Marcus L. Rowland (ffutures) wrote,
Marcus L. Rowland

Fanfic - NCIS / West Wing / DC - The Return

OK, I should REALLY finish off some of my old stories... but needless to say I've started another. This is going to be a multiple crossover, so far the crosses are NCIS / West Wing / DC comics, probably more to come.

Many thanks to everyone who helped me with the naval action in the first section.

Edited to fix problems people have mentioned. Thanks everyone!

Tues AM: Made a few more small changes to explain why DiNozzo is put in charge, and gave Arnie Vinnick a few lines.

Multiple crossover NCIS / DC Universe / West Wing / probably more to come.

The Return

By Marcus L. Rowland


USS Seahawk, off Iran, August 2007

Tony DiNozzo was asleep when the alarms started, and cracked his head on an overhead locker as he woke.

"This is not a drill, this is not a drill: General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battlestations. Incoming missile, ballistic trajectory, ETA: three minutes."

A ballistic trajectory meant big trouble; most of the ship’s defences were set up for attacking aircraft or cruise missiles, ballistic missiles came in faster and at a steeper angle, and were a lot harder to stop. Tony pulled on his clothes and ran for his duty station in the island as the first Sea Sparrow missiles launched, and hoped that they had the range and accuracy to take out the attacker.

“Sixty seconds. All hands, brace for impact.”

Volleys of Standard missiles spewed into the sky from the Seahawk's escorts. After thirty seconds there was an explosion high overhead.

“All hands, incoming debris, brace for impact.”

There was a large explosion forward, followed by the boom of something travelling faster than sound, and the whole ship lurched.

“Damage control teams, main hangar deck forward. Damage control teams, second deck forward. EOD team, second deck forward.”

That sounded bad. To get to the second deck a missile would have had to penetrate the flight deck and the four decks below it. Over the next few minutes there were more calls for damage control teams and corpsmen, then his phone rang. Tony answered, and heard the Captain's voice; "DiNozzo, there's a situation on Deck Four, Mess Deck Two. The Admiral thinks it should be handled by someone who isn't in our direct chain of command. Get down there, assess the situation, and take charge." Tony headed forward and down at a run.

The second deck was dark, lit by flickering emergency lighting, and one of the Marines on damage control led Tony forward towards the noise of drills, hammers, and fire extinguishers. “What have you got?”

“Something came through the decks above, ended up in Mess Deck two. The EOD guys found a body; corpsmen are looking after her now.”

“Her? Any ID?”

“You’ll have to see it to believe it.”

Broken glass crunched underfoot. Tony looked down and frowned. He realised that the fragments weren’t window glass,or drinking glasses; they were thick shards, unlike anything likely to be used aboard ship.

“What the hell is this stuff?”

“Some sort of crystal. Blew out from the mess. Just through there.” He pointed to a jagged hole in the bulkhead. At least a dozen men were standing there, staring into the mess.

“What the hell…?”

Tony pushed past the watching sailors. Most of the deckhead above was missing, with cables and steel plates dangling down from the hole. Under the hole was a… a thing. It looked like half of a crystalline sphere covered with long spikes, the central sphere about ten feet across, shattered to one side. Corpsmen were gathered around the broken side, and one said “Set five thousand joules… clear!” There was a loud buzz. Tony moved behind them to see the focus of their attention. A beautiful blonde in her late teens or early twenties, wearing a costume a little like a cheerleader’s – a figure-hugging blue garment something like a leotard, with a yellow waist, short red skirt and red boots. Then he noticed the red cloak, and the stylised ‘S’ logo above and between her breasts. The corpsman touched a stethoscope to her chest, listened, and said “I’m getting a heartbeat. Faint, but it’s there.”

“Is she… real?” Tony asked incredulously.

“I've broken three needles on her skin so far,” said another corpsmen. “We've given her enough voltage to kill an elephant, and the scissors broke when we tried to cut her clothes to get at her chest. She's real, all right.”

“What the hell do we do next?” asked another corpsman.

“Get her to sickbay,” said Tony, thinking rapidly, “as gently as you can, and find out how to test for kryptonite.”

“There’s a detector in the radiology lab,” said one of the damage control techs. “They’ve been standard issue since Luthor tried to take out Superman last year.”

“Excellent! Okay, get this crystal stuff cleared up on all decks, bag it and make sure that nothing goes into the sea. We don’t want to start building another continent. And get someone who knows what they’re doing to handle the cleanup; I’m making this up as I go along.”

The corpsmen gently lifted her onto a stretcher, and Tony followed them towards sickbay.

The White House Situation Room, 11.20 PM

“I always thought Supergirl was a hoax,” said President Santos. “Doctor Glenn?”

The National Security advisor moved to one of the display screens. “She was previously on Earth seven years ago; a few months after Superman disappeared. She was apparently looking for some sort of Kryptonian artifact, and had much less contact with the public than Superman.” Behind him the screen showed a series of photographs; Supergirl fighting some sort of shadowy monster, flying to catch a falling man, smashing through a wall. “Most of these pictures were taken by James Olsen of the Daily Planet. By the time the rest of the media began to take it seriously she’d evidently found what she wanted and disappeared again.” The screen switched to the same woman, looking only slightly older, lying on a stretcher, apparently unconscious.

“So how did it happen?” asked Santos. “General Alexander?”

“The Seahawk was preparing for air strikes in support of today’s ground operations in Iraq. The strike group was at maximum readiness, which included full radar coverage, and under Rules of Engagement which permitted counter-missile fire. Just over two hours ago, at 01:13 Zulu, that's 05:43 Iran time or 21:13 hours in Washington, the Seahawk and two of her escorts detected an inbound ballistic track at an altitude of a little over two hundred miles, speed Mach 5, on trajectory for the middle of the task force. Mach five is relatively slow for a ballistic vehicle, which suggested a relatively short-ranged missile with a big payload such as a nuclear or chemical warhead. It took about a minute to verify the trajectory; they immediately initiated countermeasures and launched Sea Sparrows at 01.15 Zulu, with her escorts launching Standard missiles about a minute later. One of the Standard missiles detonated on or near the target; unfortunately the explosion nudged it towards the Seahawk. We were incredibly lucky; there were some minor injuries and structural damage to the ship, but so far as we know, nobody was seriously injured or killed. When the dust settled, they found a capsule, with the crystalline structure we’ve come to expect from Kryptonian technology. One side was cracked open, it contained Supergirl; she was unconscious, and hasn’t come round as of a few minutes ago.”

“Okay,” said Santos. “First thing, we commend everyone involved.”

“Commend?” asked Josh Lyman, the Chief of Staff.

“If that had really been a missile they would have taken it out,” said Glenn. “And going from detection to an intercept in four minutes is worth commending.”

“Works for me,” said General Alexander.

“Let’s hope Superman and Supergirl are equally understanding,” said Josh.

"Good point," said the President. "Arnie?"

The Secretary of State shrugged. "Until Zod and his friends invaded everyone thought that Superman was the last of his kind. A couple of weeks after he defeated them, Superman left on a six-year journey to look for other survivors. We have to assume that it's pretty important to him. He missed meeting Supergirl the last time she was here, now we've shot her down. I can't see him being too happy about it."

"Your recommendation?"

"If we try any sort of cover-up it's sure to backfire; we need to contact him before the story gets out, and make sure that he sees we're doing everything in our power to help."

"That works for me. How long can we keep a lid on this?”

“Maybe another three or four hours,” said General Alexander. “There’s currently a communications blackout, but we can’t keep an entire strike group silent for long. Sooner or later we’re going to have to let people start talking to their families again, after that word is bound to leak out. Apart from anything else, there are three civilian reporters aboard the Seahawk, and there’s a BBC TV news team aboard one of the British ships in the area. They must have seen the strike group launch counter-missiles.”

“What about Supergirl? What’s her condition?”

“We’re still waiting on that,” said General Alexander, “last word was that there are no obvious injuries, but she seems to be in a very deep coma.”


“Apparently not. They’ve checked her and the debris but there isn’t any detectable radiation.”

“Could be suspended animation,” said Josh. The others looked at him in surprise. “Superman has the technology; he said he used it for his trip to Krypton.”

“That’s plausible,” said Glenn. “Maybe we damaged the capsule before it could revive her.”

“We can make endless guesses,” said the President, “but there’s only one expert. How do we contact Superman?”

“Shout ‘Help, Superman?’” suggested Josh.

“If he’s in Metropolis it would take nearly half an hour for him to hear you,” said Glenn.

“Call the Daily Planet?”

“That wouldn’t be my first choice,” said the President. “All other considerations aside, Superman might want to handle this without press involvement.”

“General Lane,” said General Alexander. “His daughter is a reporter at the Planet, in the past she’s agreed to help him by contacting Superman without going public.”

They discussed it for another twenty minutes, then President Santos said “Make the call.”

Metropolis, 12.00 AM

“Okay, I’ve got that,” Lois Lane said sleepily. “It might take a while to get hold of him, but I’ll do my best.” She switched off her cell, sat up in bed, and blew in her new husband’s ear.


“Rise and shine, Clark.”


Lois reached under the sheets and tweaked a sensitive part of his anatomy.


“Sorry, Clark, I know you wanted to get an early night, but duty calls.”

“What happened?”

“Dad called, he needs to contact Superman.”

“Where is he?”

“The Pentagon. Give it a few minutes; he’ll get suspicious if you turn up a minute after he calls me.”

“Okay. Any idea what he wants?”

“Probably the usual sort of military nonsense, a tank stuck in a swamp or something. It didn’t sound like it was more urgent than usual.”

“Okay.” Clark listened for a second then said “Metropolis seems quiet enough, but Jason’s awake.”

“He must have heard the phone. I’ll see to him.”

Clark pulled on his costume while Lois donned a robe, and said “Do you want some coffee?”

“That’d be nice.”

He went out to the kitchen, and came back a couple of minutes later with a tray and two mugs, brewed with his heat vision at super speed. Lois came back from Jason’s bedroom, took a sip, and said “Just the way I like it. There are definite advantages to being married to you.”

“I guess. Is Jason okay?”

“Like I said, he heard the phone. I think we may need to soundproof his room, his hearing is getting pretty good.”

“I’ll take care of it at the weekend, while he's visiting Richard. With luck he’ll learn to control his hearing pretty quickly.”

“I’ve got an idea – use my phone, tell Dad I shouted for help, maybe whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.”


Lois speed-dialled the number, and said “Dad? I got lucky, he’s here; I’ll put him on.”

In his deeper Superman voice Clark said “General? What can I do for you?” He listened intently for a moment, then said “I’ll hold for him.” There was a short delay, then Clark said “Yes, Mister President?” Lois began to pay much more attention. He listened again, then said “I’ll be there in a few minutes” and pressed the disconnect button. He sat on the bed, with a shocked, puzzled expression, and eventually said “Why didn’t anyone tell me I have a cousin? The President seemed to think I know all about her.”

“A… oh, yeah, I’d pretty much forgotten, it was just before Jason was born and I never met her. Jimmy got the story. She said she was from another dimension that some Kryptonians had escaped to, it sounded like a more comfortable version of the Phantom Zone. She came to Earth looking for some sort of power source they’d lost, found it, and went home again. Said her name was Kara something,” She took her phone, activated the web browser, and searched Wikipedia. “That’s it… Kara Zor-El.”

“Then she really is my cousin. Zor-El was my father's younger brother.” He still seemed to be shocked as he said "I have relatives."

"I guess so. Congratulations, it's a cousin. What about her?”

“She’s back, and the US Navy just shot her ship down.”

“I want the exclusive.”

To Be Continued.

Comments please before I post to archives
Tags: crossover, dc, fanfic, ncis, west wing

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