on the body down below than on his friends, readjusted his cap. "Well, obviously I have to head down. Who wants to assist?"

      McGee looked to Knight and Torres, but she took a step back. Even if he pulled rank, she'd ignore it. …huh. It was the third or so time in less than a month that she'd felt prepared to be insubordinate. She made a mental note to ask Dr. Grace about it the next time they met.

      Torres, too, shook his head. But he pointed to McGee's footwear. "Might as well be you, McGee. You're all ready, and I'm not sure I even have my boots in the car—"

      "Nick!"

      "—I'll take a look! And, hey, Knight, mind lending your eye? But time's a-wastin', McGee." He grinned, impish.

      McGee's foul mood was evident in both expression and body language. Nevertheless, he turned to discuss with Jimmy how they'd approach the fifteen-foot drop safely without further harming the victim's body or the surroundings.

      The pep left Torres' step, though, the moment McGee's attention went elsewhere. He looked back at Knight when he realized she wasn't following him. "Well?" he prompted.

      Knight forgot her anger and did a double-take at him. "You were serious? I thought you were just trying to get out of going down there and getting muddy."

      "Eh, two birds, one stone." Yet his tone was tired, not teasing. He made once again for the sedan.

      Curiosity got the better of her. Knight pocketed her notes and held her camera close so it wouldn't bounce against her chest. She met him right as Torres popped the trunk, but clearly that was for show, because he didn't rifle through the contents (and, she noted, his rubber boots were tucked into the space by the right rear wheel).

      Torres removed his NCIS cap and tossed it inside. "Feel free to relax. They'll be a while," he said when he caught her furrowed brow.

      Knight pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. "Why do I have the feeling you specifically wanted me over here, out of earshot, with you?"

      He crossed his arms in front of his chest and faced her head-on. "Well, for starters, you've flinched twice in the last ten minutes. It wasn't just McGee mentioning ground that could disappear from under your feet—"

      She tensed and hoped she maintained a neutral expression. But her right hand disappeared into her pants pocket, thumbing a soft, worn, calming square of cloth hidden there.

      "—but the sirens, too." Torres drew in a breath and exhaled just as evenly. "…I won't ask if you have, but I hope you've told Dr. Grace about your jumpiness, Jess. PTSD is not something to combat on your own."

      Knight stared at a point on his shoulder, not liking yet appreciating the empathy with which he watched her. "It's not as bad as a few weeks ago," she admitted.

      Of course it wasn't. She'd had four appointments with Dr. Grace, and that helped.

      But talking to Parker helped, too.

      Torres hummed in acknowledgement. Whether he understood her position or where her mind had flown, Knight didn't know. Then he said, eyes dropping to her hidden hand, "As long as that's a self-soothing technique and not a nervous tic."

      Knight meant to protest…but then she decided otherwise. She knew why. It wasn't just him shooting McGee a look this morning. There'd been the time at the hospital, too, when he'd gotten McGee quickly to back off the idea of Knight leaving Parker's bedside while Parker remained unconscious. And, clear as day, she recalled Torres'…look of understanding (she couldn't describe it any other way) when he'd glimpsed the way she'd held on to Parker's hand in the ambulance before the doors shut.

      So…she withdrew Parker's handkerchief from her pocket.

      Knight didn't explain why she had it, though the memory of Parker's token of affection eased her nerves some right now. But it was undeniably his. They'd all seen him with it at various points in time, and the monogrammed, lone "A" in one corner was unmistakable.

      Torres licked his lips and rolled his jaw while he processed things and Knight tucked the item away. Eventually, he nodded. "I thought so."

      Knight wasn't sure what to make of that, of his reaction, of someone else knowing about them. She frowned and clenched Parker's handkerchief once more in her pocket.

      The mechanical whine and steady clinks of winches and hooks working to lower McGee and Jimmy down beside the Potomac River filled the air. It was near deafening where they stood, so Torres jerked with his chin to the other side of their M.E. van. There, the noise still grated on their ears and nerves, but the intensity was dampened. And, between clinks and clunks, they could talk.

      Knight waited for Torres' full reaction.

      He leaned against the side of the van, casual, crossing his ankles. He sighed. "Has it…has it been going on for a while?"

      She gawked at him. Knight wanted to laugh. "You're joking, right?"

      Torres frowned; some color dusted his cheeks. "How am I supposed to know?! The two of you pair off a lot in the field and have finished each other's sentences in and out of Interrogation."

      Her own ears burned, being handed confirmation that, yeah, she and Parker had grown noticeably closer the last several months. "Nothing's been going on," Knight replied curtly. She hoped he didn't offer more examples. A lot came to mind.

      "Really?" He settled her with a disbelieving stare. "Never seen him be affectionate the way he was with you this morning. Never seen him really be affectionate at all, come to think of it."

      "He's comfortable by himself," she thought aloud. Though, despite saying so, Knight questioned that. Parker had seemed more interested in her company, the weeks before the garage collapse. And he'd wanted that night to go different, for the two of them. The proof was in her pocket.

      Torres neither agreed with nor denied her remark. For a few minutes, the fire truck's crane and pulleys groaned, wiping out all comfortable silence. Then the crime scene's soundtrack dulled to white noise. Torres ground his heel against the softened earth. "Jess…"

      "Hmm?"

      "Don't take this the wrong way, but."

      Knight grimaced. "Fine way to preface things, Nick." But her irritation lessened when she noted the way he stared off into the distance at nothing in particular.

      "Jess, I have some experience with this kind of thing. You can get burned, real bad. Both of you. When you least expect it."

      …actually, similar thoughts had been running through her head, ever since Parker had not only given her but insisted she hold on to hope about them. Knight studied Torres' profile, her memories of Bishop floating to the surface. The story of Bishop's treason never made sense to her, even though Knight had barely gotten to know her, to work with her. But it made less sense that Torres especially had dropped that topic, had stopped correcting others about Bishop's story and motives almost as soon as it happened.

      Knight knew he'd been burned, but Torres acted more like a scarred, torched man ever reaching out to the fire.

      Yet, in spite of Torres' caution, Knight thumbed the handkerchief. She thought on all the things said between her and Parker, as well as what was yet to be said. And she replayed in her mind one of the better parts of being trapped with him amongst debris, how Parker had struggled, despite a horrible head injury, to stay awake, to stay alert. With her. For her. "So this is a word of warning, then?" Knight ventured. Her dark eyes darted to Torres' face.

      He shook his head but cracked a smile. "I guess. The people closest to us can do the most harm. …but I'd do it all over again, knowing how it plays out."

      "Worth the risk—I get that." She went to bump her shoulder against his in a show of solidarity, but he stood up straight and dodged it. Knight scowled at him. "Nick, what the hell?"

      "Hey, I don't need any Parker cooties, and, after that long hug this morning, you're covered in them."

      Her cheeks burned as she stomped after him back toward their car's trunk. "I am not covered in—! And it wasn't that long a hug. And McGee hugged him, too!"

      Torres shrugged and smirked, donning his hat once more. "Yeah, but McGee doesn't look at Parker the way—"

      He never did get to finish his sentence. The machinery growled to life, signaling McGee and Jimmy's return and covering up Torres' yelp when Knight stepped on his foot to shut him up.

      But…antics aside, Knight was grateful to him for improving her mood as well as for helping her reach a conclusion.

      By the time the workday ended, all four of them still sat at their desks. Knight was the first to note the hour, and she logged off her computer and turned off her desk light without any of the men around her flinching. She sighed. "Guys, I know the case is an interesting one, but…" She stood and emphatically tapped her finger on the face of her watch.

      The sound pulled McGee from his trance. "Oh, Knight. Thanks for the reminder." He paused to squint at Parker. "Wait—Parker, you're still here?"

      Parker raised his eyebrows. "I'm allowed to put in a full day."

      Knight sided with McGee on this one. "It would've been okay to go home a little on the early side, Parker," she told him, a pout tugging at her lips.

      But he shook his head. "I came in late anyhow, so it all evens out. I'm taking it easy, as promised," he reminded her.

      Her pout quirked upward into a covert smile.

      "Well, Parker, definitely head home now," McGee ordered. He shuffled through the documents in his hands. "As for us… Until Jimmy completes his autopsy tomorrow, going through these recent receipts from the bed-and-breakfast will have to suffice, thanks to the clues in Jane Doe's waterlogged pockets."

      "But that can be done tomorrow, too," Knight said. Plus, if she were being honest with herself, she felt a hair guilty for making McGee retrieve the body, even if her talk with Torres had been necessary. Her eyes darted to the soaked jacket and shirt McGee had hanging up drying behind him after slipping an arm into the river by accident this afternoon. So she grinned at each of them. "Why don't we all call it a night? Grab dinner. Burgers, like usual?" Knight grabbed her windbreaker and purse and raised her eyebrows. "My treat."

      Parker perked up one second, his shoulders falling so slightly the next. But he nodded and started packing up. "I'd like that," he said.

      "Rain check," Torres said. "I, uh, I think I've got a nice rhythm going, so I'd rather finish my stack of possible names for our Jane Doe tonight."

      "You sure?" Knight asked. A burger might be little compensation for the kindness he'd shown her, but she figured it was a nice start.

      He shrugged, nodded, and caught her eye. There was a mischievous glint there. "Yeah, I'm sure. Hey, McGee, if you really wanna stay, at least help me sort through and run the names I have."

      McGee sat back down while Knight caught on to his plan.

      Torres, for his part, tried to tamp down his grin as he waved Knight and Parker on. "Enjoy dinner, you two."

      Oh, for crying out—! Knight led the way, ignoring both Torres' shit-eating grin and Parker's curious glance between the two of them. On the elevator, she stabbed the button for the ground floor, only heaving a sigh of relief once the doors shut in front of them.

      Parker studied her for a moment. "All, right, I'll bite." He tipped his head at the doors. "What was that about?"

      Knight met his eyes briefly. …ooh, she really didn't want to explain how Nick Torres had evolved into her wingman right now. "Just a stark reminder that I'm surrounded by seasoned investigators." Although, saying that, she wondered if McGee knew…and quickly dismissed the idea, because McGee got distractedly easily and tended to miss social cues.

      "Uh-huh," Parker said, not at all convinced.

      Knight took a breath and mentally stuffed her worries and misgivings into a box. "Burgers still sound like a great idea, though," she mumbled as the elevator slowed.

      Parker was quiet for half a beat. Then he asked, just before the doors opened, "Just burgers, though?"

      Her pulse stuttered, her brain processed his words on a two-second delay as she scurried after him out of the building. Parker turned left, though, so they walked through part of the green on NCIS' yard. Though, at this time of day, rapidly descending evening, things weren't bright green but dull, dark, warm golds, ambers, and sepias. "You want burgers. And drinks," Knight inferred, picking out one specific detail from that night.

      Parker stuck his hands in his pockets and glanced at her as they walked, following the footpath. "I told you I recall being trapped in the garage with you."

      She nodded.

      "Some things are fuzzy around the edges, but I do remember talking with you. What I said to you." He slowed to face her. Parker pursed his lips, as if unsure he could get her to believe him. "What I said at the hospital—everything I've said since—I've meant it all, Jess. But I didn't need some psycho killer to light a fire under me. I really had planned on asking you out for drinks that night, to get the ball rolling properly on us."

      Knight blinked. She took half a step closer to him; any further, and there'd be no room left. "Alden…" She rested a hand on his chest, feeling the steady, familiar bthump-bthump under her fingers.

      "It was bugging me," he mumbled. He met her eyes. "We've talked some over the phone the last few weeks, but too much"—he paused, corrected himself—"all of that's been about the aftermath of the garage. I thought we'd gone back to dancing around each other, and I hated that we'd lost our progress." Parker paused again, though this time his frustration melted into realization. "And I still have to look into those dance lessons I promised you."

      Finally, she laughed, and Knight lightly smacked him on the chest for the detour. But she got them back on track. "I'm glad you spoke up. Some of what happened felt like a nightmare, some of it, a dream," Knight thought aloud, her voice soft but loud to her ears, out here, in the empty open.

      "Stinks about the nightmare," Parker stated. He brought his hand up to cover her fingers, keeping her hand close, pressed against him. "But I'm happy to share in the same dream."

      For the second time that day, hearing his words, Knight knew she was overthinking things. So she stopped thinking and did. She curled her fingers under his, clutching the fabric of his shirt, and reached up with her other hand, damned that she dropped her windbreaker on the concrete and her purse's strap slid haphazardly from her shoulder in the process. Knight could care less. The only thing that mattered right now was touching Parker's cheek, holding his jaw, and moving to kiss him.

      At the same time, Parker clearly experienced the same switch to actions only, perhaps even coming to his own conclusions that enough had been hypothesized, enough had been said up to this point. He curved his palm around her fist, and his free hand cupped the side of her face. His fingertips grazed her cheekbone before he pushed his hand back, sinking his fingers into her hair, cradling her head and moving to kiss her.

      Wishing for the same thing—and following through, at the exact same time—was so much better than finishing each other's sentences at the office.

      Knight pulled away first, a smile on her lips, but Parker lingered, his nose still brushing hers, his mouth barely a centimeter away. His hand was still wound in her hair, too. "I'm glad I spoke up, too," he said in undertones.

      She chuckled and kissed him again, softer now, letting him go but with a promise for more another time. "I like to think we would've gotten here eventually," she remarked. Knight stooped to grab her jacket and beamed at him when he offered her a gentlemanly hand up.

      Parker nodded eventually as they followed the footpath to its parking lot exit. "Definitely. After having you in my arms for the briefest moment this morning…" He let his words trail off, so Knight peeked at him. Parker averted his gaze, oddly bashful.

      The sight made her heart skip a beat. She grinned, tamping down a laugh so he wouldn't misunderstand, and picked her way through cars as they threaded through aisles to reach hers. To think, her spirits soared right now in contrast to this morning… That triggered a fresh question. "One last thing, though, about this morning—"

      Parker was right on her heels, so his voice was pleasantly close when he said, "Go for it."

      Knight glanced at him. "You're definitely okay, right, Alden? All you texted me was the letter 'H,' for which I had absolutely no context."

      "Ah, that." He scratched his beard just below his jaw (another bashful motion, she decided). "I wanted to give you a head's up the moment I arrived at NCIS today. That was supposed to read 'Here.'"

      They came upon her car, though Knight didn't rush to unlock it. She nodded, especially since Parker stayed on the driver's side with her to finish this thread. "That makes sense. I just…" She chuckled at herself, suddenly feeling self-conscious and perhaps a little insane for the frenzy she'd briefly sent herself into that morning. But she admitted, "…I worry."

      To her surprise, Parker snickered. "I've noticed," he teased. "But, really, I was going to say the same about you, Jess. Every time I went to text you, my mind would go blank. … I only settled down once I saw you."

      That was a sentiment she both understood and felt, keenly. So Knight met his eyes, squeezed his hand, and left with Parker, to have their night—drinks and burgers, just for two—as planned.

This story is a mix of things, both diegetic and non. For diegetic, that would be the titular reference to the little things interspersed throughout "20 Winks" and "Token" that I ultimately decided I wanted to pursue in earnest. Some of those items were p obvious, if you've read the previous stories (Torres confirming he suspected Parknight, Parknight getting together for real & not simply talking about their feelings); others cropped up naturally (Knight's likely PTSD in the wake of events, Parknight reassuring one another that their affections are genuine & not the side-effect of what they suffered together). Plus, there were just some fun details to include and play up. For example, "20 Winks" opened in a parking garage at evening, and here "Minor Details" circles back to that to end in a parking lot around the same time (mainly because I feel that this is a good stop for this universe, tho I'm not gonna beat my muse back if she revisits this universe yet again with another great idea, bc I'm digging this, *LOL*). In the real world, tho, this story is unique, being one of two Parknights written longhand in a notebook (both written at the end of April, the first was "blowback"—I, uh, also splattered beef stew on these stories' pages…WOULD JESS KNIGHT BE PROUD bc I simply blotted the stains and pretended they didn't exist c:) and also the 2nd to have a detail inspired by a rewatch of s19e7, "Docked." Tho that ep is still early with the team and Parker's clearly getting to know everyone there, Knight's original invite of burgers there and Parker pulling a prank on Torres that would've seen perhaps only Knight and Parker grabbing a bite then…well, I expanded on my drinks thread from "20 Winks" using that canon bit. Goodness, I love this team's dynamics! -w- SPEAKING of which: Y'all know by now how much I dig Torres & Knight's broship, but omgggg Nick bringing up Ellie in a roundabout way and saying everything he did… Sure, I'm a diehard Ellick shipper, but c'mon, that could've been pulled from canon, given the torch he still carries for her (and I promise I will stop referencing fire for Ellick now, given the metaphor in the story, *lol* :3). So yeah. Wingman!Torres, stressed!McGee, and new!Parknight. That's the story in a nutshell. XD (Ngl, of my other story ideas, there's one that could potentially exist in this universe…but we'll see. ;3c) So please read "20 Winks" and "Token" if you missed them! And then enjoy my other Parknights, fic and art alike, if you need more content, bc I am always happy to deliver~ Just as I am happy to chat and to receive requests. :3c And don't forget to stop by my tumblr sideblog for them, too, parknights!

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[le-amewzing]

Token

A thread I desperately needed Knight to wrap up for my Parknight-shipping heart. ;w; *Note: This is set after my oneshot, "20 Winks," so spoilers for that! I highly rec reading that first~

Fic: "Token" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Jess Knight/Alden Parker, Kasie Hines, Jimmy Palmer, & background OCs, with cameos from Timothy McGee, Nick Torres, & Leon Vance

Rating: K+

Words: ~4,880

Additional info: romance, hurt/comfort, 3rd person POV

Summary: Knight has something of Parker's to return after their close call with an absent informant.

      How quickly her night had changed. One moment, she'd been going with Parker to meet a potential informant for them on the Unkindness. Now, Knight had nothing better to do than to wait for Parker to open his eyes.

      She leaned against one of the arms of the chair in his hospital room, bringing up a knee to rest her elbow while she pushed her hand through her hair. The action made her wince. She was covered in her own scrapes and bruises, including some small, stinging cuts on her hands from climbing up debris. The nurses had cleaned the wounds and patched her up well, but that didn't mean that small motions like combing her hair with her fingers didn't hurt. Still, Knight sighed, knowing she could be in worse shape.

      The evidence was before her. Parker lay reclined in his hospital bed, his grimy suit and shirt exchanged for a standard gown in one of those obnoxious prints that was either geometric or floral if you squinted at it in the right light. The staff had tucked him in after running tests following minor surgery and hooking him up to half a dozen lines, some of which fed him fluids and medicine, some of which connected him to the assorted monitors on the other side of the bed. The machines filled his room with their soft (and occasionally alarmingly shrill) beeps and trills.

      But, despite the grim sight, Knight took a few things as good signs. First, Parker hadn't been intubated, because he could breathe on his own, which the doctors assured her and the rest of the team was a great sign. Second, Parker had much of his normal color, both in his cheeks and in his arms and hands, which rested atop the stark, white, layered blankets.

      Nevertheless, Knight's fear remained, because he wouldn't open his eyes.

      Someone knocked on Parker's open door behind her. "Knight." Ah, McGee. He paused. "…how're you doing?"

      She didn't pull her eyes from Parker's slumbering form but found a more comfy position for her aching hand under her chin. "Peachy."

      Footsteps informed her without needing to turn that McGee entered, likely accompanied by Torres. "Jess," McGee said, his voice softer, his tone more brotherly this time. "We're all worried. But you need to go home. You can't stay here the whole time."

      Her temper flared and she settled both of them with a glare out of the corner of her eye. They'd convinced that EMT it was fine for her to ride along in Parker's ambulance—and now McGee was changing his mind? "I'm not going anywhere, McGee." Knight didn't say it, but she narrowed her dark eyes at both him and Torres in turn, daring them to order her home, which she'd ignore in a heartbeat.

      "You realize it's not your fault that Parker's in here? It's the Raven's. Or Jang's. Or whoever's," McGee continued, proving that they'd gotten nowhere further on this case.

      Knight clenched her jaw, but Torres surprisingly put a hand on McGee's chest and subtly shook his head. McGee's shoulders sagged, but he took a step back.

      "Knight, have you even eaten? Had anything to drink?" Torres asked.

      "I had that bottle of water."

      "The one the fire department gave you when we found you?" He exhaled, and the sound was caught somewhere between a sigh and exasperation. "That was hours ago, Jess. A lot of hours ago."

      And, yet, despite the reminder of the time of night, her stomach didn't chime in. Knight shrugged. "I'm fine where I am, guys."

      She thought she heard Torres growl slightly under his breath. But that was the last protest she got out of the pair of them for a while. They stood together, watching Parker alongside her for a bit, but they were done trying to pull her from his side. She appreciated that and hoped she conveyed it when McGee and Torres each touched her shoulder before they left; she patted their hands, the only reassurance she could give them that she hadn't crumbled yet.

      The sounds outside Parker's room were humdrum hospital life, but Knight had noted at some point that McGee or Vance had stationed a pair of agents outside the door. Occasionally, one of them would shift and hit the backs of their heels against the wall or perhaps the butt of their gun in their holster would knock on the doorjamb.

      Knight had half a mind to close the door fully and block out the sounds, the reminders that danger still lingered, after what had happened. But she lost her chance when, around thirty minutes after McGee and Torres left, a trio of other familiar faces appeared.

      Director Vance politely knocked first before poking his head in. Finding Knight awake, he, Jimmy, and Kasie shuffled in as quietly as they could manage. "Agent Knight, good to see you well," Vance said.

      She bit back her sarcasm this time and nodded her thanks.

      His eyes flickered to Parker with concern while Jimmy and Kasie tripped over each other's words and crowded her. But Jimmy's next words distracted her. "Man, you guys have incredible luck."

      Knight furrowed her brow. "In what universe, Jimmy?" She kept her hand under her chin to keep from being snarky and gesturing to Parker.

      Jimmy stammered but cleared his throat. "I mean—" He took a breath and adjusted his glasses. "Being caught in any explosion or collapse isn't good, obviously. But you came out of it with only scratches, Jess. And Parker? I was talking with his doctors and the surgeon. Parker just has some cerebral contusions. There was a minor subdural hematoma, hence inserting the catheter to drain it," he explained, scratching behind his head in the same spot where Parker had the device, "but he had minimal swelling." Jimmy's eyes roved over the lines feeding medicine into Parker's arms and he smiled. "Parker's outlook is really great, Jess."

      Her eyes went to Parker's face. She wondered if Parker could hear them, hear Jimmy. If only this were like the movies or some clichéd book and he'd just open his damn eyes already, certainly after hearing such news. Knight held her breath for a beat—but she exhaled and frowned when Parker didn't deliver on her expectations.

      "And," Kasie said, bumping her hip against Knight's nearer arm to grab her attention, "I tested the residue from your guys' car, when you abandoned it by the garage exit?" Kasie's curls bounced as she shook her head. "It was just a diversion. The residue revealed the smoke to be just that: smoke. Nothing toxic." Her smile was soft as she looked between Knight and Parker and back. "So you two have nothing additional to worry about, Jess."

      For the first time in what felt like a day, some tension ebbed from Knight, and she released a shaky breath. "Oh. Thank God. I really thought we might bring something nasty back to the office with us…"

      Kasie and Jimmy shared a look and shook their heads. "Nah. And, even if you did, we're feeling a little bit wiser after our own run-in with these weirdos…" Kasie pulled her phone from her pocket for a second. "And I am elated—terrified, but elated—to know I have the great Dr. Carol Wilson on speed-dial should I need her." She pocketed her phone again with a big grin.

      Knight chuckled at that but couldn't find it in her to return her friend's smile.

      They went quiet, letting the machines do the talking. Then Vance piped up, "Agent Knight, you understand you don't have to stay cooped up in that chair all night and morning."

      She bristled. Jimmy and Kasie took a step back from her as if they knew how things had gone with McGee and Torres. But this was their director. It didn't bode well to give one's agency director lip. So…Knight held her tongue.

      Vance sighed, stood a little straighter at the foot of Parker's bed, and stared at her while he selected his next words.

      But where a parental tone failed, a friendly one helped, and Jimmy and Kasie offered Knight matching smiles. "It'll be okay if you just duck home," Jimmy said. "We'll stay with Parker, Jess."

      "And you need some self-care," Kasie added, raising her eyebrows. "Because I wanna hug you, girl, and I will because you are my friend, but I cannot in good faith hold you all night long while you're scared and give you my shoulder to cry on because you stink like explosives and staleness and eugh." She punctuated her statement with a shudder.

      Kasie's frankness made Knight laugh, and she welcomed the hug Kasie offered. It made it easier, too, to peel herself from the chair.

      "I would prefer you rest properly," Vance chimed in after Knight sniffled and disentangled herself from Kasie. And yet there was a tiredness in his grimace that indicated he knew Knight would return here soon anyway.

      Knight, for her part, had the decency to duck her eyes in response.

      Vance cleared his throat and gestured to the door. "I have additional agents stationed at either end of this hall. Agent Finley will stay put outside Agent Parker's room. Agent Knight, I will have Agent Dawkins escort you home and back." He pursed his lips. "Given that we have yet to determine if you and Parker were the targets of this attack, we can't be too careful with your safety right now. Don't lose Dawkins, for any reason." There was an underlying plea there, too: Please just accept the protective detail.

      She nodded. It was the least she could do.

      Outside Parker's room, Knight finally introduced herself to Finley and Dawkins. Finley was her height and stick thin with shifty eyes; he seemed the scheming type, not normally the kind Knight would trust right away. But against the Raven's kind of people? She'd take a dozen Finleys right about now.

      Dawkins contrasted Finley in every way, as if they were the Odd Couple. He was nearly a foot taller than Knight and radiated warmth, with a tan than didn't make sense here in the Northeast and a big smile that didn't fit anyone who'd seen action out in the field. He also literally radiated warmth, she realized, as he walked a couple steps ahead of her on their way to the car.

      On the bright side, Dawkins didn't engage her in small talk on the way to her apartment. Once she settled in the backseat, her muscles realized they were no longer cramped into that hospital chair, and they lazed and long to rest. Knight's eyes kept drooping. When Dawkins said, "Agent Knight, we're here," she snapped out of her daze with a new ache on her forehead. Ah. She must've nodded off for a couple minutes with her head against the glass.

      Knight wished she could've gone upstairs on her own, but Dawkins was dutiful and followed protocol, scouting her building's garage and the elevator and her floor. He only left her for thirty seconds on her own welcome mat while he cleared her apartment.

      "All clear. I'll be outside if you need me. Just give a holler," Dawkins insisted, smile bright as ever.

      "Thanks," she said, closing her door a tad too quickly to be considered polite. But honestly? She was done with Dawkins' warmth.

      Knight eyed her home and its familiarity. The little ottoman she kept inside the door. Her loved, worn couch and all the pillows hiding stains on the damn thing. The half-dozen rugs that didn't match anything in the room.

      She finally smiled. Home made yesterday's events seem so far, far away.

      Knight ignored the call of the couch. She knew that, if she sat down, she'd cave and Vance would have his way, and she wouldn't be back at the hospital until maybe lunchtime. Instead, Knight pulled her ottoman under her butt and yanked off her boots.

      She hissed when she removed the left one. In the post-rescue tumult, she'd actually forgotten about her sprained ankle. The nurses probably would be livid, learning about this when Knight returned, but…

      Knight studied the wrap job Parker had done with his necktie. He really had done a good job. She was reluctant to undo it, but she agreed with Kasie's point about self-care, and first on Knight's list of things-to-do was take a shower. So…off it came.

      She hobbled into her bathroom afterwards, her ankle protesting that it was allowed to feel pain again. She rolled her eyes, but she was thankful that the pain wasn't unbearable. Knight managed to step into her tub all right and shower quickly, careful of her bandages and wondering if she had enough Band-Aids to replace what got thoroughly soaked.

      When she finished, she dressed in clean clothes and returned to her bathroom. First, Knight had to put dry coverings on her hands, because those cuts hurt too damn much. With a glance in her mirror, she breathed a sigh of relief that the nurse who'd stitched up the gash on her head had put a waterproof covering over the stitches.

      Second… Knight scrunched up her nose at the disaster pile on her bathroom floor. Kasie hadn't lied; last night's clothes did smell vaguely of explosives. Knight wondered if they were salvageable and worth laundering… Her sweater top was stained with Parker's blood, which had dried hours and hours ago, and there were pulled threads here and there and a cut through the right sleeve. Her stomach sank, not at the item's loss but at the fresh memory of cradling his head to her middle. Knight balled up the sweater and stuffed it in her trashcan.

      Socks and undergarments just needed a trip or two through the wash to be fine, she was sure. Her jacket…she'd left behind in the exploded parking garage. And her boots were dinged up but all right. That left her slacks.

      She pulled a face and inspected them. Knight hadn't noticed before the speckles of blood on the dark gray fabric. Hers or Parker's? She would guess his but couldn't be certain. The hems were frayed, too, and there were tears at the knees and below, from when she'd had to climb the pile of debris to throw her phone to higher ground for McGee or Kasie to ping. Damn. This pair was little better than shredded. But, before Knight tossed the slacks, she went through her pockets, although she figured they'd be empt—

      Her hands seized a bit of cloth.

      Knight yanked it out, her pulse speeding up. And it was—it was Parker's handkerchief. Through the confusion at the hospital, their rescue, their fall, the explosion. She still had his handkerchief.

      The memory of how she'd come to possess it early last evening was all too vivid, right after they'd left the car behind when the smoke spooked them. Again, Knight was glad Kasie said that'd been nothing more than a diversion, not a real danger. But she was also stunned that, between the smoke and what came after, the handkerchief wasn't filthier, for it only had a hint of grime along one edge, the edge closest to Knight's pocket opening.

      She took a moment to unfold the handkerchief and inspect it. It was nice quality, a soft fabric, an off-white that was just this side of pure. She never noticed before, too, that there was a faint, monogrammed A in one corner. The detail made Knight smile.

      With his handkerchief in her hands, Knight's mind flew out to her living room, where his poor tie lay by her door in a heap with her boots and socks. She sighed. His tie…was a lost cause, having been wrapped around her sweaty foot this whole time. Knight decided she'd buy him a new one soon.

      But his handkerchief? That just needed some TLC. So she turned up her bathroom tap as hot as it would go and got to work scrubbing.

      When Dawkins returned Knight to the hospital and took up his post once more outside Parker's door, they'd been gone for around an hour, including traffic. Knight nodded her thanks both to him and to Finley, the latter who stunningly offered her a small sympathetic smile in return, before entering Parker's room.

      Parker's room was a little less cozy now. "Vance went home?" Knight asked Jimmy and Kasie, who were still up and chatting quietly by the window.

      She hated the flash of worry she caught on both their faces. But then they beamed at her, realizing Knight had freshened up and looked more like herself. "Director Vance? Yeah, he left. But he went back to the office," Jimmy supplied.

      Knight raised her eyebrows. Nice to know she wasn't the only one rattled by things.

      "Glad you took my advice," Kasie said, coming over to her and indulging Knight in a longer hug this time.

      Knight sighed. "Yeah, I can admit when I've been stubborn." She pulled away, putting Kasie at arm's length, and eyed the younger woman and their other friend. "Thank you, guys, both of you, for staying."

      Jimmy grinned. "It's nothing, Jess." He checked his watch and yawned. "But…I think it's time to head out. Walk you to your car, Kase?"

      Kasie nodded. She grabbed her bag and sweatshirt from a hook on the wall but stopped in front of Knight. "Jess, you call, okay? Call, do not text, if anything changes or if you need anything." She jutted her chin out in defiance and raised her eyebrows as if daring Knight to go against her.

      But Knight shook her head. "No, I will. Promise," she added, before giving each of them a hug. She watched them go. But this time Knight didn't contemplate anything and quietly closed the door behind them before she settled back into the chair by Parker's bedside.

      She scooted her chair closer than before. Now that she didn't have last night's filth coating her like a dusty film, Knight wasn't scared to touch Parker. She picked up his hand like before, in the ambulance, and ran her thumb along the back as she sighed.

      Knight hadn't asked Kasie and Jimmy for their concerns because she imagined everyone shared in her same worry. Parker's surgery had gone well. The machines indicated he was doing well. By all means, he should be fine.

      But they rightly feared him not having woken up yet.

      Knight shook her head, holding on to hope. He'd been in and out of it while they were trapped. He'd been in and out of it in the ambulance. There was no reason to believe he wouldn't come back to her, especially if the doctors believed it.

      And yet…

      "No. Nope," she said aloud, mostly to convince herself. "I'm not going there." Damn, her voice sounded weak. Knight blinked back fresh tears and stared at Parker. "You know what, though, Parker? I have a bone to pick with you. You and I were playing Twenty Questions before you zonked out on me." She tried hard not to think of holding his head in her lap and him being unresponsive while they waited, while she hoped someone would find and rescue them. She mustered a smile for him. "Our game never ended, so you've got to wake up for that. We've got to finish it, Parker."

      Just like hours and hours and hours ago, he quietly breathed in reply. But she could feel the warmth of his hand, the slight hint of his pulse in his wrist; the machines also kept steadily beeping away.

      Knight twisted her lips around. "I've been thinking of other questions I really want to know, too," she continued softly. "Like…if you've ever been shot. Have you ever screwed up a case? What are you planning to pick up for your next hobby?"

      She had nothing but little exhales and digital beeps for an answer.

      "You also need to wake up so I can return your handkerchief," Knight mumbled, pulling the cloth from her jeans pocket with her free hand. She left her other hand in his, still thumbing the back of his hand, but her eyes scrutinized her cleaning job. "Looks as though it was just smoke, some mild irritant," she said, noting what Kasie had said, "…but thanks, for this. Stinks we were lucky with that only to get—" A lump lodged itself in her throat, and Knight looked at Parker in his current state.

      He didn't move his head. His face didn't twitch—at first. But his fingers closed around her hand. And Parker mumbled, "…keep it, Jess."

      Her heart pounded in her ears.

      Parker was awake!

      The same second she realized this, so did the machines hooked up to him. It were as though a million alerts went off in the room, and the cacophony had Knight wincing in pain while it summoned nurse after nurse to come check on Parker. Unfortunately, that meant they ushered Knight out of the room. She was left to watch through the window on Dawkins' other side until one of the nurses closed the blinds.

      Though the noisy machines were silenced in short order, Knight wasn't let back in for some time. She paced outside Parker's room while Finley and Dawkins minded their own business and simply kept an eye out. It was maybe twenty, thirty minutes later when the medical staff emptied out of Parker's room like clowns pouring from a clown car. The nurse who'd stitched up Knight's head wound eyed her skeptically when Knight gritted her teeth after twisting to a stop hard on her left foot. "Special Agent Parker is awake," the nurse confirmed.

      "Thank you so much," Knight said, making to head back into his room.

      The stocky, motherly woman huffed at her and stuck a formidable arm out, barring the way. "Hold up, Agent Knight. I will let you back in, since your director explained there's this 'protective detail' going on and you're part of it. But do not keep Agent Parker up," she warned, lowering her arm. "Just let him sleep, because he's going to tire easily."

      Knight nodded, tamping down her elation.

      "And come see me about that ankle as soon as possible."

      She cleared her throat, feeling heat rushing to her cheeks over being found out, but Knight once more entered Parker's room and closed the door behind her.

      Parker sat up slightly now, less horizontal than before. His eyes found hers automatically. He seemed pretty wide awake, despite what the nurse had said.

      Knight's heart skipped a beat. Seeing him up at last…not knowing what all he remembered…just. Being here with him. Knight wondered where to start, but her happiness made her mind a blank slate.

      "Hey," he said.

      Of course. Baby steps, as always, with Alden Parker. Knight smiled and sat beside him, scooting the chair close again. "Hey," she said, plenty content with their monosyllabic exchange. She itched to reach up and comb her fingers through his hair, the way she'd done when looking after him in the collapsed garage. But she didn't risk it now, not with him awake and not with the nurses potentially lurking nearby.

      Parker took a deep breath and blew it out low and slow, never removing his eyes from hers. But, after a beat, he said, "I have, by the way."

      Knight tilted her head quizzically. "Have what?"

      "Been shot. Heard you asking." He broke their stare and lifted his left hand to the collar of his hospital gown, tugging it down and glancing at what lay there. Peeking out above the garment was a pale, spider web-like splat of a scar, two inches above Parker's heart.

      Knight gasped.

      Parker released the gown and let his arm fall back to his side. "It's not as bad as it looks, though," he assured her. "I've got other scars. Elsewhere and far worse."

      Her pulse quickened, her anxiety over him rearing its ugly head nevertheless. Knight frowned and couldn't help brushing back the silver locks of hair that fell in his eyes when he faced her once more. She wasn't certain she was ready to know the stories behind the other scars. But the fact that he'd answered her question from earlier brought to mind a new curiosity. "Do you recall much of last night?"

      Parker went quiet.

      "Parker. Tell me. You were really out of it."

      "…how long were we there?"

      Her shoulders fell slightly. Internally, Knight's feelings warred. She couldn't decide if she wanted him to remember much of anything or just wipe the slate clean. "Hours," she told him.

      He pursed his lips, pensive, while he stared at his blankets.

      Knight sighed. Parker going quiet on her wasn't much different to how she'd spent…the entire night, she realized as she caught a glimpse of the lightening sky outside the window on the other side of his monitors. She supposed she could tolerate his silence longer, though this time it was self-imposed, but it still made her wonder whether he'd reverted to being a less talkative Parker.

      He cleared his throat. Ah. He was not, in fact, done talking. "As for your other questions…"

      "Hmm?"

      "I did screw up a case. Several times." Parker adjusted his posture, sitting up a bit straighter, as if they were anywhere but in a hospital, just shooting the breeze. He raised his eyebrows at her, though his expression was dry. "Never in a way that really affected the case outcomes, mind you, but in a way that had bosses playing Hot Potato with me because they didn't want my name tied to theirs."

      Knight found herself grinning a little. "I can imagine that, given your preference to do things your way. Been that way a long time then, huh?"

      Parker pouted and left that one alone. He cocked his head towards her and shrugged. "As for the next hobby…" His dark eyes met hers again. "Well, it'll be the blind leading the blind, but I promised you dance lessons, didn't I?"

      Knight properly laughed, her grin widening. "You remembered that?"

      He shrugged again, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, too. "It stuck out."

      "Then yeah, dance lessons with you sound great. Just name a date. And time," Knight added after a beat, red-faced.

      Parker tried to stifle it, but she knew she heard him chuckle. The subtle motion in his arms and shoulders also gave him away.

      It was hard to believe they'd been in danger less than twelve hours ago. Knight replayed their arrival in the parking garage in her mind's eye, dwelling on her rising fear at Steven Jang's lateness…and recalling Parker's attempts at the time to calm her and the moments he'd agreed with her that it was time to go.

      Perhaps the same things were coming back to him. Parker seemed fine with this companionable silence, drinking in the sight of her. Although, the more he stared, the more his eyelids drooped.

      "Hey, just rest now, Parker," Knight encouraged. So funny—talk of rest had worried her endlessly back in the parking garage. But she wanted to believe the medical advice now, that rest would see him better.

      He nodded and slid down the bed some, reclining a bit more against his pillows but still not fully horizontal.

      Knight crossed her arms along the right edge of his bed and rested her chin atop them, peering up at him. She gave him a small smile. "Well, you answered all my questions, so—"

      "But I didn't."

      Knight furrowed her brow, confused even as Parker angled his head to meet her eyes again.

      Parker fought his exhaustion. But he raised his right hand, weakly, to play with a lock of her hair, his knuckle brushing her cheekbone as he drew his hand down and lightly held the lock for a beat.

      It was only a gesture, and she held his gaze—but Knight knew. She knew, then, what he meant, that he'd heard all the questions back in the wreckage, questions she thought he'd never answer.

      And now she panicked.

      She feared the answers he was about to give her, that Parker was about to let her down gently and—

      But Parker simply released her hair and picked up his handkerchief, left by her earlier on the bed. He tucked it into one of her hands. "So keep this, Jess. Consider it— It's a token."

      Knight shook her head, confused more now than before.

      Yet Parker drifted off then, his fingers loosely linked with hers, so Knight couldn't ask him to elaborate.

      Still… As she settled in beside him, watching over him once more, something clicked with Knight, an old memory she hadn't thought of in a long, long time.

      Summers spent as a teen. Her mother on her to widen her horizons and read more books. Her having to bum the "dumb" romance novels off her sister to please her…except Knight grew to love the clichéd genre, all the gentlemen and ladies and parties and scandals and romance and tokens of affection.

      Knight smiled herself to sleep then, dreaming of her very own grumpy gentleman before her.

And now you know what was bugging me from "20 Winks." X'D To think, this all transpired bc I thought, "Hey, she still has his handkerchief???" (I mean, technically his tie, too, but—as Knight pointed out—that's deffo a lost cause. ;P) But I also wanted to see him wake and talk with her more and confirm some things, as well as include the one question I, uh, actually forgot to use in justtopostmyfic's request for "20 Winks" (the "have you ever been shot" one)…but I think it slotted in rly nicely here, so! :3c I got to include some v nice hcs here, too, about these two, and employ some ol' historical romance stuff bc why tf not? Esp bc Parker is most certainly a gentleman and you can't change my mind. -w- Lessee, what else… It was also fun to write team dynamics here, and writing some OCs just bc! I might use them again, even. c: But GAH. I just… Knight's concern for him is so palpable, and leaving him unconscious was not doing it for me, *LOL*. XD Now, regarding his head trauma—tho I did some research, I lack a medical bkgd, so pls take it with a grain of salt. XP But he should be good, bc we need him to be good, bc Parknight!!!! ;w; Gosh… I just… TTwTT I think I'mma just go recover now with my next few story ideas (bc, honestly, they are endless—I go reread or edit smthg and another idea crops up B3). So pls come dither with me about Parknight and read "20 Winks" esp and the other Parknights I've written if you've not already—bc, srsly, you're missing out on some GREAT chemistry, my friends. And feel free to request! Bc you never know what gem you might inspire~

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew