Nothing Good Comes from Mossad - Melindaleo (2024)

Chapter 1: Suspicious Minds

Chapter Text

Note: When Ziva first appeared, Donald Bellisario intended for her to be a mole, like Ari. Obviously. that didn’t happen, but it left huge inconsistencies in her character. This story resulted from my curiosity of what could happen if they’d gone in the original direction.
If you’re a big Ziva fan, this story probably isn’t for you.

The late afternoon hum created by agents beginning to clear their desks and pack up for the evening was interrupted by the ping of the elevator.

“What the hell took you so long,” LeRoy Jethro Gibbs’ voice carried clearly across the bullpen, sounding like it usually did – clipped and irritated.

Even the fog on the skylight from the bitterly cold air outside seemed to still its lazy furl. The agents and personnel inside kept their eyes averted, but all had their ears attuned to whatever the man was railing about this time. Rage seemed to be Gibbs’ default setting, often increasing to violent temper tantrums. Despite the prestige of the MCRT, most of the agents were glad they didn’t have to navigate its leader’s foul moods.

“I told you, Boss – there was a lot of rooms to clear. I couldn’t be sure they were empty until I checked. You would’ve been even more pissed if those guys were able to flank us,” Tony DiNozzo replied calmly, shrugging off his backpack and sinking into his chair with a sigh. The skin around his left eye was red and puffy and bore the telltale signs of a developing black eye.

Tony, the SFA who did have to deal with Gibbs’ moods and temper, accomplished it with a grace and ease that baffled the others. Most of them didn’t know why he put it up with it, but no matter how off-the-rails Gibbs’ fury could be, Tony shrugged it off as if it was no big deal.

“McGee and I cleared our end quick enough,” Gibbs said testily.

A smug smirk appeared on McGee’s face, and he actually sat up straighter as he began typing up his report.

“Well, you can’t expect us mere mortals to match the skills of the legendary Leroy Jethro Gibbs now, can you, Boss? We got the bad guys and found the money with no casualties. This was a win,” Tony said, flashing his impossibly white teeth and clearly not counting his own bruised face as a casualty.

“We would have made fine time if Tony did not insist on re-checking the rooms I had already cleared,” Ziva said, staring haughtily across her desk at Tony, who sat across from her.

“Yes, but Ziva, see… you need to actually look inside the rooms to know they’re clear. Funny how that works,” Tony said breezily, pecking on his keyboard.

“I was not aware you found something that I did not,” she said slyly, eyebrows raised.

“Not this time,” Tony muttered under his breath.

“No one leaves until I have your reports on my desk,” Gibbs growled, sounding even angrier than before. He stood up and stormed from the bullpen, probably in search of coffee since his desk was missing its trademark cup.

Once the elevator doors closed, erasing Gibbs from sight, Ziva’s fingers began typing furiously. “These endless forms are ridiculous. I have weekend plans, and I do not want to be late.”

“Weekend plans? Ooh, do tell,” Tony said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Are you jealous? How I spend my time off is none of your concern,” she replied, nose in the air.

Tony’s grin grew even broader. “Hmm, sounds like I hit a nerve. That means there’s a man involved.”

“Or a woman,” she said, lowering her voice huskily. “Now you can spend your weekend contemplating that.”

Tony snorted. “Ha! Sorry to burst your bubble, but once I leave here, thoughts of you never cross my mind. I have plans of my own involving the lovely Kerstin and a can of whipped cream.”

“I thought you broke up with her,” Tim said, eyebrows raised.

“She convinced me to give it another go. She can be very convincing,” Tony said, leering.

Ziva rolled her eyes. “We do not want to hear any more of your exploits, do we, McGee?” she asked, looking across the bullpen expectantly.

McGee, however, looked as if he might actually want some details on convincing a woman to stick around, but at Ziva’s words, he visibly shook himself. His eyes darted between his two co-workers nervously.

“No, I don’t. We’re not on call this weekend, so once these reports are finished, we’ll actually get some down time.”

“Right you are, McObvious – so the sooner you get me those reports, the sooner the weekend festivities can begin,” Tony said, rubbing his hands together.

“Why do we have to give our reports to you? Gibbs is team leader,” Ziva said crossly.

Tony’s fingers momentarily clenched on his keyboard, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. “We’ve been over this, Ziva. Reports go up the chain of command. I’m surprised to hear Mossad didn’t work that way.”

Ziva curled her lip. “At Mossad, we do not waste time with foolish blood tape. So many forms when one would suffice. It is unnecessary.”

“Well, one is all that’s being asked of you. I’m the one who has to coordinate them all, so I don’t see why you’re complaining. And its red tape, by the way – interesting how your mind goes right to blood,” Tony said,

“Why should you be the one to coordinate anything? McGee is the one with many degrees and vastly superior computer skills. He should be in charge of forms,” Ziva said, condescendingly.

“Why don’t you take it up with the Director at your next tattletale meeting, then,” Tony said, countering.

Despite being a spy with all her self-proclaimed, vaunted experience, Ziva’s eyes widened in surprise and automatically flickered to the balcony above the bullpen. “I do not know what you are talking about,” she said stiffly.

“Of course, you don’t. Just be sure your report is all in English this time,” Tony said, smirking smugly that he’d caught her in a lie.

Ziva was clearly affronted by both his amusem*nt, and the fact he knew about her continued meetings with the Director. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him.

“Of course. I know my vast language skills go right over your head,” she sneered.

Tony raised his eyes in mock surprise. “Oh, do they allow you to fill out reports in languages other than Hebrew at Mossad?” he asked.

She scowled. “I already told you; we do not waste time with all these foolish forms. Looks like you might not have time to see Kerstin after all. Poor Tony, you will have to wait to satisfy your baser urges, no?” she asked, leaning over her desk to give him a fuller view of her cleavage.

“My baser urges are well taken care of, thank you very much. Don’t you worry about me,” he replied, not reacting to her display.

“Finished,” Tim said, as the printer began spewing out the pages of his report. He handed it to Tony, looking pleased that he’d finished first.

Tony read it over quickly while Tim stood in front of his desk, tapping his foot impatiently. Tim didn’t have any plans that evening, but Ziva was right. It was irritating that he had to hand his report off to Tony rather than just giving it straight to Gibbs. Of course, Tim could concede that Gibbs probably didn’t want to waste his time on paperwork, so he made Tony do it. Still, Tim thought Ziva was also correct that he would be a more suitable candidate to coordinate the reports for Gibbs’ approval. He was better educated, after all.

“This looks good, Probie – except you need to document your search of the rooms leading up to the capture, not just your computer search of the area to find the right building,” Tony said, handing back the report.

“Gibbs cleared the rooms,” Tim said, sitting back at his desk and re-opening his report on his computer screen.

Tony tilted his head. “So… you didn’t look in them at all?” he asked, leading Tim to the answer he wanted.

“No… I did, but Gibbs confirmed,” Tim said.

Tony grinned. “Ah, just like I did on our side of the building, right, Ziva?” he asked, preening.

Ziva pursed her lips. “I was trained by Mossad. There is no need for you to recheck my work. It is far more likely you will be the one to miss something. Here. I am done. Read this, so I can go,” she said, pulling her own report from the printer.

Once Tony had read and signed off on both of the junior agents reports, he began filling out his own, knowing Gibbs had timed his coffee break so that he could corner Tony alone once he returned. He sighed morosely, letting his guard down and the carefree mask he wore in the office slip. How did they get here? How had things deteriorated so quickly?

He glanced over at Ziva’s desk – Kate’s desk – remembering how the Israeli had callously swooped in and took it over after his former partner’s death. Gibbs had given her a completely functional desk at the back of the bullpen, but Ziva wouldn’t accept that. She had to be at the front, next to Gibbs, where she felt was her rightful place. It looked as if Kate had never even been there. Ziva hadn’t seemed to realize – or if she did, she didn’t care – that they were all still reeling from the loss. Now, after several months, even his memories weren’t as sharp and clear as they used to be. Time and distance gave them that hazy quality that sometimes happened when you remembered your past. Despite the lack of clarity in his head, the ache of losing a partner he trusted to have his back remained. Ziva might not have actually killed Kate, but she’d gathered the intel that facilitated it happening. Tony would never be able to let that go.

Unnoticed by any of the few remaining agents scattered in the now darkened bullpen, Director Jennifer Shepherd moved from her position in the shadows on the balcony above and slipped back into her office. The diminutive redhead moved swiftly towards her well-stocked liquor cabinet and poured herself a stiff drink, rattling the ice cubes in the glass irritably.

Sitting behind her large, ornate desk, she sipped her bourbon, brooding. This agency had been under her control for a little over six months now, but things hadn’t gone as smoothly as she’d originally believed they would.

Jennifer Shepherd was no ingenue when it came to understanding how the world worked, and she knew the odds were already stacked against her when she took this post. Correction – when she was appointed to the position after kicking, shoving, and clawing her way to the top – forcing people take notice. She hadn’t earned the title of the first woman to hold the position by being a shrinking violet. She wasn’t going to be held back simply due to the fact the letters of her chromosomes matched.

She had big plans now that she was here, but she kept getting derailed by small, annoying details that demanded her attention. Everyone wanted to cement their place in the pecking order with the new director, and the constant interruptions didn’t allow her to work on putting some of her larger plans in place. She knew the name of the game in DC was political favors and powerful connections. She needed them to continue her climb up the administrative ladder. She’d spent years cultivating contacts, stretching her network – she’d even had to sleep with the occasional frog to get what she wanted. She had no intention of letting the directorship of a small, less significant agency be the height of her career. She’d sacrificed too much, held her nose to make some otherwise unsavory deals, lost friends who were also rivals along the way. She could be as cutthroat as the rest of them to get what she wanted and rarely looked back.

Sitting in her office, she kicked off her shoes, clenching her toes in the luxurious carpet and leaned back as she pondered all she still wanted to do.

This post at NCIS was a stepping stone – and she planned to make the most of it. Already, she’d managed to establish an ally on the MCRT, thus smoothing the road for future cooperation with said ally’s father – who also happened to be the leader of Mossad. A political favor and a powerful connection in one swift motion. She thought she deserved bonus points for that one.

Jenny had no doubt that Ziva was Mossad first, but she’d worked with the young Israeli extensively, and she admired her skills. Ziva was an excellent spy, and a valuable source of intel on the MCRT. That team was the shining star of NCIS, and Jenny wanted to guarantee its frequent successes were attributed to her. Having Ziva on the team would ensure that happened. The timing of Kate Todd’s death couldn’t have come at a more fortuitous time for Jenny’s needs. She’d originally thought she would have to groom one of the existing members of the team to be her source as Jethro Gibbs, the team lead, wasn’t usually open to new people unless he chose them personally. The stars couldn’t have aligned more perfectly for Jenny.

She was no fool. She realized that the overriding reason she was given this post in the first place was due to her past relationship with Gibbs. Other candidates had turned down the post, refusing to work with the man. He had a reputation for being difficult and refusing to toe the company line. Most people were intimidated by him.

Jenny, however, thought she could manage him, so she’d eagerly jumped at the chance. The end of their relationship wasn’t his choice, after all, and she thought she knew just what buttons to press. Anyone else who sidestepped the rules the way Gibbs did would be reprimanded, if not outright fired, but despite his methods, he always got results. Results were the key to politics, and politicians loved people who got those results. Therefore, he was well-protected.

She also knew that despite his trampling over the rules of fair play, Gibbs still got convictions. That meant that someone on his team knew how to tidy the paper trail. When she’d first sunk her claws into NCIS, she’d suspected that it was his Probie, Timothy McGee, a computer genius. He seemed like the type who would follow the straight and narrow yet never question authority.

Now, after observing the team, she wasn’t as sure. She realized that Gibbs was more likely to listen to his SFA than anyone else, which she was having a lot more difficulty understanding. DiNozzo seemed like a loose cannon, and the intel Ziva provided was that he was an overgrown frat boy and a womanizer who didn’t take anything seriously. That didn’t fit with what she knew about Gibbs, however, so there had to be more.

Ziva, who was usually so focused and determined, was apparently flummoxed by how to handle Anthony DiNozzo. Jenny had arranged for both of them to go undercover on the married assassin case at the Marine Ball not too long ago, certain Ziva would shine. It hadn’t gone to plan. DiNozzo was the one who orchestrated Ziva’s release, and managed the capture of a living assassin in doing so. Jenny was still smarting over that miscalculation, and Ziva was positively livid. She never did well with anyone who outsmarted her.

Jenny drummed her perfectly manicured nails on the table, pondering. She needed to do something to correct the situation and move her plans forward.

When she’d first placed Ziva onto the MCRT with barely any pushback from Gibbs, she thought it would be smooth sailing. She hadn’t expected him to accept Ziva so readily, but she’d since heard a lot of scuttlebutt that he was always softer with women. His relationship with Abby, the forensic scientist proved that. Jenny hadn’t wanted to believe it. She thought the fact he’d let her in was significant, and she didn’t like to consider the idea it was simply based on her gender.

She got up and refilled her glass, foregoing the ice this time, and pressed her lips together like she often did when she was agitated.

Despite the bumps in the road, she’d managed to place her informant, and she hoped Ziva would be able to take on more and more of the SFA duties once she got a foothold and proved herself. Gibbs didn’t care about taking credit or treading softly with any of the power players in other agencies. With Ziva keeping her apprised, Jenny could step in and not only take the credit but also expand her network. Washington was nothing without a ‘you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours’ mentality.

She stared out the frosted windows, unseeing, as a light snow began to fall.

Gibbs wasn’t quite as malleable as she’d hoped, however, and he steadfastly trusted DiNozzo over the others. Even more infuriating, DiNozzo stubbornly refused to trust Ziva. It was causing tension on the team, and it was taking them longer to get results. She needed to correct that before their solve rate deteriorated. She was counting on them to be a feather in her cap.

What she hadn’t anticipated was being deluged daily with little nuisance items taking up so much of her time. Although Gibbs had readily accepted Ziva, both Human Resources and the in-house Psych Evaluator were unhappy with the choice for the MCRT. They were constantly filing their objections to the appointment. Human Resources insisted it was unprecedented and didn’t fit within the confines of a liaison position. They felt it was too risky to have a foreign national placed on a team with access to classified intel, never mind the battle she’d had to wage to get her MTAC clearance.

The stack of complaints she kept having to override was daunting, but she knew it was necessary. Ziva was loyal to her, and she was also a strong supporter of growing the number of women in positions of power. Ziva would never do anything to jeopardize that. Jenny was sure of it, so their concerns were moot.

Human Resources also felt that a former spy with no previous investigative experience didn’t belong on the lead investigative team. They’d suggested putting her in counter-terrorism. Oddly enough, Gibbs had the same objection when she’d informed him that Ziva would be a new member. He thought Ziva should’ve been sent to the CIA. She wondered how he’d feel to know Human Resources echoed his concerns. She had no intention of sending Ziva elsewhere. That would defeat the point of having ears in the MCRT, which got far more accolades than their Intelligence unit. Jenny knew Gibbs could train Ziva to give her the skills she needed. She was confident in her decision, so once again, she dismissed their objections.

The Psych Evaluator thought it was detrimental to the mental health of the other members of the team to have someone who’d provided the intel that led to the death of their partner take the resulting vacancy. That was also ridiculous. Ziva had nothing to do with Kate’s death. In fact, she’d been responsible for killing the actual perpetrator. Jenny couldn’t use that as justification, however, since Gibbs believed he and Ziva were the only ones aware of that fact.

He didn’t need to know exactly how well-informed Ziva kept her.

Besides, Gibbs would never tolerate any – touchy/feely crap – his words, interfere with how he ran his team, so she felt safe ignoring those objections, as well.

Jenny dismissed any and all opposition from anyone outside the MCRT, but she still had the problem of DiNozzo. Ziva was frustrated because she’d been unable to make any inroads, and Gibbs trusted him implicitly. The fact DiNozzo didn’t trust Ziva, however, limited the amount of freedom she could acquire while working on the team. She’d tried to undermine him, share her doubts about his abilities and worm her way closer to the other members of the team, all the while throwing shade his way, but nothing daunted the former cop.

Ziva was a beautiful women, skilled in the art of seduction, but even that hadn’t worked against the alleged playboy. Jenny thought Ziva had vastly underestimated Gibbs’ rule twelve, and the likelihood that members of his team would follow his rules. Jenny knew it would be a problem since she was the reason the rule existed in the first place.

She was dismayed to realize that for a trained operative, Ziva gave in to her emotions all too easily. Jenny didn’t want discord on the MCRT – she wanted things to run smoothly so they were successful. She was going to have to tell Ziva to play nice and not antagonize DiNozzo. Unfortunately, she doubted Ziva would accept that directive gracefully. In fact, she was surprised she hadn’t already had a phone call complaining about the restrictions the Israeli found stifling.

>It would be better to get in front of that before it happened. With that in mind, Jenny picked up her phone and dialed.

“Gibbs,” it was answered gruffly on the second ring.

“Hello, Jethro. It’s getting late, and I’d like to go home at some point this evening. Are you ready to give me an update on the Brady heist?” she asked, trying to add a bit of a soft purr to her annoyance that he’d taken so long to come up to her office.

There was silence on the other end.

“Jethro,” she finally prompted impatiently.

“I’m at home,” he said.

“What do you mean you’re at home? Didn’t you find the money and arrest the suspects earlier tonight?” she asked, stunned that he hadn’t seen fit to come to her to report the details rather than just the brief summary he’d given when he called from the scene.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “I told you that.”

“That’s all you told me. I am the Director, Jethro. I need the actual details,” she said, gritting her teeth.

He could be so difficult. Why did he have to act like asking him to use actual words was akin to being asked to give up his first-born child?

“When DiNozzo finalizes the report, I’ll give you a copy,” he said.

She supposed that’s how he usually did things, but considering the bickering she’d heard from the bullpen earlier, she knew there was more going on, and she wanted the full story.

“Were there any problems?” she asked, her frustration bleeding through her words.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” he said, and she could almost hear his shrug through the phone.

Did he really believe that, or was he just being obstinate? Either was possible.

“It looked like Agent DiNozzo was injured, and your team seemed to be sniping at one another,” she said, prompting him.

“Eh, dirtbag managed to get in one good pop. DiNozzo handled him,” Gibbs said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“And the sniping?” she asked once she realized he wasn’t going to say anything else.

“Sniping’s how they work,” he replied.

Jenny clenched her teeth. She wondered if he realized how unflattering his arrogance could be. He probably didn’t care.

“I don’t think Ziva realizes that, and she’s concerned. She’s a new member of your team, and as team leader, it's up to you to keep the inter-team relationships well-oiled. You need to put some grease on the interactions between Ziva and DiNozzo,” she said, thinking maybe being blunt would get more results than the subtle hints she’d been giving up until now.

“Ziva’s a spy, Jen. I think she can handle someone not trusting her,” he said.

“Lack of trust on a team could get someone killed. I know you know that. It’s your job to fix it,” Jenny said.

“Team works fine. Case solved; money found. What more do you want?” he asked.

Jenny felt a tension headache forming. “I want my team leaders to keep me apprised on the status of their cases and to utilize the people skills that had to be involved in making them team leaders in the first place,” she said, her control finally snapping.

“Good, then we’re done. Gotta go,” he said, and she heard the phone disconnect. He really was infuriating.

She’d thought she heard the sound of a door opening at the very end of the conversation, but she couldn’t be certain. Was he seeing someone? She’d noticed that he’d been picked up by a red-headed woman several times, but he’d been typically closed-lipped when she’d tried to pry. It’s not like it should matter to her, but she couldn’t deny the curiosity. Of course, she supposed it could’ve just been someone delivering a pizza.

Before she had time to ponder, her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at the caller ID, futilely hoping Jethro had called her back.

Ziva David.

She sighed. It looked like she wouldn’t be getting dinner anytime soon.

Note: Fic title came from a comment by Jesco0307 in my story, All We Are. I thought it was too good not to use.

Chapter 2: No One is to Blame

Chapter Text

Tony cut the ignition on his classic Mustang, allowing it to roll silently into Gibbs’ driveway. He knew his attempt at subterfuge was pointless. Gibbs would know that he’d arrived. Gibbs always knew. There was no doubt in Tony’s mind that he was expected, despite the fact Gibbs had never returned to the squad room after telling the team to finish their reports. In fact, it was because he’d never returned that Tony knew his presence was required. Gibbs liked to flex his supreme power over his fiefdom.

He supposed he ought to be grateful that his boss hadn’t decided to just have it out in the middle of the bullpen, but he wasn’t. Although his date with Kerstin was a piece of fiction – she’d reached that point where she was becoming more possessive than he could handle – he still wanted to go home. He was tired, he was sore, and he was pissed off about this confrontation he was sure was going to happen. He and Gibbs had worked together for over four years – they knew how the other operated. Gibbs should know better than anyone that Tony needed to trust that his partner would have his back. He’d been burned at a couple of the precincts he’d worked in the past, and there was no way he’d allow it to happen again.

Philadelphia had been a mess all around, then he’d been completely blindsided that his former partner in Baltimore had been corrupt. Sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding in his ears, dread clawing at his throat, as he remembered that scene in a dirty alley where his partner didn’t show himself until the perp Tony had been chasing fired his weapon in the air. It was the sound of that shot that caused Danny to take action. If Tony had been able to apprehend the suspect – who was Danny’s contact to the money launderer – he suspected Danny would’ve remained well out of sight. It was reckless and irresponsible to the partner who’s back he’s was supposed to be covering – Tony’s back.

In his dreams, the guy didn’t fire into the air, but instead he shot Tony dead where he stood, his head blowing outward in much the same way Kate’s had done. It could’ve easily happened that way. He’d have died, and his partner wouldn’t have done anything to stop it…

Fool me once… and all those other crappy cliches.

When they had a new team member placed on their team, Tony tried to give her a fair chance, despite the fact something about her unsettled him. The habits he’d developed to keep Kate on her toes didn’t work with Ziva, and Tony had yet to find a rhythm or get a good read on her. She made his investigative instincts tingle with her combination sex kitten/superior disdain routine. She questioned his authority at every turn and seemed to think she could still work as a lone-wolf despite being a member of a team. The incident in the storage container last week had been a tipping point. Ziva not only fired her weapon in an enclosed steel container, but she’d leaned more toward panic than figuring out the problem.

He expected that kind of reaction from the Probie – not from Mossad.

The fact of the matter was – Tony didn’t trust her, but he wasn’t yet ready to explain himself to Gibbs. Unlike his boss, he liked to move on solid evidence rather than gut feelings. So far, everything he had was circ*mstantial. There were frequent phone calls where she’d suddenly switch to Hebrew. That was her native language, so it could be nothing. Her reports often missed key details, but he couldn’t decide if it was because she resented doing them, or if she was really missing things and just didn’t care.

Her over eagerness to get involved with anything happening in MTAC. Of course, her elevated sense of self and her importance in the whole chain of command could explain that. The bi-polar way she reacted to him. Even if she was a spy, she hadn’t been able to fully conceal her frustration that he hadn’t reacted to what she seemed to be offering.

On several occasions, he’d also noticed her trying to eavesdrop on his conversations with other SFAs, but she was as nosy as him. The difference was, he was nosy about everyone, not just those in supervisory roles. Of course, that could always be her bias that those with a lesser rank weren’t of any interest.

Why the hell was she working at an agency whose purpose was to investigate crimes both committed by and against military personnel and their families? Why did Mossad need to be involved here?

Ziva’s father was the Director of Mossad – Tony was sure of it even if no one had ever officially confirmed it. He’d first heard the name Director David shortly after Ziva’s arrival. In that box car, he’d tested her with a random question – when was the first time she realized Daddy wasn’t perfect. Her reaction told him everything he needed to know. Her daddy was the Director; there was no way she could be impartial. Of course, he knew better than anyone that blood wasn’t always thicker than water. He hadn’t yet found any concrete evidence to her true family dynamics.

But he was looking.

Although he liked to play a happy-go-lucky clown, he could be calculated and controlled when the situation called for it. The laid-back persona put people at ease, and they weren’t as vigilant in watching what he was really doing. He knew Ziva had bought the act.

Despite any precautions she might’ve taken, Tony had managed to figure out her computer password. He might not be the best with technology, but he spent a great deal of time observing people and their patterns. It took a while, but he’d finally been able to access her computer. Unfortunately, he wasn’t exactly certain what he was looking for, but there was more than met the eye – he was sure of it. Consequently, he’d put feelers out to his vast network of contacts that he’d amassed over the years. One of them would eventually turn up something if there was something there to be found.

Unfortunately, Gibbs had noticed his focus wasn’t completely on their cases, and it pissed him off. Tony wasn’t yet ready to bring up his suspicions about Ziva – particularly since Gibbs seemed oddly attached to the new hire. Gibbs never warmed to anyone that fast. In Abby’s words – it was hinky.

There was a part of him that lurked deep in his heart – the part that usually cut and ran when things got difficult – that was gnawing at him. Why did he care so much? Why not just pack his bags and disappear in the heart of the night without a backwards glance? It was his standard MO, after all. Never stay long enough to get attached. He’d blown that rule in a big way at NCIS. He didn’t want to run. He just wasn’t sure how much it would cost him to stay.

He trusted Gibbs. He’d once argued with Kate about the infallibility of Gibbs’ gut, but something about Ziva didn’t sit right. He could almost hear the ghost of Kate’s laughter echoing in the back of his mind that he was doubting it now. Gibbs probably thought that if Tony trusted him, the fact he trusted Ziva should be enough.

But it wasn’t.

He respected Gibbs more than anyone he’d ever known, but he’d seen firsthand that the man was human, and his feelings sometimes got in the way of his good judgement. One of Gibbs’ rules was to protect the women and children first. Unfortunately, he was enough of a misogynist to put female agents in that category rather than seeing them as equal protectors. And he seemed to have placed Ziva – the Mossad assassin – in the category of needing his protection. Still, Gibbs always had Tony’s six. Tony would have to have Gibbs on this one.

Deciding there was no point in further delay, Tony got out of the car, inspecting his face in the side mirror. His left eye was swollen half-closed, but there was nothing he could do about it. He stretched his long legs, turning his neck from side to side trying to work out some of the tension knots. He reached inside the car and pulled out a pizza box along with a six-pack of beer. Maybe Gibbs would only be Alec Baldwin angry rather than full-on Jack Nicholson if he fed him first. Yeah, because that always worked.

Not.

The box was warm in his cold hands as he jogged up the steps to Gibbs’ modest home. It was bitterly cold, and a light snow had started to fall. Tony’s breath created spirals in the chilly winter air. The door was unlocked – it always was – and Tony let himself inside. There was a single lamp burning on a side table, but the door to the basem*nt was open wide, showing the top of some dark, wooden stairs. It was like one of McGee’s video games highlighting the way to whatever obstacle you had to face.

Or a horror movie.

Tony sighed and followed the path. His college coach always said he had more hutzpah than brains.

In his basem*nt, Gibbs heard the outer door open and recognized the nimble tread on the floor above. He’d been expecting the company despite never extending an invitation. He didn’t turn around but kept his back to the stairs, slowly sanding while trying to get his temper under a modicum of control. If he started off yelling, DiNozzo would just become glib, and they wouldn’t get anywhere. Gibbs had reached the end of his admittedly-short patience – something had to change, if only to get Jenny off his back.

He heard the rhythm of shoes coming down the stairs and smelled the pizza before Tony reached him, stopping beside him to rest the box and some beer on his workbench. Tony pulled one of the beers out of the ring, popped the top, and took a long swallow. Maybe he, too, needed to get his temper under control. While it might not frequently make an appearance, Tony could rage with the best of them if you set him off.

Gibbs reckoned tonight would be one of those times. Still, he kept his head down and continued the monotonous sanding. He could see Tony’s expensive leather shoes contrasting starkly against the concrete floor. They were still shiny after a day spent in a dusty, rundown, deserted building. Damn shoes probably cost more than DiNozzo made in a month.

Dumbass.

Tony took another swallow of his beer while he pulled a slice of pizza from the box. Gibbs wasn’t fooled. He knew his SFA was trying to keep his mouth full to avoid talking. Tony always broke the quiet first, but Gibbs decided he could give his SFA this one, knowing it would mean Tony would have to relent the next point.

He picked up a slice of his own, inhaling the delicious aroma. “Good thinking,” he said, taking a bite.

Tony nodded while he swallowed. “Sausage, pepper, and onion. I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten yet,” he said.

Gibbs cracked open a beer. The pizza was a blend of each of their favorites.

“You gonna tell me what happened out there today?” he asked, using Tony’s trick and taking another bite of pizza to force himself to listen rather than berate.

He’d get to that in a minute. He knew he wasn’t capable of holding in his temper much longer. Never was very good at that.

“Nothing much to tell. Case is a wrap,” Tony said, shrugging.

Gibbs scowled and finally looked fully at his guest. He winced internally at the vivid black and blue surrounding Tony’s eye but didn’t let it show.

“Since when don’t you embellish a story?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

The left side of Tony’s mouth tilted upward, and a bit of sparkle lit his good eye. It was only at that moment that Gibbs realized that the sparkle had been missing for quite a while – probably since that rooftop with Kate. Why hadn’t he noticed before? Perhaps it was because his own guilt regarding her loss still consumed him, clawing at his insides whenever he stopped long enough to think.

“Embellish, eh? Good word, Boss. I do like to embellish – ex-aggerate – e-lab-orate – en-hance – some might even say I overdo it. In fact, I’ve been known to hold off a dirtbag that wanted to shoot me for a good ten minutes talking about the color green staining the walls of the place he was holding me. That was–”

“DiNozzo!”

“Boss?” Tony asked innocently, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.

“Why did it take so long to clear your end of the building?” Gibbs asked, putting the pizza down and getting right in DiNozzo’s face. They were going to have this out no matter how many diversionary tactics DiNozzo tried to pull.

Tony held his ground and didn’t take a step back as most people did when Gibbs got into their personal space.

“Asked and answered,” he said flatly, his eyes deadened.

“Not to my satisfaction,” Gibbs said, baring his teeth.

“There were a lot of rooms. I had to be sure,” DiNozzo stubbornly maintained.

Gibbs tenuous grip on his temper snapped. “That’s why I sent two of you,” he snarled. “You delayed because you didn’t trust Ziva to do her job.”

“You simply telling me I have to trust her isn’t going to cut it. I need to feel it – and I don’t. Until then, I’m going to watch my own six when it comes to her,” Tony said heatedly.

And there it was. The elephant in the room. It had been going on for months, and Gibbs had hoped it would work itself out. DiNozzo had always trusted his judgement before, and it stung that he wasn’t willing to do it now. He knew trust took time to build between any new partners, but both had to be open and willing to give it a try. DiNozzo clearly wasn’t.

“She’s a member of my team,” Gibbs said, his voice low and dangerous.

Even if Jenny hadn’t left him a lot of choice, it wouldn’t have worked if he hadn’t relented. He could’ve just left Ziva stuck permanently behind a desk if he’d wanted to make the point. He wasn’t going to tolerate anyone questioning his decisions – not even DiNozzo.

“So you’ve said,” Tony replied without any inflection in his voice.

“I need you to follow my lead. McGee and I will have your six until Ziva earns your trust,” Gibbs said, leaving no wiggle room.

Tony’s eyes remained dark; his expression blank. “Nothing I’ve seen convinces me it’s just time that’s needed. She doesn’t know the first thing about being an investigator.”

“Kate wasn’t an investigator,” Gibbs said, infuriated DiNozzo was going to continue fighting this.

“Kate wasn’t a spy or an assassin, either. If the liaison idea is so appealing, send her to the CIA where her skills are compatible,” Tony said, eyes blazing as he struggled to keep a lid on his tightly controlled fury.

Gibbs was uncomfortably aware that DiNozzo’s words were the same ones he’d argued with the director when she informed him Ziva would be joining the team. He brutally crushed that unease.

“She’s not with the CIA, she’s here. I can teach her to be an investigator. She has the skills. You just need to cut her some slack so the trust has a chance to grow,” Gibbs said.

Tony’s eyes widened incredulously. “Cut her some slack? Since when do you cut anyone slack? What does she have over you?”

Gibbs saw red. He leaned in so their noses were nearly touching and used the glare that had made seasoned Marines cry. “You saying I’d let someone blackmail me?”

“I don’t know. Up until a minute ago, I never thought you’d cut anyone slack,” Tony said, unflinchingly.

“You’re the one who hasn’t made any effort – couldn’t even bother to show up for her team dinner,” Gibbs snarled.

“A little hard to show up to something you don’t know is happening,” Tony snapped.

This caused Gibbs to take a step back. “What are you talking about?” he asked uneasily.

Ziva invited them all to a dinner last week to get to know her new team. Tony was the only one who hadn’t been there, and Gibbs had been irritated by it. He’d thought Tony blew it off. He recalled the scene in the bullpen after his agents had been found in that storage container. Ziva offered to cook for an injured DiNozzo, and Gibbs had tried to let him know how good her cooking was. DiNozzo loved food, and he’d hoped that might be the first step in their learning to trust each other.

Now, here in his basem*nt, he could see the hurt beneath DiNozzo’s anger, and it threw him. He didn’t like being wrongfooted, and it didn’t happen very often. Was he cutting Ziva too much slack for the debt he owed her? If DiNozzo truly had been purposefully left out, the rest of them joining in would’ve stung – badly.

Despite the hurt Gibbs could clearly see, DiNozzo wasn’t nearly ready to let his anger go now that it had been uncorked.

“My invitation must’ve got lost in the mail. She can invite or not invite anyone she wants into her home, but it’s not a team dinner – unless of course, that’s how she sees the team. Or maybe it’s all just part of her plan to cause division amongst us. Isolation and manipulation, isn’t that Mossad 101 – happily teaching everything you need to know about becoming a killer for over a thousand years? You can’t have missed that she’s been trying to drive a wedge between me and McGee. She’s grooming him.”

He had noticed that Tim had been siding with Ziva more frequently in the office sniping, but that wasn’t hard to understand.

“You’re hard on McGee,” he said.

“Yeah, and as I recall, you were the one who told me to toughen him up, or he had no business being a field agent,” Tony said, lip curled.

“He’ll be a good agent. Complimentary skill sets,” Gibbs said, confident he’d put together an exemplary team, each with their own specialties.

DiNozzo’s eyes blazed. “Yeah, but if push comes to shove, I can at least do what needs to be done on a computer to get us out of a tricky situation. Do you honestly think that McGee would survive a one-on-one with a perp? He’d be dead. You know it. I know it. McGee is the only one who doesn’t know it – which is why I thought you told me to toughen him up. Now, Ziva has him convinced he can do no wrong. What happens when he doesn’t have anyone there to guide him step by step… or if he gets the wrong guidance?”

This was too much. Ziva was new, but she wasn’t incompetent. “Ziva won’t steer him wrong. She needs some training, but she’ll make a good agent.”

“Liaison Officer,” Tony said, biting out the words.

Gibbs had had enough. “You need to get your head on straight. She’s part of the team, and I expect you to work with me to teach her.”

“You might believe her allegiance is to you, but I’m not convinced. You took to Kate quickly, too, but not like this. I’ve never known you to blindly trust someone like this, so there has to be something I’m not seeing,” DiNozzo said.

Gibbs eyes flickered to the spot on the floor where Ari died. It was only inches from where DiNozzo was now standing. DiNozzo didn’t know what really happened, but he’d promised Ziva his silence. The two of them were the only ones who knew that she’d really been the one to kill her brother, thus saving Gibbs’ life.

“She earned my trust,” he said simply.

“Fine, but she hasn’t earned mine,” Tony said, the glimmer of anger disappearing from his eyes, his shoulders slumping.

Gibbs knew how important it was for Tony to trust his partners. He still didn’t know the full story of what happened in Philadelphia, and after everything that happened in Baltimore, it took some time for Gibbs to even get a footing inside Tony’s walls. He didn’t want to lose that, but he wanted his team to function. DiNozzo had simply walked away several times before when he felt he couldn’t rebuild any trust, and Gibbs didn’t want that to happen. Tony was a good agent, an excellent investigator, and although Gibbs would never admit it out loud, he’d brought laughter back into Gibbs’ life.

He was genuinely easy-going, and he forgave others their mistakes far easier than Gibbs did, but he also stood his ground when he felt strongly. No matter how much it frustrated him, Gibbs couldn’t make the other man trust Ziva, but he wasn’t willing to cut DiNozzo loose, either. The younger man was an ideal partner for Gibbs, smoothing all the hurt feelings Gibbs left in his wake while taking his brusque nature in stride. Maybe Gibbs had been wearing some blinders where Ziva was concerned, but he didn’t want to believe it. For now, that left finding some common ground so the team could function.

“You both need to find a way to make it work,” he said, as close to a concession as he could come.

He saw DiNozzo’s eyes widen in surprise at the atypical response. “I’m trying, but she’s going to have to make the effort, too. If you haven’t noticed, she tends to disagree with everyone who isn’t you,” the younger man said.

“Never said it wouldn’t be a challenge. She’s set in her ways,” Gibbs said, unsure if Ziva could ever completely shed her Mossad habits.

“Aren’t we all?” Tony asked darkly.

“She’s trying to make a clean break from a bad father. Thought you might understand that,” Gibbs said.

He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth. DiNozzo wouldn’t stand for being manipulated – he should’ve known that. That was a huge miss-step on his part. DiNozzo refusing to follow his lead had rattled him more than he’d realized.

Tony’s face closed off as he pulled one of those damned masks of his into place. There was no doubt in Gibbs’ mind that Tony’s father was as much a bastard as Ziva’s was reported to be, despite not being the head of a powerful, international intelligence agency. Less than a year ago, Tony had been laying in a hospital bed struggling to take each breath, and none of them had been sure he’d pull out of it, yet his father couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Tony had made it very clear the subject was off limits, however.

Gibbs had hoped Ziva’s troubles with her father might bond the two, but obviously that had been a miscalculation. Story of his life. He never got these inter-personal relationship things right – especially when it was of significant importance to him. His many ex-wives were proof of that.

Tony finished his beer, putting the can down with exaggerated precision. “I’m going home,” he said, leaving no room for negotiation.

“We’re not finished,” Gibbs said, knowing he’d lost this particular battle and hating it.

Tony stopped, a foot on the first step. “Are you going to order me to trust her?” he asked.

“I can’t do that,” he conceded.

He’d have to leave the ball in Tony’s court and hope the younger man could find a way to make working with Ziva tolerable. If that didn’t happen, Gibbs knew there was a very real chance Tony would walk away. He had to ensure that didn’t happen, but he had no idea how. He’d never been very good at dealing with people’s emotions. Why couldn’t they all just do their jobs and not talk about it?

He heard the revving of Tony’s engine as he left the driveway, and his frustration boiled over. He threw the pizza box, watching as it landed right side up as it skidded across the floor with the lid open. There was still half a pizza left inside, uneaten.

Jenny was right – things were worse than he thought. Since when did DiNozzo ever leave pizza unfinished?

Chapter 3: I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

Chapter Text

Tim McGee arrived at work on Monday morning feeling well-rested and ready to tackle a new work week. They’d successfully wrapped up their case Friday afternoon, so they weren’t on call over the weekend. Tim had managed to get some good, uninterrupted writing time and participated in a few online video games. Best of all, Ziva had phoned and asked him to show her his favorite bookstore. They’d even gone for coffee afterwards.

Tim feared for the future of bookstores now that electronic readers were becoming so popular. He had an E-reader, but he also loved the feel of a book in his hands – hard covers with a good weight behind them. Some of his books were so heavy he thought he could use them as weapon if in a pinch.

Not that he’d ever be able to risk harm to his precious treasures.

He had a favorite store where he loved to browse and imagine what it would be like when his own books lined the shelves. He’d sent out his manuscript, and although he knew how unlikely it was that a new, unknown author would hear anything back quickly, he couldn’t help eagerly checking his mail each night when he returned home.

He’d told Ziva about the shop – but not about his manuscript. That was private, and his nerves weren’t quite ready for anyone else to know. She was a reader, too and was interested in seeing the shop. Tim was proud they’d made enough of a connection for her to call on a rare day off and want to spend time with him.

When she’d first joined NCIS and almost immediately began the back-and-forth sniping with Tony, Tim thought he’d forever be the third man out. He’d really liked Kate, and he missed her. Unlike Ziva, she had a soft side, and Tim’s sensitive nature connected with that. Of course, she and Tony were the real partners. As much as they’d bicker and constantly try to get one up on the other, they were united against him as the newcomer. They also worked together seamlessly in the field. They could be snarking and fighting over riding shotgun on the way to a scene, but the second there was an outside threat, they became a united force.

Tim felt safer working behind them because no matter how much they teased; he was confident they would always have his back.

Not that he didn’t think Ziva would, as well. She was amazing and probably knew more ways to kill a person than he even knew existed. No, she was competent – the difference was – she saw him as competent, as well. He wasn’t eternally seen as a Probie to her. She respected his skills and admired his technical abilities – something neither Gibbs or Tony knew anything about. She’d frequently comment about how under-appreciated he was, and he was beginning to think she was right. The other members of the team all had larger than life personalities, so it was nice that Ziva noticed that his contributions also held weight. Tim enjoyed her company.

He knew Tony wasn’t happy that Ziva had joined their team, but he suspected that had more to do with the fact that in their new dynamic, Tony was the third wheel. He didn’t think Tony DiNozzo had ever experienced that awkward feeling before, and the part of him that was jealous of Tony’s effortless charm with women delighted in the fact that he, dorky Tim McGee, was the one to show him how it felt.

When Ziva surprised him by suggesting they grab a coffee after visiting the bookshop, Tim eagerly accepted. She was not only new to NCIS, but new to DC, as well, and he was happy to show her little things about the city. She was very interested in the people at NCIS, and quizzed Tim about names he wasn’t even sure he knew. Tony was the outgoing one who always knew everyone’s name. Tim was quieter, usually waiting until people approached him. He thought Ziva would be disappointed, but she simply shared her knowledge and seemed happy to share what gossip she knew. Apparently, one of the secretaries in the typing pool had a massive crush on Tony.

Figures.

Women always tended to fawn all over him, no matter how insensitive Tony could sometimes be. Ziva had a lot of questions about both Tony and Gibbs, and although Tim knew Tony had become annoyed by how much of his past Tim had already given away, he couldn’t seem to help himself. Somehow, the conversation always eventually came back to Tony. Besides, it wasn’t like the guy didn’t openly share every little tidbit of his life outside the office with anyone who would listen, anyway. Then, he’d turn around and pick on Tim for not having an equally engaging social life.

Ziva definitely didn’t approve of Tony’s pranks and clownish behavior. She said it would never be tolerated at Mossad, and she was furious that he kept checking up on her work. Tony was the Senior Field Agent, but Tim wasn’t quite certain where Ziva fell in the pecking order. She wasn’t really a Probie, but she wasn’t an actual agent, either, and she definitely didn’t want Tony to have any kind of authority over her. Tony was Gibbs second-in-command, though, so he didn’t think she had much of a choice.

He'd never have the guts to outright tell her that, however. He liked all his organs right where they were.

He was so accustomed to the barbs and put downs in the office that it barely even fazed him anymore, sometimes even giving it back, which was a big change for him. The tension when they were out in the field, however, was new and growing more and more palpable. That had never happened with Kate. No matter how annoying Tony could be in the office, he was always on his game in the field, often seeing things in a way the rest of them missed. Ziva hadn’t yet realized it, and Tim wasn’t about to point it out. He liked being on Ziva’s good side.

He wished they could keep their office dynamic, but find a way to get along and run things as smoothly as they once did in the field. Gibbs had been nearly apocalyptic over the delays during their last case. If Ziva hadn’t called to make plans, Tim probably would’ve spent most of the weekend agonizing over what kind of mood Gibbs would be in upon their return. The nice weekend had forced it from his mind.

As he turned the corner into the bullpen, however, he felt that familiar ball of tension turning uncomfortably in his stomach. Gibbs moods were volatile on a good day. When things weren’t running as smoothly as he wanted, he could make Ziva look harmless. Would Gibbs pent-up ire be directed at Tim if he was the first to arrive? Maybe he should’ve taken a little longer at the coffee shop where he’d picked up his breakfast.

Gibbs’ desk was empty, however, although Tony was inexplicably there at this early hour. Except, he wasn’t where he should be. Tim instantly became wary.

“Wh- what are you doing at Ziva’s desk?” he asked, stopping in his tracks, coffee cup in one hand, a bag with a single doughnut in the other.

He couldn’t stop himself from turning to look back at the elevator for Ziva – as if he was somehow involved in whatever prank Tony was pulling simply by his proximity. Ziva liked to sharpen her many knives at her desk, and she even managed to make that look lethal. He shuddered to think what she’d do if she found anyone messing with her desk.

Tony turned, grinning widely without a flicker of guilt or surprise. His blackened eye – which was now more purple in hue – somehow made the wide grin look almost macabre.

“Good morning, McPrompt. How was your weekend? Get any action? “Tony asked, standing up and slipping something into his pocket.

Tim wasn’t fooled. He recognized what Tony was trying to hide – he’d been the victim too many times in the past.

“Tony! You can’t be serious. She’ll… she’ll… She can probably kill you even with her fingers glued to that keyboard,” Tim said, aghast.

“Relax, McWorrywart. I came to that very same conclusion, so I’ll have to think of something else,” Tony said, unabashed.

Tim thought he was crazy to even think about playing a prank on a member of the Mossad, and he wanted no part of it. He glanced surreptiously at Ziva’s keyboard, but couldn’t see any sign of slickness. Tim moved quickly past it, not wanting to be seen anywhere near the scene of a potential crime and settled at his own desk, carefully inspecting his keyboard for any hint of the sticky substance.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony’s smirk, and he kicked himself for not being more discreet.

“Don’t worry, Tim. I know Superglue is our thing. I wouldn’t let anyone else interfere with that bond we share. I’ll think of something new for Officer David,” Tony said, straight-faced and seemingly sincere.

Tim stared back at him, wide-eyed. He didn’t want Superglue to be their thing. What had he done? He should’ve just let Tony do it and bear the consequences. If he was lucky, and Ziva got violent, maybe Gibbs would even ban Superglue altogether. Why he hadn’t done that already was beyond Tim. If he didn’t know how foolish a thought it was, he almost suspected Gibbs was amused by it. He knew that was crazy though.

Gibbs wasn’t amused by anything – except maybe getting one over on the bad guys.

Tony’s serious expression morphed into one of his huge, killer grins, and Tim realized too late he’d been made to look foolish. Again.

“I’ll just keep this for another time when it’s just the two of us,” Tony said, grinning wickedly, as he placed the tube back in his desk and patted the drawer fondly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tim said dryly.

He desperately wanted to get away from Superglue and back to what he was originally worried about – Gibbs’ mood.

“Did you talk to Gibbs after we left on Friday?”

The gleeful smile melted off Tony’s face.

“Yeah,” he said, turning to his computer and pressing various keys with a little more force than necessary. “Went over the last case.”

He didn’t say anything more, which was highly unusual for the loquacious DiNozzo. Tim’s stomach churned even worse. This didn’t bode well. He waited another few minutes to see if Tony would add anything, but the other man just kept pecking at his keyboard. The slow pace grated on his nerves and made Tim’s hands twitch. He had to forcefully stop himself from going over there and just typing whatever it was Tony was trying to input himself.

Tony’s silence and his hunched shoulders bothered Tim more than it should. He knew there had been a lot of tension between Gibbs and Tony recently. Tim had always been envious of the way they seemed to communicate without actually using words, but that was different now. Nothing had been right in the bullpen for months, and this was just another example. Tim didn’t know what to do about it. He fell back on the one thing he was sure would make Tony act… well, more like Tony.

“Hey, I saw that film you were talking about on Saturday night. It was playing on one of those late-night movie channels,” Tim said, certain that Tony would take the bait.

Sure enough, the SFA’s head shot up, looking over at Tim with interest. “Which one was that? I talk about a lot of movies,” he said.

“The Dirty Dozen,” McGee replied. It was a war film, which really wasn’t his favorite genre, but it was surprisingly enjoyable.

“Oh, 1967 classic directed by Robert Aldrich with an all-star cast. Stands up to the test of time. What did you think?” Tony asked eagerly, his earlier hint of dejection evaporating with the topic.

Tim silently patted himself on the back.

“I liked it… a lot more than I thought I would, actually. Kept picturing Gibbs as one of prisoners,” Tim said, shrugging.

“Nah – he would’ve been the one in charge. Can you really picture him taking orders from anyone?” Tony asked, still grinning, but with a slightly harder edge to his tone.

“You’re probably right. I was nearly asleep when it came on,” Tim said.

“Oh, no – that’s not how you watch this one. You need to have a friend or two over with a couple or more beers. This one is for a night with the guys,” Tony said.

Tim shrugged again. Tony never seemed to realize that not everyone had the social circle he did. Tim would never be able to bring himself to just call someone out of the blue just to come over and watch a movie – never mind the fact he doubted any of his friends would ever rush right over, anyway.

“I’ll tell you what – next time we’ll get together to watch. I have a couple more you might like,” Tony said, and Tim thought he might’ve guessed what Tim had been thinking.

No, that couldn’t be right. Tony wasn’t a mind reader. Much. Still, he was more pleased with the invitation than he thought he’d be.

“I’d like that,” he said, returning Tony’s grin.

“Like what?” Ziva interrupted as she entered the bullpen. She dropped her bag behind her desk, scowling, her dark eyes moving back and forth suspiciously between her two grinning teammates. “What are you up to?”

“Good morning to you, too,” Tony said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“We’re not up to anything,” Tim said, slightly taken aback by the bite in her attitude. “We were just talking about our weekends.”

“Oh, I see. Did you tell Tony all about our lovely time on Saturday?” Ziva asked, her tone switching from irritation to sweetness in the blink of an eye.

Tony’s eyebrows raised. “Did you enjoy the movie, too?” he asked, the earlier pleasure lighting his eyes now deadened.

Ziva’s brow furrowed. “Movie? What movie? Tim showed me a delightful bookstore, and I made several purchases. I know books do not interest you, Tony. They are for more serious minds. McGee and I enjoy them,” Ziva said haughtily.

“Talk about your books and movies on your own time. What d’you got?” Gibbs asked, turning the corner into the bullpen from the back, steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

“Er… what do we have on what, Boss? Do we have a new case?” Tim asked, perplexed.

Gibbs turned to stare directly at him, looking as if Tim was something disgusting on the bottom of his shoe.

And Tim’s goal had been to stay below Gibb’s radar. Great.

“Did you go to a crime scene I don’t know about, McGee?” Gibbs asked, eyebrows raised.

He had a knack for making Tim feel that all his illustrious degrees were nothing more than a waste of paper.

“Cold cases. Now,” Gibbs growled.

“Ri- Right,” Tim said, putting his head down. They always worked on cold cases in between the hot ones. Gibbs hated idle hands as much as Tim hated failure.

Before Gibbs had a chance to berate them any further, the elevator dinged, and the Director emerged, chatting with an older gentleman dressed in uniform with an Admirals’ insignia. Tim recognized it, recalling the excitement when his father had first been promoted.

The Director and the Admiral strolled past the bullpen and went up the stairs without a word. Tim noticed Gibbs’ eyes watching them intently.

“Who was that?” Ziva asked as soon as the Director’s door closed, her eyes also focused on the balcony above.

“Admiral Charles Montague,” Tony answered, already focused back on his computer.

“And how do you know this? Are you spying on the Director now, Tony?” Ziva asked, hackles raised that Tony was somehow in the know when she wasn’t.

Tim had noticed this about her on several occasions. While they’d had coffee, she’d intimated that she was in a position of authority at Mossad, so perhaps she’d grown accustomed to knowing things. She certainly felt she was at the top of the need-to-know chain here at NCIS.

“No, I leave the sneaky spy stuff up to you, Ziva,” Tony said, and although he was smiling, his words held a dangerous edge.

“DiNozzo and I worked a case on his ship,” Gibbs said gruffly.

He sat at his desk and began firing up his computer. Tim knew that even though he’d turn it on, Gibbs would never use it to do more than glance at his email.

“And why is he here now? Another case? A complication from your previous one?” Ziva asked, turning her attention to Gibbs.

“Unlikely – that case was closed four years ago without complications,” Tony said.

“Then why is he with the Director now?’ Ziva asked. “Perhaps there were complications you missed.”

“I doubt it – but if there’s something we need to know, I’m sure we’ll be filled in. For now – We. Don’t. Need. To. Know,” Tony said, biting off each word.

“Cold cases,” Gibbs repeated loudly, tossing his empty coffee cup in the trash with some force.

“But if the Admiral has a new case, it will be us investigating, no?” Ziva asked.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Gibbs snapped.

Ziva looked affronted, but she pursed her lips and eventually put her head down. The sound of her angrily jabbing at her keyboard was the only sound in the bullpen for several moments before Gibbs phone rang.

“Yeah, Gibbs,” he said.

All eyes turned toward him expectantly.

“Be right up,” he said.

Gibbs could feel the eyes of at least one member of his team locked on him as he climbed the stairs towards the Director’s office, and it had him fuming. Had he really been favoring Ziva? And if so, was she abusing it? Usually accusations – even true ones – didn’t bother him; but this one burned. He was going to have to do something about it, and he hated being backed into a corner.

He didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before due to DiNozzo’s angry words replaying in his mind. Not only the words, but that damned unfinished pizza. It bothered him more than he could explain. Then, on top of the rough night, he’d arrived in the bullpen to hear McGee and DiNozzo laughing over a film. The sound almost had him nostalgic for happier days before he brutally crushed that feeling. Had things really deteriorated so badly that laughter – DiNozzo’s laughter even – seemed foreign and out of place?

She’s been grooming him.

When Ziva arrived in the bullpen a moment later, the tension instantly returned. She’d unconsciously proved the validity of DiNozzo’s accusations by immediately pitting her two teammates against one another. He’d seen it with his own eyes. DiNozzo had always trusted his judgement in the past, but he was questioning it now. The loss of that unwavering trust stung.

Despite the undeniable connection he felt to the Mossad Officer who’d saved his life and been forced to commit an unspeakable act in order to do it, he couldn’t let her destroy his team.

DiNozzo said that Ziva disagreed with everyone except Gibbs, but that particular complaint proved somewhat faulty. She’d argued with his directive that morning. When had he ever tolerated a subordinate’s refusal to obey? When had that changed?

Ziva had a real problem with not only taking orders, but the whole chain of command, and he needed to correct those bad habits. He hated that DiNozzo and the Director were right, but he couldn’t see an alternative if he wanted the return of his smoothly-functioning team.

“Are you going to order me to trust her?”

DiNozzo’s angry words were still chiming in his ears as he strode past Cynthia and right into the Director’s office. Jenny was seated at the conference table with her guest. There was a pitcher of water and several glasses between the two. She looked up as he entered.

“Here he is, now. Agent Gibbs, allow me to introduce–”

“How you doing, Gunny? Good to see you,” the Admiral said warmly, standing to shake Gibbs’ hand.

“Admiral Montague,” Gibbs said, ignoring Jenny’s surprised expression.

The Admiral’s thinning hair was flattened slightly from wearing his cover, but it was cut short and precise, neatly trimmed. Everything about him was rigidly in place except his grey eyebrows, which were lengthy and stuck out at odd angles. Gibbs remembered him as a genial sort who was still able to run a tight ship.

“Every once in a while, I get wind that you’ve ruffled a few more feathers, but you always seem to get your man,” the Admiral said, sinking back into his chair. “I hope you can help me with something of a personal nature.”

“A personal nature, sir?” Gibbs asked.

The Admiral winced. “Well, the personal part is that I’d like this kept as confidential as possible.”

“Exactly what is it you want kept confidential, and what are you asking from us, Admiral? I’m sure you’re aware that if a crime has been committed, it’s our sworn duty to investigate,” Jenny said.

“I’m aware of that, Director. The reason I came to you is that I believe it’s become a threat to National Security,” the Admiral said.

That got Gibbs’ attention. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze zeroing in on the man beside him. Gibbs’ sharp mind picked up on the slight tension in his body and the heaviness in the Admiral’s words.

“What threat, Charlie?” he asked, switching to the Admiral’s surname.

The Admiral took a deep breath as if steeling himself.

“My son, Lieutenant Eric Montague works at the Naval Surface Warfare Center – NSWC – in Philadelphia. He’s a Marine Engineer, and he’s been going through a rough spell in his personal life. He and his wife have separated, and I believe Eric has been drinking more that he should,” the Admiral said, pausing to sip the water Jenny placed in front of him.

“You don’t have to tell me that the end of a marriage is difficult, but what does this have to do with National Security?” Gibbs asked.

“Eric told me that he was approached at a bar by someone who he owes some money. He said he was intoxicated, so he couldn’t remember a lot of the details, but he said this person seemed to suggest he could pay off his debt by giving him some information. The man asked a lot of questions about the weapons systems on various ships they’ve worked on at NSWC.”

The hair on the back of Gibbs’ neck stood on end. “And he didn’t report it?” he asked sharply.

“Let him finish, Jethro,” Jenny said, spearing him with her eyes.

There was nothing Gibbs hated more than waiting, but he knew she was right. They needed all the details, so they were going to have to go at the Admiral’s pace – then he could decide when to bring his son in for questioning.

“Eric said that when he wouldn’t confirm anything, the man insisted that he’d have to pay up one way or another. The place was packed, and he lost sight of him in the crowd. He said he was so drunk that he’d forgotten about it until the next time,” the Admiral said, grimacing.

“The next time?” Gibbs asked, his temper slipping.

Jenny scowled at him again.

“Yes. He said that he was at the same bar, and he was approached again, but this time the man wasn’t alone. He said they were very persuasive that it would be an easy way to settle his debt. When he again refused, they tried to force him to come outside the bar. Eric made a scene, and the Bouncers broke things up. He said he was going to tell me about it, but a situation arose at work, and he pushed it back again,” the Admiral said, sighing.

He was clearly disappointed with his son’s faulty decision making.

“He obviously told you eventually. How long ago did this happen?” Jenny asked.

“Both times were within the last two weeks, but over the weekend, things might have escalated. His roommate disappeared – simply hasn’t returned to their apartment. Paul is a civilian engineer who also works at NSWC. He let Eric stay with him after Shelly threw him out, and he’s the one who’s dragged my son out of a bar on more than one occasion. Eric said Paul might’ve stayed the night with a lady friend, but he’d never just not show up for work this morning. He’s convinced it’s related to these men at the bar,” the Admiral said gravely.

“Where is your son now?” Gibbs asked.

“He’s at work in Philadelphia. He called me from there. I told him not to leave, and I came right here,” the Admiral said, hanging his head.

“I’ll send someone to pick him up,” Gibbs said.

“Discreetly,” the Admiral said, all traces of his previous vulnerability gone and the steel back in his voice. “We don’t know what this is, or even if the two are connected, but it has the potential to ruin Eric’s career before we’re even able to find out. I’d like to avoid that if possible.”

Gibbs was about to say that National Security and a missing civilian trumped a reputation, but Jenny spoke first.

“You have my word, Admiral, that we’ll do what we can to keep this confidential. It’s NCIS policy not to reveal the details of any current investigation. Agent Gibbs will ensure your son’s safety, and we can put him into protective custody if we feel it’s necessary. Isn’t that right, Agent Gibbs?” Jenny asked pointedly.

Gibbs nodded tightly. “Yeah. One of my agents used to work in Philadelphia. He’s familiar with the area. I’ll have him meet your son at NSWC and bring him back for questioning.”

“There’ll be no badges or taking him into custody. If anyone notices, it’ll just look like two friends meeting up after work,” Jenny said, her eyes once again pinning Gibbs to stress that she meant it.

“And what about Paul?” the Admiral asked.

“Once we talk with your son, we’ll know better what we’re dealing with. He might turn up by then,” Gibbs said, not believing a word he said. His gut was telling him there was something going on here, and he suspected the Admiral knew it, too.

“And what should I do in the meantime?” the Admiral asked.

“It’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive to Philadelphia. You’re going to have to give us some time and let us get to work. I promise that I’ll keep you informed of our progress,” Jenny said, standing up and indicating the meeting was at a close.

The Admiral’s eyes were on Gibbs, however. “I’m hoping you still have that magic touch, Gunny,” he said.

“No such thing as magic, but I won’t stop until I get some answers.”

Chapter 4: Who Says You Can't Go Back?

Chapter Text

Abby bit her lip as her fingers flew across her keyboard, her eyes scanning the screen in front of her just as quickly. Along with the speed, she was meticulously thorough. She knew she was good at what she did. She’d always been fascinated by science, and she’d subsequently learned computer skills because the two went hand in hand. What she was doing now – a background check on Admiral Montague’s son – was basic, but if it came to digging deeper into his financial holdings or anything that needed to be hacked – that was more up McGee’s ally.

Gibbs asked for her help, so, of course she was going to do it. Abby would do anything for her silver-haired fox, but the fact it was necessary was still irritating. Gibbs sent Tim to Philadelphia with Tony while he and Ziva were doing the background checks.

He and Ziva.

No – Abby was doing them. Gibbs and computers didn’t get along. In fact, she was reasonably certain that if you looked up luddite in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. That was all well and good, after all, he was excellent at delegating and making use of the skills of others. That wasn’t what was bothering her. What was making her steam was the fact she was here in the lab – with other work she could be doing – and she’d been on her own all day. What the hell was Ziva doing? She certainly hadn’t been down to the lab to coordinate with Abby or to split up the work.

Abby wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about the newest addition to the MCRT. Ziva’s personality could be rather… off-putting. Abby missed Kate – terribly – and the Israeli replacement just wasn’t the same. Still, deep down, Abby knew that she hadn’t been fair when Ziva first joined the team.

Bulldozed her way onto the team, more like, while they were all still reeling from the loss of the agent who used to sit at her desk.

Ziva hadn’t been Gibbs’ choice, which usually meant an instant boot out the door, but for some reason, the Bossman changed his mind. Abby couldn’t help the resentment she felt toward Ziva for taking Kate’s place, but she was self-aware enough to know that she would’ve felt that same resentment towards anyone.

Kate had been her friend – her confidante – and she still wasn’t ready to let her go.

Abby wasn’t being fair, and she knew it, but she didn’t know how to make herself feel otherwise. She couldn’t even imagine trying to share something personal with Ziva. Even now, after the wall she put up in her heart to keep Ziva out had weakened, she couldn’t imagine talking with her about anything like how she felt.

She wasn’t even sure the former spy had feelings.

Ziva was as cold and aloof a person that Abby had ever met. Still, she couldn’t deny that she’d been concerned about both Ziva and Tony when they’d been lost in that storage container last week. She’d been frantic to help find them. Being unhappy with Ziva’s presence on the team didn’t mean she wanted any harm to come to the woman. She wasn’t a monster.

When Ziva asked her to attend the team dinner she held at her apartment, Abby almost didn’t go out of spite. She’d changed her mind, however, and accepted the invitation. Abby tried very hard not to be a mean person, and she knew their new teammate was trying, so she thought she should buck up and make the effort, too.

When one Very Special Agent was the only one not in attendance, Abby didn’t give it a second thought. She knew Tony was struggling with the same feelings, so she just thought he’d decided not to come. She’d since come to suspect there was more going on than she was aware – and Abby hated not being in the know. Things between Tony and Ziva had become even frostier in the past week, and the fact Gibbs sent Tim with Tony today, when in reality it made much more sense for Tim to do the background search, was hinky.

Gibbs always did what was best for the team. But with Tony and Ziva not working well together, perhaps sending Tim was what was best, even if it slowed things down on another end. She knew Gibbs would never outright say, even if she pouted; and Tony kept his true feelings locked up tighter than her choker. That left Tim. He must know something, and Abby knew how to wheedle information out of him, even if he wasn’t supposed to tell.

He'd be back tomorrow, and she had a new, super-short miniskirt that she hadn’t worn yet. Tim always got distracted if she wore a short skirt. It wasn’t really manipulating him – Tim just liked to please her. It was sweet, really. She only hoped that he knew more than she did. With that in mind, she continued looking through Lieutenant Montague’s online life.

Abby wasn’t certain how much more time went by while she was both lost in her head and simultaneously lost in the work, but she didn’t hear Ziva’s soft-tread when she suddenly appeared in the lab. Abby started violently.

“Ziva!” she said, clutching her chest. “Don’t do that.”

Ziva blinked curiously, silently staring for a prolonged moment. “Do not do what, precisely? I just arrived.”

“Exactly. I didn’t hear you come in, and you startled me,” Abby said, taking a deep breath to slow her racing heart.

Ziva smiled with pride. “I was trained as a spy by the Mossad. It is second nature to be stealthy.”

Her clear feeling of superiority rubbed Abby the wrong way.

“I suppose that’s all well and good in the field, but in my lab, making me jump could be disastrous if I’m carefully pouring lethal materials,” she said huffily.

“Were you pouring lethal materials?” Ziva asked, amused as she looked at Abby sitting at her computer.

“Well, no… but that’s not the point. I could’ve been. Where have you been? I thought you were supposed to be helping me with the background check on Lieutenant Montague,” Abby said, irritated by the attitude.

Her heart was still thumping painfully.

“I have been in contact with many of my international sources, but they have not shared anything worth noting on Lieutenant Montague. He is not… what do you say… involved in anything suspicious,” Ziva said.

“Then what is he involved in?” Abby asked.

Ziva frowned. “Pardon?”

“Well, he’s not involved in anything your spy sources know about, but he still has a life. Gibbs will want to know about it,” Abby said, feeling vindictively pleased by the confusion on Ziva’s face.

“Why will he want to know if there is nothing worthy of knowing?” Ziva asked. “He was obviously targeted for his knowledge of the military projects he has worked on.”

Abby signed patiently. “You haven’t worked here all that long, but I can assure you, Gibbs will want to know everything about him – his strengths and his weaknesses.”

“This seems like a waste of time. McGee could have gathered all this intel in moments. I do not understand why he went to Philadelphia, and I was left here to look for inconsequential nonsense,” Ziva said, frustrated.

Abby shrugged. “I wondered why this wasn’t left to McGee, too, but it wasn’t, so we need to do our best.”

“I am sure Tony is behind it,” Ziva sneered.

“Why do you say that?” Abby asked, turning back toward her computer so Ziva wouldn’t see her face.

She knew the other woman would be able to see that she wasn’t being sincere. Everyone always knew when she was lying, and she did think the fact Ziva was left here had something to do with Tony. He wasn’t nearly as comfortable with Ziva’s presence as Gibbs and Tim were.

“What do you know? Why did Tony want me left behind?” Ziva whispered, so close that Abby could feel her breath on her ear.

Ziva leaned in, crowding Abby’s personal space, so she automatically leaned away. Abby’s spine stiffened, feeling unreasonably threatened by Ziva’s close proximity. Her mind flashed on all the concealed weapons she knew Ziva carried at all times.

“I don’t know anything,” she squeaked. “I just know we have to get this background check done before Gibbs comes looking for it, or there’ll be hell to pay. Gibbs can be scary when he’s angry.”

Ziva paused a moment. Abby could see her staring intently from her peripheral vision. She swallowed convulsively, thinking Gibbs wasn’t nearly as scary as the Mossad officer.

At least she knew Gibbs would never hurt her.

“Very well,” Ziva replied, turning on her heel and leaving the lab as quickly as she’d come.

Disinterested, Tony watched the scenery pass as he sped along PA 291 towards Philadelphia. Although he kept up a constant stream of chatter that he knew was annoying his Probie passenger, his stomach was clenched in a tight knot. A knot that was growing more and more constricted the closer they got to the city he’d once called home.

He’d left without looking back, without a word to any of the people he’d grown close to while living there. The corruption rampant in his former precinct – in several of the precincts around the city – proved too much to stomach on his own. He doubted he’d be welcomed back if he ran into any of his former supervisors. Unfortunately, Murphy’s Law usually did like to f*ck with him.

He kept this to himself, however, instead regaling McGee with stories of the seedy underworld and risqué clubs that thrived within the city. He’d been low man on the totem pole then, but he’d also worked his first undercover operation. He suspected he’d only been thrown in because he was expendable, but he’d thrived while adopting another persona. He’d been doing that all his life – it was a necessary survival skill for someone who was shuffled around so much – but his superiors didn’t know that. He'd even caught the attention of the FBI, although he didn’t like to remember anything about that time. The one good thing that did come out of the whole mess was the birth of his reputation as an extraordinary undercover operative.

“I still don’t see why we were in such a rush to leave. Lieutenant Montague doesn’t even get out of work until six, and we’re supposed to discreetly meet him afterwards. We could’ve helped gather background information for a few hours,” Tim said for about the tenth time.

He clutched his laptop tightly, as if for dear life, as Tony suddenly switched lanes.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing anyway?” Tony asked, switching lanes again just to mess with him.

“Will you cut it out,” Tim said, holding tightly to his precious computer.

Tony knew he tended to take his frustrations out on McGee when he was upset, but the Probie’s thin-skinned defensiveness made it way too easy. He wished McGee would fight back like Kate used to do, but he tended to sulk instead, and that did nothing to relieve Tony’s pent-up tension. It just made him feel guilty, which made him became even more annoying.

It was a vicious cycle.

Tony knew McGee’s mind was back at the office where Gibbs and Ziva were supposedly doing all the computer work to track Lieutenant Montague’s life. Tony was certain it was really Abby doing the bulk of the work. It was the kind of thing McGee thrived on, and he obviously could do a much better job, but Gibbs had chosen to send him along with Tony instead.

Although Tony’s anger hadn’t totally dissipated, he appreciated the gesture. It would’ve been more efficient to send Ziva and let Tim get started on a background trace. Both junior agents emphatically tried to point that out, but Gibbs ignored them like only Gibbs could. It meant he was taking Tony’s concerns about Ziva into consideration. Tony knew his boss would never outright say it, but he always showed more with actions rather than words.

And taking action that had the potential to slow things down – something that was in direct opposition to Gibbs’ impatient nature – was the equivalent of a soliloquy from his taciturn boss.

“I can’t get any real work done traveling like this, and I keep losing my connection,” Tim said, grumbling. “It would be more efficient if we’d waited a few hours to leave.”

Tony tilted his head from side to side and rolled his eyes as McGee spoke.

“Have I turned into Bill Murray in Groundhog Day? You keep repeating the same thing, yet it changes nothing. Gibbs said go, we went,” Tony replied.

Although he knew Gibbs sent Tim as a conciliation to Tony, he wouldn’t have sent them early at all if he didn’t expect some results. He’d never put anyone’s feelings above a job – particularly one that could involve National Security.

“Besides, you think Gibbs sent us just to have lunch and an easy afternoon? He wants us to take a look at the bar where Lieutenant Montague was approached,” he added.

McGee’s head snapped up, blinking owlishly. “He didn’t say that. I was right there when he told us to go,” he said.

Tony’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “So, when we get back with Montague, you don’t think Gibbs will ask what we know?” he asked, half amused, half irritated.

McGee frowned, slowly nodding. “No. He’ll want results. He always wants results.”

“Bingo, McPadawan,” Tony said.

The last thing he wanted was a free afternoon in the city. There were way too many landmines there that he’d have to avoid without alerting McGee he was doing it. Lieutenant Montague had insisted he was going to finish his work day since he didn’t know how long he’d be away once they began unravelling the case.

“It’ll be late when we get back. Think Gibbs and Ziva will have found anything by then?” Tim asked.

“You mean Abby, right?” Tony replied, grinning.

A slow, reluctant grin spread across Tim’s face. “Right – Abby. That’s why I don’t get why he didn’t send Ziva with you. I could’ve been much more productive back at the office, and Ziva’s better in the field.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s something else in the field,” Tony said dryly. “Maybe he wants you both to work on different skills.”

“If the Admiral wants this looked into quickly and quietly, I really don’t think this is the case to switch roles,” Tim said huffily.

“You can tell Gibbs that when we return,” Tony said, mindful Tim would never consider doing any such thing.

The Probie, at least, could follow orders.

They drove in silence for a few more minutes, Tim growing more and more frustrated with the unsteady computer on his lap. Tony was grateful that in his frustration with the current assignments, Tim hadn’t brought up the Superglue incident that morning. Tony had been looking through Ziva’s computer again, but he’d run out of time. He was certain there was something on there, he just wished he had the skills to find it. Luckily, he’d kept the Superglue in his pocket just in case he got caught.

McGee grunted, pushing his laptop aside. “Lost the connection again. How much longer until we get there?” he asked.

“What are you, eight? Are we there yet?” he asked in a high-pitched, squeaky voice.

McGee’s face went red.

They drove by NSWC about fifteen minutes later, passing the security checkpoint. “I doubt the bar will be open at this hour, but we can canvass the area,” Tony said, pulling into a spot on the empty street.

There were a few stragglers walking along, bundled up against the frigid air, but the bar was closed and sealed tighter than a drum. It looked more like a nightclub than a bar, and a classy one at that.

Tim and Tony got out of the car, checking both the main door and the supply door around back. There were no windows that would allow them to look inside.

“This is a waste of time, DiNozzo,” Tim said irritably. His breath was coming out in puffs of smoke as he spoke, and his hands were stuffed deeply in his pockets as he hunched his shoulders against the cold.

Before Tony could respond, a raspy voice sounded from around the corner, “Dino? That you?”

Tony’s head turned sharply, his hand automatically reaching for his weapon. A vagrant stumbled around the building into view. He wore a dirty hat with ear coverings pulled low over his head, and a cigarette butt clutched in one hand covered with fingerless gloves. He was grizzled with lines covering a face of indeterminate age but well ravaged by a hard life.

Tony relaxed, striding toward the man, and reaching out to shake his hand, grinning. “How are you doing, Chico? Still haunting street corners, I see.”

Chico shrugged; his hangdog expression unchanged. “Gotta make a livin’ somehow. Where ya been? Haven’t seen ya in abou’ a year.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Try seven.”

Chico’s eyes glazed, looking confused for a moment before they cleared, widening in surprise. “Seven? No sh*t. Time flies. Got anythin’ fer me?”

Tony shrugged, amused at how quickly they resumed their former roles. “I think that’s my line. What do you know about this place?” Tony asked, jerking his head toward the bar/nightclub.

Tim moved closer, glancing curiously at Chico, who looked the Probie up and down speculatively.

“Who’s the rookie? Got yerself a new partner, Dino? What happened to the hottie?” Chico asked.

“It’s been a long time,” Tony said, ignoring the question about his old partner. He glanced at McGee. “Chico here is an old informant. He’s one of the good ones,” he said, knowing the praise would make the other man more malleable to sharing what he knew.

As expected, Chico puffed out his chest. “How come ya ain’t in uniform? You off duty?” he asked, frowning.

“I’m always on duty – you know that. Now, what can you tell me about the clientele who frequent The Vault Tavern? What kind of unsavory things happen inside the vault?” Tony asked, raising his eyebrows up and down.

“What’s innit for me?” Chico asked shrewdly.

“You know the deal – some hot food, no cash, Chico. I can’t make that fly, but I know you must be hungry. Coffee probably wouldn’t hurt, either,” Tony said, remembering all the times he’d run through this routine before with various informants.

“And a pack of smokes?” Chico asked, cajoling.

“You make it worth my while, and I’ll get you two,” Tony said.

A crooked smile blossomed across Chico’s ragged face. “Always did like ya, Dino. Okay, what d’ya want to know?”

“McGee, there was a convenience store about a block back. Go pick up a hot coffee, an extra-large breakfast burrito, and two packs of cigarettes for my friend here,” Tony said, handing Tim some cash.

“Marlboro’s,” Chico clarified.

“Second pack is still under negotiation,” Tony said firmly.

Tim didn’t look happy about it, but he took the cash and turned around. As soon as he was out of hearing distance, Chico began to speak.

“Fancy place, fancy people. Big crowds, easy ta pick some pockets unnoticed,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Some bad ass regulars, though.”

“What do you mean by bad ass?” Tony asked.

“Not bad ass like you – I mean fer real bad news. I hear things – people disappearing if they ask too many questions. Regular street crowd don’t go too close – even when it’s friggin’ freezing,” he said, shivering dramatically. “Think it might be a mob or somethin,’ but not the regular mob. Even Bruno’s boys don’t come ‘round here.”

“Bruno still the man in charge?” Tony asked, surprised. The local mafia hadn’t changed much since his days patrolling a beat in the city.

“He’s getting older, but his boy runs things mostly now. He ain’t as smooth as Bruno,” Chico said.

“So, if the people running the Vault aren’t cutting in on Bruno’s territory, what are they dealing?” Tony asked.

“Don’t know. Don’t wanna know… but…”

“What?” Tony asked sharply.

Chico leaned in close enough that Tony could smell the stale alcohol and nicotine on his breath. “There’s a side alley around back, only one way in, so not good for drug deals. There’s been screamin’ at night – and I don’ mean in pleasure.”

“Screaming? And you didn’t report it?” Tony asked, angry but knowing the answer. No one ever wanted to get involved.

“Not my business, and I ain’t going down no alley without an escape route. That’s why I’m still alive,” Chico said hotly.

“Okay,” Tony said, knowing it wasn’t a winnable battle. “What about any military types from the Naval Surface Warfare Center? Any of them frequent this place?”

“I suppose some of ‘em do. Not like they all wear uniforms over there, and a bunch of hotties in skimpy outfits are always going to attract a lot of dudes,” Chico said, leering. “I hear there’s some gambling in the back, too.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s all I got. I might practice light fingers outside, but I don’ exactly look like the kind o’ people they let inside,” Chico said, rather haughtily.

“Thanks Chico,” he said as McGee returned with a coffee and a small bag of groceries.

“I put a couple packages of Nutter Butters in there, as well. They’re my favorite,” Tim said, handing it over.

Chico took the bag, shrugging. “Too bad I’m allergic to peanuts, and it’ll probably kill me,” he said gloomily, inhaling the coffee.

McGee’s face paled, his eyes opening comically wide as he reached to take the bag back. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize,” he said, panicky.

Chico pulled the bag out of reach, chuckling. “He’s really green, this one,” he said.

Tony shook his head, amused. “He’s pulling your leg, Probie.”

Tim gaped, indignant.

“Which one blacked your eye this time, Dino? Thought I heard they cleaned that place out,” Chico said.

“Walked into a door,” Tony deadpanned. “Thanks for the info. You didn’t see me.”

“I didn’t see nobody, and nobody saw me,” he said, walking away drinking the coffee and whistling in between sips.

“What was that all about?” Tim asked, still disgruntled over Chico’s bluff.

“Nothing. Come on, let’s check the alley out back while the club is empty. Watch your six though,” Tony said, removing his weapon as he began cautiously moving down the alley.

McGee followed closely behind. The alley was narrow and dingy, dark even though it was early afternoon. It widened at the end to a couple small, abandoned buildings, heavily graffitied with all the windows long broken. It smelled of stale urine and old garbage. Tony scrunched his face at the overpowering odor and beside him, McGee gagged, using the crook of his elbow to cover his face.

“Uh, what’re we looking for” McGee asked, gasping.

Tony shook his head, not wanting to take a breath to speak. He cautiously stepped inside one of the buildings, carefully glancing around. There was dust and grime on the floor, but it was broken by footprints – a lot of footprints. There was another odor here, older, rotting. He knew that smell. Before he could say anything, his phone rang, the sharp, insistent trill breaking the silence, causing both he and McGee to startle.

Tony didn’t recognize the caller ID, but he stepped outside to answer, taking a few steps away from the nauseating odors.

“DiNozzo.”

“Agent DiNozzo, it’s Eric Montague. I think you need to pick me up now,” the caller said, sounding tense.

“Why? What’s going on?” Tony asked.

McGee looked up sharply at the tone of Tony’s voice.

“My CO noticed Paul wasn’t here. When I said I hadn’t seen him all weekend, he called the police and reported him missing. They’re on the way here to ask some questions,” Eric said.

“All right. We’re five minutes from your location. Go down to the lobby, but don’t go outside until we get there,” Tony said, already turning and heading back toward the car.

“Tony, what’s going on?” Tim asked, hurrying to keep up.

“We’re picking up Lieutenant Montague now. I’m going to take you both to the train station and put you on the Amtrak back to DC. Takes about an hour and a half. I’ll have Gibbs meet you at Union Station,” Tony said, getting in the car and starting the engine. He peeled away from the curb before McGee had even shut the door.

“What are you talking about? I thought we were driving him back. What are you going to do?” Tim asked.

“I’m going to call the local PD and report the body we just left back there,” Tony said.

Chapter 5: Good Girls Don't

Chapter Text

Gibbs shut the bedroom door tightly and strode into the kitchen of the small, sparsely furnished safehouse. The place looked as if it hadn’t been updated since the seventies – very much like his own home, actually – but that didn’t bother him. He was surprised to find Ziva there since he hadn’t yet called her. She was sitting at a small dining table with McGee, looking aggrieved as she drummed the blunt end of a butter knife into the table repeatedly.

“You must be aware of more than that, McGee. I do not understand why you are keeping things from me,” she said, leaning across the table into Tim’s personal space as if to intimidate him.

Tim swallowed convulsively, his eyes never leaving the butter knife. There was a fork and an empty take-out container resting in front of him.

“Problem, Officer David?” Gibbs asked, startling both of them with his silent appearance.

“Gibbs! I have been trying to get some answers on why Tony did not return with McGee and the Lieutenant, but McGee is being unhelpfully shut-lipped,” she said, releasing the butter knife. “What is going on?”

“Close-mouthed,” Tim replied wearily.

“Ah ha! Then you admit you are hiding something,” she said triumphantly, pointing her finger at McGee. “I knew it.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Tim said. “I told you everything I know.”

“Ziva, why are you here?” Gibbs asked, entering the kitchen looking for coffee. He was disappointed with the meager supplies.

He’d have to ensure one of them took the first shift so he could restock the necessities.

“Director Shepherd sent me to cover the first shift of guard duty. Where is the Lieutenant?” she asked.

“Sleeping it off,” Gibbs grumbled.

Apparently, Jenny knew about the coffee situation and planned accordingly. Maybe she was trying to mitigate the stiff tension that had arisen between them.

“Sleeping what off? Did something happen?” Ziva asked, her eyes darting suspiciously towards McGee.

“Boss, I didn’t know he had the flask. He pulled it out once the train was underway, and he wouldn’t let me have it,” Tim said, a slight hint of the desperation he must’ve felt on the train coming through in his words.

“Did you threaten to shoot him?” Ziva asked.

“Shoot him? No! He’s not a suspect, and I thought we were supposed to be discreet,” Tim said, outraged.

“It is not difficult to conceal a weapon but still manage to convey the threat,” Ziva replied unconcernedly.

“That’s enough,” Gibbs said, too caffeine-deprived to put up with their bickering. “Tell me what you do know.”

“You must know more than I do, Gibbs. You have Abby searching the Philadelphia police department records, but she would not tell me for what,” Ziva said, irritably.

“Are you running this investigation, Officer David?” Gibbs asked, glaring.

Ziva clenched her hands together until her knuckles whitened, but she held her tongue. Certain she was mollified, he turned back to stare at McGee expectantly.

“It’s like I said, when we arrived in Philadelphia, Tony thought you would want us to take a look around the nightclub where the Lieutenant was approached,” Tim said, pausing as he glanced at Gibbs, licking his lips.

Gibbs nodded, narrowing his eyes to encourage McGee to continue. DiNozzo always knew what he expected. Unfortunately, it frequently took the other man’s absence for Gibbs to notice it.

Apparently relieved that Gibbs wasn’t going to yell that it was the wrong thing to do, McGee visibly relaxed and continued his tale.

“The club was closed, but we walked around the building. There’s a door around back where they load supplies, probably an employee entrance, as well, but it was also locked. We were approached by a vagrant who recognized Tony from when he used to walk a beat there,” Tim said.

“Tony just happened to know someone on the street in another city – and it wasn’t even a woman?” Ziva asked.

“DiNozzo has contacts in all the cities where he’s worked. You’ve seen it with Metro,” Gibbs said, brushing her off. “What did the guy say?”

“I didn’t hear much. Tony sent me into a convenience store to buy some food and cigarettes in exchange for information. When I got back, we walked down a sketchy ally beside the club where his contact said he’d heard screams a few times in the past.”

“What kind of screaming?” Ziva asked.

“I dunno – screaming, screaming. Next thing I knew, Lieutenant Montague called and interrupted our search. He was panicked that his CO reported Paul Bergmann missing, and the local PD was coming to question him. We managed to get to NSWC, and got Lieutenant Montague away before he could be questioned by the police,” Tim said.

“Then where is Tony?” Ziva asked.

“Tony brought us to the train station and waited until the train left. He said he had to report a body he saw back in the ally,” Tim said, looking anxious and slightly panicked. “I didn’t see a body, Boss, but the place did smell really bad. The Lieutenant pulled out a flask before we were even completely out of the station, and it was empty by the time we arrived in DC.”

Gibbs nodded, satisfied that DiNozzo secured both his Probie and their charge before doing what needed to be done.

“Did anyone approach you on the train?” he asked.

“Was it the body of the Lieutenant’s roommate?” Ziva asked at the same time.

Tim shook his head, wisely choosing to answer Gibbs first. “No, and I stood outside the bathroom while he used it several times. It was never the same people there, so I don’t think we were followed. I told you already that I never saw a body.”

Gibbs scowled. “The lieutenant is plastered and not coherent enough to be helpful. Ziva, make sure there is no alcohol in this house before he gets up. I’ll relieve you at oh three hundred.”

“Of course,” Ziva said.

“What about Tony? Have you heard from him? He should’ve been back by now,” Tim said.

“Was there ever really a body? Perhaps he stayed behind to catch up with his… informant – and I am certain there must be a few women whom he wanted to hook up,” Ziva said, disapprovingly.

“Look up,” said McGee automatically.

“There wasn’t a body – there were three, all in various stages of decomposition, so none of them could be Paul Bergmann,” Gibbs said, annoyed.

She was determined to cast DiNozzo in a bad light, despite the fact he’d done exactly what he should’ve done. Her attitude toward him and his contributions was always condescending. It only further reinforced DiNozzo’s accusations.

Tim and Ziva sat there, mouths agape, momentarily stunned. The silence swelled, nearly engulfing them all.

“Three?” Tim finally asked, gaping.

“But you said you met Tony’s friend near that same spot. There is a lot of drug overdoses amongst the homeless. If it is a place where they shelter, it cannot be related to our case,” Ziva said.

“We don’t know that, Officer David, and until I rule it out, we work the case,” Gibbs said, raising his voice so that it echoed around the small space.

Ziva’s face pinched. “Very well.”

He knew she loathed when he addressed her with her full title, but she deserved the rebuke.

“DiNozzo bought us some time by calming the local PD’s desire to question Lieutenant Montague.”

“So… they’re not still looking for him?” Tim asked.

“He told them the lieutenant is helping us with a case, but they’re welcome to come to DC to question him,” Gibbs said.

“And are they planning on doing that?” McGee asked.

“At the moment, they’re more interested in a potential serial killer than a missing person,” Gibbs said, a hint of pride in his voice over Tony’s handling of the matter that both his junior agents could hear.

It triggered envy in one and bitterness in the other.

“Still no sign of Paul Bergmann then, Boss? Do you think those bodies are connected?” Tim asked.

Gibbs ran one finger over his lips, considering. “You know how I feel about coincidences.”

“Are the bodies being sent to Ducky? Do we yet know how they died?” Ziva asked.

Gibbs shook his head. “Philadelphia Coroner wouldn’t release them, and we don’t have the jurisdiction to compel him,” he said bitterly.

“So, we have nothing,” Ziva said.

“DiNozzo took photos of the victims. One was too far decomposed to recognize anything with the naked eye, but the others showed signs of torture,” Gibbs replied.

“Torture? What kind of torture?” McGee asked, paling.

“Burns and broken or missing fingers. Ducky asked the Coroner to share his results,” Gibbs replied, certain Ducky would get them what they needed.

“Do we have an ID on any of them?” Ziva asked.

“No, but DiNozzo thinks the proximity to the club is suspicious, and he’s not wrong,” Gibbs said, wondering what else Admiral Montague’s son managed to get tangled up in.

“We need to get someone in that club, then,” Ziva said, eyes glittering. “I will go undercover and stab around.”

“Poke around,” McGee again corrected.

“I’m not sending anyone inside until we know what we’re dealing with,” Gibbs said.

“But Gibbs, I am perfectly capable of gathering intel unnoticed. At Mossad, I did this all the time. Men tend to share too much with a woman, and it is easy to manipulate them. A little false flattery, and I can have them silly putty in my hands,” Ziva said.

“I’m aware of what undercover means,” Gibbs replied, growling.

“Gibbs–”

“Ziva! I’m not going to say it again, that’s an order,” Gibbs barked, his patience as empty as the coffee tin.

Ziva drew back, clearly aggrieved. She crossed both her arms and legs tightly as if holding herself together. She pursed her lips and swung her crossed leg rapidly back and forth.

“What are we going to do?” Tim asked, his eyes dancing back and forth between his two furious teammates anxiously.

“You’re going to go home and hit the rack. I’ll relieve Ziva at three, you’ll relieve me at seven,” Gibbs said.

“Should I bring the Lieutenant back to headquarters for a formal interview?” Tim asked.

“Not until he’s sober enough not to barf all over my conference room,” Gibbs said.

Tim nodded. “Understood.”

“And Tony? What is he doing while we are all working through the night?” Ziva asked.

“I’m not sure if he’s left Philadelphia.”

Ziva awoke suddenly at the sound of a key turning in its lock. Her eyes opened wide, instantly alert, as she slid off the couch where she had been sleeping. She then darted into a darkened corner at the back of the office. The window showed the inky darkness of a pre-dawn sky.

Jenny Shepherd entered the room, coffee cup in hand and chattering nonsense about her full schedule to her secretary, Cynthia. Neither woman noticed Ziva standing sentry in the shadows. Once Gibbs relieved her at the safehouse, she went directly to NCIS hoping to catch the director first thing. She had been told that she should call ahead and not resort to her lock picks several times already, but Ziva thought the director might need a reminder of her deadly skills.

Things had not gone how she expected since her arrival at NCIS, and she was determined to correct that slight miscalculation. It was both galling and infuriating to realize that the one who was suspicious of her was not the vaunted leader whom she had grudgingly come to accept as a respectable partner and worthy counterpart, but the clown, the fool, the nobody who inexplicably worked for him.

It was an insult that such a buffoon would be trusted more than her, a member of the Mossad. She had painstakingly compiled full dossiers on all the participants of Gibbs’ team before she even arrived in the US for her brother, and Anthony DiNozzo was supposed to have been her easiest mark. Her discovery that Gibbs once lost a daughter was a jackpot that she had worked to her advantage. Soft eyes and a lost expression had worked wonders in gaining his trust.

As if she needed protection from anyone.

Before she ever stepped inside headquarters she was aware how to manipulate all of them. She knew about Gibbs’ need to protect, about McGee’s inability to stand up to strong women, about Abby’s need to please and be told how wonderful she was… and she knew about Tony’s complete lack of usefulness. He was just a cop, an ordinary, low-level law enforcement officer who had stumbled his way into becoming a federal agent.

Unfortunately, he had not proven quite as oblivious as her research indicated. Admittedly, he was the one she had spent the least amount of time on, but she knew the type well enough to be aware what to expect. He was supposed to have been awed by her skill and experience, falling in line, and bowing to her superior skill. His massive ego would not allow him to admit she was the superior, however. She had grown so exasperated with his stubbornness that she had even tried to play to his other weakness. She knew all about his promiscuity and lack of focus whenever an attractive woman was in range, but even her attempts at seduction had failed.

For a brief time, she even suspected that Tony might be gay. His reputation as a ladies’ man was, in fact, a mustache. It was the only logical explanation that he had not acted on his desire for her. His clear attraction to an abundance of other women made her disregard this idea, however. It did not explain his wariness towards her, however. Most men made fools of themselves around a beautiful women, and she was not opposed to using her looks to her full advantage.

Regrettably, she had made no further progress using this tactic with the alleged Lothario than she had with anything else, and it was driving her to distraction.

Her assignment was simple – gain Gibbs’ trust and pass on any classified information she acquired to her father, who wanted more intel on American operations in the Middle East. The problem was that Gibbs didn’t confide anything to her, and she suspected he might actually be confiding in that fool instead. She clenched her hands so tightly that her nails left marks as she recalled that irritating hint of pride in Gibbs’ voice when he spoke about DiNozzo’s endeavors in Philadelphia. She should have been the one sent. She could have not only returned the Lieutenant to DC – sober – but also gotten inside that club to take a look around. It was ridiculous that Gibbs could not see this, and she risked her father’s ire if she did not make progress soon.

She had come to enjoy her time in America, and the freedom it represented from her life in Israel where she was always being watched and monitored. It was as if those in Mossad did not trust her because they were just jealous of her connections. It was pleasant to work for Gibbs. He was not only driven to successfully complete each case, but she could count on him to do what he says he will do. That was quite a change from her own father, who always seemed to hold her in the highest regard – until something more pressing came along.

She was not about to lose her newfound freedom and a steadfast ally over an inconsequential nothing like Anthony DiNozzo. She needed to change the dynamics.

Cynthia finished her briefing and left the director at her desk, reviewing some papers the secretary had given her. Ziva bided her time, watching Jenny take a sip of her coffee, her eyes never straying from her papers. Ziva crept catlike across the office, delicately placing each step, ensuring she did not make a sound until she was situated right in front of the desk, posture tense.

“Director,” she said in a loud, clear voice.

Jenny startled, some of her coffee spilling over the rim onto her fingers. She pulled them away quickly. “Ziva! Where did you come from? I told Cynthia no interruptions.”

“Cynthia does not know I am here,” Ziva said, nonchalantly perching her hip on the edge of Jenny’s desk.

Jenny’s face was blank for a moment before it reddened in anger. She picked up a napkin, forcefully wiping off her scalded fingers. Ziva had expected the anger. The director always had a temper, and it made her easier to manipulate.

“What did you do to her?” Jenny demanded.

“I did not harm Cynthia. I have been here since before she arrived. It is not my fault neither of you were alert enough to notice me when you entered your office,” Ziva said.

“I shouldn’t have to be on guard in my own office in a secure Navy yard,” Jenny snapped.

“At Mossad, that kind of attitude could get you killed,” Ziva replied.

Jenny’s eyes flashed. “We’re not at Mossad, and I am the director here. You are not in charge, Ziva, and don’t think for a moment that I won’t ship you right back to Mossad if you can’t follow protocol.”

“That would serve neither of our needs,” Ziva said, shrugging.

“You’re not the only Mossad operative out there, and I’m sure if I told your father I needed someone who could actually follow orders, he’d be more than happy to oblige. I am aware your difficulty in obeying directives is something that’s been discussed at Mossad, as well,” Jenny said, pressing her lips together in a tight line.

A hot wave of fury washed over Ziva at the betrayal of Mossad confidences. They were all jealous and trying to sabotage her. She would have to locate the source of that leak and terminate it. Still, she could tell the director was losing patience, so it was time to stop needling her and switch tactics.

“My father wants me here, and you know it. I did not come to flaunt your expectations of privacy anyway.”

“Why did you come?” Jenny asked tightly.

“I was on guard duty until three AM, and since I wanted to speak with you first thing, I thought it would be sensible to sleep here. I was being proactive, no?” Ziva asked, tilting her head to the side.

“No. You easily could’ve waited at your own desk and made an appointment,” Jenny said irritably.

Ziva frowned, puzzled. “But I thought you did not want Gibbs to know the… closeness of our relationship.”

“We don’t have a relationship. I am your superior officer; you are my employee. Don’t mistake our former partnership as how things stand now. I was once Gibbs’ partner, too, remember?” Jenny asked.

“Yes, I am aware. It is Gibbs I want to discuss,” Ziva said.

“What about him? I thought you had made headway in getting him to trust you. He hasn’t made any further requests to get you off the team,” Jenny said, at last leaning back in her chair.

“No, he’s fond of me. He respects my skills, and what I bring to the team, but his attachment to DiNozzo is a problem. I need to do something to prove that I am the better operative, so he will confide in me over him,” Ziva said, aware some of her frustration was leaking through, but she thought the other woman would assume it was because she wasn’t able to get Jenny the inside intel she wanted.

Jenny shook her head, however. “That’s not how Gibbs operates. He doesn’t confide in anyone.”

This was true. Gibbs was a very closed-off person who only spoke when necessary. She’d seen a sort of non-verbal communication between him and his current SFA, however. They had a code that she had yet been unable to crack.

But she would, eventually.

“When he needs back-up, it is always DiNozzo to whom he turns, not me, despite my many skills. I think DiNozzo must be holding something over his head. Gibbs’ trust in that clown does not make any sense,” Ziva said, gritting her teeth.

Jenny nodded, frowning. “I agree that it’s puzzling, but no matter. What I need from the MCRT is a concise unit, working at a high level to solve cases quickly and without error. This tension is causing the team to lose its edge, so I need you to find a way to work with both men. I thought I’d made that clear.”

Ziva’s hand twitched, and she had to forcefully stop herself from striking the other woman. She was not the problem – DiNozzo was! It was ridiculous that she was the one being lectured when he was the screw-up. Still, she was an operative of Mossad. She knew how to manipulate those who thought they were in control in order to get what she wanted.

“I have a way to show we can all work together while also proving to Gibbs that I am the superior agent,” she said slyly.

“And what would that involve?” Jenny asked.

“The nightclub where Lieutenant Montague was approached seems to be the center point of all the nefarious activity. Even though Gibbs is not ready to put together an undercover operation, he is going to have to do it eventually. I want you to instruct him to use me as the operative. You know I can do this, and it will both please the Admiral, and highlight my exemplary skills and the possibilities they represent to Gibbs. It might even work to open DiNozzo’s eyes to how useful I can be, if his ego allows it,” Ziva said, eyebrows raised.

She could see Jenny’s mind turning. The director simply wanted the accolades that went along with the MCRT’s high solve rate to be attributed to her. Ziva did not care about that. What she needed was to be seen in the SFA role. She had noticed the way the other SFAs spoke with DiNozzo, and she was certain they shared details of the cases they were all working. She needed access to that information. The more intel she could supply to her father, the happier he would be. Ziva was impatient for Gibbs to realize she would make a far better SFA.

Jenny folded her fingers together under her chin. “First off, you haven’t figured Gibbs out at all if you don’t realize you can’t push him. If you keep hammering the point before he’s ready to do something, you’ll sabotage yourself. Not one more word about an undercover op. If it comes to that, he’ll see it,” Jenny said.

Steaming at the reprimand, Ziva opened her mouth to interrupt but Jenny raised a finger, silencing her.

“When it does come up, I agree that it’s an excellent opportunity to further both of our goals. Your insistence will only hurt your chances with Gibbs. He won’t be pushed, and he’ll do something else out of spite. Trust me; I know him better than you do,” Jenny said.

The short-sighted director was only worried about her stupid career. She didn’t know about her father’s plans, and what he was expecting of Ziva. Ziva needed to keep it that way. It galled her to be forced to act submissive to anyone, but it was necessary. Once she was undercover, her skills would prove to Gibbs that he had been wrong not to place her in the SFA position immediately.

Seething, Ziva adopted a contrite expression, bowing her head in apparent submission and prepared to lie through her teeth.

“Very well. I will not bring it up again and leave it in your capable hands.”

Chapter 6: Wicked Game

Chapter Text

Tony arrived at NCIS headquarters much later than he’d planned. He bypassed the elevator and bolted up the stairs, hoping to reach the bullpen unannounced. If luck was on his side, he’d slip behind his desk with no one the wiser of when he actually got there. He hadn’t returned from Philadelphia until the wee hours of the morning, and he’d stumbled into bed fully-dressed.

He awoke groggy and out of sorts, his dreams plagued with vague shadows of back-stabbing partners. He’d even driven right past his usual coffee stop, lost in his head. Turns out, returning to your old stomping grounds and being forced to face a few past demons took a lot out of you. Gibbs specifically told him to get some shut eye, but that didn’t mean the boss wouldn’t lose it if he turned around and Tony actually wasn’t there. Tony had played this game before.

Luck was a lady, and the bullpen was empty. He strode purposefully to his desk, tossing his bag behind him and sighing as he sank into his chair. He’d made it.

“You’re late,” Gibbs barked, coming around the back corner of the bullpen without missing a beat.

Tony’s shoulders slumped. Luck was a cold-hearted bitch. He put on his best game face and turned towards his boss with a mega-watt smile.

“Well, if you think about the time that I actually got back to my apartment last night – this morning really – and add the mandatory rest period for agents between cases, when you consider all the factors, I’m actually early. I could probably put in for comp time,” Tony said.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. Tony could almost swear he saw the hint of a smile before the cup blocked his view.

“Everything go okay in Philadelphia?” Gibbs asked, standing in front of Tony’s desk, pinning him with his laser focus.

“Yeah, I told you everything. What did Lieutenant Montague say?” Tony asked, deflecting.

Gibbs didn’t bother to answer, just continued to stare. Tony should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to fool him as easily as he had McGee.

“Didn’t run into anyone significant,” Tony said, knowing Gibbs would need some morsel of truth.

There was no need to get into all the apprehension Tony felt in the city, it hadn’t led to anything. It was nice of Gibbs to let him know that he’d been concerned, particularly after their angry words the last time they were together. Of course, Tony knew Gibbs sent McGee with him as a peace offering, and the new case pushed his concerns about Ziva to the back burner. Still, Gibbs wanted facts, not feelings – Tony didn’t much want to discuss feelings, either.

“No problems when you had to go to the police there?” Gibbs asked, pressing.

Tony shook his head. If nothing else, Gibbs knew him well.

“No. It wasn’t my old borough, anyway, and they were all too focused on the three bodies. They didn’t do anything more than verify my creds. Chico mentioned he’d heard that they cleaned out Precinct Three.”

“What made him tell you that?” Gibbs asked sharply.

“Huh?” Tony asked, realizing too late that he’d let some of his own inner musings slip out. He really needed coffee.

“Not the kind of thing that you just blurt out without context,” Gibbs said with narrowed eyes.

Tony shrugged, ducking his head. “Wondered about my black eye,” he mumbled.

Somehow, without even changing his expression, the fury radiating off Gibbs was palpable. The higher-ups at Tony’s old department had been crooked – at best – and their treatment of those who didn’t toe the line wasn’t something Tony wanted to relive. He’d been a rookie with a big mouth and an expectation of a level playing field. His fellow officers hadn’t appreciated the extra attention he usually attracted. Although he’d never spoken about it out aloud, he knew Gibbs would’ve read about it in the background check that he was sure the older man had run before he brought Tony to NCIS.

Gibbs was always protective of his team. Tony had experienced it first-hand just a few weeks ago when the illustrious FBI had accused him of murder. He knew that Gibbs wouldn’t tolerate any of his old co-workers giving him a hard time. He just wished his boss would have that same protective instinct toward his current partner, who he definitely thought he had more to fear.

“McGee’s bringing the Lieutenant in, so we can both question him when he gets here,” Gibbs said.

“You haven’t spoken with him yet?” Tony asked, perplexed. There should’ve been plenty of time once they’d reached DC yesterday afternoon.

“Montague was too drunk. We have to talk before he begins detox,” Gibbs said, sounding like he might enjoy letting the Lieutenant suffer a bit.

“How was he drunk? We picked him up at NSWC. Is he drinking on the job?” Tony asked.

Suddenly, this was getting a whole lot worse. Gibbs shook his head, however. “I don’t think so. McGee said he had a full flask once the train was underway. Finished it before they arrived in DC.”

“But McGee wasn’t drunk?” Tony asked tensely.

He couldn’t imagine the Probie getting drunk while on protection detail. He was a rule-follower and too responsible for that. Still, despite all Tony’s needling and picking on the kid, he hadn’t yet learned to push back and not be intimidated under pressure. He was definitely getting there – but he still had a ways to go.

“McGee was fine, just didn’t stop him,” Gibbs growled.

“Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!” Abby shouted, hurrying into the bullpen in her clunky, thigh-high boots.

Tony noticed that her skirt was short – very short – and he knew that meant she must be trying to wheedle something out of McGee. He’d observed that the more she wanted information, the shorter her skirts got.

Ziva followed Abby into the bullpen at a more sedate pace. She regarded Tony coolly as she approached her own desk. Ziva wore her usual cargo pants with a long-sleeved top, and he was struck by the fact that Abby, with all her leather, tatts, and chains, was the gentler of the two women.

“What d’you got, Abs?” Gibbs asked, looking up.

“Ziva brought me the preliminary results from the autopsies in Philadelphia. Ducky’s friend came through,” Abby said, bouncing in excitement.

“Already?” Tony asked, remembering the state of decay on two of the corpses in that building.

His stomach roiled just recalling the gory mess, and suddenly the fact he’d missed breakfast seemed fortunate.

“Just the prelims – which wasn’t much, but I have a partial print from one of them, and I was running it through AFIS when I got locked out,” she said indignantly.

“What d’you mean you got locked out?” Gibbs asked.

“Just that. It shut down my search, and I wasn’t allowed back in. Someone is blocking us,” she said.

“Did you get a hit?” Tony asked.

“I must’ve, but I don’t know who. I left it running, and it only alerted me when the search was shut down,” Abby said, crossing her arms with a pout.

“Did you happen to catch a name?” Tony asked, turning toward Ziva who’d remained silent but stood beside Abby as she delivered her news.

Ziva stiffened, putting her chin in the air. “It was not my job to watch the screen. I was conferring with Abby on the other results,” she replied.

“What other results?” Gibbs asked sharply. “I thought you said Ducky didn’t give you much.”

“He did not. That is what we were discussing – the lack of useful leads,” Ziva replied, looking at Tony. “You failed to bring us back anything helpful.”

“Who stopped your search?” Gibbs asked, bellowing before they could begin sniping at one another.

“I don’t know, but it had to be someone with a high security clearance. It completely booted me out of the system. Me!” Abby said, outraged.

“That has to mean it triggered something, Boss – someone else looking for one of our vics maybe,” Tony said.

“Could it be any of the police from Philadelphia? Perhaps they resented having federal agents intruding on what they see as their investigation,” Ziva said. “I have noticed they often resent our expertise.”

Abby shook her head. “No. It has to come from higher up. A local PD wouldn’t be able to block federal access.”

“Boss!” McGee said as he rushed out of the elevator and over to the group in the bullpen. “Security is taking Lieutenant Montague up to a conference room, but I thought you’d want to know – Agents Fornell and Sacks are at the security desk.”

“That sounds like higher up,” Ziva said.

“Slacks? Here? In my building?” Tony asked.

“Your building? I didn’t realize – did you steal it? Is that why the FBI is here? Going to arrest you for Grand Theft Larceny this time?” McGee asked, grinning.

“Perhaps they are here to arrest someone other than you, Tony, although that does seem unlikely,” Ziva added, smirking.

Abby slipped her arm through Tony’s and latched on fiercely. “Don’t worry, Tony. I found the evidence to get you off before, and I’ll do it again. I won’t let them take you.”

“They’re not here to arrest me,” Tony yelped before turning to Gibbs, wide-eyed. “Are they, Boss?”

“I’m going to arrest all of you if you don’t shut up,” Gibbs said, glaring at the elevator.

They all waited with bated breath – some more apprehensive than others – until the doors slid open. FBI Senior Agent Tobias Fornell emerged, followed closely by his junior agent and Tony’s nemesis, Ron Sacks. Slacks, as Tony preferred to call him, since he knew it got under the other man’s skin. These same two agents stormed into the bullpen less than a month ago with the intention of arresting Tony for butchering a woman and leaving her body parts scattered in the woods.

Gibbs and Abby found the evidence clearing him, but despite his freedom, Tony couldn’t help the fact his skin still itched uncontrollably when he thought of being locked up in that tight little box. Locked up physically, locked in his own head, living for several days in the same clothes, all the while hearing Sacks’ endless taunting.

Even once the evidence clearing him was found, the junior FBI agent didn’t want to let Tony go. He still held onto the belief that NCIS somehow conjured it all to secure his release. Both of them took their frustration from the experience and fixated it on one another. Tony couldn’t stand him. To this day, he’d never got an answer to his question on their assumptions – how did one severed leg – not that it wasn’t still a tragedy – but how did it equal a serial killer?

“Jethro,” Fornell said, nodding as they stopped at the opening to the bullpen. He ignored the rest of them, although his eyes roamed over each dispassionately.

“What are you doing here, Fornell?” Gibbs asked, brusque as ever.

“I believe my director is calling your director as we speak, and it’s need to know. I’m sure your director will inform you if you do… need to know that is,” Fornell said, smirking.

Fornell loved to wind Gibbs up. Behind him, Sacks wore an equally infuriating smirk. Tony instinctively knew it had something to do with Abby getting shut out of AFIS, but he suspected they didn’t know for sure who, or why, someone was looking. Otherwise, they would’ve gone straight for the Forensic expert.

Still, he thought their little smirks of superiority needed dimming.

“I’d wager its about an AFIS search. Missing one of your operatives again, Fornell?” Tony asked brightly, as if the FBI regularly lost its agents.

NCIS had stumbled across a few.

Sacks scowled, but Fornell gave him a slight nod. “As I said, it’s need to know, DiNozzo,” he replied, using the traditional Italian pronunciation of Tony’s name.

“And what you mean by that, is you think it’s your right to know what we know about an AFIS search. Isn’t that how you Hoover boys usually work? Let other agencies do the work, then just swoop in to take the credit?” Tony asked.

“Amusing but inaccurate. I do admire your attempt to get us to admit what we know, but your one-man stand-up routine is over. Here’s your director now,” Fornell said, eyes twinkling.

Jenny Shepherd slowly descended the steps, glancing at all of them coolly.

“Agent Fornell, how nice to see you again,” she said with all the false sincerity of a politician. “Since you’re here to discuss sensitive material, perhaps we should adjourn this conversation to my office. Jethro, this involves you, too.”

Fornell’s face pinkened at the soft rebuke. “Of course, Director.”

“DiNozzo, too,” Gibbs barked as he, Fornell, and Sacks all began climbing the stairs behind the director.

Jenny stopped, turning around with a puzzled frown.

“Fornell has his second,” Gibbs said, stubbornly locking eyes with the director.

Jenny’s lips pinched, her eyes momentarily straying to Ziva, Abby and McGee, still huddled hopefully in the bullpen. She didn’t seem particularly happy about it, but she nodded in acquiesce, and Tony hurriedly joined the group on the stairs. He could feel Ziva’s eyes boring holes into his back as he climbed.

Tony suspected the director didn’t want to leave Sacks alone in the bullpen with the team, but she knew Gibbs wouldn’t tolerate letting Fornell get the upper hand in any way. Whatever her reasoning, Tony counted it as a win.

“Take a seat, gentlemen,” Jenny said, indicating the conference table on the side of her lush office. “I’ve been informed by your director that one of our investigations has crossed paths with one of yours.”

“Why are you searching for Michael Barrington?” Fornell asked without preamble.

“Who?” Gibbs asked.

“Don’t play coy. AFIS registered a search conducted here for Michael Barrington, who is a person of interest in a classified FBI investigation. DiNozzo confirmed he knew about the AFIS search downstairs,” Fornell said aggressively.

“He figured that’s what you were butting in about since you locked my people out of AFIS,” Gibbs said, growling right back.

“Your search triggered an FBI watchlist, and we followed the trail,” Fornell said.

Gibbs threw his arms in the air. “You don’t even know what you’re looking for. This is a fishing expedition.”

“Gentlemen, please. We’re all on the same side,” Jenny said, attempting to regain control over the unruly agents. “Agent Fornell, since you came to us, why don’t you tell us what this is about.”

“I already did. The FBI wants to know why you’re searching for Michael Barrington,” Fornell replied.

Typically, Gibbs remained stoically silent, so Tony answered for him. “Well, I assume you don’t mean the British actor most known for his work in television. Other than that, the name is unfamiliar. Maybe if you give us more context.”

“You searched AFIS for his prints,” Fornell said, exasperated.

Tony kept his temper in check. He was going to enjoy knocking the arrogant SOB down a peg or two.

“No, we searched an unidentified John Doe’s print. Guess we know who he is now… or was,” he said, eyebrows raised.

“He’s dead? Where did you find him?” Fornell asked quickly.

“You tell us what you know about our vic first,” Gibbs said.

Tony knew Gibbs was stretching the truth on that one. Technically, he was the Philly PD’s vic, but Fornell didn’t need to know that yet.

The FBI agent hesitated a moment, clearly hedging his bets. Tony could see the moment he decided to fold.

“He’s a missing person of particular interest to the Bureau. He and several other political targets have disappeared from the Philadelphia area. Their loved ones have been unable to meet the kidnappers demands,” Fornell said.

“They want more than ransom,” Gibbs speculated.

“How would you know that?” Fornell asked sharply.

“Because cash is cheap, and if the FBI is involved, you’d have come up with some,” Gibbs replied.

Fornell narrowed his eyes. Much like Gibbs, he was a seasoned agent and knew when he wasn’t being told the whole story.

“What does this have to do with your case, and where did you find the body? I need to figure out how it got here, and if any of our other victims are also in DC,” he said.

Tony met Gibbs eyes, each knowing the ploy was up. They’d have to admit the case wasn’t focused in DC.

“DiNozzo found the bodies in Philadelphia,” Gibbs said.

“What were you doing in Philly?” Sacks asked incredulously.

“What do you mean bodies? You found more than one?” Fornell asked, paling slightly.

“Agent DiNozzo went to Philadelphia on my command to investigate a missing engineer from the Naval Surface Warfare Center there. He located the bodies while he was conducting his search,” Jenny said, letting both Gibbs and Tony know that she didn’t want the Admiral involved… yet.

“He just happened to stumble across the bodies? It seems to be quite a pattern with him. Come on, Fornell, you can’t be buying this. This clown is always full of ridiculous stories,” Sacks said, a tic working on the side of his jaw.

“I’m not buying it – you’re holding something back, Director,” Fornell said.

Jenny quirked an eyebrow. “And you’re not, Agent Fornell? Your director and I already agreed that we’ll share jurisdiction since our cases overlap. From what he told me, your missing victims also have ties to NSWC.”

“Kidnapping is FBI jurisdiction,” Fornell insisted.

“And Military espionage is ours. You’re going to work the case together, and I’d better see more cooperation between both parties than I’ve witnessed here today,” Jenny said, eyes flashing.

“Have you identified the other bodies?” Fornell asked.

Gibbs shook his head. “Not yet. Too badly decomposed.”

“Perhaps if you’d share the names of your other missing persons, we could see if we get a match,” Tony said, rolling his eyes.

“One is the nephew of a high-ranking member of Congress, another is the father of a bio-hazard scientist. Michael Barrington previously worked at NSWC, but he retired. The ransom was demanded from his wife, who still works there. I want to see the bodies. I’ve studied their faces. I might be able to confirm their identity,” Fornell said.

“They’re not here – they’re still in Philadelphia, but their coroner is working closely with ours. Agent DiNozzo was previously a member of the Philadelphia PD, so he has relationships with people there,” Jenny said.

Tony kept his face impassive, thinking the director’s words were beyond a stretch, but he let it go. He didn’t want the FBI getting their way on this one, even if it meant dealing with some of his past in Philadelphia. The FBIs recent accusations against him and his subsequent arrest were fresher in his mind. He wanted to get one over on them this time.

“What? They just directed you to the bodies?” Sacks asked skeptically.

“No – a former informant did, actually, but he didn’t know the bodies were there. Our missing person is recent, so I knew he couldn’t be one of the juicy corpses I found,” Tony replied.

“You think this is funny, DiNozzo?” Sacks asked, steam nearly escaping from his ears.

He clearly hadn’t let their past altercation go any more than Tony had.

“I think it’s funny how worked up you are that I managed to do what you haven’t been able to in… I don’t know. How long have you been on this case?” Tony asked, relishing winding the FBI preener up.

“I can’t work with this joker, Fornell. I want to request he be removed from this investigation,” Sacks said, folding his arms across his chest.

“If you can’t work with my agent, then it’s you who can go. Your target fixation is now jeopardizing a second case,” Gibbs said.

“My what? I don’t have target fixation – the evidence all pointed to him, and I’m still not sure he didn’t do it,” Sacks said hotly.

“That’s enough. Agent DiNozzo was cleared, and the true culprit put away. That case is over. They’re right that we didn’t actively look at other leads, so let’s not make that mistake again. This is now a joint investigation,” Fornell said firmly, his eyes boring into Agent Sacks to let it go.

“Yeah, so lighten up, Francis,” Tony couldn’t resist adding.

“Agent DiNozzo, that’s enough,” the director said warningly.

“It’s all right – that was Stripes, right? Good movie. The military didn’t come out looking so hot though, as I recall,” Fornell said, looking pointedly at Gibbs.

Tony grudgingly gave Fornell credit for catching the movie reference, but his mouth nearly dropped open when Gibbs answered, deadpan.

“That was the Army.”

“Can we get back to the case?” Sacks asked testily.

“We have an agent in the Philadelphia office who’s been working closely with Ron on this case,” Fornell said, glancing at Tony, who thought he’d covered how his body stiffened at the mention of the Philadelphia field office.

“She’s been there for several years, and she’s very good. If you worked in Philly, you know there was some agents who didn’t meet the Bureau’s high standards. They’ve all been let go,” Fornell said, meeting Tony’s eye.

Tony suspected the other man hadn’t seen his tell, but instead might know more about his trouble with the Philadelphia office. Either way, Tony hoped Fornell would keep it to himself.

“Tell her that Precinct Fifteen removed the remains. She’ll want to let the victims’ families know once positive ID is established,” Tony said.

“Where did you find them? We’ve been searching every inch of that city,” Fornell said.

“Not every inch, apparently. They were in an alley not far from NSWC,” Tony said evasively.

Neither Gibbs or the director had brought up The Vault Tavern, so he wasn’t about to, either.

“Did any of the families have contact with the kidnappers before their loved one went missing?” Gibbs asked.

“Why would you ask that?” Sacks asked, eyes narrowing.

“Was the family of your missing engineer already contacted? What did they want?” Fornell asked quickly.

“No. No one has contacted the family yet,” Gibbs said.

Technically, it was true. Lieutenant Montague wasn’t Paul Bergmann’s family.

“You said you’re searching for an engineer, not a sailor, so what’s the Navy connection?” Fornell asked astutely.

“Um, NSWC, remember? They employ both military and civilian personnel, but they work on Navy ships,” Tony said.

“Once positive ID is made, this investigation will most likely move to Philadelphia. I know NCIS doesn’t have a field office there,” Fornell said, smirking.

“We’ll manage,” Gibbs replied.

Jenny stood up, indicating the meeting was over. “All right, gentlemen. Now that we’re all playing nicely, why don’t you exchange cell numbers and agree to share any new information uncovered on these victims, and who might be behind the kidnappings. Both your director and I expect to be kept in the loop.”

Gibbs sat at his desk beneath the dimmed, low-wattage overhead lights that kicked on at NCIS after hours. The lamp on his desk burned bright, however as he drummed a pencil up and down repeatedly. He really hated shared jurisdiction. He was tired, and his bones were trying to remind him that he wasn’t as young as he once was.

Like most things he didn’t want to deal with – he ignored their protests.

He finished off the last of his now-cooled coffee and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He should probably go home and tackle the case fresh in the morning.

“Where’s the rest of your team, Jethro? Did you actually give them an early night for once?” Jenny asked, appearing in front of him with her winter coat carried over one arm.

The many sparkling lights reflecting on the icy river outside, and the fact she was obviously heading home belied her words about it being an early night.

“Sent ‘em home,” Gibbs said, remembering how weary and burnt out each member of his team looked.

The bags beneath DiNozzo’s eyes had their own zip code, and McGee was too tired to keep his eyes from straying to Abby’s short skirt. He briefly wondered if she got whatever she wanted from him. They’d all be useless if they didn’t get some shut-eye, and he had a feeling sleep would be in short supply over the next few days.

“Who’s on guard duty, then?” Jenny asked.

“Admiral Montague took his son home with him. I have an agent posted at their house, but I reckon they’re safe enough on base,” Gibbs said.

“Did the Lieutenant give you anything more?” she asked.

“Said he lost the money at a card game in a private room in the back of The Vault, but he couldn’t give me any names. Players were different every time,” Gibbs said.

“So, we’re back to the nightclub. We can’t hold that information from the FBI any longer,” she said, sighing.

“I’ll deal with the FBI, you deal with the Admiral,” Gibbs said, not sure which one was getting the worse end of that bargain. “He’s not going to be happy.”

Jenny winced. “I know, but it’s not like we brought them in. They were already on the case, and we haven’t yet revealed his son’s connection. He has to know we’re trying to keep things confidential.”

“That’s going to change if the people that have Bergmann demand the military warship designs they want from Montague as ransom,” Gibbs said, irritation clawing at his insides. She was still more concerned with keeping the Admiral happy than solving the case.

“You think I don’t know that?” she asked, worrying her lip. “Are you sure they’re connected? Was positive identification made on the other victims?”

“Yeah, dental records confirmed it,” Gibbs replied.

“So, they all have a connection to NSWC?” Jenny asked.

Gibbs nodded. “Even the politician with the missing son spearheads several committees raising military funding for their projects.”

“I’ll arrange travel accommodations. Are you going to be able to work with the FBI considering the distrust they still feel for Agent DiNozzo? I had the impression not everyone is convinced that he wasn’t involved with that dismembered leg.”

“That’s their problem. Evidence was clear, we have a confession – and you hired the actual perpetrator. I think you owe DiNozzo your backing on this one,” Gibbs said firmly.

It wasn’t up for negotiation. DiNozzo had connections in Philadelphia – even if they were tenuous. Although she hadn’t come right out and said so, his gut was screaming that Jenny wanted him to leave DiNozzo out of this investigation. He didn’t know exactly what she was up to, but he was sure it somehow involved Ziva and the tension between his agents. While it was true that he’d come to care for Ziva and wanted to protect her, he wouldn’t put his feelings for anyone above what was necessary to solve a case. DiNozzo was necessary, he always had been, and it was time Gibbs let the director know he had his partner’s six.

DiNozzo’s involvement was a given. He wasn’t about to lose him. She could pull Ziva if she felt they truly couldn’t function as a unit.

“Understood,” Jenny said, although she didn’t sound like she understood at all.

Chapter 7: Knock Three Times

Chapter Text

Feeling more rested, Tony walked into the bullpen the next day with a cup of his favorite Hazelnut coffee. He’d received a call from Gibbs upon awakening telling him the FBI wanted a meeting first thing and to get his ass in, pronto. That most likely meant the feebs had discovered something new, or figured out that NCIS was holding back.

As he approached the bullpen, he could hear Ziva’s voice speaking Hebrew in a clipped, agitated tone. Tony pulled back, lurking around the corner behind some greenery despite the fact he couldn’t understand what she was saying. Speaking in Hebrew didn’t mean anything. After all, she was Israeli, and it was her native tongue, but this wasn’t the first time. Tony couldn’t quell that nagging feeling that it meant more than he could comprehend. It was the same feeling he had when he'd futilely searched her computer. She was up to something; he just knew it – so he’d keep digging.

Ziva’s computer was on, and Tony’s superb eyesight could see the document she had open was also in Hebrew. When Gibbs appeared, entering the bullpen from the back, Ziva quickly closed her document, opening another in its place and switched to English on her phone call. Her voice immediately became lighter, more friendly.

“It was nice to hear from you. We will talk again soon,” she said before hanging up. “Good morning, Gibbs.”

“Where the hell is DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked in his usual abrupt manner.

“I have not seen him, but he is rarely here early. Perhaps if you tell me what you need, I could assist you,” she said.

“Morning, Boss,” Tony said, tossing his bag behind his desk and approaching Gibbs. “Any idea what this is about?”

Gibbs had a tall cup of coffee clutched in his hand, and Tony could see an empty one already in the trash. Doubly-caffeinated Gibbs first thing. Joy.

“Why do I not know what is going on? Why am I being excluded?” Ziva asked, her face pinched with frustration.

“Director knows keeping Montague’s connection quiet is no longer an option,” Gibbs said.

“Understood,” Tony said, knowing that meant they’d have to lay all their cards on the table this time.

Hopefully, the FBI would do the same, because Tony didn’t think they’d been completely forthcoming, either. There was always friction and attempts to edge other organizations out whenever shared jurisdiction was involved. It was even worse with LEOs in the local PDs. It used to drive Tony crazy when he’d been in Baltimore. Quite honestly, it was a big reason why 9/11 was able to happen. Sadly, not much had changed since.

“Is anyone going to explain what is going on? We are a team, and teams should share everything,” Ziva said crossly, her voice rising.

“Care to share what your phone call was all about, then?” Tony asked.

Ziva’s eyes widened, but she recovered quickly. “You do not need to know what I talk about with my aunt, but I do need to know about our case with the FBI,” she said.

Tony would bet his left nut she wasn’t talking with her aunt.

“Why do you care so much about who I speak with in my personal life? You are too nosy,” Ziva said.

“Yes, and inquisitive and observant – that’s what makes me a good investigator,” Tony replied. “You’d be surprised by how much I notice.”

“I am not under investigation. You would do better to focus on our case,” Ziva said, glaring.

“Zip it, or you’re both out the door. Somebody better give me something work-related,” Gibbs yelled.

Ziva looked affronted, and she crossed her arms across her chest, her face pinched. Despite the anger, Tony suspected he’d rattled her. He knew she was up to something, but he couldn’t prove it. Much like Robert Redford in Three Days of the Condor, he knew there was a spy but was yet unable to work out who he could trust for assistance. It was maddening.

“Sorry, Boss,” he said, knowing that antagonizing Ziva in front of Gibbs wasn’t going to get him anywhere. “We’re trying to track down anything on the kidnappers.”

“What do we know for sure?” Gibbs asked, unaware – or more like ignoring – Tony’s inner turmoil.

“We did not find any electronic trace of the blackmailers. Lieutenant Montague was approached in person both times, and he claims he was too drunk to remember specific characteristics of those who threatened him other than that they were big and bulky,” Ziva said disapprovingly. “A naval officer should instinctually be more observant.”

“What about the guy who he lost the money to in the first place? He has to be able to describe him,” Tony said, pieces suddenly clicking into place once he pushed his concerns about Ziva to the back of his mind. “Show me the money.”

Gibbs nodded. “I’m going to have Abby get a sketch artist to work with him,” he said, getting up and heading towards Abby’s lab before he’d even finished speaking.

Tony knew Gibbs had used kid gloves on the Lieutenant the day before, but that was out of respect to the Admiral. Things had escalated, and Montague’s personal problems aside, he needed to own up to his own culpability and give them something to work with. Gibbs’ temper wouldn’t stay below boiling point much longer.

“It looks like we will be returning to Philadelphia. I am sure you will be happy to see all your old… friends,” Ziva said, an odd, half-smile forming.

Tony knew she’d compiled dossiers on all of them for Ari, so she probably knew more about his trouble in Philly than he liked. Best defense was a good offense…

“It’ll be great to see everyone. If things go smoothly, maybe I’ll even get to work with some of them again. Some great guys there, I can set you up if you like. What attracts you in a man?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Ziva frowned – it was obviously not the reaction she was expecting. “I do not need assistance with my dating life. I am perfectly capable of finding a man without your input.”

“That’s great, but there probably won’t be much time for dating while we’re there, so try and keep your mind focused on the case, okay?” Tony said, turning to his computer and knowing she wouldn’t be able to let that go.

“Ha! That is like the pot calling the stove black. I am not the one who people assume could be a serial killer because of my excessive dating,” Ziva said, rolling her eyes.

Tony knew his love ‘em and leave ‘em dating habits would be a prosecutor’s dream. Gibbs talked him down from that panic attack, but it didn’t make it untrue. He’d been left feeling oddly unsettled since that whole fubar, never mind adding his concerns about Ziva.

“Kettle,” he said absently, keeping his face impassive despite the fact she’d hit her mark.

“What?” she asked.

“Who’s Tony dating now?” McGee asked, entering the bullpen carrying his breakfast. “And why are you both here so early?”

“I do not know who he is dating. I am not nearly as interested in his personal life as he always is in ours,” Ziva said.

“For someone who claims not to care about my dating life, you sure do talk a lot about my dating life,” Tony said, one eye raised.

“No, seriously though, Tony – why are you here so early? That’s not like you,” McGee said.

“Three dead, tortured, and mutilated bodies aren’t enough for you to come in early, McGee?” Gibbs asked sharply as he returned to the bullpen.

The boss had a habit of returning just as someone uttered something that could be used against them. Usually it was Tony, so he was delighted to see the panic cross McGee’s pale face this time. Tim nearly dropped his coffee and had to juggle not to let it spill across his desk.

“Wh- What? No! That’s not- not what I meant. It’s just that Tony…” he said, trailing off and looking at Tony with desperation.

“Tony what, McGoo?” Tony asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly and letting the younger man dig his own hole.

“Well, it’s not like you’re a morning person. You’ve said yourself that you do your best work at night,” McGee said, a distressed whine entering his voice.

“Any hits from Paul Bergmann’s acquaintances?” Gibbs asked, growling, and clearly finished with the conversation.

“He’s single, parents live out in Utah, but they haven’t heard from him recently and didn’t know he was missing. No girlfriend, and closest friend is our Lieutenant. The last time anyone saw him seems to be at the end of the work day last Friday evening. No idea where he went from there,” Tony said, rattling off the details.

“There are no witnesses who saw him anywhere after that? Do we even know if he went to the Vault?” Gibbs shouted.

“So, you do have a connection to The Vault Tavern. You kept that quiet,” Agent Fornell said sourly as he stormed into the bullpen, frowning. “I thought we’d grown closer than that.”

He was followed by Ron Sacks and a female agent with dirty blonde hair cut short in the back but longer on the sides around her face. Both agents looked as disgruntled as Fornell and stood sullenly behind him like bodyguards in a bad mafia film.

“What’s your connection to the place?” Fornell asked, scowling.

“I don’t remember you mentioning it either, yet you clearly know something,” Gibbs said, standing to glare at Fornell.

“This is supposed to be a joint investigation,” Fornell said.

“Joint means going both ways,” Gibbs said, glancing pointedly at the unfamiliar agent with Fornell.

“Ah, speak for yourself there, Boss. No one here that I know of goes both ways… except perhaps Ziva,” Tony said, attempting to alleviate the heavy tension filling the space.

Ziva shot him a filthy look.

“This is Agent Tina Kehoe. She works in our Philadelphia office and has been the lead investigator on our missing persons case,” Fornell said, indicating the woman standing beside him.

She nodded briefly, focusing solely on Gibbs. “Does your missing person also have a connection to the Vault?” she asked.

“The bodies were discovered in an alley not far from there,” Gibbs said, not giving anything away.

“I know where they were found, that’s not what I asked. All our victims have either been there, or the person being asked for ransom has. You were in the area when you came across the bodies, so you must know something,” Tina said, her thin lips disappearing as she frowned at Gibbs.

“Agent DiNozzo discovered the bodies,” Gibbs said, jerking his head toward Tony.

Tina turned, looking at Tony for the first time. She gave a quick nod in lieu of a greeting. “So, I’ll ask you – does your missing person have a connection to the Vault? Is that why you were in the area?”

“He does,” Tony said, knowing that since Gibbs directed her attention to him, it meant he wanted Tony to be the one to reveal what they knew about Lieutenant Montague. The less words Gibbs had to use the better.

“We went to Philadelphia to pick up a Lieutenant who’d been threatened at the club and put him into protective custody. This Lieutenant is roommates with our missing person. There hasn’t been a ransom demand as of yet, so we have no concrete proof the cases are connected.”

“But you believe they are. How was your Lieutenant threatened?” Tina asked.

Tony puckered his lips, choosing his words carefully. “He was asked for military schematics in exchange for cancellation of a debt.”

“Who is this Lieutenant? I want to question him,” Fornell said.

“He’s already been questioned,” Gibbs replied. “You can see the transcript.”

“I’ll take the transcript, but I still want to talk to him. And I want to see whatever else you’re hiding. I know you too well, Jethro, and I’m aware you don’t play well with others,” Fornell said, stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his long, winter coat.

“You don’t need to talk to him,” Gibbs said flatly.

“That’s enough. We’ve got bigger problems now, and we’re all professionals,” Tina said, glaring at the two senior agents.

“Well, aren’t you Simply the Best, Agent Kehoe. Can I call you Tina? Always loved that name,” Tony said, beaming.

Tina rolled her eyes. “Oh, lovely. A Tina Turner fan. Isn’t that original? Listen, I’ve had an agent undercover at the Vault for months, and he disappeared yesterday – after you all began poking around. I’ve been up all night, I’m tired, I’m concerned, and in no mood for all this posturing. If anything’s happened to my agent, I’m holding you responsible.”

“You have a missing agent, and you didn’t lead with that?” Gibbs asked, the harsh lines in his face seemingly sharpening.

“You already have someone undercover?” Ziva asked, sounding nearly as angry as Gibbs.

“Who’s the agent?” Tony asked, pinning Tina with his eyes.

Something about the urgency in his voice kept her attention locked on him. “His name is Brian Sullivan, but he goes by–”

“Sully,” Tony whispered, heart hammering.

Tina seemed surprised. “Yeah. He’s one of my best. He’s been with the department for a long time, even before I was there, and he’s never missed a check-in,” she said.

“Do you know him, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked, his eyes also locked on Tony. An invisible beam of understanding seemed to stretch between the two.

“Yeah,” Tony said, slightly shell-shocked as images from his time in Philadelphia played fast and furious like an old black and white film behind his eyes.

Sully had been Tony’s introduction into undercover work on that long-ago first assignment. The older man had taken the young rookie under his wing and tried to protect him, knowing the supervisors who were supposed to have Tony’s back were really hanging him out to dry. He’d taught Tony a lot in the short time they’d worked together, and the fact Tony had never been able to say thanks, or even a goodbye, had always been one of his biggest regrets about that time.

“How do you know Sully?” Tina asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I worked with him once… a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away,” Tony said absently, his mind still watching the images flickering in rapid succession.

“You know him? Is there anyone in Philadelphia you do not know?” Ziva asked, exasperated. “Perhaps you should stay behind. You will stick out like a sore toe.”

“Thumb,” McGee corrected automatically.

“We need to talk. Your office. Now,” Fornell barked, already turning back for the elevator.

Gibbs followed without a word, leaving Tina staring after them, dumbfounded.

“Where are they going?” she asked, confused. She almost looked as if she wanted to follow.

“Nowhere. They’re going to shout at each other like two male lions having a turf war,” Sacks said, sounding bored. He crossed his arms and leaned his back against the wall.

“Yeah, Gibbs and Fornell are like opposing forces of nature. You don’t want to be anywhere near them right now. Trust me,” McGee added, sounding immensely relieved they were out of range.

Tony, who by now had pulled himself back together after the shock of hearing Sully’s name, had to get his head in the game. He saw the curious look Gibbs shot him when he passed, and he knew that he’d be grilled later. Still, he couldn’t believe his co-workers couldn’t see through this act for what it was.

Well, Slacks maybe he could believe. That guy was an idiot.

“You’ve got it all wrong. It’s all for show. They use each other to enhance their reputations. They’re in the elevator right now working out the details without any interference from us or their directors. They’ll come out and tell us all exactly what we’re going to do. Both of them are results-driven,” Tony said.

“Right,” Sacks said, rolling his eyes. “Just because he arrested you doesn’t mean you know anything about Fornell, DiNozzo.”

“He arrested you?” Tina asked, startled, and finally looking away from the elevator to stare at Tony.

“Former perp framed me,” Tony said, waving it away. “Doesn’t mean I don’t see what’s going on between Gibbs and Fornell – obviously better than you do, Slacks.”

“There is nothing going on. They loathe each other,” Ziva said.

“She’s right,” Sacks agreed.

Tina looked from face to face, apparently sizing them up, trying to figure out who to believe. She didn’t seem to have a lot of confidence in any of them. Tony found this interesting – not that she didn’t believe any of the NCIS people, they were all new to her – but she also seemed to have doubts about Slacks, who was a fellow FBI agent and working the case with her. That was interesting.

“Tell me what Sully was doing,” he said, deciding to pump her for as much information as he could glean before Gibbs and Fornell returned from their elevator tête-a-tête.

Tina seemed just as happy to leave the subject behind. “He started at the window, taking admission, but he’s got a good head for numbers, so they put him to use keeping track of supplies. He’s kept me informed of anyone going in and out. They have an illegal card game each night in the back, and he’s recognized some high-rollers in attendance,” she said.

“Any back-up?” Tony asked.

“We have spotters outside and watching the club as customers, but no one else working on the inside. It’s a popular place, and they’re very picky about who they hire. They have a long list of candidates who want to work there for the tips, so I haven’t been able to get anyone else on staff,” Tina said.

“Did anything happen the night he disappeared?” McGee asked.

“Something always seems to happen there. A lot of fights, drugs, intimidation. At first, we thought it was mafia-related, but I don’t think so. I think it’s a terror cell getting organized, but I have nothing solid. Sully saw our last victim in a heated debate with one of the regulars before he disappeared. I don’t know if he saw your victim because you kept that bit to yourselves, and now Sully has disappeared,” she said bitterly.

“So, you have a list of suspects, some regulars? Do they have a connection to the club, or are they just patrons?” Tony asked.

“Just patrons as far as I can tell. Sully has been in the back where the files are kept, and he got a photo of a personnel list, but none of the names tagged in a search,” Tina said.

“He must have grown careless after being there so long,” Ziva said.

“There’s nothing careless about Sully. He’s my best, most-seasoned investigator, and he was making progress. Something went wrong, and I’d bet it had to do with your snooping around,” Tina said sharply, hackles raised.

“We were merely doing our jobs. Agent Fornell did not tell us to be wary of an undercover operative, so there was no way for us to know if anything we asked would blow his cover. He should have mentioned this, yes?” Ziva asked.

“Well, since we didn’t know your missing person also had a connection to the club, there was no way to know we needed to inform you, was there?” Tina shot back.

“Enough! You’ll find NCIS usually likes to charge in without a plan and play cowboy. Fornell will reign them in,” Sacks said.

“Because the FBI has been so successful at locating missing undercover operatives. How many is it now that NCIS has located for you?” Tony asked, one eyebrow raised.

Sacks scowled, “We’d prefer to find them when they’re still alive, thanks. One of these days, DiNozzo, your mouth is going to get you into so much trouble, you won’t be able to talk your way out of it.”

“Well, that hasn’t happened yet, so until then, I’ll keep using it to annoy you,” Tony said.

Before Sacks could launch a comeback, the elevators doors once again slid open. Gibbs and Fornell emerged, neither looking the worse for wear.

“Well, DiNozzo, how good are you at mixing drinks?” Fornell asked, grinning.

Gibbs stood in the Director’s office after he’d laid out everything happening with their case, and what he and Fornell had agreed upon going forward. After a little back-and-forth and some posturing, the two senior agents had decided on a workable plan. What he hadn’t mentioned to the Director was the fact the FBI previously put plans in place to get another operative inside the club. Ron Sacks had been slated for the role, but he and Fornell had agreed to replace him with DiNozzo due to new intel.

He knew the Director wasn’t going to like it, but it’s what would work. She had a bug up her ass about putting Ziva undercover, and the fact Ziva had the same idea made his gut churn. Even though he’d told Ziva that she reported to him and only him, she was still feeding Jenny information. Apparently, she thought the Director would have more luck getting things to go Ziva’s way than she was having. Jenny should know better, but they were both about to get a reminder that he wouldn’t be pushed – by anyone.

He was annoyed but also disappointed in both of them. He thought the relationships he had with each woman was stronger than that. Of course, Jenny had fooled him once before. He wouldn’t allow her – or Ziva – to get another chance. DiNozzo tried to warn him, but he didn’t want to hear it. That was another situation he was going to have to repair.

“I had Cynthia book you two rooms in Philadelphia – you can work out the sleeping arrangements. Now that there’s a missing FBI agent, I can understand why they’d want to take point, but it’s better to have less… volatile emotions in charge. Can you be less volatile?” Jenny asked, peering at him over her glasses.

“I don’t like emotions period,” Gibbs said.

“Noted. I agree that the undercover FBI operative will need to be replaced, but I want you to put Ziva in rather than DiNozzo. It’s a completely different job, someone completely opposite from Agent Sullivan won’t raise as much suspicion,” Jenny said, putting the report Gibbs had handed her down and looking directly at him.

“No,” Gibbs said.

Jenny arched one finely-groomed brow. “No? You are aware that I’m your boss, correct?”

“And it’s my team. I thought you wanted our record to reflect well on your leadership,” Gibbs snapped.

“I don’t believe a different undercover operative is going to change the way you work, Jethro,” Jenny said.

“Ziva has been an investigator for all of six months. DiNozzo is a pro – he goes,” Gibbs said, flat out refusing to leave any wiggle room.

Jenny threw her arms up in the air. “He’s not the only agent capable of undercover work, yet you always want DiNozzo.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that,” Gibbs said. “Tony’s an expert. You have the file. You know how often the alphabet agencies request his services.”

“I do. And I’ve also noticed you usually turn them down,” Jenny snapped.

“I don’t like to share,” Gibbs snapped back.

“Ziva is a trained spy, she can gather intel just as easily as he can – probably better,” Jenny said.

“Ziva is a killer, and she’s young. She hasn’t learned to control her emotions. She’s more likely to kill any suspects before getting what we need,” Gibbs said.

“You underestimate her. I’ve worked with her before. I know she’s capable,” Jenny insisted.

“Capable of securing a crime scene on her own? She’s yet to do that,” Gibbs said.

Jenny’s lip twitched, and Gibbs knew she was faltering. She had to know that Ziva was still too quick to resort to violence, and they didn’t have room for error on this one.

“DiNozzo will not only get the evidence, he’ll make them think they’ve made a new best friend. That silver tongue of his is why the others all request his services,” Gibbs said.

Jenny raised her eyebrow once again. “That’s the most words I’ve ever heard you use in support of anyone – yourself included,” she said.

“What do you want, Jen? To impress the Admiral or Ziva? If you need a positive outcome, you need DiNozzo,” Gibbs said.

“Fine, but I want to be kept informed,” she replied, still looking disgruntled.

“If it makes you feel any better, the FBI already had a set-up for another undercover operative to go in,” Gibbs said, fighting to control a smirk. He knew that would just piss her off.

“What do you mean another set-up?” she asked.

“They’ve detained a bartender who was set to start there on a few trumped-up charges. They can give him other things to worry about, and we can send someone in his place,” Gibbs replied.

“And the FBI agreed to use DiNozzo?” Jenny asked doubtfully.

“They were going to use Sacks, but DiNozzo fits better, and Tobias knows he’s the better choice,” Gibbs said.

Jenny threw her hands in the air. “Then why didn’t you just say that in the first place? If they’re expecting a male, Ziva never would’ve worked anyway,” she said, exasperated.

Gibbs finally let his smirk show. “Wanted to see how far you’d push it. I don’t know what you and Ziva are up to, but you’re not going to mess with my team.”

Chapter 8: Under Pressure

Chapter Text

The FBI’s Philadelphia field office was smaller and more cramped than the NCIS squad room, but at least it was free of bright orange walls. In fact, the walls were a dull beige and rather unremarkable – like the rest of the place. Standard office furniture that had seen better days, a worn grey carpet, and a bunch of cubicles surrounded by standard-size offices. Only the technology looked new and up-to-date.

McGee perked up the moment they entered and was currently syncing his laptop to the FBI equipment. The four NCIS agents shared a sedan on the drive from DC while the feebs were able to fly, thus arriving earlier. Making it worse, Ziva darted ahead in the parking lot and claimed shotgun next to Gibbs, leaving Tony and McGee to ride in the back with McGee’s precious laptop. He insisted he didn’t trust that it wouldn’t be damaged in the trunk with all their go-bags.

Tony knew what would happen once they were underway. The nausea started almost as soon as they hit the highway, although he valiantly blamed it on a bad breakfast burrito. After the second time Gibbs had to pull over so Tony could throw up, the boss took pity on him – at least Tony thought he did. He told Tony to drive since he was tired of finding a spot where he could puke. Gibbs then climbed into the backseat with McGee and promptly fell asleep. Ziva grumbled the rest of the way that she should be the one to drive since Tony was obviously hungover.

Tony ignored her, knowing the likelihood of the entire team dying in a fiery blaze was probable if she took the wheel. Instead, once the nausea passed, he regaled his teammates of what he considered the finest car chases in movie history.

They arrived in Philadelphia just after noon, cramped and irritable – except Gibbs who’d slept the whole way – but at least Tony hadn’t been sick again. Luckily, neither of the junior agents had yet caught on to his propensity for carsickness. They both really needed to work on their observational skills, but he wasn’t about to press it since he didn’t want to hand them another weapon in their arsenal.

Tina secured a conference room for NCIS since the three FBI agents arrived earlier and already claimed work spaces. Tony wasn’t certain where Fornell and Slacks were, but he wasted no time in showing Tina the sketch he’d brought along.

“Our Forensic Scientist and a sketch artist sat down with Lieutenant Montague yesterday. We didn’t get much on the ones who threatened him, but this is the guy he lost money to in the first place. Recognize him?” Tony asked.

Tina studied the sketch thoughtfully. “I think so… let me get the photographs we have of the regulars who frequent the back room. I think this guy looks like one of them,” she said, taking the sketch with her.

“I want that back,” Gibbs growled as he took a spot at the head of the conference table.

Although her back was to them, Tony saw her shoulders stiffen.

“I’m not known for absconding with evidence, but I assure you, my office is right next door if you feel the need to check,” she said.

Tony grinned, but turned away quickly so Gibbs wouldn’t notice. Tim finished setting up his computer, and Ziva was stalking back and forth against the wall of the conference room, disgruntled. Of course, she’d been that way all morning, but Tony hadn’t felt well enough to needle her to find out why. Now seemed like a perfect opportunity.

“Get your laptop hooked up, Ziva. Time’s a-wasting,” he said, plugging his own into the wall.

McGee began doing the task for Gibbs, probably worrying that Gibbs would somehow destroy it, and he’d be tasked with getting it repaired. It probably was a safe bet, actually.

“All we have been doing is wasting time. I could have saved at least an hour on the time it took you to drive here,” Ziva said.

“Yeah, but you’d have to subtract the time we would’ve spent dealing with local LEOs who pulled us over for speeding,” Tony replied.

“That was only one time,” she said, outraged.

“One time last week,” he muttered.

“We also lost time when you made us stop so you could puke,” Tim said, smirking.

“Ah ha! And you cannot say that was not wasting time,” Ziva said triumphantly.

“I could save time by sending you all back to DC,” Gibbs snapped.

“Here it is,” Tina said, re-entering the conference room with several folders. “These are surveillance photos from inside the bar, and this looks likes your guy – Vito Santino. He plays in most of the high stake’s games but doesn’t hang around and socialize afterwards. Sully didn’t get much out of him and noted that he seemed rather skittish,” Tina said.

“Vito Santino – and you’re sure its not Mafia related?” Tim asked.

“Hey! We’ve discussed this, Probie – Italiano doesn’t mean mafia,” Tony said, smacking Tim on the back of the head.

Tina’s eyes widened in surprise. She was in a for a big shock once she hung around Gibbs’ team for a while.

“No – we’ve ruled out Mafia, and Santino’s record is clean,” she said.

“He likes to gamble, though – maybe he lost money to someone, and he’s paying off his debt by putting his skills to use,” Tony said.

“That’s what Sully said,” Tina replied, startled.

Tony tilted his head to the side co*ckily.

“Well, it is not surprising. He instructed you on his undercover methods, no? The fact you think along the same lines perhaps will get you into the same trouble,” Ziva said.

“That was my objection,” Sacks said, entering the conference room with Fornell. He wore the same disgruntled expression that Ziva had all morning.

“Glad you finally made it,” Fornell said, smirking. “Next time don’t hold back crucial details and maybe I can arrange space for you to fly with us.”

“I’d rather drive,” Gibbs said.

“Speak for yourself there, Boss – I’ll be happy to fly back once this is over,” Tony said.

“Too bad NCIS doesn’t have its own jet. Budget agency, budget employees, budget transportation,” Sacks said smugly.

“Yeah, but all your fancy perks don’t help with your solve rate, do they, Slacks? I heard you lost your big insider trading case in court last week,” Tony said. “Better luck next time.”

Sacks smirk melted into a scowl. “It’s Sacks, and that was only because the judge refused our reasonable search and seizure,” he said.

“Then again, I saw firsthand how you zeroed in on the idea I committed a crime and had blinders to anything else,” Tony said bitterly. “We call that target fixation.”

“The evidence all pointed to you – and I’m still not convinced your friends didn’t just get you out of it. Physical evidence doesn’t lie,” Sacks said heatedly.

“Evidence can be solid, but it’s the interpretation that counts,” Tony said, rolling his eyes.

“That’s enough. I told you already, we’re going to focus on this case, Agent Sacks,” Fornell said, scowling.

Sacks grit his teeth and looked away.

“Here’s the file on what we know about the bartender you’ll be impersonating,” Tina said, ignoring the needling between the other agents and handing the file to Tony.

“I still don’t see why DiNozzo should go. I’ve been studying this brief – I know Cody Redman like the back of my hand,” Sacks said, steaming.

“Cody Redman? Is that my alias? Hmm… not real fond of Cody, but that name screams Code Red. Don’t tell me he hasn’t been known to go by that when he’s bartending,” Tony said.

“Actually – he does. How did you know that?” Tina asked suspiciously.

“Come on – isn’t it obvious? Ready-made nickname. That’s what I’d call myself,” Tony said.

“That’s because you’re a juvenile idiot. Really, Fornell, you can’t trust this guy. He can’t help himself,” Sacks said.

“Sounds like the real Cody Redman might be a juvenile idiot himself,” Gibbs said dryly.

“Tony curled his lip. “Thanks, Boss.”

“DiNozzo fits the real Redman – he’s going in. They’re expecting you to start tomorrow, so you don’t have a lot of time to learn the art of mixology,” Fornell said.

“Won’t be necessary. I worked as a bartender my senior year in college after a sports injury sidelined me. It also helps that I enjoy entertaining company of the female persuasion. Guys are easy – they want straight alcohol, but you need to know how to make the fancy co*cktails the ladies enjoy. I can handle it,” Tony said.

“Great – you will be distracted the entire time you are there,” Ziva said, throwing her arms in the air and rolling her eyes.

“I always appreciate beauty while I work, Ziva – it’s part of my charm. Still doesn’t stop me from getting the job done,” Tony said.

“DiNozzo – quit messing around and study up on popular drinks. Ziva, McGee, I want you two to do a background check on Vito Santino, see what the FBI missed,” Gibbs said, looking right at Fornell.

“Well, you know, the best way to research current drink trends is to experience them, Boss. I know the area. I think a little personal reconnaissance would be the best bet,” Tony said.

Ziva, Sacks and Tim all rolled their eyes, but Tim, at least, began working. Gibbs looked at Tony with narrowed eyes. Tony flashed his impossibly white teeth.

Gibbs jerked his head toward the door. “Go on, don’t make me regret this. I’m not listening to you puke again.”

Tony beamed and grabbed his jacket. “Don’t worry, Boss. You know I’m a professional.”

Gibbs shook his head, although he almost looked amused.

“You mean he is going bar jumping while we are all working?” Ziva asked.

“Bar hopping, Ziva,” Tim said.

“Sacks, help with the research and fill them in on anything pertinent. Gibbs, what do you say you and I head over to Sullivan’s apartment and see if we can figure out where he might be,” Fornell suggested.

Tony slipped out the door as they all got to work, thinking of the first place he’d like to pay a visit. He hadn’t been back to Philly in a very long time.

Gibbs didn’t arrive at the Holiday Inn where the team was staying until well after ten o’clock that night. Making the sleeping arrangements was never something he bothered with, but considering the hostility between DiNozzo and Ziva, he knew they had to be separated. That meant one of them needed to bunk with him. Normally, he’d prefer to stay with whoever would be the quietest. Unfortunately, McGee wasn’t an option. If he bunked with Ziva, he’d have to listen to her simmering frustration that she wasn’t the one undercover, and although DiNozzo tended to talk a lot, at least he never expected answers.

Deciding that DiNozzo would be around less once he was undercover, he determined his SFA was the better option. For tonight, it was probably futile, but he hoped they’d all be asleep before he got there.

He and Fornell had searched every inch of Brian Sullivan’s apartment, but they hadn’t uncovered a trace of what might’ve happened to him. Gibbs’ gut was telling him the news on the missing agent wouldn’t be good, but for once, he was hoping his gut was wrong.

The hotel corridor was empty and quiet when he reached their floor, several empty room-service trays stacked outside the closed doors. There was a pair outside the room McGee and Ziva were sharing, but the space outside his own room was empty. He grabbed a bite with Fornell while they were out – Tobias had insisted on Philly cheese-steaks since they were in the city. Gibbs couldn’t see why anyone would drown a perfectly good steak with all that cheese.

He opened the door to find his room dark and empty. DiNozzo had yet to return from his surveillance of the local bars. Gibbs shook his head. If the idiot was hungover in the morning before prepping for his assignment, there’d be hell to pay. Gibbs removed his wallet and phone and put them on the nightstand, sitting on one of the beds to secure his weapon.

His phone rang, disrupting the peaceful silence in the room. He picked it up, glancing at the caller ID – Abby. How did she always know the moment he was alone?

“Yeah, Gibbs,” he said.

“Are you all safely tucked in for the night? I always find it really hard to sleep in a hotel, but you probably won’t be there much, and you can sleep anywhere, anyway. I wish I could do that, just drop off anywhere. How’s Tony? Is he all set to wow the ladies with his bottle maneuvering skills? I bet he’ll love that. I can’t wait to get there and check how things are going. I don’t trust the FBI to process the evidence. They always go too quick and things get missed. Don’t you think they make a lot of mistakes? You better make sure to send me the results of anything really important so I can double check. A second check is alw–”

“Abby!” he yelled or else she’d go on all night.

She’d really wanted to accompany them to Philadelphia, and he could hear the anxiety in her voice. She’d feel much better once she was working on the case.

“Is there a reason you called? A work-related reason,” he asked, knowing his fondness for the quirky Goth was creeping into his voice.

“Oh! Yes. I did my own background check on Cody Redman. I don’t have a photo since, until now, he’s never been arrested and has virtually no online presence. I’m sure the Philadelphia office will get one from detaining him. He must be old-fashioned like you, Gibbs. I did learn that he’s a huge fan of the Detroit Pistons. Tony knows basketball, so that should help,” she said.

“That’s good, Abs. I’ll let him know,” Gibbs said.

“He’s not there with you?” she asked, sounding a little desperate to keep him on the phone.

“No.”

“But he is staying with you?” she asked, persistent as ever.

“Why?”

“It’s just… I don’t think it’s a good idea if you have him and Ziva stay together,” Abby said, and he could almost hear her biting her lip.

Abby was very upset when Ziva first joined the team, but he thought she was coming around.

“Do you have a problem with Ziva, too?” he asked.

“No… not really… maybe a little. Look, she was really mad that you sent McGee with Tony the other day, and she blamed Tony. You know she’s a killer, right? And she sometimes gets a little scary,” Abby said.

“Tony can take care of himself, Abs,” Gibbs said.

“I know he can, but not if she slits his throat while he’s sleeping,” she said, firing up again.

“Someone had to take Kate’s job,” Gibbs said, guessing that was the real reason for Abby’s mistrust.

“Yeah, but did it have to be someone involved in getting her killed in the first place?” she asked.

“She wasn’t gathering the intel for a hit. Ari had a problem with me. Kate was collateral damage,” he said heavily.

Kate’s loss still weighed on his mind. If he’d been just a little faster, a little quicker on the uptake, Kate would still be here, and they wouldn’t even have Ziva on the team. He vaguely wondered what Jenny would’ve done then.

“It wasn’t your fault, Gibbs,” Abby said softly.

“Get some sleep,” he said before disconnecting the call.

Abby always worried when the team was away, and she couldn’t keep her eyes on them. This was the first time since Kate’s death. It only made sense she was concerned and didn’t have anywhere to funnel it. He thought her criticism of Ziva was overly harsh, though.

Gibbs sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Abby was the second member of his team questionings Ziva’s position, and it was the second time he found himself defending her. He usually let them work out their issues on their own. DiNozzo had been shocked when he’d been asked to cut Ziva some slack.

Why did he feel so protective of his new agent? Even he had to admit it wasn’t like him. It was something about her eyes that always cut right through him. She had eyes like his long-lost daughter. Maybe it was because she was the first person in years that actually knew about Kelly. That was his own fault. No one currently in his life even knew she ever existed. He’d cut ties with his father, Mike Franks was long-retired, and he simply refused to utter Shannon or Kelly’s names.

That was on him. Ziva wasn’t a substitute for Kelly.

He knew that, but somehow, her knowing about his family had forged a connection between the two. When she’d saved his life, killing a member of her own family in order to do it, he felt a kindred spirit. He couldn’t protect Kelly, but he wanted to protect Ziva.

Was he doing that at the expense of the others? He recalled how Ziva had demanded his respect in the elevator on her first day. If anyone else had tried that, he’d have told them to earn it, and probably slapped them on the back of the head. Ziva would never earn the respect of her teammates if she didn’t work at it, and she wouldn’t work at it if she was secure in her belief that she unfailingly had his. She believed he would always repay the loyalty she’d showed him in kind – that it somehow gave her an edge over the others. Did she honestly think she was the first member of his team to have saved his life?

He was going to have to even the playing field – and it wouldn’t be pleasant for anyone. Wishing he was home in his basem*nt with some woodwork to ease the turmoil in his mind, he picked up his things and proceeded to take his shower.

He’d just climbed into bed and flicked off the light when the hotel room door burst open and DiNozzo stepped inside, grunting when he bumped into the re-closing door.

“Shhh,” he whispered loudly.

“Who are you shushing, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked, amused despite himself.

“Not choo, Boss. I would never shush you,” DiNozzo said, slurring slightly. “Whatever you have to say, I always give my full attention. I like when you talk, Boss… maybe because you don’t do it all that much.”

Gibbs flicked the light back on and studied his agent carefully. He was a little rumpled and definitely a little buzzed, but nothing over-the top. DiNozzo wasn’t a lightweight when it came to holding his alcohol, but there were times when he was upset or stressed that it always seemed to hit him harder. The stress over the team dynamics, and the fact DiNozzo knew the missing FBI agent would be enough.

Gibbs knew Tony had reached that sweet spot where he’d let his guard down without losing his situational awareness. For someone who chattered incessantly, DiNozzo actually revealed very little about his true self. Those morsels that Gibbs had gathered over the years had always come from situations just like this. He knew it was probably taking advantage, but he wasn’t called a bastard for nothing.

“Tell me what you know about Brian Sullivan,” Gibbs said as DiNozzo shuffled across the room with exaggerated precision.

Tony took a deep breath, staring at Gibbs with guarded eyes despite his buzzed state. Gibbs knew that’s what made him so good at undercover work.

“I will, but I gotta pee first,” he said, going into the head.

Gibbs smirked, knowing DiNozzo wouldn’t see it. He was always fascinated on the rare occasions when the younger man let his many masks fall – intentionally or not.

When Tony returned, he’d obviously splashed some water on his face in an attempt to sober up. His path to the unoccupied bed wasn’t steady however, and he collapsed rather than sat upon it.

“Goodnight, Boss,” he said cheerfully, reaching to turn out the light.

Gibbs blocked his hand on the nightstand between the two beds.

“You were going to tell me about Brian Sullivan,” he said.

“Oh. Right. I think I’d rather just go to sleep,” DiNozzo said.

Gibbs glared without blinking.

Tony huffed. “Fine. You know I did my first undercover op here in Philly, right?” he asked, picking at the sheet covering him.

“Tell me what I don’t know – something that might help me find him,” Gibbs said, his voice getting louder with each word.

DiNozzo always reacted oddly to any softening on Gibbs part, so he knew if he was his usual abrasive self, he might get a few morsels that could help both Sullivan and DiNozzo. He was aware his agent was struggling with the other man’s disappearance more than he let on.

“Sorry, Boss. You know me – I like to set the mood,” DiNozzo said, releasing a long breath. He leaned up against the headboard, mirroring Gibbs position across the room and stared up at the ceiling.

Gibbs gave him a minute to gather his thoughts, but before he had to ask again, DiNozzo began to speak in a soft, faraway sort of voice.

“He was kind of a pre-curser to you – a mentor, you know? I didn’t know him very long, but I trusted him. He had my six – although I didn’t call it that then. That’s an NCIS thing. You were the first one that used that expression, but I like it. What d’you–”

“DiNozzo – Sullivan,” Gibbs prompted.

“Right. He had my back when those in my department were supposed to have it but didn’t. I would’ve died on that first mission if it weren’t for him,” Tony said, still staring at the ceiling. “Almost did.”

“What happened?” Gibbs asked, his stomach clenched. Even knowing Tony obviously came out of it okay, he felt rage at DiNozzo’s superior officers.

“Believe it or not, I was pretty co*cky back then, Boss,” Tony said, nodding his head seriously.

“Hard to imagine,” Gibbs deadpanned.

“No, it’s true. I drove them all crazy, and they always wanted me out of the way – story of my life. They had me doing all the mundane tasks – you know, parking tickets, wiping up bodily fluids in the holding cell, removing the local bums from the library and stuff. They nicknamed me Spider. I should’ve known to haul ass, but I wasn’t quite as savvy then,” Tony said, not catching Gibbs’ sarcasm.

Gibbs had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but even without all his faculties, DiNozzo could read his confusion.

“From the movie Goodfellas. Spider was low-man on the totem pole, assigned the same kind of tasks as me. He was mouthy like me, too. So, they just killed him for no reason,” DiNozzo said.

Gibbs’ gut churned at that comparison. Still, it was in the past, they had to focus on now.

“That how you met Chico – herding the street people?” Gibbs asked.

“Yeah, met quite a few frequent fliers that way. I’d get them something to eat, and they’d share info about life on the streets. Nothing too sensational, but some of their tips panned out. It irritated the other guys how I kept making more work for them,” Tony said.

“You were doing your job,” Gibbs said.

“Mafia still heavily influenced the streets back then, and I was the same age and as mouthy as the enforcers. My sarge decided he could use me to get info on criminal activity,” he said.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “Seems like a big assignment for a rookie,” he said.

“It was. I think they thought I’d get myself killed, and I wouldn’t be their problem anymore. I didn’t get it, though. I was as green as McGee,” DiNozzo said.

“I somehow doubt that,” Gibbs replied.

“Yeah, well. They didn’t know that I’d spent most of my life undercover and had no problem fitting into a different skin,” Tony said, smirking and clearly proud of himself.

The hair on the back of Gibbs neck stood on end. This hadn’t been the information he’d been seeking, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity about DiNozzo’s carefully guarded past.

“How’s that?” he asked, aware that if he asked for anything specific, DiNozzo might catch on and clam up. Being vague and letting him just talk tended to work better.

“With a new stepmother or boarding school around every corner, I had to learn to adapt and figure out the rules and pecking order. I learned how to reinvent myself in each situation. Sully was already undercover, and my department had to let the local FBI office know I was working the case. He approached me,” Tony said.

“And you just accepted that?” Gibbs asked skeptically. Verifying what he was told was never a rule he had to teach DiNozzo.

Tony scrunched up his face. “Hell, no. Even once he’d convinced me he was a Fed didn’t mean that I trusted him. He kept at it, though – little bits of advice that were all sound, but I pretended not to listen.”

“What happened?” Gibbs asked.

“He thought I was in a tight spot one time, but I’d already pretty much talked my way out of it. I’d explained the reason I was where I wasn’t supposed to be was because I was interested in this guy’s sister. Sully didn’t know that, and he tried to butt in, so I had to work fast to convince Julio – the mobster – that Sully was also interested in his sister. I was just trying to beat him to asking her out. Julio told us both to get out of there, and once we did, Maria – the sister – tracked me down wanting to go out. Sully couldn’t believe it. We worked together from there on out,” DiNozzo said, grinning at the memory.

His eyes were half-shut, the coloring on one a sickly yellow. He looked ready to drop off, but Gibbs wasn’t finished.

“How did it end?” he asked.

DiNozzo blinked drowsily several times drowsily. “We eventually got the evidence we needed, but it turned out my Sarge was on the take, along with a couple of the other guys in my department. They tried to bury it by blowing my cover. Sully is the one who caught on and got me out before they killed me – although they certainly tried. The FBI ended up taking down the local mafia,” DiNozzo said, absently rubbing his shoulder.

“But?” Gibbs asked, knowing there was more. His jaw ticked, and he clenched his fists, enraged that any LEO would intentionally blow a cover of someone he was supposed to be protecting.

DiNozzo sighed. “But… you know how LEOs protect other LEOs, even when they shouldn’t, right? They thought it was best if I got out of town quickly, and they facilitated my move to Baltimore. I thought they were covering up for my crooked department, and I was so pissed – seeing red pissed. I left without a word to anyone – not even my partner. Heard a few months later that the department hierarchy had pretty much all decided to retire early.”

“Funny how that works,” Gibbs said.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think it was very funny. I left angry at Sully, when I really should’ve thanked him for saving my life,” DiNozzo said, clenching the bedsheets in his hands.

Gibbs shrugged, “Well, you can return the favor my saving his.”

“You think he’s still alive?” Tony asked quietly.

“He is if they want something,” Gibbs replied.

“I hope so,” Tony whispered, his troubled eyes betraying inner turmoil.

“Both NCIS and the FBI have your six. We’ll get him,” Gibbs said, fully aware he couldn’t guarantee that Sully would be alive when they did find him.

Tony still looked troubled, so Gibbs knew he was aware, but he couldn’t let it cloud his agent’s reactions once he was inside that club with killers.

“Don’t go lone wolf on this. If that’s what you’re planning, I’ll pull you right now,” Gibbs said, anger hiding his concern.

Tony finally looked over, staring right at Gibbs. “I trust you – and I used to think you trusted me.”

That one really stung.

“There’s no one I trust more – except maybe when it comes to women,” Gibbs said, raising an eyebrow.

Tony snorted. “As if you’re one to talk.”

Gibbs paused for a moment before adding solemnly. “One of us will always partner with Ziva.”

He knew DiNozzo would understand without him having to say it that he was acknowledging DiNozzo’s distrust of Ziva and taking steps so he wouldn’t feel exposed.

“Thanks, Boss,” DiNozzo said, giving one of his real smiles.

He was quiet for a while, and Gibbs thought he’d drifted off to sleep until he mumbled softly, his mind clearly somewhere else.

“Aren’t we a pair, Boss? You closed off from everyone, and me surrounded by people I don’t let in. Yet we’re both still alone.”

Gibbs’ gut twisted. He didn’t want DiNozzo to be like him; he wanted more for him. Still, he’d always struggled to express how he truly felt.

“We’re never alone since we have each other’s six,” he said, more comfortable framing it around work.

DiNozzo seemed to hear what wasn’t being said, because he smiled again, sleepily.

“I’ve got to get some shut eye if I’m going to be on my game tomorrow.”

“You’re just imagining yourself as Tom Cruise playing Maverick behind a bar,” Gibbs said, rolling his eyes.

The flash of pleasure that crossed DiNozzo’s face was worth revealing that he did have some movie knowledge.

“You know, co*cktail was great, but I always imagined myself more like Sascha, the humorous bartender at Rick’s Café Americaine in 1941’s classic Casablanca,” DiNozzo said, beaming.

“Of course, you did.”

Chapter 9: Born to Run

Chapter Text

“He’s got a big ole tattoo on his neck,” Tony said, staring at the picture of Cody Redman.

It was a mugshot taken when the FBI detained him so they could take over his life – at least his upcoming work-life at the Vault Tavern.

Tony arrived at the branch office with a mild hangover, but nothing that would interfere with his mission. He owed Sully that. While he’d visited several of his old haunts the night before, it was mostly to process his feelings about being back in Philadelphia. A lot had gone down here. Of course, he’d still watched the bartenders closely and observed what the people around him seemed to order the most.

A few Extra Strength Tylenols, and he was good to go.

The others were all in the conference room, but Kehoe and Tony were in her office, going over everything she knew about Cody Redman so that Tony could begin impersonating him later that day.

“Yes, it’s a Celtic cross on the left side of his chest, peeking out over the neckline of his shirt. Our Forensic people have brought in an artist to put a Henna replica on you shortly,” Tina said matter-of-factly.

Tony had never felt the desire to mar his skin with a tattoo, so he stared at her blankly. Any distinguishable mark could make him too easily identifiable in his line of work.

“Is that really necessary? I thought you said no one from the Vault had ever actually met him.”

“As far as we know, they haven’t, but we don’t want to leave anything to chance if we know how to cover it,” Tina replied.

“Uh, huh,” Tony said warily.

“Don’t be a baby. Henna is perfectly safe, and it will wear off in a couple weeks. We can re-apply it if your assignment goes on longer than that,” Tina said.

“If you have a picture of the guy, how come you were sending Sacks undercover? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we look as much alike as Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger did in Twins. Besides, I’m much better looking than he is,” Tony said.

Tina rolled her eyes. “Shockingly enough, as a Federal agent paid to observe, I did notice the slight difference in your skin tones,” Tina deadpanned.

Tony grinned predatorily. “Yeah? What else did you notice?”

“That you’re both far too arrogant about your own abilities. While the bar atmosphere might lead you to think this is going to be a fun assignment, these people are killers who beat their victims with iron rods, pulling their fingernails out one by one before breaking the finger,” Tina said, glaring, her eyes a steely gray. Her voice shook slightly by the time she’d finished.

“I know what they did. I read the autopsy reports, and I think you’re forgetting that I was the one who found the bodies,” Tony said coldly, vainly attempting to block his mind’s images of the same things being done to Sully.

Tina pressed her lips together until they disappeared and took a deep breath. “I know you did – and I know you’re worried about Sully, too,” she said more softly.

Tony nodded, appeased. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to work with a female partner who pushed back but also accepted his points rather than dismissing them. It was nice.

“When Sacks was tapped to go undercover, we didn’t have the photograph, and we only knew they wanted to add another bartender. Sully was going to recommend someone he knew before he learned they’d already reached out to Redman. He’d applied, looking to move to Philadelphia. From what Sully said, he had the credentials, and they liked the idea of someone outside the area. I think they’ve become paranoid as their operation has grown,” Tina said.

Tony pursed his lips. “Fair enough. Surely there must be someone at the FBI that’s actually tended bar before, though… right?” he asked.

He was sure the reason Fornell conceded so easily to Tony going undercover rather than Slacks was because they now had this photo. Cody Redman was white, and like Tina said, even if they’d never actually met him, there was no point taking chances.

“I’m sure Agent Sacks would’ve been fine, but the fact you have experience is certainly a bonus. Did you learn anything from your… reconnaissance?” she asked, not quite able to hide the note of disapproval from her voice.

“As I expected, Cosmopolitans are still all the rage amongst the female population. The tv show, Sex in the City has greatly influenced that. Have you seen it? Those women are hot, and I know a few ladies just like them,” Tony said, waggling his eyebrows. “I bet you’re a Cosmo girl yourself, aren’t you, Tina?”

Tina rolled her eyes again. “Let’s see about getting you that tattoo.”

Tony followed her from the office apprehensively. “I’m really not a big fan of needles,” he said.

“Henna isn’t applied with needles. I really didn’t expect you to be such a baby,” Tina said, never breaking stride.

“I’m not a baby,” Tony said indignantly. “I have very good reasons for not liking needles, and besides, why would I want to blemish the perfection of my skin?”

Tina simply pushed open the door of the Forensics lab. Tony had a brief moment to take in the equipment and people in lab coats before he was hit by a mini – if very familiar – tornado.

“Tony!” Abby shouted, launching herself into his arms and nearly knocking them both over. “I missed you.”

Tina’s mouth formed a small, perfectly formed ‘o’ at the greeting.

“Missed you, too, Abs – but I just saw you yesterday. What are you doing here?” Tony asked after he regained his equilibrium.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve tried for years to get some ink on you. You think I’d ever allow some random artist to apply it without supervision – even if it is only Henna,” Abby said, bouncing on her toes.

Tony shook his head, trying to grasp the fact she was here. “Does Gibbs know?” he asked.

Abby scrunched up her face and hit him on the back of his head. “Gibbs knows everything. He and Fornell arranged it. The FBI flew me here this morning,” she said.

Tina recoiled when Abby hit him. She obviously was still unused to how NCIS operated. Tony and Abby continued as if they hadn’t noticed.

“Just Henna, Abs. Don’t you dare sneak any permanent ink in there. I see one needle, and I’m outta here,” Tony said.

“That’s what Gibbs said. You guys are no fun,” Abby said, pouting.

“We’re on a tight schedule, so you can talk while the artist works. Sit down and take your shirt off,” Tina said, indicating a stool.

“Just like that? Aren’t you even going to buy me dinner first?” Tony asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Tina frowned disapprovingly as she held her hand out for his shirt, but Abby giggled as she looked over the art supplies already laid out on the table.

Tony slowly and seductively began undoing each button on his shirt, never taking his eyes off Tina. She broke contact first and looked away uncomfortably, a flush working its way up her neck. Tony grinned once he’d succeeded in embarrassing her and quickly removed the shirt and T-shirt he wore underneath.

Wasting no time, Abby brushed her fingers over the hair on Tony’s chest. “I’m going to have to shave some of this so the artist can apply the ink in the right position, but that’ll look too obvious that it’s just been done. I’m going to have to shave it all,” Abby said, talking to herself more than anyone.

“Shave it all? No way. That’ll look stupid,” Tony yelped.

“No, it won’t – it’s all the rage in California,” Abby said, sterilizing a razor she picked up from the tray of supplies.

“We’re not in California,” Tony protested.

“Would you just sit still and shut up so we can get this done?” Tina asked, exasperated.

“Smack on the back of his head usually works,” Gibbs said, entering the lab and observing their progress – or lack thereof.

He placed a bottle of water in front of Tony, and kissed Abby on the head. “Can Redman’s tattoo be matched exactly?” he asked.

“We’ve used this artist before. He’s very good,” Tina said.

Gibbs still appeared doubtful.

“I’m here to monitor and be sure of it. Don’t worry, Gibbs, I’ll see that it’s a perfect replica, even if I think a little embellishment would make it look so much cooler,” Abby said.

“Abby,” Gibbs growled.

“Okay, okay. No embellishment. I can restrain myself,” she said.

“Boss, she wants to shave my chest,” Tony said.

“Do what it takes, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, as Abby ran her hand down Tony’s chest, stopping on his defined stomach muscles and resting it there.

“It’ll be painless, Tony,” she said.

“Tattoo goes on his chest, not his abs, Abs,” Gibbs said as he strode out of the lab looking amused. Abby quickly pulled her hand away as if startled.

“Good morning to you, too,” Tina said wryly to Gibbs retreating back.

Tony braced himself as Abby began shaving the hair off his chest, trying not to imagine how much it was going to itch when it started growing back.

“Tony, you’re all muscle. How do you stay this way with all the junk food you eat?” Abby asked over the buzzing of her razor.

“Just my natural make-up,” Tony said smugly.

“That’ll catch up to you one day. Can we talk about the assignment now?” Tina asked, gritting her teeth.

“Sure, what’ve you got?” Tony asked, shivering as Abby braced her cold hand against his pectoral muscle.

Abby’s lab was usually chilly, too, but he wasn’t accustomed to being half-naked while there. The lack of blaring heavy metal music and some of Abby’s other quirks was blatantly obvious, making the FBI lab seem colder and more impersonal.

“The owner/manager of the tavern is named Dave Barrows, and he personally oversees everything when they’re open. He’s very demanding and considers his club his kingdom,” she said.

“Excellent. I’ll feel right at home,” Tony muttered.

“His background includes a dishonorable discharge from the Navy back in ’94 for behavior unbecoming,” Tina said.

“That could mean he has a beef with NSWC,” Tony said.

“He’s impatient and has a reputation for having trouble with the chain of command,” Tina said, rattling off information from the folder she held.

“Huh, maybe Gibbs should’ve let Ziva take this one. They’d bond instantly,” Tony said.

“No kidding, right?” Abby asked, chuckling.

Tina stared at them, perplexed. “Are you saying Agent David has trouble with the chain of command, as well?” she asked.

“Nah, that’s not what I’m saying – just that she gets very impatient, too,” Tony replied easily.

Abby, however, was never very adept at lying, and her face gave everything away. Tina picked right up on it.

“I’m not trying to pry, but I need to be aware of all the idiosyncrasies of the people I’m working with. I did notice that she only heeds the orders that come from Agent Gibbs, but I thought it was an FBI bias,” Tina said.

“Well, there is that. She’s not an NCIS agent, by the way. She’s a liaison officer from Mossad,” Tony said, the words tasting like ash on his tongue.

“Mossad?” Tina asked, startled. “And she works as an agent?”

“A liaison officer,” Tony said, stomach roiling.

If Tina could easily see the improprieties with this arrangement without knowing the half of it, why on earth did the director allow it to continue – personally arrange it, even. And why the hell was Gibbs allowing it? Tony took a deep breath, trying to reign in his emotions on the matter. He couldn’t be distracted now, and Ziva was a problem for another day.

“A liaison officer who acts as a full agent? That’s not how a liaison relationship is supposed to work. There are clear rules about classified intel,” Tina said, persistent.

“Well, maybe you can take it up with our director after this assignment is finished,” Tony said firmly, indicating the conversation was over.

Tina nodded; her face pinched.

“Tony,” Abby said, biting her lip, eyes troubled. “You need to watch your six in there. Ziva visited my lab the other day when you and Tim first came to Philadelphia. She was really upset that she was left behind, and she totally blamed you for it.”

“Of course, she did. Anything that doesn’t go Ziva’s way lately is my fault. Par for the course, but it has nothing to do with this operation,” Tony insisted.

Abby frowned. “Okay, I’ll drop it for now – but I need to know one thing. Did she ever actually invite you to her team dinner party?” she asked, pulling slightly on the hair on Tony’s chest in warning not to lie.

Tony winced, but his silence was all the answer Abby needed.

“When you decide to do something, I’m in,” she said fiercely. The air between them was heavy with the weight of their shared friendship.

Tina’s eyes bounced between the two of them, lost, but Tony couldn’t help feeling warmed by Abby’s steadfast support. Maybe there was an avenue to check on those files he’d found on Ziva’s computer, but he’d have to think about that later, when he had time to process. He couldn’t put Abby in any danger, and even with Ziva’s apparent loyalty to Gibbs, he didn’t trust Mossad. Ziva was first and foremost Mossad.

“You have the names of the other employees in the file I gave you yesterday, but there are two that Sully interacted with a lot. I don’t know if either was the one who blew his cover, or if his cover was actually blown, but you need to proceed with caution around them,” Tina said, tightly.

Tony could tell the weight of sending yet another operative into the same situation where she might’ve already lost one was weighing heavily on her. He knew how that felt. Sometimes, the responsibility for the lives of those around you could feel like an albatross around your neck.

“Matt Evans is in charge of security, and he’s suspicious of everyone, so tread carefully. Sully said he’s no fan of law enforcement. You’ll recognize him right away by the jagged scar that runs from his cheekbone down to his chin. Records show he was in a car accident, but that’s not the story he likes to spread,” Tina said.

“Can’t blame a man for embellishing, especially in his line of work. You can get a lot of dates that way,” Tony said.

“And embellish he does. You’ll probably like him, actually – he’s very charismatic,” Tina said.

Tony grinned wolfishly. “That sounds like a challenge. He’s going to have to step up his game when I get there.”

Tina rolled her eyes and ignored him. “The other one is harder to read. Lola Garcia serves drinks, and they call her their Texas Rose. Sully said she flirted with everyone, but he thought there was a sort of desperation beneath the surface. As far as I know, he never got an answer. Don’t be fooled by her apparent vulnerability,” Tina warned.

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” Tony said.

“That’s what they tell me, Cowboy, but it’s your first time working with me, so I’ll be the judge of that,” Tina replied.

“If Gibbs trusts Tony, there’s nothing to judge,” Abby said fiercely, glaring at Tina. She never took it well when an outsider questioned the team Abby considered her family.

“It’s all right, Abs. She wouldn’t be doing her job if she just trusted blindly. Isn’t that even a Gibbs rule?” Tony asked.

Abby’s expression softened as she contemplated, eventually nodding with fervor. “Rule Eight. You’re right. Okay then, but don’t forget the rule that overrides them all – never screw over your partner,” she said.

“Rules?” Tina asked, puzzled.

Gibbs has his own set of rules to live by – and they’re all designed to help us succeed,” he said. “And just so we’re clear – just because Sully trusted you doesn’t mean I do.”

“You have to trust someone,” Tina said.

“I trust Gibbs.”

At that moment, the artist entered the lab. He was short and wiry with a plethora of tattoos adorning his arms and fingers. Abby looked him over speculatively, and stood over his shoulder like a sentinel as he began his work. When Tony saw her shoulders relax and her face become animated, he knew it was going well. She and the artist chatted excitedly as he worked.

The morning was spent in the lab, going over both the layout and the other employees at the Vault. Tony got lost in the details, tuning out the fact some guy was drawing on is chest. He was almost startled when Abby finally pulled back from where she was leaning over the artist, beaming.

“It’s finished,” she said, delighted.

Tina stood up to take a look. “I’m impressed. It’s a perfect match.”

The artist smiled humbly, and Abby handed Tony a mirror.

Tim sat in the FBI conference room along with Ziva and Ron Sacks, arranging a schedule of shifts for those agents who would pose as patrons of the club. They needed to keep eyes on Tony during operating hours. Neither of the other two agents was happy with the assignment, and both were expressing their displeasure – repeatedly. Tim grew weary of listening to them complain and found himself wishing he could escape down to the lab to check how Tony’s tattoo was coming along.

He smirked, imagining Tony’s reaction to having to sit still for so long while someone drew on his skin. He knew the nearly hyperactive DiNozzo would find both difficult, and the part of him that Tony always made fun of wanted to get a little payback. It would be fun to see him squirm.

As of yet, Tim hadn’t done any undercover work, but he was hoping to get his feet wet on this assignment, even if it was as simple as posing as a bar patron. He felt disgruntled that he was never even considered for the role when undercover work came up. Even now, Ziva and Sacks were sniping back and forth about how each of them was the better option for Tony’s assignment, as if McGee wasn’t even in the room. He was a field agent – same as them – and he grit his teeth over the dismissal.

He really thought Ziva accepted him and appreciated his abilities, but she seemed to have dropped him like a hot potato now that Sacks was working with them. It was bringing all Tim’s insecurities to the forefront, and he’d thought he’d finally managed to get a grip on them.

“This club will be filled with beautiful women in skimpy clothing distracting him at every turn. He will not be able to keep his mind on work,” Ziva said.

“I’m aware that DiNozzo has a reputation with women, but Fornell insists he’s also a capable undercover operative,” Sacks said uncertainly.

“It is a well-deserved reputation. He cannot stop himself from chasing a skirt, and he has blown other operations because of his roving vision,” Ziva said peevishly, ignoring the second part of Sack’s statement.

Tim knew she was wrong about Tony blowing an operation, but he was too fed up with the both of them to dispute it. He didn’t bother correcting Ziva’s mangled interpretation of roving eye, either.

“And Gibbs allows it? Aren’t there complaints filed against him?” Sacks asked angrily.

“I doubt it. For some unfathomable reason, the women all seem to find him charming,” Ziva said, her voice dripping with disdain. “And not just the bimbys – women who should know better also fall for his childishness. It’s infuriating,” Ziva said, slamming the papers she was organizing back on the table.

“Er… what’s a bimby?” Sacks asked.

“She means bimbo,” McGee said wearily.

“Look, I know DiNozzo is full of himself, but I’m not covering for him if he can’t keep it in his pants and do his job,” Sacks said, seething.

“Tony can focus when he needs to. Gibbs wouldn’t trust him if he couldn’t,” Tim said, his mind flashing on the many head slaps the Senior Field Agent received.

“You cannot deny that he is completely inappropriate where women are concerned. He is a clown with no training. He would not survive one day in Mossad,” Ziva said.

Tim couldn’t deny that Tony’s penchant for pranks and putdowns wore on his nerves, as well, but if Mossad was the bar, Tim didn’t think he’d survive a day, either.

“We just have to do our job, or Gibbs’ll be all over us,” Tim said, wondering if Ziva was going to keep this up during the whole assignment.

Maybe he could arrange a few shifts with Gibbs – better yet, put Gibbs with Ziva, and Tim could partner with Sacks.

“I still think Tony should wear a wire. It is more difficult for us to know exactly what is happening with eyes only, and we will not know when he needs to be redirected,” Ziva said.

“Can’t. Too likely a wire will be discovered, and the bar is noisy. We had eyes only on Agent Sullivan, as well,” Sacks said.

“And look where that got him. Perhaps Tony will suffer the same fate,” Ziva said.

The hackles on the back of Tim’s neck rose because he didn’t think Ziva sounded very concerned if that was the outcome. It had to just be her phrasing, though. She often messed up how she said things, and he was sure she didn’t mean it the way it sounded.

Mostly sure.

“That’s why Gibbs trusts us to have his six,” Tim said firmly lest Sacks misconstrued her meaning.

“Oh, come on, McGee. You cannot be happy with these assignments, either. You are far more intelligent and qualified than Tony, yet he always boars the best jobs for himself. He is desperate for attention,” Ziva said.

“The expression is hogs, not boars, Ziva. You’re right, though. Tony does like the spotlight, but you’re forgetting – he’s the only one of us who has bartending experience,” Tim said.

“I could’ve done it. I was going to until NCIS interfered,” Sacks said bitterly.

“Were you not just telling me the other day how you want some undercover experience, McGee? That will be much harder to get with Tony always putting you down,” Ziva said.

Tim pressed his lips together. She wasn’t wrong, but he wished she wouldn’t share these feelings with Sacks.

Not only did Tim feel left out by their newfound camaraderie, but there was also the growing concern that Ziva was only adding fuel to Sacks’ opinion that Tony was a criminal. Even with all the evidence showing otherwise, Sacks held onto his belief that Tony killed and dismembered that woman. DiNozzo was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a killer. Ziva knew this, but she must be really mad about not getting to go undercover since she wasn’t refuting Sacks’ impression at all. In fact, she was feeding into it.

It was making Tim uncomfortable.

“Someone get this walking Ken doll out of my way,” Tina Kehoe’s impatient voice travelled into the conference room.

Tim, Ziva, and Sacks all turned to see her trying to push a preening DiNozzo aside. He wore a T-shirt and held his overshirt slung over his arm so the top of his new tatt was prominently displayed. It was green and black with intricate lines revealing the tip of the cross.

A beaming Abby walked alongside Tony, who was clearly strutting. Tina finally shoved him to the side and approached her office, where Gibbs stood in the doorway.

“Abby! What are you doing here?” Tim blurted.

“Keeping DiNozzo focused,” Gibbs said. “Took you long enough.”

“That’s because he refused to sit still for longer than thirty seconds at a time,” Tina said, pushing one of the longer strands of her hair behind her ear.

“You got a whole thirty seconds?” Gibbs asked, using his coffee cup to hide his grin.

“That hurts, Boss. I think you’re all forgetting what’s really important – and that’s how good I make it look,” Tony said, grinning.

“You do look fantastic – enough to make you consider getting a real one?” Abby asked hopefully.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Let’s not go that far. Besides, you took enough pictures. That should satisfy your need to see my ink.”

“Tony doesn’t handle pain well, Abs. He could never handle sitting for a real one,” Tim said, smirking.

“That’s right, Timmy. Yours is real, and it looks great,” Abby said.

“You have a tattoo, McGee?” Ziva asked, frowning as her eyes examined him up and down.

“Yeah, but you didn’t actually sit for it, did you, McExhibitionist? More like you were lying on your tummy with your butt in the air,” Tony said.

Tim felt his face coloring.

“You have a tattoo on your ass?” Ziva asked.

“Agent McGee’s tattoo isn’t relevant. Does that one match Redman’s exactly?” Sacks asked, jerking his head toward Tony.

“It’s a perfect match,” Abby replied.

“It took longer than I expected, so we need to get everyone in place. You’re due to arrive at the club in a couple hours,” Tina said.

“Are you sure you’ve read everything we have on Redman – even the new stuff gained from our conversations with him in custody?” Sacks asked.

“I know who I’m playing – and if I get stuck, I’ll just give ‘em the ole Razzle Dazzle, style over substance like Richard Gere in Chicago. He did a great job, even though he can’t really sing,” Tony said.

“Tony, this is not a movie,” Ziva snapped.

“You’d better be able to come up with something better than a musical. These aren’t amateurs,” Sacks said, lip curled.

“Relax, Slacks. I know what I’m doing. You’re wound so tight you probably produce a diamond every time you have a bowel movement,” Tony said. “Redman is more laid back.”

Sacks clenched his fists and took a step forward, “Laid back doesn’t mean incapable of taking anything seriously – like you.”

“You done?” Gibbs asked, breaking up the oncoming fray. “We’ve got work to do.”

“Thank you,” Tina said, pointing her finger towards her office and indicating Tony should go inside. “I have your bogus credentials.”

“Ah, Tina – You Better be Good to Me,” Tony said, flashing his teeth.

Tina rolled her eyes and shoved him again, but Tim saw a reluctant grin as she followed Tony into her office. Maybe she liked the Tina Turner references more than she’d admitted.

Chapter 10: Kokomo

Chapter Text

With a flourish and a sultry smile, Tony placed two drinks in front of the lovely ladies sitting across from him. They giggled and chorused their thanks, tucking a generous tip into his hand as he moved to the next customer. He was aware they were watching his backside as he walked to the other end of the bar. He’d worn the tight-fitting jeans for just that reason. Falling into his alias’s life came easy, and he found he was enjoying it. The atmosphere was fun, and the scenery wasn’t bad, either. He’d noticed that in the week since he’d started working, the female customers sitting at the bar had nearly doubled.

His employers had noticed it, too. They seemed quite pleased with his presence since the more women a club attracted, it guaranteed the men would follow. Tony was always up for playing to a crowd.

That’s not to say he’d forgotten the real reason he was there, but he did like to exaggerate the flirting when either Sacks or Ziva was observing in the crowd. Needling them was so enjoyable. He could practically feel Ziva’s eyes boring a hole into his back every time he focused on the women, and if one happened to slip a phone number into his pocket, well, that would just make steam blow out her ears.

There had been three card games in the back room during his week at the club, but they’d kept him well away from them. A pair of the waitresses were assigned to running drinks back and forth, so Tony wasn’t able to overhear anything. He carefully observed those entering the room, however.

He’d worked undercover long enough to know that the first and most difficult step was always to earn the trust of his mark. It took skill and finesse – but most of all patience – to tweak circ*mstances in his favor. He always enjoyed playing the role. Hollywood didn’t know what they were missing when he’d decided to enter law enforcement. It’s why he generally approached undercover work with eager anticipation and a touch of anxious trepidation. Things could go pear-shaped in a hurry.

He knew he’d gone into this assignment with more anxiousness than he should, but he couldn’t help dwelling on the fact that in the week he’d spent earning some trust, it was a week that Sully remained captive.

If he was still alive.

Tony had to tamp down on his instinct to rush. It wouldn’t do Sully any good if he moved too quickly, but the thought of what they might be doing to his former mentor was keeping him up at night with a sick feeling of dread in his belly.

There was a homestyle diner not too far from the club where he’d made a habit of grabbing a bite to eat before his shifts. When necessary, Gibbs, Fornell, or Tina would meet him there covertly, so he could hand off the list of names he’d taken from credit card receipts. So far, there hadn’t been a lot to go on. He could feel Gibbs’ impatience growing – his boss never did waiting well – but he also sensed his concern.

He hoped Gibbs’ gut wasn’t telling him anything disastrous was coming. More likely, it was probably apprehension from previous undercover work Tony had done since joining NCIS. He did have a knack for getting into trouble. Just recently, he had the crap beat out of him when he’d been posing as a married assassin, and there was always that fubar when he’d been on the run with a serial killer. Of course, they hadn’t known Jeffrey White was a killer then. The focus had been more on his partner, Lane Danielson, as the bigger threat.

Tony’s palms grew slick just thinking about it. One of the two art thieves had drugged him the night he’d spent with them, and to this day, he didn’t recall anything until he woke up the next morning. Usually, he didn’t sleep deeply when he was undercover, and he never would’ve accepted a drink from Danielson if he could’ve avoided it. What escaped prisoner would turn down a shot after gaining his freedom though? Danielson waited there and watched him swallow.

Tony tried to convince himself that it was White who’d put the drugs in the booze in order to kill Danielson without Tony ever being the wiser. Still, it tickled at the back of his mind that it could’ve been Danielson who had other things in mind.

He shuddered, supposing he’d never know for sure, and it was better that way. He couldn’t continue to do his job if he dwelled on a past mistake. Sully deserved more than that. He pushed the lingering disquiet from his mind, and focused on the here and now.

Another card game was scheduled. He’d seen a number of customers enter the room, including Vito Santino, the man Sully identified as a regular. Tony hoped he’d get the chance to slip inside. His employers had certainly relaxed around him due to the fact he was drawing in business. The owner of the club, Dave Barrows was also in-house, but Tony hadn’t seen him re-emerge after he’d entered the back room.

“Hey, Cody, can you give me a couple towels? I spilled a drink,” Lola Garcia, one of the waitresses asked, using his alias.

She looked flustered and rather harassed, wisps of wavy brown hair escaping from her ponytail. Lola tended to drop a lot of drinks, but she also was a big flirt, and the customers liked her. Tina warned him that Lola was close to Sully while he was undercover, so she was one to watch.

“Sure,” he said, reaching under the bar yet coming up empty. “Hang on, I need to restock.”

He jerked his head at one of the other bartenders, indicating he was going into the stockroom. Once inside, he reached up to a higher shelf in order to grab a large stack of hand towels. He nearly dropped them when he felt a hand cup his backside as he stretched to reach.

Lola had followed him.

“Did I tell you that you have a nice ass?” she asked, grinning impishly.

Tony could imagine the outrage on both Ziva and Sacks’ faces and what they thought was happening in the stock room. As Tina’s hand slid around his hip and came closer around front, Tony quickly turned and held the towels between them, giving her a few off the top of the stack.

“Do I now? Are you an ass-woman, L-O-L-A Lola?” he asked, leering.

“I can be anything you want,” she purred, lowering her eyelashes. “I owe you one, anyway.”

If he wasn’t undercover, he might’ve appreciated the attention. There was something about her that didn’t quite sit right, however. He suspected she was involved with the club’s owner, but he often saw her leaving with customers. Just the night before, he’d stopped one who’d grabbed her arm and wouldn’t let go despite her struggles. She’d been his best friend ever since. There was something going on with her, but he wasn’t sure it was connected to their case.

“What the hell is taking you so long?” Matt Evans, the lead bouncer asked, storming into the stockroom. He was a huge, bulking hulk of a man with a jagged scar down one side of his face. “We’ve got a load of customers out there.”

His eyes darted back and forth between Lola and Tony suspiciously. She still had her hand clasped possessively on his arm.

“I just needed a towel, and Cody reached them for me,” Lola said nervously, taking her towels and scurrying out of the room, giving Matt a wide berth.

“Sorry, man,” Tony said, shrugging while smirking guiltily.

Matt’s demeanor relaxed, and he grinned. “Do it on your own time, man,” he said.

Tony followed Matt back into the noisy bar. No harm in letting him think they’d snuck back there for a tryst; Tony could use that cover later if he got caught anywhere that he wasn’t supposed to be.

As he retook his spot behind the bar, he noticed Ziva and Slacks conversing at the far end. Ziva’s jaw clenched, but otherwise they kept their cover of bar patrons. As he continued to make drinks, Amused, Tony imagined the tirade Ziva would unleash upon after the night was through, particularly since he knew she’d seen Lola follow him into the stockroom. For a trained spy, she let her emotions rule far too easily.

Tony knew McGee was also somewhere in the crowd since he’d seen him when they first arrived. Those three along with several other FBI agents had been rotating shifts so they had eyes on Tony every night. He knew that at least one of the agents inside the club would have an earwig so the agents stationed outside could alert them of any potential suspects entering. It had been a dull week, and he hoped it didn’t mean the detail of agents were letting their guard down. He knew it tended to happen when progress slowed. The two at the bar were certainly paying close attention, however.

Although Tony had his issues with Ziva, he wasn’t thrilled with Sacks as a back-up, either. It hadn’t been all that long ago that the FBI agent stood outside Tony’s cell, leaning against the wall, and taunting him about his predicament. Sacks was convinced he was guilty, and apparently, he really had a thing against dirty cops. He was elated after Tony was arrested, gleefully informing him of the gruesome fate of cops once they were incarcerated.

Tony was already stuck in his own head without Sacks’ input after being locked up for two nights, and the taunting did nothing for his state of mind. He’d forever hold a grudge against the other agent for that. Thankfully, now that he’d been cleared and released, he had the whole wide-open future to torture the FBI flunky.

And he delighted in doing it.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the door to the back room close, and he figured the game had begun. He needed to find a way to get inside that room. Keeping an eye out, he worked his way down the bar, refilling drinks and charming the ladies. At last, he reached the end where Ziva and Sacks were seated. Sacks raised his glass, indicating he needed a refill. On the nights they were there, Tony gave them water rather than the vodka they ordered.

“Ready for a refill?” he asked cheerfully.

“We have been ready for quite some time, but it took you forever,” Ziva said, enjoying the opportunity to give him a hard time.

“Sorry, ma’am – the bar is really hopping tonight, and I can only be one place at a time,” Tony replied, fully aware how much Ziva hated being called ma’am.

Her eyes flashed furiously. The bar was crowded and noisy, so they most likely wouldn’t be overheard, but Tony used their agreed upon code, letting them know he hadn’t gained access to the back room yet.

“Yes, it is quite the crowd. Is there something special happening here tonight?” Ziva asked.

“Not that I’m aware, but people like to celebrate occasions,” Tony replied, wiping the bar in front of them.

Pretending to pay for their drinks, Sacks put some money in Tony’s hand, along with a small, black object beneath the bills.

“Yes, with the crowd it’s hard to hear ourselves think,” he said in a low voice, alerting Tony that Fornell had decided he wanted ears in the room.

Tony knew their patience wouldn’t last for long. Both Fornell and Gibbs were results driven. He held up a few napkins, raising an eyebrow at Ziva.

“Yes, I’ll take one, just stick it somewhere,” she said, smirking.

Tony grinned. “I know just where I’d like to stick it,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and moving away from them.

As he put the cash in the register, he palmed the small, unobtrusive device and slipped it into his pocket. It wouldn’t do any good if he couldn’t get into that room. Perhaps he could make Lola spill another drink and take her place serving them the next time she placed an order.

His opportunity came about an hour later when the owner, Dave Barrows emerged and strode purposefully toward the bar.

“Cody, we have quite a crowd tonight, and I need someone to man the bar inside the card room,” he said.

Tony nodded. “I’m on it,” he said, following Barrows back through the mystery door.

The room was better lit than the bar and filled with people around a large card table. There were stacks of poker chips stacked in front of the players. High stakes. Tony covertly calculated which players were winning and which were losing. He slipped behind a small drink stand and began filling orders. As he did, he noticed there was one man with whom Barrows was attempting to have an intense conversation, but he kept being interrupted by the man’s date. She repeatedly tried to draw the other man’s attention back to her with her inane chatter. Barrows was clearly frustrated with the interference.

Aside from the game at the main table, there were several other, smaller tables, most likely used for private conversations. He could see the bouncer, Matt Evans, arguing with a midshipman at one of them. He was leaning over the table with a fierce expression, intimidating the sailor. Looking sour, Vito Santini walked away from them both and rejoined the main table.

Tony didn’t recognize the man Barrows was trying to engage from any of Sully’s photos, but he instinctively knew why he’d been asked to come inside the room. He brought a drink over, leaning between the man and his date.

“Don’t you look lovely tonight,” he said, giving the woman his winningest smile.

Her eyes lit up from the attention, and she immediately fumbled with her purse, dropping it on the floor in her haste. Tony knelt down and picked up her scattered belongings. How did she manage to fit so much in such a small bag? While he was doing so, he succeeded in sticking the small listening device to the bottom of the table. The darkness of the wood camouflaged it perfectly.

“Here, it’s all dirty. Let me wipe this down for you,” Tony said consolingly, taking the purse and gallantly steering her toward the drink stand.

He made a show of wiping the dainty bag, chattering with her all the while. From the corner of his eye, he saw Barrows give him a slight nod.

Tony knew he couldn’t leave the device there for long, but it would be easy enough to pull it off once it was time to clean up. It would be too risky to leave it considering it was the first time he’d been invited to the back room. That would be too much of a coincidence if it was discovered. Hopefully, Gibbs would hear something relevant tonight.

“I don’t know why Pete insists on playing cards all the time. It’s sooo boring,” his vacuous guest pouted. Her lips were painted a bright red, and her wide blue eyes stared up at him beseechingly.

“I can’t understand how he’d rather look at cards when he has someone as pretty as you to look at instead,” Tony said, handing her back her purse.

She beamed. “I’m Stephanie. I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Cody, but you can call me Code Red,” he said, winking. “I just started last week.”

“Code Red, huh?” she asked, giggling. “That fits since you came to my rescue.”

“Do you come to the card games often?” he asked.

“Not by choice. I’d much rather stay out in the bar and dance. Pete never wants to dance,” Stephanie huffed.

“How’d you meet Pete?” he asked.

Tony kept one eye on the card table while distracting his chatty guest. He knew his excessive dating habits would come in useful one day. It wasn’t as if he had to do much to entertain her. She talked non-stop – even more than him. All he had to do was nod and sympathize on occasion. As the night progressed, a few other patrons approached the bar stand, and Tony engaged them in conversation, including Stephanie as well. He could tell that Dave Barrows was pleased with his performance.

Hopefully, that would lead to future admittance into the exclusive back room.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Matt Evans leaving with the sailor, pushing him along if he faltered. There was no way Tony could get closer to that conversation, however, so he hoped Sacks and Ziva would take notice once they entered the main bar.

When closing time eventually rolled around, the card games came to an end. Stephanie gave Tony a peck on the cheek as her date finally paid attention to her again. He gave Tony a cold, calculating stare before the pair left the room without a look back. Tony’s trained eye noticed the weapon that briefly flashed when Pete stood up.

“You did well. I appreciate the distraction so I could get some business done,” Barrows said briefly, clapping Tony on the back. He turned and began guiding some of the other lingering guests from the room.

Picking up a damp towel, Tony wiped down the bar stand, then moved over to the gaming table, careful not to draw attention. While he wiped it down, he was able to surreptitiously reach underneath and grasp the listening device he’d planted there. Before he was able to slip it into his pocket, however, he felt a hand grasp his bicep.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Matt Evans asked, his hulking frame uncomfortably close.

Heart hammering, Tony remained outwardly calm, curling his fingers over the device. It felt as if it were burning a hole in his palm.

“Uhm… I’m wiping down the table,” he said as if it were obvious.

“Not in here. Go out and take care of the main bar,” Matt said gruffly. “Boss wants everyone out of this room.”

Tony nodded, keeping the listening device concealed in his hand as he left. He felt Matt’s eyes still watching him, so he took particular care not to hurry. Once he was back in the main bar, he released the breath he’d been holding. He could see that the customers had been cleared out already. He glanced over to the spot where Sacks and Ziva had been. They were gone, but he could see a handbag resting in the corner next to their empty bar stools.

He'd never seen Ziva use a handbag in the few months he’d known her, but he’d bet it was there so he could get rid of the listening device. Most likely, Ziva would return to claim her missing bag. The trick would be placing the bug inside unnoticed. As he began strolling towards it, one of the other bartenders noticed it and picked it up.

“Got another one,” he said, moving toward the stockroom where they kept a box for lost and found items.

Tony continued in the direction he was going so he wouldn’t raise any suspicion and began clearing bottles from several of the tables. He managed to slip the bug in his pocket, but he felt as if it was a beacon drawing imagined attention to his hip. He had to get rid of it. After he’d spent some time cleaning like the rest of the staff, participating in the after-hours chatter that typically happened while they prepared to close, he managed to slip inside the stockroom unnoticed.

Breathing out his rising tension, he pulled the listening device from his pocket. He found it ironic that such a small, unobtrusive device had the potential to wreak such havoc.

“Pete Warren,” he said in a low voice before slipping the device inside Ziva’s bag, giving them the full name of the gambler Barrows had been engaging. Stephanie gave him more info on her boyfriend, but he figured as long as they had the name, McGee could do a background check.

Tony smirked. “With the number of handbags I’ve held tonight, I should’ve had a role in Clueless,” he mumbled.

Wanting to get back to the bar before anyone noticed he was missing, he moved quickly toward the door. Before he reached it, however, he heard a low moan coupled with a rough, scratching sound coming from behind some shelving.

He paused, his body on high alert as he tried to block the sounds from the bar and focus only on his immediate surroundings. A low groan filled the room.

Checking to be sure no one was about to enter the stockroom; he moved in the direction of the sound. As he rounded the corner of the shelving, he heard it again, and it sounded as if it was coming from the floor beneath a large, wooden, whisky barrel. Putting some muscle into it, he slid the heavy barrel out of the way. The outline of a trap door was revealed on the scuff-marked floor.

Glancing around cautiously, knowing his absence would be noticed at any minute, he pulled the handle and felt his heart drop into his stomach.

There was a set of decaying wooden steps leading down to some sort of wine cellar, and at the top of those stairs was the sailor he’d seen in the card room. He was bloody and beaten, and his fingers were rubbed raw from trying to get the hatch opened.

“sh*t,” Tony muttered, reaching down, and pulling the sailor out and to his feet.

The man couldn’t support his own weight, and he leaned heavily against Tony’s side, his head drooping. There was no time to explore what else was in the cellar, because he had to get the sailor out without being seen. If this was their next victim, he knew the man’s fate, and he couldn’t allow it to happen. He needed to facilitate an escape without blowing his cover.

Tony dragged the semi-conscious man across the floor to the back entrance, knowing it led out to the lot behind the club. He and McGee had canvassed the area before he’d even gone undercover. His labored breathing and the sailor’s grunts sounded excessively loud in the stillness of the room.

Tony pushed the door open, cringing at the creak and getting a full blast of the icy air outside. He knew that if he went outside, the door would automatically lock behind him, and he’d be stuck. They’d both end up getting caught that way.

Reaching into the lost and found box that was on the shelf behind him, he grabbed a sweater. It belonged to a woman, but beggars can’t be choosers. He wrapped it around the sailor’s shoulders as best he could and shook him, bringing him around slightly.

“On your feet, Sailor,” he barked, keeping his voice low but firm. “You’re going to have to help rescue yourself. You need to walk across the lot and hide behind one of those cars. Help is coming. Can you do that?”

The sailor’s eyes opened wide as he struggled to comprehend. His pupils were dilated, but he was used to taking orders. He nodded weakly, seeming to gather his strength. Feeling wretched for doing it, Tony pushed him out the door and shut it tightly behind him. He pushed the wine barrel back into place and again reached into the lost and found box to grab Ziva’s purse. He fumbled around inside until he located the bug.

“Medivac needed behind club ASAP,” he said urgently, dropping it back inside and hurrying back to the inside door.

Attempting to control his rapid heart rate, he peered around to ensure no one was looking, straightened himself, and emerged as casually as he was able. A pair of arms grabbed him instantly, pulling him around the corner towards the bathrooms and pressing warm lips against his own.

Tony wasn’t known for being good undercover for nothing. He immediately realized it was Lola, and he began kissing her back passionately. Not a second later, Matt Evans came around the corner, spotting them once again.

“All right, you two – get a room. We’ll finish up, but you’d better be ready to work tomorrow,” he said, eyeing them both lasciviously.

He clearly thought he’d once again caught them in a tryst. Tony grabbed Lola’s hand and quickly moved toward the front entrance. It would be good to get out of there before the missing sailor was discovered. By leaving while the bar was still full of staff, it put less suspicion on him.

They grabbed their coats and rushed outside into the wintery night air. Tony thought he was going to have to come up with some excuse to hold Lola off, but she surprised him by speaking first.

“You seem like a nice guy, Cody – don’t let them put you in a position to owe them,” she said seriously.

“Do you owe them?” he asked.

Her expression was incredibly sad. “We’re even now,” she said before turning and quickly walking away, her heels leaving spiky prints in the snow.

Tony watched her go, debating if he should follow. Something held him back, perhaps Tina’s warning that she’d been one of those close to Sully. If she was responsible for his disappearance, she now knew Tony had been in the stockroom, and she already suspected he was up to something.

If she was in on whatever was going on, she’d learn about the disappearance of the captive sailor, and she could blow his cover. It was a huge risk, but one he thought worth taking. He didn’t want to be pulled from the assignment, so he decided to keep their run-in to himself for now. He’d have to be on guard when he returned to work tomorrow night. With that, he began the short trek to the dingy apartment he was using for his cover. He never expected he’d be longing for the warmth and comfort of a Holiday Inn.

Chapter 11: Bad Blood

Chapter Text

FBI Special Agent Tina Kehoe arrived in her office promptly at eight o’clock AM. She sat behind her desk and secured her weapon in the bottom drawer. Folding a few napkins into precise squares, she created a make-shift coaster for her morning coffee.

It had been a late, eventful night, and she felt a bit worn down this morning. They’d all been pleased when DiNozzo successfully managed to plant a listening device into the back room at last, but that euphoria was tempered when his tense voice alerted them of the need for medical assistance outside the club.

Tina was monitoring the feed, and she immediately called dispatch who promptly sent a patrol car to the area. They’d discovered a beaten and delirious midshipman crouched in a parking lot behind the Vault Tavern. The unfortunate sailor was transported to a local hospital, but as of yet, he hadn’t regained consciousness. Agents Fornell and Gibbs were waiting for the opportunity to question him, as well as keeping guard on his room. They didn’t know exactly how he was connected, but the fact he was a sailor and had been inside the club was enough to warrant caution.

Before all the chaos ensued, they’d been able to hear a few names and some random details from the card game. Agent McGee was running background checks on Pete Warren and a few of the other names they’d overheard. Agent Sacks and Officer David planned on returning to the club as soon as it was occupied to retrieve the missing handbag. Hopefully, Agent DiNozzo realized it was left behind in order for him to discard the listening device. Otherwise, its presence could blow his cover.

Agent Gibbs assured her without hesitation that DiNozzo would catch on. Planting the bug was risky, but it was a calculated risk, and the upside was strong. It’d already paid off. By the time he was rescued, the midshipman had mild hypothermia; he more than likely would’ve frozen to death if they hadn’t found him so quickly. That was all down to Agent DiNozzo’s quick thinking. Tina could only imagine the amount of stress he must’ve been under.

Sighing, Tina pulled a stack of folders from her desk and proceeded to put them back in proper order. She’d always found that a color-coded system offered quick and easy access to whatever information she was seeking. Unfortunately, with all the extra personnel now inhabiting the Philadelphia office, her usually organized files were in chaos.

The detail work kept her mind busy and didn’t allow her to dwell on her concern for Sully and Agent DiNozzo. He’d rescued the sailor, but they were all apprehensive about what would happen at the club when they opened that evening. Would his efforts be discovered, or would they think the sailor had escaped on his own?

Fornell ordered an extra shift of agents located outside the club, just in case there were problems and a fast extraction became necessary. Tina hoped their injured sailor would awake soon and tell them something they could use for a warrant, or at least to bring a few suspects in for questioning. Sully had been missing for over a week, and her stomach was in knots worrying if they’d find him alive, and what kind of shape he’d be in if they did.

Both of the guest Senior Agents working this case acted as if their only concern was solving it, and the agents involved were secondary. Tina knew differently. Agent Gibbs, in particular, was the poster child of a battle-scarred warrior – cold, detached, intense. He kept his concern for his agent well-concealed. His rigid posture and severe hair-cut screamed military, and his frosty, laser-focused stare tended to wilt anyone under its scrutiny. Beneath it all, however, Tina detected a man who cared very much for his people, and he’d move heaven and earth to protect them. She wasn’t sure what made him so wary of showing any emotion, but she was certain he had his reasons.

Tina hadn’t started her career in law enforcement. The daughter of an Army general, she’d spent her early years moving from base to base, her life forced into rigid conformity. As a young, obstinate, bull-headed young woman, she wanted to break free and run in the opposite direction. She became a psychologist, hoping to help people stuck in the same rut as her own family seemed to be.

Time and maturity softened her rebelliousness, and made her realize some of her own personality traits were far more rigid than she’d once believed. Eventually, after a bit of soul-searching, and the realization she wanted to do more, she joined the FBI. Her psychological profiling abilities made her an asset, and she’d even been offered a job in the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit.

She’d turned it down, however. The BAU flew all over the country, solving some of the most heinous crimes. Tina had a family, and she liked being stationed in one area with the ability to attend school functions and parent/teacher conferences on occasion. Although she did work a lot of overtime when she had a hot case, she fortunately had a husband with more regular hours, so they could make it work.

After she’d been promoted to Senior Agent in the Philadelphia office, she’d tried to make it a point not to do psychological workups of her co-workers. It caused a few problems earlier in her career, so she usually tried to keep the profiling strictly to the criminals.

NCIS and the guest agents currently sharing her space, however, were fair game – and SSA Gibbs, in particular, fascinated her. She could write a thesis on him alone.

Although Gibbs was younger, she recognized some of her father’s characteristics in him. He oozed a rigid Military demeanor – used to taking charge, used to giving orders, used to being obeyed.

His team literally jumped when he demanded answers. In giving orders, he used as few words as possible, preferring a grunt or a nod instead of actually speaking. His team anticipated what he wanted, and all of them seemed very competitive with one another to be the first to satisfy his demands. There was a nuance of a threat about him, and Tina noticed that it affected everyone in his vicinity – herself included.

She also detected a sadness and loneliness hidden deep beneath the gruff exterior. A man of few words, he seemed to choose them very carefully, giving nothing of his inner demons away. Her father also strived to never reveal his emotions.

Still, there were differences from her dad that didn’t jive with any of the military men she’d come across throughout her life. Gibbs didn’t respect authority. He seemed to operate under his own set of rules, acting as judge, jury and executioner while expecting everyone else to fall in line. She’d first thought it was simply a mistrust of the FBI – most government agencies thought all the others inferior, but she’d overheard a conservation with his own director that bordered on insubordinate.

Tony and Abby both made a few vague comments about Officer David’s insubordination. With Gibbs as her lead, Tina could see why she thought she could get away with it. Officer David was another one who intrigued Tina. Besides the questionable role as liaison officer, Ziva didn’t appear to feel the rules applied to her if she didn’t agree with them. She’d go off and do her own thing after specifically being asked to do something else, particularly if it was Fornell or Tina doing the asking.

Her attitude toward Agent DiNozzo was particularly hostile. Tina knew that Ziva wanted to be the one undercover, but the seething jealousy that she didn’t hide very well seemed over-the-top for an assignment that specifically required impersonation of a living male.

Here in the office, Ziva only wanted to partner with Gibbs when the tasks were assigned and became belligerent when she was directed elsewhere. Tina also noticed she didn’t do a thorough job unless Gibbs was in the room to see it.

Tina wasn’t sure if this was a result of the competitive team environment that Gibbs created, or if Gibbs was the only one Ziva respected. There certainly was an undercurrent of something between them. She’d seen Gibbs whack DiNozzo and McGee on the back of their heads – something that had more than shocked her when it first happened – but he was atypically tolerant of Ziva. He allowed her to get away with things she suspected he wouldn’t allow from any of the others.

She was so perplexed that she’d actually looked into the specific definition of a government liaison officer. Ziva completely overstepped the restrictions of that diplomatic role and instead acted as a full-fledged agent. Not only as a US agent, but gave no heed to the fact she was the most junior member of her team.

And Gibbs allowed it.

Tina didn’t have the time to really dig into the situation, and she knew it was beyond the scope of her own authority, but the brief hint of disquiet spoken between Tony and Abby was like a persistent drip of water, splattering relentlessly in the back of her mind.

There was more going on here than met the eye.

The final member of the NCIS group seemed to get lost amongst all the type-A personalities of the rest of his team. Agent Timothy McGee had a brilliant mind, and she’d already seen how he aided the investigation. He saved a lot of time with the computer skills that seemed to come so naturally to him. In some ways, he reminded her of Agent Sacks. Both were bright, essentially good guys, but rather inflexible and unable to adapt from their first impressions.

The difference was that Agent Sacks had the same type-A personality as the rest of the MCRT. Tim came across as indecisive and hesitant, but Tina suspected it was simply that his mind took longer to process all the data he was being given. Still, he could be too pliable and wouldn’t stand his ground when confronted – particularly if it was Officer David doing the confronting.

The liaison seemed to know exactly how to play two of the other members of her team. Tina wasn’t sure how the dynamic with Agent DiNozzo worked simply because she hadn’t been able to observe any of their interaction while he was undercover. She suspected, however, that Tony hadn’t fallen in line the way Ziva expected, and that’s where her frustration derived.

Tina had just put the final misplaced paper into its correct folder when Agent Gibbs came striding into her office as if he owned it. He put his coffee cup down on the surface of her desk.

“Is our rescued sailor awake?” she asked, pressing her lips together.

Gibbs shook his head. “I grabbed some shuteye. I’m going to relieve Fornell to do the same. Any progress?”

She’d noticed that Gibbs tended to use more words when speaking to Fornell, and he’d begun showing her the same courtesy – to an extent. She wasn’t sure if it was because he’d decided she was trustworthy, or if he simply trusted Fornell’s judgement. It led more credence to Agent DiNozzo’s assertion that they were friendlier than they let on.

“Nothing that would give us enough to get a warrant,” she said, unable to stop her eyes from straying to his coffee cup.

Unable to stop herself, she took one of the folded napkins from beneath her own cup and placed it underneath Gibbs,’ wiping away the ring it had left on her desk. She was irritated by the trace of a smirk that crossed his face.

“Boss! I think I have something,” Tim McGee said, rushing into Tina’s office.

Gibbs simply looked at him. McGee was bouncing on his toes with an air of barely suppressed excitement.

“Do you want me to guess?” Gibbs barked.

McGee shook his head. “Yes – I mean no. No, Boss,” Tim said, spluttering. “Peter Warren – the guy at the card game that Dave Barrows was speaking with – he lives right here in Philadelphia. His son was dishonorably discharged from the Navy for drug use about three years ago.”

“Just like Barrows,” Tina said.

“Except the son did time. Pete is an engineer by trade, although not at NSWC,” Tim said.

“But he’d know how to sabotage a ship if he had the plans of their weapon systems,” Gibbs said, troubled.

“So, you think this Pete Warren is actually the ring leader? How does Barrows fit in?” Tina asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Gibbs said.

“What are you going to do?” Tim asked.

“I’m going to talk to that sailor,” Gibbs said.

“Did the doctors think he’d be awake by today?” Tina asked.

“Doctors never commit to anything,” Gibbs replied.

“So, how are you going to talk to him?” she asked, confused.

“Let me know as soon as Ziva retrieves that bug. Even if we do get enough for a warrant, I don’t want anyone going in until our people are clear,” Gibbs said, ignoring the question.

“What about DiNozzo? Should I meet up with him at the diner and warn him?” she asked.

Gibbs shook his head. “Too risky after the sailor’s escape,” Gibbs said, his icy eyes revealing concern.

“And we don’t know if he’s being watched,” Tim added.

Gibbs nodded curtly and left the room.

“Good work, Agent McGee,” Tina said. “Did you get a hit on any of the other names at the poker game?”

Tim shook his head. “One of them also works at NSWC, but he didn’t lose anything. Barrows did say that Vito Santino paid off more of his debt. He won big for the club last night.”

“So, Sully and DiNozzo were onto something thinking he was paying off his gambling debt working for Barrows,” Tina mused.

“Looks that way. Tony is pretty good at pulling random clues out of the air and then having them somehow pan out,” Tim said. “I’ve never figured out how he does it.”

Tina grinned sadly. “Sully is like that, too.”

Tim put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find him, Agent Kehoe,” he said awkwardly, quickly pulling his hand away when she looked at it.

Tina nodded, “I hope so, Tim.”

“Was that just Gibbs I saw in the parking lot? Where is he going?” Ziva demanded, entering Tina’s office with Agent Sacks following closely in her wake.

Surprise filtered across his face, and he looked rather embarrassed by Ziva’s rude entry.

“Yeah. He just went to the hospital to see if our victim is awake,” Tim said. “He wants you to check in as soon as you’ve retrieved your handbag.”

“Why did he not wait until I arrived and tell me this himself?” she asked, frowning.

Tim opened his mouth to respond, but Tina beat him to it. “Perhaps because it was a simple enough order to pass along,” she said.

Ziva’s eyes narrowed. “Gibbs usually tells us what he wants us to do directly,” she said. “There is no chance of misinterpretation this way.”

“Did we learn anything from the taped conservation at the poker table?” Ron Sacks asked, ignoring Ziva’s discontent.

“Why don’t you fill them both in, Agent McGee, then they can head over to the club. There should be someone in after noontime if they follow their pattern,” Tina said.

“Will do,” Tim replied, jerking his head for the others to follow.

“I do not see why we should waste our time watching an empty building. I am sure there is something more important to be done before the club opens,” Ziva said.

“Since you’re waiting to retrieve your handbag, and they would’ve seen you both together at the club last night, you have a legitimate reason to be in the parking lot. I’m sure there will be added activity there once they notice their missing sailor – so you might learn something,” Tina said.

Ziva frowned. “I still do not see why–”

“That’s an order, Officer David,” Tina said sharply.

“I do not work for you; therefore, I do not follow your orders,” Ziva said.

McGee’s eyes traveled warily between the two women. “Ah, Ziva,” he said hesitantly, “that’s exactly what Gibbs said he wanted you to do, That way, if we’re able to get a warrant, we’ll be able to act as soon as you retrieve the bug.”

“Ziva, I’m not thrilled with this joint investigation, either, but Agent Kehoe is the superior officer amongst us,” Ron said, clearly fed up with Ziva’s attitude.

Ziva frowned. “While she may be your superior officer, she is not mine. I was trained by the Mossad, and I work for both them and Gibbs only,” she replied.

“On this case, you’re also working with the FBI. I don’t know what they allow over at NCIS, or at Mossad, but make no mistake, I will write you up for insubordination if you keep this up,” Tina said.

Ziva clenched her jaw, clearly still unhappy to take orders from anyone other than Gibbs. Apparently she decided to acquiesce, although Tina didn’t know if it was because of her threat, or only because Gibbs wanted the same thing. Ziva nodded curtly and went to retrieve her coat.

“Tim, fill Ron in on Pete Warren,” Tina said tightly, barely keeping her anger in check.

She had more important concerns at the moment, but when this case was over, she fully intended to write up Officer David. She didn’t know why Ziva hadn’t been reined in before now, but Tina had always been up for a challenge.

Ziva sat in the parking lot of the Vault Tavern freezing her ass off yet seething at the same time. It was pointless to be stuck here wasting her time when she could be put to much better use. She thought she had succeeded in winning Agent Sacks over to her side, but he had been surly with her all morning.

Perhaps he did not like the cold, either.

It had only been about six months since Ziva left her home in Israel and moved to Washington, DC. At first, it was a pleasant change, and the autumn colors were lovely. She’d enjoyed the freedom without having so many eyes observing her every move. When winter arrived, however, Ziva knew she was not made to live in a cold climate. She had, of course, seen snow and been in cold weather before. After all, she accomplished many missions in various locations around the world.

This was the longest she had ever spent in one place that was not her home in Tel Aviv, however. She preferred the dry, desert heat to this freezing, wet miserableness. It became dark much too early, and the darkness quickly became depressing.

Ziva did not like DC in winter, and she liked Philadelphia even less. Of course, that dislike had a lot to do with the case they were currently working and the people it involved. She did not understand why Gibbs conceded to a joint investigation. They would have it wrapped up by now if they were not repeatedly slowed down by the FBI’s incessant rules and regulations.

If they simply put the club owner in a room with her and Gibbs, they would have all the evidence they needed. Then, they would not be forced to sit around on their thumbs while that fool DiNozzo pranced around with the many vapid airheads who frequented the bar. He was in his glory, and how she longed to knock him down a few pegs, wiping that smug, self-satisfied grin off his face.

It was infuriating that she – she – a member of the Mossad was forced to play second fiddle to such a clown. He was useless. Then, to make matters worse, the brazen FBI interloper had the nerve to think she could order Ziva around. That was not going to happen. Agent Kehoe reminded her too much of a few of her former mentors who tried to tell her what to do, insinuating that she was only where she was because of who she was rather than on her own merit. She always enjoyed when her father put those jealous, incompetent fools in their place. She wished he was here now to knock Agent Kehoe out of her delusions. Ziva had more training in her pinky finger than that woman would learn in a lifetime.

She was frustrated and irritated, not to mention that the longer she was stuck here in this hellhole, the further away she was from MTAC and the information her father desired. She had hoped to be able to snoop around the FBI office while she was ensconced here, but she was not granted as much access as she was at NCIS. Besides, there were always agents manning the office – even in the dead of night. Her father entrusted her to get him inside intel, and she would not let him down. She needed to prove those former mentors delusional. Her father would see that she was the superior operative in every way.

Ziva’s frayed patience was at its limit, and she wished she were on this stake-out with McGee rather than Sacks. McGee was easier to manipulate, and she could at least work off some of her frustrations by bullying the timid man. Mossad would not have bothered with someone so easily controlled.

“There’s something going on,” Sacks muttered, squinting at the building in front of them.

“What?” Ziva asked sharply, annoyed she had been caught not paying attention.

“There’s a lot of activity. Didn’t you notice all the extra cars pulling in? I think they’re searching for their missing captive,” Sacks said.

“It took them long enough. He has been gone since last night,” Ziva replied.

“They might’ve planned to leave him hidden overnight and move him today. If that’s the case, they could’ve just discovered he’s missing.”

“That bodes well for Tony,” Ziva said, pressing her lips together.

Of course, DiNozzo managed to just slither out of yet another sticky hole. It was impossible to get rid of him for long, or prove his ineptitude. She had never met someone so infuriatingly lucky.

“Whatever’s happening, there are people inside the club now. Go and retrieve your purse and see if you can hear anything,” Sacks said, squinting at the various people searching the lot.

“I do not carry a purse. They are an unnecessary hindrance. This is only a prop to deliver and retrieve our listening device,” Ziva said.

“Whatever it is, go get it,” Sacks snapped.

“Do not tell me what to do. I am perfectly capable of seeing what must be done. I am the one who spent years training as a spy for Mossad,” Ziva said.

“Yeah, so you’ve said. Go and do some spying then,” Sacks said.

Ziva huffed and got out of the car. She was not sure what problem everyone seemed to have today, but they were getting in her way, and it was time to initiate her own plan to move things along.

She climbed the few steps outside the bar and pulled on the heavy door. It had been locked when she tried earlier, but this time it opened.

“What do you want? Club doesn’t open until later tonight,” one of the bouncers said. He was bald, and his voice had a raspy quality, as if his vocal cords had once been injured.

“I am aware, but I was here last night with my boyfriend, and I had a little too much to drink. I left my purse behind. My boyfriend was supposed to grab it, but he did not, and now I am in despair. I was hoping that attractive bartender would remember me and put it aside. Please tell me that he found it,” Ziva said, putting just the right amount of tearful damsel-in-distress into her voice.

She found most men could not resist the impulse to come to a distraught woman’s aid. Even Gibbs had this flaw, but it worked to her advantage.

The fools.

This man was no different. Although he looked irritated, he sighed in resignation. “Wait a minute. I’ll check,” he said, moving toward the stockroom behind the bar.

She could hear angry voices coming from inside and wanted to get a closer look. She crossed the bar and followed the bouncer inside.

“I do not want to put you out. If you just show me where you keep lost items, I can look. I will recognize it instantly,” she said before the man could tell her to leave.

She could see activity behind some shelves, and there was daylight and chilly air coming from the back entrance, indicating it was open. The voices moved outside, too far to clearly hear their conversation.

“Here,” the bouncer said, shoving the handbag at her. “Found it last night. Now, we’re kind of busy here, so you’re going to have to leave.”

“Oh, thank you so much. My entire life is in this bag,” Ziva said, throwing her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek while peering over his shoulder.

Matt Evans was one of the men out back, and he looked furious.

The bouncer chuckled, and Ziva was surprised to see a faint reddish stain appear on his cheeks. Was he actually blushing?

“It’s nothing, miss, but you do need to go,” he said, guiding her back toward the door.

“Ooh,” she said, suddenly moving the bag away and scrunching her face. “It smells like a pig. Perhaps that bartender is not as attractive as he appears.”

From her lowered lashes, she could see the man’s entire body tense. “You need to go,” he said tightly.

“All right. I will probably return tonight. Maybe I will see you here, yes?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he said, not really paying attention.

Ziva smiled, satisfied as she trounced out the door. Men were too easy.

She was well aware that pig was a derogatory name for a cop. She would like to see if DiNozzo’s expert undercover skills could salvage his assignment this time.

Chapter 12: Hooked on a Feeling

Chapter Text

A dull ray of wintery sun shone through the crooked blinds in the small apartment where Tony was staying. The place was rather seedy and certainly nothing like his sophisticated apartment back in DC. His alias was supposed to be living hand-to-mouth, so this was it. Although, he suspected Sacks, who’d coordinated the temporary living arrangements, had gone out of his way to find something he knew Tony would hate. How he missed his piano. Playing a few familiar melodies was an excellent way to pour out his tension at the end of a day.

It was much later than he usually woke when he was heading to the Navy Yard, but Cody Redman worked nights, so Tony adjusted. He didn’t like to think of how quickly Gibbs would insist Tony get back to regular hours once the assignment was done and he returned to the life of a Very Special Agent.

Of course, regular hours to Gibbs meant basically twenty-four/seven, so he supposed it didn’t really make a difference anyway.

He pulled the blankets closer around his body for protection against the chilled air. The heat didn’t work very well in this building. Actually, nothing worked very well. It wasn’t as if it was filthy, just old, rundown, and falling apart. He hadn’t been here all that long, but he’d already come across several co*ckroaches. Fortunately, as of yet, he hadn’t seen a rat. Tony never had a germ phobia before, but he felt his unease was justified since it had been less than a year since he had the Pneumonic Plague.

That would leave a dent on anyone’s psyche.

Now that the sleepy cobwebs were fading, he sat up, looking around blearily as he stretched. The events of the night before were coming back to him, causing his heartbeat to quicken. He supposed it was a good sign that no one came pounding on his door overnight to punish him for the sailor’s escape.

If he really escaped. Tony didn’t know if the police had found him in time. It was bitterly cold, and the man was pretty out of it. He squashed the guilt as quickly as it tried to wrap its coils around him. He’d done what he could without blowing his cover.

Sully’s life – and probably several others – depended on Tony keeping that cover. If the sailor became another victim, well… Tony would deal with that later. Guilt was an old friend, frequently making itself known whenever Tony became still, or his apartment was too silent. He preferred a little chaos to keep his demons away.

When he stood up, the blanket fell off his bare shoulders, causing his skin to erupt in goosebumps. Leaving it in a heap on the bed, he hurried into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He stared at himself in the cloudy mirror.

He looked like hell.

Tony turned the knob in the shower, knowing it would take a few moments for the water to warm. Freezing, he wrapped his arms around himself, bouncing from foot to foot on the stained floor. He didn’t even want to think about what had made those stains over the years the building stood.

Once he finished his shower and got his brain working on all cylinders, he intended to keep his usual routine by heading over to the diner across the street. At least the food was hot and comforting. Hopefully, Gibbs or Tina… or even Fornell would be there and could perhaps give him a nod, so he’d know if things turned out all right. If not, he’d just have to paste on a smile and go to the bar. If they suspected something, he’d know pretty quick.

He'd also decided that he needed to give Gibbs a heads up that Lola could compromise him.

Images of the bodies he’d found in that condemned building and the autopsy reports, detailing what had been done to them, flashed across his mind. He wasn’t able to completely tamp down the anxiety racing through his veins. Even though he’d apparently gotten away with it unseen, he had a bad feeling. Lola knew he was up to something when she’d pulled him into that kiss, and he’d bet she’d know about the missing sailor before her shift even began tonight.

The question was, would she sell Tony – Cody – out?

Sliding off the boxer shorts he’d slept in, Tony stepped into the shower and under the warm spray. The steam made his skin tingle. It never got as hot as he liked, but it was warm enough, as long as he didn’t dally too long. He shut his eyes and looked up into the spray, breathing deeply as the water wet his face and hair, hopefully washing away all traces of the lack of sleep he’d suffered.

“Don’t let them put you in a position to owe them,” Lola’s warning from the previous night rang in his ears.

She knew something, he just wasn’t certain what – or if she was a victim or co-conspirator.

Grabbing the soap from its chipped, ceramic holder, he began to lather up his chest. He still hadn’t gotten used to the fact it was smooth and bare. Maybe that was why he was so damned cold. Abby enjoyed shaving it off way too much.

Tony proceeded to wash his arms and shoulders, enjoying the feel of the sudsy water rolling in rivulets down his body. He poured some shampoo into his hand and began massaging it into his scalp, causing the smell of pine and evergreen to fill the small bathroom.

The images of those bodies appeared again as soon as he shut his eyes.

He opened them quickly, blinking out the stinging soap and in need of a distraction. He wondered what was going on with his team. What had Ziva been doing, and how much further had she managed to insinuate herself amongst them? He’d thought he’d succeeded in at least raising Gibbs’ suspicions, but while Tony had been away, he didn’t know if Ziva brought him back over to the Dark side with her doe-eyed need for his protection.

As if the arrogant woman would openly admit that she needed protection unless she was up to something. Gibbs own arrogance and his need to always be the one in control was going to blow up in his face if he didn’t let go of his feelings and start looking at the facts.

Tony snorted. Perhaps hell really had frozen over if he thought Gibbs was acting on feelings. Most people thought he didn’t have any, but Tony knew otherwise. While it might not come out freely, he knew Gibbs cared a lot about his team and would do anything to protect them – even to his own detriment. He’d shown it when Tony was suffering the effects of the plague, and Gibbs held several scientists at gunpoint to get a cure.

Gibbs and NCIS were still wading through legal battles over it.

Tony respected his boss more than any other human on the planet, but he’d been shocked to realize how easily he could be manipulated if it was a woman doing the manipulating. If someone told him this when Gibbs first rescued him from a bad situation in Baltimore, Tony wouldn’t have believed it. Gibbs saw something in him, when Tony had pretty much given up on himself.

He owed him for that.

Usually, he was happy to follow Gibbs lead, but the shine on his idol had dulled over the past few months. He hoped it wasn’t lost forever. Almost immediately, they’d shared a connection. They thought alike and could communicate without the need for words. They’d made a pretty successful two-man team. Tony hadn’t really seen the cracks until Kate joined them. By the time Ziva and their new Director came along, it was obvious. He should’ve seen it right away by the way he treated Abby, although maybe not since Tony loved and wanted to protect Abby, too. The others were more than capable of taking care of themselves. Gibbs inability to see women as anything but weaker and needing his protection was putting them all at risk.

Tony intended to ensure that no one got hurt by exposing Ziva’s manipulations. He just hoped Gibbs would come to see it as Tony having his six rather than pissing on his territory. For now, though, he had to focus on the case and the unease that was plaguing him.

By the time he’d finished cleansing his legs, the water was already beginning to cool. He finished up quickly, wrapping a towel around his waist and hurrying back into the bedroom to find something to wear. Despite his chilly apartment and the frigid air outside, the bar actually got pretty warm once the crowd filled in.

He pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, adding a button-down that he could remove later if necessary. He wished he could risk a call to headquarters, if only to see if Gibbs’ gut was churning the same way Tony’s was, but he knew it wasn’t advisable. He had no idea if he was being watched or monitored. There was nothing left for it but to face the music.

Throwing on his leather jacket, he locked his door and headed toward the diner, hoping against hope that one of his people would be there.

Gibbs and Fornell returned to the Philadelphia office much later that afternoon, but before the Vault Tavern opened. Their rescued sailor finally awoke, and after a battle with his doctors to be given access, they finally had something they could use. Gibbs drove even more recklessly than usual, wanting to get back to the office and review whatever McGee managed to discover. He had a bad feeling in his gut, and it was growing stronger as each minute passed.

“What’ve you got?” he asked in lieu of a greeting as soon as they marched into the squad room.

“Boss! Is the sailor awake?” McGee asked, perking up hopefully.

Tina Kehoe emerged from her office, leaned against the door, and folded her arms across her chest, also awaiting answers.

Gibbs let Fornell do the talking.

“He is. He was reluctant to reveal anything, even after we assured him that we could provide protection. Didn’t even speak up when his parents arrived. It was only after learning that DiNozzo was working with us that he provided some answers. He had enough recollection to know DiNozzo saved his life.”

“What did he say?” McGee asked.

“Said he was into them for a lot of money, and he lost really big to Santini last night. He promised to get him the money, but Santini just walked away. That’s when Matt Evans, the bouncer, approached him. Told him he could wipe out his debt entirely by simply informing Dave Barrows when the USS Delaware is scheduled to get underway,” Fornell said.

“The Delaware?” McGee asked, puzzled.

“Yeah, our sailor is on leave from the Delaware. He came to Philly to visit his family, and Evans demanded to know the date he was due to set sail, and where they were headed,” Fornell said.

“So… does that mean they’ve obtained the weapon plans they’ve been seeking?” Tina asked apprehensively.

“If he’s on leave, his departure date won’t be too far off. We’ve got to find out what this terrorist cell is planning on the Delaware,” Fornell said.

“Err… Boss,” McGee said, his fingers flying over his keyboard, “The Delaware is the same ship Pete Warren’s son was stationed before his Dishonorable discharge. Subsequently, he did time for aggravated assault.”

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “Retaliatory strike.”

“You think this isn’t an actual terror cell, but a personal vendetta?” Tina asked. “It’s been the families of those they want information from that have been disappearing. His parents will be targets.”

“We’ve already thought of that, and our sailor and his family will remain in protective custody until we get this sorted out,” Fornell said.

“What’s Barrows connection?” Gibbs asked.

“We know he was also Dishonorably discharged. It’ll take a little more digging to find where he was stationed since it happened so long ago,” McGee said.

“Do it,” Gibbs replied.

“Er, Boss – we found something else. Agent Sacks did, actually,” Tim said, swallowing visibly, his eyes darting nervously towards Fornell.

“Well?” Gibbs barked, pinning Tim with his stare.

“Uhm, you see, it seems… Pete W- Warren has b- been on a watch list for suspected Arms dealing,” Tim replied, cringing as if he knew what was coming.

“What?” Gibbs shouted, moving across the room in two strides and towering over his junior agent. “And we’re just learning about this now?”

“It’s not his fault, Jethro. It’s from a secured FBI database,” Fornell said, sighing.

Glaring, Gibbs whirled towards Fornell, his expression thunderous.

Fornell rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, We only uncovered the information overnight. Don’t tell me all your suspicious characters are shared with the other agencies, either.”

“They are when we’re involved in a joint investigation,” Gibbs roared.

“Oh, really? Then how do you explain holding back the fact you were onto the Vault Tavern before you ‘fessed up?” Fornell asked heatedly.

“All right, we all know now. Agent Fornell, is there anything else relevant that you’re withholding?” Tina asked, her disapproval clear.

Fornell looked slightly abashed. “There’s no evidence against Warren, just affiliation with other persons of interest.”

Tina pressed her lips together while Gibbs seethed, pacing, and clenching his fists together.

“We have enough to get warrants for Warren, Barrows and Evans, but nothing more than gambling on Santini. I’m on it,” Tina said.

“Wait! We haven’t heard from Ziva yet,” Tim said.

“I did. She retrieved the bag and is on her way back,” Gibbs said, still seething.

“What? She was supposed to call in here once she had it,” Tina snapped.

“She called me,” Gibbs replied, feeling they were wasting time worrying about semantics.

He wanted to get DiNozzo out of that bar as soon as possible. His gut was still churning, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with Fornell holding back information.

“Agent Gibbs, I gave Officer David specific orders to contact me as soon as she had that bag, and I also asked that she and Agent Sacks observe the parking lot to let us know about activity at the club. Perhaps we could’ve already had these warrant requests underway if she’d followed orders,” Tina said, glaring right back.

Gibbs didn’t like being questioned, and he liked it even less that Kehoe was complaining about the same thing DiNozzo had. Still – his team, his responsibility – and he wouldn’t take any interference, particularly as the FBI had also slowed things down by holding back their information on Warren.

“I’ll handle Ziva,” he said.

“Will you?” Tina asked, raising her eyebrow.

Gibbs tendency to react with aggression surfaced. “Are you questioning me?” he asked, taking a step into her personal space.

Intimidating women had never sat right with him, but he wouldn’t tolerate anyone questioning how he ran his team, particularly when one of them was in potential danger.

“Yeah, I suppose I am questioning you – at least as far as Officer David is concerned. She’s insubordinate and has now ignored a direct order. Somehow, I don’t think you’d allow anyone else on your team to get away with that, and they both seem to actually know how to do their jobs,” Tina said hotly.

Fornell grabbed Gibbs arm and pulled him back. “Agent Kehoe, get started on those warrants.”

Tina pursed her lips but returned to her office. Gibbs whirled on Fornell.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? I won’t have my agents questioned by yours, Fornell,” he shouted.

“Fine, then you deal with it when Officer David returns. For now, we’ve got a lot to do and only a short time to get it all done. The club opens in less than an hour,” Fornell growled.

Gibbs glanced at the clock. Fornell was right. Even though it rankled letting Kehoe get the last word, DiNozzo came first.

“I want multiple teams assigned to the club so we’re prepared if there’s trouble, or if they try to run. Barrows and Evans should both be there,” Gibbs said, growling.

“Agreed. I’ll have a tail put on Warren so we can issue the warrants at the same time,” Fornell said.

Gibbs hoped it would be enough.

Tony entered the club from the back as there was already a line of customers forming out front. To his dismay, none of his contacts had been at the diner, so he was going into the club blind. He really hoped Lola kept her mouth shut. He’d been running scenarios of how he could talk his way out of it, if necessary, all afternoon. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the door open and went inside.

The stockroom was empty, but he could hear activity coming from the main bar. No yelling, just the usual chatter amongst employees before opening each night. He took that as a good sign. He pasted on a cheery grin and strode across the room into the club, where he was greeted by a few of the other bartenders and waitresses huddled around the bar.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked, since they seemed to be discussing something with a lot of animation.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get here early. The stockroom was a mess. We just finished getting it back together,” one of the waitresses said, clearly annoyed with the extra work.

“Why? What happened? It wasn’t a mess when we left,” Tony said.

“I know, but it’s been thoroughly torn apart. It makes me wonder if the police did a search,” another waitress said, whispering timidly.

“Why would they?” Tony asked, feigning confusion.

Her expression became evasive, as she shrugged. “No idea, but Barrows hasn’t been seen, and he’s usually the first one here.”

“What are you all standing around for? Get to work,” Matt Evans growled, emerging from the card room.

He scowled at all of them, but didn’t make eye contact with anyone in particular. Tony began preparing his station, and when the doors were finally unlocked, a steady stream of customers flowed inside. Ziva and McGee were some of the first, and they claimed a table near the dance floor. Tony thought he recognized other familiar faces, too, but he supposed they could simply be regulars.

After about an hour, he began to relax. He’d been busy making drinks, but no one approached him, looked at him funny, or even seemed to know anything about the disappearance the night before. The one nagging worry was that he hadn’t seen Lola, although admittedly, he didn’t know if she was scheduled to work that night.

As the music got louder and the dance floor filled, Tony saw McGee dancing with a young woman whom he assumed was another agent. He couldn’t help grinning at how stiff and awkward the probie looked. His dance partner had the moves, though, and she didn’t seem to mind his lack of rhythm. McTwoleftfeet shook his head, hurriedly left the floor, and went back over to where Ziva was sitting while his partner stared after him incredulously.

Poor Probie.

Tony turned back to the bar, still grinning, and was surprised when Stephanie, the woman who he’d distracted in the poker room the night before, approached him. She was dressed to the nines with a plunging neckline and a very short skirt.

“Hi, Cody,” she said brightly. “Can I get a Cosmo?”

“Sure thing,” he said as he began preparing her co*cktail.

There wasn’t a card game scheduled, so his eyes roamed the crowd for Pete Warren. He didn’t see him anywhere.

“Are you on your own tonight, or did you finally convince Pete to come out and dance?” he asked playfully, placing the drink in front of her.

Stephanie pouted. “No. He won’t dance.”

She really was rather childlike, but he felt bad for her. “Ah, well – at least you’re here, and I’m sure someone will ask you to dance shortly.”

She leaned over the bar, giving him a revealing look down her cleavage. “Can I tell you something?” she asked, looking a little nervous.

“Sure,” Tony replied.

Stephanie glanced from side to side. “Not here. Come over by the bathrooms,” she said, walking toward the short corridor than led to the restrooms.

Tony frowned, puzzled. Maybe she had some info on Pete that she wanted to share. He’d discovered over the years that women could be pretty vindictive when a relationship ended. He glanced over towards Ziva and McGee to be sure they were watching. Signaling one of the other bartenders to indicate he needed a break; he followed Stephanie toward the restrooms.

She stood just outside the hallway, eyes wide and watching for him. Tony scanned the corridor behind her and the surrounding area, but she was alone.

“What is it?” he asked.

She looked up at him with soft eyes, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace, pulling him close.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” she whispered before he felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck.

Surprised and wary, he pulled away, stumbling slightly. Stephanie watched him impassively. Before he could take the few steps back into the bar, a large, beefy arm that he recognized all too well yanked him into the stockroom which was located perpendicular to the men’s room. Matt Evans stood over him, eyes blazing with fury, and a vice-like grip on his arm. The long scar along his face blurred and distorted.

The room was spinning, and Tony had trouble focusing. He blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his head. Matt shoved him further into the room, hard, causing Tony to stumble and fall to the floor. He knocked his head into some shelving as he went down. Matt shut the door behind them with an ominous click.

“Matt,” Tony said, slurring.

His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, and the music outside sounded warped – dimming, then growing louder before dimming again. He couldn’t seem to pull himself off the floor.

“Wha’s goin on?” he asked, struggling to pronoune the words.

“Shut up, pig,” Matt snarled, viciously kicking Tony in the ribs.

Tony groaned, unable to get his body to cooperate. Enraged, Matt continued to kick, slowly, painstakingly sliding Tony’s body along the floor. Tony’s limbs were uncooperative, and he couldn’t seem to get his mind to process what he needed to do. He wanted to shout, but he knew no one would hear him over the music. His only hope was that McGee or Ziva would get suspicious when he didn’t reappear with Stephanie. He just had to slow Matt down, but his muddled brain didn’t have any bright ideas how. Every time something occurred to him, it slipped away before he could focus. It was like trying to hold water in his hand.

After a particularly savage kick, Tony heard something crack. Oddly, he could no longer feel any pain. With the last kick, however, he saw the open hatch to the wine cellar looming ever closer. He tried to grasp the bottom of the stock shelves, attempting to hold on. It was no use, however. Matt slammed his boot down on Tony’s hand, crushing it. One more kick, and Tony tumbled down the decaying steps into what he’d assumed was a wine cellar.

That assumption was wrong. When Tony hit the ground and his vision began to fade, he realized it was actually a tunnel. Dave Barrows, Pete Warren, and another, younger man, were all there, looking menacing and waiting to drag him through.

His last thought before unconsciousness claimed him was that he was well and truly screwed.

Chapter 13: Desperado

Chapter Text

Timothy McGee walked inside the Vault Tavern trying to look cool and casual – basically like Tony. He worried that he wasn’t pulling it off since his insides felt anything but casual. In fact, he was wound tighter than a drum. His anxiety ratcheted up another notch when he realized this was one of his first undercover assignments – even if it was only posing as a club patron – and he felt as if he was failing miserably. He couldn’t help feeling as if everyone was staring at him, knowing what he was doing.

Tim was used to succeeding at whatever he set his mind to – whether it be school, an exam, hacking into a secure database, or finding a hidden clue buried deep inside computer coding. Undercover work was a different beast, however. There was no script – no specific and logical set of procedures. It was thinking on his feet with no time to analyze or perfect his answers.

He hated it. And… he hated that he hated it even more.

He’d waited so long, wanted it so bad… but it wasn’t anything like what he’d anticipated. He’d always known, deep down, that he wasn’t good under pressure, but Tony always made it look so easy. Tim just assumed that if Tony could do it, then he’d be able to handle it. Although Tony had more experience, he was better educated.

Truth be told, he was swallowing antacids as if they were candy.

To make it worse, and he was ashamed to admit it, he found himself resenting Tony for his ease with people rather than praising him for how easy he made it look. Tim supposed it was like second nature to his flamboyant partner – much like computer skills were second nature to him.

But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

As he followed Ziva towards a table at the edge of the dance floor, he could feel the anger radiating off her as if it was a tangible thing. It had been a… stressful afternoon at the FBI office. Tim wasn’t sure if being sent to the club was a reward in getting away from an angry Gibbs, or a punishment to be sent with an angry Ziva.

He’d left the tension-filled office only to be stuck in a cramped little car with his fuming partner. On the ride over, she’d ranted and raved with increasing violence, nearly running down several pedestrians and causing them to jump out of the way. Clutching the handhold, he shut his eyes to avoid the scenery speeding past at breakneck speed, but that only made him nauseous. By the time they’d reached the club, Tim was alarmed enough that he’d purposefully waited until Ziva was out of the car and storming toward the club before he opened his door. He couldn’t squash the worry that she might plunge one of her knives in his back if he walked ahead of her.

He knew she’d feel bad about it later, but right now, she really didn’t seem to be thinking clearly. It all began once she and Sacks returned from collecting the handbag left in the club the night before. While they’d been waiting, Tina put in the requests for warrants, and Tim discovered more on Dave Barrows’ past. Barrows hadn’t been stationed on the Delaware, but he did have some of the same loose connections to several arms dealers as Pete Warren.

They could’ve been introduced by any of them. Their mutual grievance with the Navy could’ve spawned their evil partnership. Tim would’ve scripted it that way.

Fornell decided to call in more FBI agents to surround the club when he and Gibbs went in to serve the warrants. Gibbs was still smarting over his confrontation with Tina, and McGee had been doing his best to avoid him. Ziva came into the squad room with a definite swagger, walked straight up to Gibbs and handed him the bag, smirking triumphantly at Tina as she did.

“Officer David, why are you giving this to me?” Gibbs barked, scowling.

Ziva, who always reacted badly to Gibbs using her full title, looked momentarily startled before covering it.

“It contains the listening device,” she said.

“I know what it is,” Gibbs said, the volume of his voice rising.

By now, everyone in the office was looking up to watch the exchange.

Ziva frowned, confused. “I do not understand. You have been waiting for this, no?”

“No. Special Agent Kehoe was, along with your report,” Gibbs said, taking a step closer into her personal space as he often did when he was questioning a suspect.

“I thought you called her,” Sacks said, startled.

Both Gibbs and Ziva ignored him, their eyes focused only on the other. Ziva’s stiff posture relaxed, a small hint of a smile forming, as if they were sharing a secret between only them.

“You are in charge, so I naturally reported to you,” Ziva said.

“You didn’t,” Gibbs said flatly.

Ziva’s smile faltered. “But, we spoke – less than an hour ago.”

“Yeah, but you were supposed to talk to Kehoe,” Gibbs said, eyes fierce.

“What difference is that? I was told to report when I had the bag, and I reported to you, as I always do,” she said stubbornly.

Gibbs pinned her with his eyes, looking as if he was tempted to give her one of the head slaps he always gave Tony. Instead, he, turned his back on her and looked to Agent Sacks, leaving Ziva stung by the dismissal.

“Anything notable happen outside the club?” he asked.

“I don’t know if its significant, but both Barrows and Warren arrived while we were there. They came outside a short time later and seemed to be searching the area. Several other bouncer-types joined them, and they all looked angry and concerned. I assumed they were looking for their missing sailor, but I knew they wouldn’t find him. I did snap a few photos of the unidentified men,” he said, handing his phone to Agent Kehoe.

Tina grabbed it, seeming to take great pains to restrain herself. She took a deep breath before speaking.

“Since you thought they were looking for something – or someone – in the location our unconscious sailor was found, it might’ve been enough to get the search warrants earlier,” she said, glaring pointedly at Gibbs.

She turned and took Sacks’ phone with the pictures back into her office. Tim’s fingers itched to do it himself, but he was paralyzed, finding it hard to breathe as he watched Gibbs slowly turn back toward Ziva.

Gibbs was usually all explosive anger, blowing up like an erupting volcano or bulldozering his way into a situation. This calm, cool fury was something Tim hadn’t seen before, and it was somehow even more terrifying than his hotheaded demands.

“That was a sitrep,” Gibbs said.

Ziva blinked. “I, of course, would have said the same had you asked.”

“Did you misunderstand Kehoe’s order, Officer David?” he asked, teeth bared and hands clenching as he struggled to control his fury.

Ziva didn’t seem to comprehend the seriousness of the situation, or how many opportunities Gibbs was giving her to explain herself. He always wanted his people to anticipate what he wanted rather than having to ask. Ziva knew this.

“Gibbs, we are wasting time–”

“That’s not your concern,” he roared.

Ziva’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Agents Fornell and Kehoe outrank you. You were given a direct order, and you disobeyed it,” he said.

Ziva clenched her jaw, but said, “I understand.”

“I have no use for anyone on my team who can’t follow orders. Is that understood?”

Tim jumped when Gibbs yelled, and Ziva took a step back, stung.

“Yes, Gibbs,” she said, bowing her head.

“Yes, what?”

Ziva’s brow furrowed. “Yes, I understand. I will follow orders.”

“Agents Fornell and Kehoe’s orders, too,” Gibbs snarled.

“Yes, them too,” Ziva replied, her eyes narrowing to slits.

When Tim and Ziva were ordered to go to the club when it opened, Ziva left without a word or looking back at anyone. She’d found the empty table inside the club, and Tim reluctantly followed behind, sitting beside her. He could see Tony behind the bar, already mixing drinks.

Tim wished he could talk to him, fill him in on what was going on and get his take. He couldn’t remember a time when Gibbs was really angry with Ziva. It was always him or Tony. He hadn’t noticed it until this blow-up. Ziva certainly wasn’t taking the dressing down well. He remembered how both Tony and Kate quietly gave him pep talks after his first big mistake resulting in Gibbs’ ire. He supposed he should say something to Ziva now, but he wasn’t sure what.

And he was afraid of what she’d do to him if he tried.

His eyes wandered around the club. It was still early, so the business people were stopping in for drinks after work. The real partiers wouldn’t arrive until later. The music was already playing, although softer, nothing too rowdy. He noticed a pretty woman in a blue business suit sitting at a table on the other side of the dance floor. She’d removed her jacket and undid the top couple buttons on her blouse. She caught Tim watching her and flashed him a coy smile.

Tim quickly looked away, feeling his face coloring.

“She is pretty, yes?” Ziva asked, speaking to him for the first time since they’d left the office.

Tim was startled by the apparent evaporation of her anger. She was actually smiling at him, although her smile somehow reminded him of a lethal predator.

“Yeah, she is,” he acknowledged.

“That might be a useful way to keep your cover,” she said.

Tim frowned. “Huh?”

“We are supposed to be here as customers. People come to a bar to meet potential mates, no?” she asked.

“Well, yeah, but I can’t just go over there and try to hook up with someone while we’re supposed to be working,” Tim said, not quite sure if that was what she was suggesting.

She shrugged. “It is only a dance. You are too caught in your own head. Conversing with her would help you improve your undercover skills,” she said.

Tim winced, knowing she must’ve noticed how uncomfortable he was. He felt his flailing confidence sinking even lower.

“I cannot believe she ran to Gibbs like a sniveling child. I do not work for her, and I do not believe she is in charge of anything,” Ziva said, back on the same rant she’d been spouting in the car.

Tim sighed. “But she is in charge, Ziva. She’s an SSA – same as Gibbs and Fornell, and we’re in her field office,” he said, feeling safer voicing his opinion in a crowd.

“Oh, not you, too. It is ridiculous. You and I report to Gibbs, same as always. The Director said Gibbs has lead,” Ziva said.

Tim shrugged. “I know Gibbs has his own way of doing things, but other agencies don’t work that way. They follow protocol. Even at NCIS, the Senior Field Agents are technically higher than us, and we’re supposed to report to them, too.”

“Do not be foolish, McGee. We do not report to Tony. He is a clown. I do not understand why he was ever given the title of SFA. It is only because he has worked for Gibbs longer, not because he is better than you or I. He is a preening fool with no skills. I was trained by the Mossad,” Ziva said, her eyes narrowed in disdain.

Tim swallowed nervously. “I’m just telling you how it’s supposed to work.”

He knew it was hard to take Tony seriously, but he also knew how the chain of command was supposed to work. Ziva liked to tease Tony, and she was very good at disparaging him. She could actually get to him better than anyone he’d ever seen. Tim was also aware that he often jumped in with her, making it two on one, but right now, she almost sounded as if she was serious about it all. Like she actually hated Tony.

Tony was their partner, and Tim definitely didn’t hate him. In fact, when he wasn’t teasing or gluing Tim’s fingers to his keyboard, Tim actually liked him. He felt really uncomfortable with Ziva’s escalating agitation. She just needed to cool off.

His eyes floated over to where Tony was still busily making drinks. He was startled when he felt a slight tug on his sleeve. He looked over to find the pretty woman who he’d been staring at earlier.

“Care to dance?” she asked.

Tim was torn. He did want to dance with her, but he was working. Then again, Ziva said it would help him work on his undercover skills, and he really wanted to get away from Ziva just then.

“Sure,” he said, smiling as he stood.

He followed her out onto the floor, and they began to dance. She was really good, much better than him. She had a pretty smile, but he found he couldn’t enjoy it. He shouldn’t be doing this. He was supposed to keep his eyes on Tony. Even though he could still see him behind the bar, he felt like he was doing something wrong. Ziva had the ear wig since it was easily covered by all her hair, and he knew she’d alert him if they got the signal that the raid was about to begin. Still, he was uncomfortable and couldn’t focus on dancing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he really meant it. “I have to go.”

He left her standing on the floor, open-mouthed, and returned to the table where Ziva sat, looking exasperated.

“What are you doing? She wants to dance,” Ziva said incredulously.

“It doesn’t feel like working,” Tim said.

Ziva rolled her eyes and turned away, shaking her head. A moment later, her dark eyes narrowed, and a sneer marred her face.

“Unbelievable,” she spat.

“What?” Tim asked, confused.

“It is that woman he was panting all over last night,” she said, her eyes focused on the bar.

Tim turned and noticed the blonde who’d been with Pete Warren the night before. They’d all heard the conversation recorded on the listening device, along with Tony’s flirtation with the simpering woman.

As he watched, Stephanie leaned over the bar and whispered something in Tony’s ear. Tony nodded, looking out at the crowd before he followed her toward the restrooms.

“I do not believe him,” Ziva said, livid. “We are trying to take down terrorists, and he has gone to have a fastie in the men’s room.”

“Quickie,” Tim said, automatically correcting her.

He was rather stunned, too. He couldn’t imagine hooking up with a woman in the men’s room of a crowded bar. He wasn’t surprised Tony wouldn’t have a problem with it, though, even if he was supposed to be working. Tim vaguely wondered if he could use it in the next scene he wanted to write with ‘Agent Tommy.’

“She went with him right into the men’s room,” Ziva said, outraged.

“Er… Ziva… you follow him into the men’s room all the time,” Tim said.

“Only to tell him something he does not want to hear, or ask him something he will not answer. Not for… doing what I am sure they are doing right now,” she said, making a face.

They were supposed to have eyes on Tony, but Tim really didn’t want to walk into the men’s room and catch Tony… doing that. He squirmed, uncomfortable with the images in his head. He knew Tony was supposed to be someone else, but really? He was still working.

“Go on and dance with your pretty admirer, Tim. I will watch for Tony’s reappearance,” Ziva said, crossing her arms. “He is unbelievable.”

“I know,” Tim said, cringing.

He looked over and saw the woman he’d been dancing with. She was sitting at her table alone. All her friends were on the dance floor. He felt guilty for leaving her.

“All right. Don’t forget to stay away from the amplifiers so you can hear if they tell you they’re coming in,” he said, making a decision.

He didn’t know how long it would take to issue the warrants. Sacks was out tracking down Pete Warren, and they wanted to do everyone at once. Tim was going to work on his undercover skills. With that in mind, he walked across the floor to apologize, and see if she still wanted to dance.

Tim felt lucky she agreed even after his rude dismissal. Dancing wasn’t his favorite thing – he always felt too clumsy and that everyone was staring at him. His partner didn’t seem to mind his awkwardness, though, and his confidence grew. He kept glancing over at the bar, but Tony hadn’t returned to his post.

He wasn’t exactly sure how long they’d been dancing as one song blended into another, but he saw when Ron Sacks came in the front entrance, his face thunderous. Tim quickly looked over at Ziva to see if she’d noticed, only there was another couple sitting at the table. Doing a quick scan, he saw her near the end of the bar – right beside one of the large amplifiers.

Tim paled. She wouldn’t have heard if they were ready to come in and wouldn’t have been able to give the all clear without having Tony in her sight. He again had to apologize to his dance partner, who this time definitely looked annoyed, and he hurried over, reaching Ziva just as Ron did.

The music was blaring too loud to hear anything. Furious, Ron jerked his head toward the other side of the room and stormed away. Tim quickly followed, but Ziva traveled at a slower, nearly insolent pace. Once they reached the wall near the closed door to the poker room, Ron turned, glaring at both of them.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing? You’re supposed to be watching DiNozzo, and I find one busting a move and the other not even looking at the bar. Where’s DiNozzo?” he asked, teeth clenched.

Tim opened and closed his mouth, his heart hammering. “I was keeping up appearances,” he said weakly.

“Is Gibbs here? Is he ready to make an arrest?” Ziva asked, knowing the club was still too loud for them to be overheard.

“You should know since you’re wearing the ear wig,” Ron snarled.

Ziva frowned. “No one has said anything.”

“We’ve been asking you to cough, so we knew you were ready for ten minutes. Where’s DiNozzo?” he repeated, now looking around the bar.

“Ziva, you were supposed to stay away from the amplifiers,” Tim said, moaning.

“I did. I was not anywhere near the dance floor,” she said.

“The amplifiers are over by the bar,” Tim said, shocked she didn’t know that.

“Hey! Where’s DiNozzo?” Ron asked again, his expression becoming strained.

Ziva rolled her eyes. “He is having sex in the men’s room,” she said, looking disgusted.

Ron’s eyes opened wide. “He’s what?”

Maybe it was Ron’s concern, or maybe it was just his senses catching up with him, but Tim suddenly felt extremely apprehensive.

“Ziva… it’s been an awfully long time,” he said.

She waved her hand dismissively. “How many times has he bragged about his prowess? I am sure he is just trying to make everyone think he has that kind of stamina.”

Both Tim and Ron glanced at one another uneasily. They turned as one and hurried towards the restrooms. Ziva followed, although she made it clear she thought they were being ridiculous.

Ron pushed opened the men’s room door, and Tim followed him inside. It was crowded, but there was no sign of Tony or Stephanie anywhere. They checked each of the stalls, also coming up empty.

“Check the women’s room,” Ron barked at Ziva.

Clearly affronted by his tone, she followed the directive nonetheless. Tim felt as if it took ages for her to return, each second an eternity as worry blossomed in his stomach. If anything happened to Tony…

At last, Ziva re-emerged, frowning. “They are not there,” she said, finally looking uncomfortable. “What about the little room behind the bar where they keep supplies. We can not get in there without raising suspicion.”

Tim didn’t care, he turned the corner, intending to push his way in. He didn’t need to, however. A waitress and another bartender were already storming out.

“Where the hell did he go? His break was over ten minutes ago. We’re dying out there one man down,” the bartender said.

“I don’t know, but Cody has never done anything like this before,” the waitress replied.

Panicky, Tim’s mouth fell open, and he looked back at his two companions. Ron wore the same, shell-shocked expression. Only Ziva remained calm.

Ron spoke into the microphone he had hidden at his wrist. “Fornell, we’ve got a problem.”

Tony slowly drifted to awareness, disoriented and in a world of pain. His entire body hurt so badly, he wasn’t even sure where he ended and the pain began. He only managed to stifle the groan trying to climb out of him because he heard voices nearby, and they weren’t speaking to him.

“You sure he’s a cop? He doesn’t look like a cop, and he’s a good bartender,” Dave Barrows said.

“He is according to the tip off,” Matt Evans said indifferently.

“Who’s your informant? Are you sure she can be trusted?” a female voice asked.

It took Tony a moment to realize it was Stephanie, and she didn’t sound nearly as vacuous as she had the previous evening.

“I don’t know. Deke didn’t get the broad’s name,” Matt replied.

“Could be an ex-girlfriend with a grudge,” Stephanie said.

“Or it could be true, and we can’t take that risk. Not when we’re this close. Let us know when he regains consciousness. I’ve got questions,” Pete said.

Tony sensed more than heard them moving away. Even in his disoriented state, he knew he wasn’t alone. He took a chance and cracked his eyes open. Wherever he was, it was pitch black. He therefore knew he could fully open his eyes and take stock. He ached everywhere, but it seemed to be radiating mostly from his ribs, head, and particularly his left hand.

That was probably because he had a vague recollection of Matt stomping on it. He tried to curl his fingers, but that sent another jolt of agony up his arms, and it was only force of will that enabled him to suppress a yelp.

Okay, DiNozzo. Don’t do that again.

He still couldn’t see anything, and he hadn’t grown accustomed to the dark. That led him to believe that even if it was still night, wherever he was had no windows. It smelled damp and musty, but he thought he could hear the faint sounds of traffic outside. It was cold, as if the place didn’t have any heat. He could tell he wasn’t lying on bare floor however, because it was sort of soft. He’d bet there was a threadbare carpet, which would mean he wasn’t in a warehouse.

Moving the fingers on his right hand slightly, he was dismayed to realize that he was lying atop a large, plastic sheet – the kind criminals used to cover up a crime scene.

You better think of something fast because you’re in deep sh*t, Anthony.

He shut his eyes again, trying to regain his equilibrium and work out the problem. He knew the voices, and he’d been at the bar when Stephanie and Matt attacked. How he got here was the question. He tried to piece it all together. Stephanie drugged him, that much was obvious. That might explain why his head was so messed up because he didn’t recall hitting it.

As soon as he thought about it, the image of a dark hole formed in his mind. Then he remembered tumbling down some stairs. Maybe he did have a concussion. It took a few more moments, before a vision of a tunnel beneath the club became clear. It hadn’t been a wine cellar after all.

Tony dimly recalled stories from his days on the force here in Philadelphia that there was supposedly a maze of underground tunnels left over from Civil War that had been part of the Underground Railway. Where had that particular tunnel led? He didn’t think it could be far since they’d dragged him, although he supposed they could’ve had a car waiting nearby. He definitely was on something more solid than dirt.

Still, the others must be looking for him by now, right? Tim and Ziva saw him with Stephanie. They would know he was missing. Gibbs and the FBI would’ve had the club surrounded, so the only way out would be the tunnel. They’d just have to find it.

So, you have to try and not get dead before help arrives.

A growing panic bubbled in his stomach, trying to force its way up. What if something happened to Tim and Ziva? What if they knew the pair were working with him and grabbed them before they were able to report? Were they here somewhere, too? Was this where they were holding Sully and Paul Bergman, the missing roommate from NSWC?

Tony took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. One step at a time. He had to get out of here before he could help them. He didn’t think there was anyone here other than whoever they’d left standing guard. He took another breath, praying he wouldn’t detect the odor of a rotting corpse in here with him.

Been there, done that.

The only thing he could smell was a cigarette. He could hear the sound of the guard breathing and guessed he was standing near the entrance, since the others were definitely no longer there.

The man was far enough away that he would have the advantage if Tony tried to sit up, so that wouldn’t work. Matt used his fists and feet to subdue Tony, not a gun, although he knew the other victims had been beaten with iron rods. That still didn’t mean that this guy didn’t have a gun.

Think, Anthony.

Rule nine! It wouldn’t be the first time that one saved his life. Here’s hoping it would work again. He couldn’t carry his Sig in the bar, but he still had the knife hidden inside his belt. If he could just loosen it without being noticed.

Painstakingly slow, he inched his right hand towards the belt, the left one still throbbing incessantly. When he finally got hold of the buckle, it took a little finesse to get it undone, giving him access to the knife hidden inside. He’d always known that his ability to unhook a bra one-handed would one day be useful for more than just the obvious.

Before he could remove the knife however, a flashlight shone directly in his eyes, blinding him. Tony stilled his movement, shutting his eyes quickly.

“No luck, pretty boy. I know you’re awake,” a rough voice taunted.

The light was doused, but the stranger spoke into what Tony assumed was his phone, “Yeah, he’s awake.”

Chapter 14: Gimme Three Steps

Chapter Text

The flashlight was doused, but the stranger spoke into what Tony assumed was his phone, “Yeah, he’s awake.”

Busted!

Tony was tempted to pull out his knife and attack by surprise, but he knew he was only going to get one chance. The odds of success now were slim, at best. The room was too dark to see exactly where his guard stood, and more importantly, Tony wasn’t sure he wouldn’t keel right over if he tried to stand, never mind lunge.

He didn’t feel right, and he suspected that whatever drug he’d been given wasn’t fully out of his system. His untucked shirt was long enough that it would hide the fact his belt was unbuckled, so if push came to shove, he still had the element of surprise. He knew he wouldn’t have much time to make an escape, and he wasn’t certain how far away his other captors were. He decided to try and gather a little more intel and wait for a better chance.

Maybe he could throw up all over their shoes as a distraction. From the way his stomach was roiling, it was a distinct possibility.

He heard footsteps growing closer when suddenly, a bright light filled the room, blinding him. His captors held a portable lantern – the kind you used for camping. Now, Tony could see he was being held in a good-sized room. He’d been right about the threadbare carpet, but wrong about the lack of windows. The windows were all boarded up.

The exit was to his left, and his captors stood as his feet. Tony was lying in the center of the room on top of a plastic tarp. The tarp was more than a little worrisome, but he knew they tended to keep their victims alive for a while. He tried to stop the images flashing across his mind of what had been done to those victims.

Dave Barrows, Matt Evans, Pete Warren, and Stephanie joined the stranger who’d been guarding him. He was shorter than the other men, stocky, with powerful arms and a pronounced limp. Tony noticed it as he walked around to where Tony’s head rested.

“Get up, pig,” Pete snarled.

The man behind him roughly grabbed Tony by the collar of his shirt, jerked him up, and forced him into a kneeling position. Tony couldn’t stop the involuntary groan the sudden movement caused. He saw stars and immediately wrapped his left arm around the agonizing pain in his ribs. He was sure at least one of them was broken. His hand on that side was useless, but it left his good hand free.

“I still don’t think he looks like a cop, but we can’t take that chance,” Stephanie said, sounding cold and calculating.

Believing she’d simply been an empty piece of eye candy had been a mistake. She’d played her part well.

“Well, if he looked like a cop, he wouldn’t be undercover, would he?” his guard asked, sneering.

“What the hell is this?” Tony asked, feigning confusion.

He’d heard them say they got a tip-off that he was a cop, but they didn’t know if the source was reliable. Maybe he could still keep his cover intact. He’d worry about the informant later.

“Who do you work for? Which precinct?” Matt demanded.

“What? I work for you, you know that,” Tony said thickly, looking at Barrows. He’d deduced that Barrows was the weak link and not one hundred percent sure of this course of action.

The unidentified man punched him in the mouth, jerking his head to the side and making him see stars. He spat out a mouthful of blood, glaring.

“Not the mouth, Sonny. I need him to answer some questions first,” Pete said.

Okay, mystery captor identified. His head was so muddled by the drugs, he was having difficulty holding onto all the facts that he’d need if he ever got the chance to report them.

“We know you’re not really Cody Redman. You’re a cop,” Matt said, spitting the last word.

“Who sent you? What do they know?” Pete demanded.

Tony scrunched up his face, his confusion only half-fabricated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am Cody Redman. I’ve always been Cody Redman,” he insisted.

Pete nodded, and Sonny hit him again. This time, his right eye took the blow. Tony swayed, nearly toppling over, but Sonny again gripped the collar of his shirt, keeping him on his knees and giving him a violet shake that certainly didn’t help his spinning head.

“I’ve got an idea. Sign your name,” Barrows said, holding out a small notebook. “I’ll know if its Redman’s signature. I have his original letter to match it.”

“Better think of something else,” Tony said, panting but thinking fast.

“Yeah? Why’s that? Typical sloppy cop – didn’t bother to practice forging the real guy’s signature?” Matt sneered, lashing out with his boot once again.

Sonny grabbed a fistful of Tony’s hair, jerking his head back, and Matt dealt another blow to Tony’s face. Breathing as deeply as he could with his aching ribs, it took him a moment longer this time to pull it together.

“I don’t know what your problem is, or where you got the idea that I’m a cop – but in case you forgot – you busted up my left hand,” he said, gasping.

“I’m going to bust the other one if you don’t do as Mr. Barrows asked,” Matt said, teeth clenched.

Tony shook his head, causing the room to spin. “I’ve been making drinks for you all week – didn’t you once notice that I’m left-handed, genius?” he asked, earning himself another kick from Matt.

He could only hope they wouldn’t recognize his deception, but none of them seemed particularly observant. The key to a good lie is to say it with conviction. That was Tony’s own rule based on a lifetime of talking his way out of sticky situations. Gibbs had a rule of his own that also worked – Rule Seven – be specific when you lie.

“You idiot!” Barrows bellowed. “I need to know if he’s really a cop, and what they know about my business.”

“He’ll talk eventually – they always do,” Pete said coldly.

“But Pops, we don’t have a lot of time. We never got that other guy to tell us when the Delaware gets underway,” Sonny said.

He still had a grip on Tony’s hair and he shook him when he spoke, sending shards of agony coursing through Tony’s entire body. Little bursts of light exploded behind his eyes.

“You let me worry about that,” Pete said, before turning back to Tony. “Was that you, too? Huh? Did you let our source go?”

“What? I don’t know what you guys are talking about. Have you been sampling too much of the stock?” Tony asked.

Pete reached over and smacked him in the mouth again, despite telling Sonny not to do it. For the first time, the older man looked concerned.

“Dave, I suggest we lay low until we hear what’s happening at the club. We can’t let them get to us now, not when we’re so close,” he said.

Barrows nodded, glancing at Tony one more time, looking troubled. It didn’t stop him from exiting the room and leaving Tony to his fate, however.

“If he is a cop, it’ll take a while. He’s already not so pretty anymore,” Stephanie said indifferently.

Pete ignored her, his stare never once flickering from Tony’s.

“I’ll ask you one more time, why are you investigating Vault Tavern?” he asked, his dark eyes glittering with malice.

“I’m not investigating anything. I make drinks,” Tony said. The side of his face along with his lip were swelling, making his words sound distorted.

Sonny removed an iron rod from inside the lining of his jacket, letting Tony see it for a prolonged moment, raising the tension in the room. Tony tensed, his heart racing as he swallowed thickly.

Moving at a speed far too quick for his size, he reared back and struck Tony on his side, doubling him over. He yelled in pain and was struck again.

“You decide how painful this is going to be,” Sonny said, sounding as if he hoped it be would very painful.

Wheezing, it took Tony a moment to get his breathing under control, but his mouth had always tended to run away from him when he was backed into a corner.

“Fists and iron rods, really? Very unsophisticated hillbilly tactics. I mean, there’s something so formal about the point of gun,” he said, using his best Bond accent.

It really was quite good, even if most people forgot George Lazenby was Bond for a single film. Clearly Matt didn’t appreciate the effort as he reached over and gave Tony another blow to the head. This one caused his vision to blur, and he would’ve slumped over if Sony wasn’t holding him up. Little spots appeared, growing larger and trying to connect, but he fought with everything he had to hang on to consciousness. He dropped his head to his chest as if he’d passed out and let his body sag. Unconsciousness wasn’t far off, anyway, but maybe he could delay them.

Pete growled and Tony heard the sound of flesh on flesh. Since Sonny was behind him, Pete had either hit Matt or Stephanie.

“You really are an idiot. What part of needing him to answer some questions didn’t you understand? Go call Lola – tell her to check out the club and let you know if there’s any activity there,” he said.

Tony sensed Matt leaving the room. That left just Pete, Sonny, and Stephanie – but it was still too many for Tony to handle in the shape he was in.

“Work him over. Lemme know when he’s ready to talk – but do not kill him. We need some answers,” Pete said.

“Got it,” Sonny replied.

“Stephanie. we need to find Dave and calm him down before he does something stupid,” Pete said.

Since Sonny was behind him, Tony knew it was safe to crack his eyes open. He saw the blurred outline of Pete and Stephanie’s feet walking away. Stephanie appeared to be wearing ridiculously high, spiky heels. He was glad she wasn’t the one doing the kicking.

Tony kept his head slumped, body limp, waiting for Sonny to let go of his collar. That would be the moment to make his move. Still, he wouldn’t mind if it took a few more minutes. It gave him time to gather his strength. All too soon, Sonny let go, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

“Come on, pretty boy. Wakey, Wakey. You got some ‘splainen to do,” Sonny said, taking a step to the left to what he thought was Tony’s dominant side.

Really? He didn’t even catch the Bond quote I dropped earlier, but he thinks he can fool me with I Love Lucy?

Tony turned his head, a huge, unexpected grin with lots of teeth bloomed across his battered face, disconcerting his foe.

“Ricky Ricardo?” he scoffed.

In that single second of surprised distraction, Tony kicked his leg backwards with as much strength as he could muster, quickly removing the knife from his belt at the same time. His foot connected with Sonny’s right knee; the side Tony earlier noticed his limp. Sonny crumpled to the ground, swearing loudly, enraged.

Tony scrambled to his feet, picking up the lead pipe that Sonny dropped when he fell. He swung it, hitting his captor in the back of his head and knocking him out. He knew the blow was too weak to have killed him, but his shout didn’t leave Tony a lot of time to get away. He picked up the camp light and placed it near the door, lighting outside the room with a very dim glow.

Peeking out, he saw rows and rows of empty door slots, with a battered soda machine at the end of the hallway. The machine was long empty, and the signs of vandalism were clear up and down the corridor.

He was in an old hotel, most likely condemned. Knowing the stairs would be at the end, they usually were in most hotels, he moved as quickly as he could, bumping into walls several times. He was unsteady on his feet because his head was spinning. At least the lack of heat was helping to keep him awake. The hallway seemed to elongate as he stumbled. It grew darker and darker the further away he got from the room where he’d been held. Before he reached the stairwell, however, he heard voices coming from the other end of the corridor.

He quickly ducked into one of empty doorways, knowing it wouldn’t take long for Sonny to be discovered.

Panting and trying to make his uncooperative brain think, he ran his hands along the walls, trying to determine if there was anything he could use as a weapon. He still had his knife.

The room was too small to be a guest room, so more likely a supply closet. There were a few rusty shelves, but they’d long been wiped clean of anything useful. He was about to give up when the hand he’d been trailing against the wall, suddenly fell into nothingness.

Feeling around, he realized it wasn’t a doorway, but instead a square opening in the wall. He knew it wasn’t another boarded-up window, it was too small and solid inside the opening. He’d bet it was an old laundry chute. It was a way out, but he had no idea how far the drop would be, or what was at the bottom. He’d heard cars back in the other room, and they sounded rather close, so he didn’t believe he was too far above street level.

It’s only a last resort.

He paused, trying to catch his breath while straining to hear. The adrenaline rush from his escape was fading, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay upright much longer. He kept trying to will the pain away like his old coach always told him could be done. Mind over matter.

Bullsh*t.

“f*ck! The son of a bitch is gone,” Matt’s voice echoed down the empty hallway.

“Find him, and when you do, he’s mine,” Pete growled menacingly.

Tony could see flashlight beams on the walls in the corridor as they began conducting their search. There was nothing left for it. He had to escape and bring Gibbs back here to search for the others. Climbing up so he could slide down feet- rather than head-first, his heart hammering, he eased himself down as far as could go, hanging on with only his right hand. His ribs screamed in protest, and he was sure at least two of the fingers on his left hand were broken. They were sticking out at ridiculously odd angles.

Once he was hanging as far as he could go, he clamped his eyes shut, hoping against hope this wouldn’t be the last stupid stunt he’d ever pull.

He held his breath and let go, imagining he was Han Solo or Luke Skywalker as he flew down the garbage chute. There was no way to slow his descent. He only had a minute to hope that if there was a pile of trash at the bottom, it wouldn’t have some kind of slimy monster hidden underneath.

Before he’d even had time to gather his wits, the chute ended, dropping him onto a concrete floor. The jarring impact caused his legs to give out beneath him, and the darkness finally won.

Gibbs stood outside the Vault Tavern, his breath making frosty puffs in the night air as he barked at the FBI agents surrounding the club. Once the warrants were finally granted, things began coming together fast. He had a very bad feeling about this, and he wanted to get feet on the ground sooner rather than later.

Fornell kept insisting they needed to wait for his junior agent, Ron Sacks, to locate Pete Warren. They wanted all three suspects brought in simultaneously so no one would have the chance to run. While Gibbs agreed it was the best approach, he had no patience for it, and his temper grew as a result.

As a sniper, he could wait for hours or days for the perfect shot, watching for his target or hearing the go order from his CO. When it came to waiting for clues or dealing with bureaucratic red tape, however, it didn’t sit right. He was a man of action, and he couldn’t tolerate delay.

McGee and Ziva were already inside the club keeping eyes on DiNozzo. They hadn’t reported any problems, but he was still concerned. Ziva had displayed a piss-poor attitude along with her lapse in judgement. He’d given her chance after chance to realize her mistake, and she’d failed. Kehoe even went so far as to suggest Ziva was intentionally holding back the fact Warren had been at the club earlier to slow them down, thus making the FBI look bad.

Gibbs wished he could’ve squashed that theory before she’d even finished the sentence, but he couldn’t. And it pissed him off. Everything Tony complained about that night back in his basem*nt was the same concern Kehoe was voicing now.

And Gibbs couldn’t deny that their accusations had legs.

He didn’t want to believe it. He’d hoped it was just taking longer for a partnership bond to form between his two agents, but he’d been sure it eventually would.

He wasn’t so certain anymore. Ziva’s insolence and her blatant insubordination would have to be addressed, and he didn’t think Jenny would back him up. Eventually, he’d end up going around her, but he knew that would just make the work environment in the Navy yard hostile.

If he wanted Ziva to fall in line, he was going to have to get tougher with her and enforce the chain of command. No more going soft. Tony was right, Ziva was abusing his trust and the protectiveness he felt for her. He didn’t think the situation was lost, but things would need to change.

He’d been tempted to bench her today, except their current case was moving too quickly, and he couldn’t afford to be down an agent. They’d had Eric Montague’s place under surveillance since they first brought him to DC, and this morning, the package they’d been expecting arrived in his mail.

It was yet another demand for Montague to provide information if he ever wanted to see his roommate alive. The package contained a single human finger. The FBI’s lab ran DNA, and the finger belonged to Paul Bergmann. The lab was also able to tell that Bergmann was alive when his finger was chopped off, although it was still unclear exactly how long ago that was.

Gibbs asked Abby to re-run the tests, just to be sure. Jenny complained that the Admiral was impatient, and his son was growing frustrated with his confinement. Gibbs didn’t care what they wanted, but he hoped for the roommate’s sake that this could be resolved quickly.

The second bit of intel they received came from the photos Sacks took at the bar earlier that day. AFIS got a ping on one of the men – Zachary ‘Sonny’ Warren, Pete’s son. He’d received a Dishonorable discharge from the Navy for numerous counts of misconduct, and had been AWOL on several occasions. He’d also served time for violent assaults. Gibbs suspected he was the reason this whole mess began. He wanted to get a warrant to bring him in, as well, but was told they didn’t have enough on him.

If Sonny was inside the club, Gibbs intended to talk with him, anyway. He was already a disgrace to the Navy, no need to make it worse.

So, they had warrants for three of the four, everyone was in place, they just needed the call from Sacks indicating it was time for the synchronized raid to begin.

Gibbs was tempted to pull a DiNozzo and call him Slacks when he finally did call.

“Won’t be long now,” Fornell said, blowing on his hands. “I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

“He call?” Gibbs asked.

“Not yet, but he will. Sacks is competent, despite what your team thinks,” Fornell replied, lifting on eyebrow.

Gibbs shrugged. “You call antagonizing DiNozzo after you’d falsely arrested him competent?”

Fornell rolled his eyes. “No one antagonized him. I kept him well away from general lockup.”

“But you didn’t leash your bulldog.”

Gibbs drove DiNozzo home the night he’d been released from prison, and he’d stayed for a few drinks. DiNozzo let slip a few veiled comments, alerting Gibbs that captivity hadn’t gone as smoothly as Fornell had assured him it had.

Fornell looked at him quickly, face smooth, but Gibbs could read the doubt in his eyes. So, he did know his agent wasn’t as straight and narrow as he pretended.

As if summoned by their conversation, Ron Sacks suddenly arrived at the club, making a beeline for Fornell. Tina quickly moved to join them.

“What happened?” Fornell asked before Sacks even spoke.

“No luck on Warren. His car is in his driveway, but he’s not home, not at his place of business, and his phone must be turned off because I couldn’t ping his current location. The last known spot was here, at the Tavern – might’ve been when I photographed him this afternoon,” Sacks said. “He could still be here.”

“Dammit,” Fornell said, teeth clenched.

“You’re sure Evans and Barrows are here?” Tina asked.

“They’re phones are – but that doesn’t guarantee they didn’t leave them behind,” Sacks said.

Gibbs nodded. Even if they weren’t and had somehow slipped out of their net, the workers inside might’ve noticed something. With the warrants, they could at least ask some questions.

“Tell Ziva we’re coming in,” Gibbs said.

Fornell nodded and spoke into his radio which was connected to the earpiece Ziva was wearing. They waited a moment for Ziva to cough, which was the signal that she’d heard them, and it was clear to proceed.

All three stared at the radio as if it was somehow going to perform tricks, but they were met with silence.

“Are we clear?” Fornell spoke again.

They waited a couple more minutes but still nothing.

“Maybe it’s too loud,” Tina suggested.

Gibbs shook his head. “McGee knows to stay in range. There’s something going on inside.”

“We’re coming in. Over,” Fornell tried again.

Gibbs’ gut was roiling. Something was wrong, and his people were in the middle of it.

“Let’s roll,” Gibbs said, striding toward the club entrance.

Fornell grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “Not yet. We haven’t heard the all clear. That’s protocol. We just need to give her a few minutes. There might be a reason she doesn’t want us to enter.”

“Yeah, or she could be in trouble. Something’s not right. We need to go,” Gibbs insisted.

Sacks glanced back and forth between the two. Gibbs sensed his uncertainty, and it only further convinced him that something had gone wrong.

“I’m going in,” Gibbs said, done waiting.

“Let me do it,” Sacks volunteered. “I’ve been here as a customer. I can just walk in and check the situation. I fit better than either of you,” Sacks said.

“That’s a good idea. Here, take my communicator,” Tina said, fastening the device to Sacks wrist.

Gibbs watched Sacks go inside, battling his urge to say the hell with all of them and follow. It seemed to take ages to for Sacks to respond, but when he did, his words sent an ominous chill down their spines.

“Fornell, we’ve got a problem.”

“What?” Fornell asked, his eyes meeting Gibbs.

“DiNozzo’s missing. His co-workers are looking for him, too,” Sacks replied.

“How the hell can he be missing? We’ve had the club surrounded since before opening, and he was seen going in for his shift,” Fornell said, hurrying to catch up with Gibbs, who was already storming toward the entrance.

“If there’s trouble, DiNozzo will find it,” Gibbs called over his shoulder.

He’d known something was off. He should’ve ignored protocol and gone with his gut. How could Tony have disappeared with two pair of eyes watching him? Gibbs intended to find out, and if someone dropped the ball, heads were going to roll.

The FBI units swarmed the place in a relatively orderly fashion, instructing people to remain calm while they conducted a search. There were the usual panickers and folks who insisted they had rights and didn’t have to stay, but they were all subdued peacefully in the end.

Their search was a complete bust, however.

No DiNozzo, and no sign of Barrows, Warren, or Evans, either. Gibbs spoke with the other bartenders, and they all gave him the same story – Redman, aka DiNozzo, indicated he was taking a break and never returned. None of them saw him leave the club, however, and his leather jacket was still hanging on the rack.

As he quickly moved to check that statement for himself, his concern and frustration grew. The jacket was there, causing his jaw to tick in irritation. Curiously, neither of his agents had yet approached him to report, alerting him something was off. He found them with Sacks, searching the card room.

“Gibbs!” Ziva said once she saw him. “We have searched for any hidden panels or exits here or in the bathrooms. There is nothing.”

McGee hung his head, his expression pained. Sacks took a few steps back as if wishing he could distance himself from the other two. Gibbs was blocking the door, however.

“Explain!”

“Can’t find him anywhere Boss. No sign of Stephanie, either,” McGee said.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Gibs demanded.

“After Stephanie entered the club. She approached him. We could not hear what they discussed, but last we saw, he followed her to get lucky in the men’s room,” Ziva said, frowning her disproval.

“What?” Gibbs asked incredulously.

He turned towards McGee expectantly, and McGee cringed under the fierce glare. DiNozzo might like to goof off, but he was always on his game when it came to the work.

“Ah, I di-didn’t actually see him enter the men’s room, er, just into the hallway where the bathrooms are located,” McGee said, head bowed.

“You didn’t follow them?” he bellowed, near his boiling point.

“We had no desire to witness him rutting in a stall,” Ziva said, her lip curled. “We instead watched closely for his return.”

“We did search both the bathrooms and, the hallway once we realized it was taking too long,” McGee said.

For a beat, Gibbs just stared at them, nonplussed.

“They’re both missing. And you still think it was a bathroom tryst?” he finally shouted.

Ziva pressed her lips together, and McGee clamped his eyes shut. Gibbs was having a hard time keeping a lid on his anger. He wanted to knock their heads together. If he wasn’t so concerned for DiNozzo, he’d put a boot up their asses.

Still, neither offered an explanation. He’d deal with them after DiNozzo was located.

“Was Warren with the girl?” he asked.

McGee shook his head. “Haven’t seen him since we got here.”

“Why didn’t you respond to the radio?” he asked, turning his attention, and his angry gaze, back towards Ziva.

“It was too loud. I did not hear it,” she said, her tone clipped.

There was a pause, Gibbs glared at her, waiting for more. It was Sacks who spoke up, however.

“She was standing too close to the amp.”

Gibbs whirled back to McGee, who flinched again.

“Why didn’t you move? You should know where it gets reception.”

McGee hesitated, eyes down and face coloring. He clearly didn’t want to answer the question. Gibbs patience ran out.

“Explain!” he demanded, getting into McGee’s personal space.

The junior agent swallowed thickly, shoulders slumping. “I was dancing, Boss.”

Gibbs was sure he’d misheard. That couldn’t be right. Once again, the echo of DiNozzo’s words about his partners filtered through his mind chillingly.

What happens when he doesn’t have anyone there to guide him step by step… or if he gets the wrong guidance?

Before he could get to the truth, however, Fornell poked his head into the room, looking extremely tense.

“Jethro, I just had an urgent call from the hospital. Our sailor remembered something else. There’s a hidden tunnel beneath the stock room. That’s where DiNozzo found him last night and pulled him out.”

Without another word or glance to his errant agents, Gibbs stormed from the room like a volcano about to blow.

Chapter 15: I Got Friends in Low Places

Chapter Text

It was the insistent pain in his chest that finally drew Tony back to consciousness. It was sharp and unrelenting, demanding his attention, making it hard to focus on anything aside from the need for relief. He groaned. It took him a moment to fully awaken and asses his situation. He was lying on the cold, concrete floor beneath a metal chute of some sort. The room was dark and musty-smelling, but he could see beams of light through small cracks in a doorway not far from where he was lying. The room itself was bare save that metal chute above him and a few dryer vents.

His memories gradually came into sharper focus – being assaulted at the bar – awakening in a darkened room – a plastic tarp – threats – desperation. He’d escaped, ducking down a laundry chute, and hoping for the best.

Well, he was alive, anyway, but as his thoughts formed, it was as if all his other senses came online.

The additional pain in his head, hand, and now his ankle made itself known, all duller than the pain in his ribs, but still noteworthy. The ankle pain must’ve come from landing. He was shivering, although he wasn’t entirely sure if it was cold or shock. The musty smell that permeated the air was joined by other scents – rotting and decay, perhaps from other victims who’d met their demise here. He could vaguely hear the sounds of shouts and cars from outside. He wondered if his captors were still close by, searching for him.

That thought made him sit up with a panicked jolt.

Bad idea.

His head spun, stomach roiled, and he proceeded to throw up what little he had left in his system all over the floor. He had no idea how much time had passed since his abduction, or if his captors were even still hunting him.

Perhaps they’d gone to ground, deciding to lay low until they were prepared to strike. If he’d been too slow and lost them before they could be stopped, Gibbs would kill him… and Sully might’ve run out of time.

Dragging his sleeve across his mouth, he was surprised to see it come away with blood stains. Right, his face went a few rounds with Sonny or Matt, he couldn’t really remember. For all he knew, it might’ve been Rocky Balboa.

Slowly this time, he pulled himself to his feet, breathing heavily. His ribs protested fiercely, nearly knocking him out again. He staggered to the doorway on his swollen ankle, hoping there wouldn’t be someone waiting on the other side. He didn’t think he had it in him to escape again. Gibbs must be looking for him by now, right?

For once this night, something went his way. He pulled the door open, the rotting wood giving little resistance, and looked out onto an empty street. The brightness of the day surprised him. How long had he been out? The night was long over. He could see a few cars driving by on the street further away to his left, but his location down this smaller road seemed rundown and deserted. A chilly wind blew across his face, causing him to break out in goosebumps.

He tried to figure out where he was, searching for any known landmarks. There were several areas in the city that had seen better days, but he didn’t recognize anything familiar. Deciding the risk of his captors still patrolling the main street in search of him was too great, he went in the other direction.

His breathing labored and swaying on his feet, he began to move. His ankle protested every step, and he knew it must be pretty swollen since his shoe felt uncomfortably tight. There were still clumps of dirty snow and ice along the curb. He wasn’t going to go far in the shape he was in, and he really wished payphones were still a thing. It would make his life much easier.

It was very cold, and his teeth began to chatter. He was immensely glad he’d never had a chance to remove his flannel overshirt at the bar. He’d probably have frostbite by now – and it still was a distinct possibility if he passed out on this deserted street.

His progress was slow as he limped along, certain he was screwed if any of his captors turned down the street. He was dizzy, and he kept having to steady himself against the buildings he passed. Eventually, though, he made it to an ally running along the right side of the road. Tony paused, trying to catch his breath. His chest felt really tight, and a sharp pain tightened it every time he tried to take a deep breath. It reminded him of when he had the plague.

Blinking, he took another good look around, startled to realize he knew this place. For a night that seemed to have lasted a hundred years, he really wasn’t all that far from the Vault Tavern. He knew there was a spot in the building at the end of this ally where the homeless often took shelter. He’d brought a few strays there a time or two when the local shelters were at capacity. At least there was some protection from the elements.

Chico used to stay there a lot – and Tony did run into him recently in this neighborhood. Could he get lucky twice in a row? That wasn’t usually how his luck worked.

He began to walk towards the building, but he was so wobbly, he lurched into the side of a building, jarring his ribs. Crying out, he breathed through it, knowing it wasn’t all that much further to go. He moved slowly, each step bringing more pain, and his breathing becoming more labored.

He limped past a chain-link fence, clutching the fingers of his good hand through the wire to remain on his feet. Before he reached the end however, his knees gave out, and he sank to the ground below. The pavement was icy, wetting his jeans from the knees down, his legs rapidly becoming numb.

As his vision began to grey, he saw a dark, blurry outline lumbering towards him. Someone was bending down, trying to get a look at his face. Tony didn’t recognize him, but it looked like he might be a street person.

“Chico,” he gasped.

The bum’s bearded face crinkled, staring silently before turning and walking away. He wore a long, tattered coat and a red woolen hat with a sad excuse for a pompom still clinging to the top. Tony tried to gasp for help, but he didn’t have the breath to form the word. He remained, crumpled against the fence, trying to gather enough strength to get up.

“Dino?” another voice asked questioningly.

Tony forced his eyes open. As if by miracle, only a few feet away stood Chico, along with the other man and his sad pompom.

He nodded weakly, resting his weary head against the chain-link fence.

“Dino. What happened to you?” Chico asked, moving closer and hoisting Tony’s arm up to swing over his shoulder.

Tony groaned in pain, vision blurring.

“Help me get ‘im inside, Johnny. I can’t lift him meself,” Chico said, now also panting.

Barely conscious, Tony was unable to assist them at all, but eventually, they dragged him into their hiding spot. They stopped when they reached a pile of dirty rags that had once been blankets, or maybe rugs, resting against the far wall. They eased Tony down upon the pile.

Vaguely, he remembered that some of the local street girls often brought their “dates” around here if the john didn’t have a car. He really didn’t want to think about it since he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t move if you paid him.

There was a fire burning in the middle of the space, providing at least a bit of warmth from the frigid temperatures. Several people were huddled around it, hidden away from the world during the middle of the day, either sleeping off the night’s activities or awaiting closing time so they could solicit the workers and business folk heading home.

“Dino? That really you?” a husky female voice asked.

Blinking to clear his vision, Tony’s eyes focused on a gaunt woman wearing skin-tight jeans and a faux fur coat. She was a call girl he’d once known well. She’d been just a teenager at the time, and he’d tried repeatedly, whenever she’d been brought to the station, to let him call her parents or get her into a foster home. She’d have none of it and always ran away again.

“Silly Wabbit,” he gasped, a trace of a smile tugging at his split lip.

Despite his situation, he was pleased to see she was still alive. He didn’t know her real name, but she called herself Trixie LaBeau. It always reminded him of Trix breakfast cereal.

A grin bloomed across her heavily made-up, time-ravaged face. “You always were too clever,” she said. “You look terrible. What happened?”

Tony knew this was his best chance, but unconsciousness was insistently calling him. He could only hope they’d agree to help.

“Case,” he said. “Bad guys. Vault Tavern. Cops.”

Chico nodded enthusiastically. “I know! The fuzz are all over the f*ckin’ place. I ‘ad to stop work early and take cover.”

“Yeah, I saw ‘em, too – scarin’ away all my customers,” Trixie said, pouting.

“Need… favor,” Tony said, panting.

“O’course, Dino – I owe you,” Trixie said, ruffling his hair fondly.

“Look for cops ’tween here and club. Older guy… grumpy, silver hair, blue eyes. Looks like… he’s in charge. Gibbs. Only one… trust,” he said, winded.

Both Chico and Trixie glanced at one another warily. Approaching cops usually didn’t work out well for them.

“Please. Gibbs won’t… bust you,” Tony said, his eyes growing heavier. “Trust him… with my life.”

“Okay, Dino. I’ll do it,” Trixie said, nodding as if to help her make up her mind.

Chico nodded, patting Tony roughly on his shoulder.

“Careful. Talk… no one… else,” Tony said, his eyes fluttering shut and finally giving in to the bone-deep fatigue that had dogged him.

Looking down a dark hole cut into the floor suited Gibbs’ mood perfectly. He was nearly vibrating with fury as he followed Fornell down the crumbling wooden stairs into what had probably once been a wine cellar. His mind turned over the conversation he’d just had with his junior agents. What were they thinking? How could two highly trained special agents do something so reckless? There had to be more to the story than what they’d volunteered. McGee looked deservedly abashed, but Gibbs’ thoughts kept being drawn back to Ziva. She was angry and having difficulty suppressing it.

She gave into her emotions too easily, and those same emotions usually led to violence. It’s why he’d argued with Jenny about her decision to have the liaison officer work undercover on this case. He’d pulled rank on Ziva back in the office about the pecking order amongst them, which he shouldn’t have to do, but he assumed was the cause of her anger. He knew her Mossad instincts and reactions were deeply ingrained, but she valued herself too highly. She wasn’t Gibbs’ partner; she was his subordinate – and part of a team. A lone wolf isn’t part of a team.

She wasn’t coping with the team aspect. DiNozzo had seen it – why hadn’t he?

“We’re going to need flashlights. It goes on much longer that I can see,” Fornell said, sticking his head back out of the tunnel.

One of Fornell’s agents stood above them in the supply room. He nodded and went out to the truck to get the supplies they’d need. As soon as he stepped away, Sacks, McGee, and Ziva all gathered around the opening, looking down.

“See anything, Boss?” McGee asked, looking very pale and rather sick.

Gibbs was too angry to bother with an answer.

“Sacks, you stay here and put together a team to question all these witnesses. Find out if they know about this tunnel, or where it leads. Send more agents down to accompany us through. We’ll search the area where it ends. Have Kehoe take the rest and search locally around this building. Be sure none of our suspects slipped through any cracks. Let me know if you find anything, and I’ll do the same,” Fornell instructed.

“Boss, I want to come and help you search,” McGee said, eyes pleading.

Gibbs knew he felt guilty. He could understand the feeling, but he was still too angry and not inclined to make his junior agent feel better.

“I will come, too,” Ziva said.

That was the last straw. A statement rather than a request.

“No. You won’t. You go outside with Kehoe. McGee, you’re with me,” he barked.

McGee nodded gratefully and scrambled down the ladder, but Ziva attempted to change his mind.

“The area here is covered. I think I would be of more use searching with you. I have excellent tracking skills and have been trained to see what others miss,” she said.

“Not a request. Kehoe has lead,” Gibbs said, turning his back on her in dismissal.

Maybe the cold air would cool her off. He was sure Kehoe would let him know if she gave her any trouble or disobeyed any orders.

Once Fornell’s team arrived with the flashlights and supplies, they made a trek through the tunnel. Gibbs hoped that with this many people using it, the ceiling would hold and not collapse down around them. He kept that thought to himself.

There was a bend in the path, but it eventually came to a stop after about a quarter mile. There was another splintering ladder, but the rest of the tunnel was blocked by rocks and earth. It must’ve caved in at some point since the Civil War ended.

Gibbs took the lead and ascended, followed quickly by the rest of the team. He pushed on the ceiling above the ladder, which opened as another trap door. There was nothing on top of this one to hold it shut. He moved away from the door so the others could climb out behind him.

They’d ended up in what looked like an abandoned convenience store. It was empty, long fleeced of anything useful, and the walls and shelving that remained had been vandalized. The windows were boarded up, but not very well. There was a small amount of light coming through cracks in the wood indicating the sun was coming up. The thorough search of the club took longer than he’d realized.

“Boss, we’ve got blood spatter here,” McGee said tensely, leaning over a spot on the floor.

It was still bright red and not completely dry, but minimal. The direction of the spatter pointed toward the doorway – and it was recent.

One of the FBI agents took out gloves and collection swabs to get a sample.

“I’ve got more over here, but this looks older,” Fornell said.

Without a word, Gibbs pushed the door open and stepped outside. They were in a seedy area of the city, although he knew they hadn’t come far from the club. A good number of the buildings were abandoned, appearing as if they were awaiting a wrecking ball. The few places still in use had metal bars across the windows and doors after the shopkeepers locked up for the night. The sidewalk was icy, mud-splattered snow lay in clumps where it had been shoveled aside. He supposed a bright blood trail leading him straight to DiNozzo was too much to ask, but there wasn’t a single trace of him having been there. They could’ve hustled him into a car and sped off. By now, they could be anywhere.

Not that he wanted DiNozzo to be hurt, but the longer he was missing, the odds of finding him grew slim. Gibbs wished he’d disregarded his concern that the perps were watching DiNozzo and gone to meet him at the diner before his shift, like Kehoe wanted to do. Perhaps DiNozzo could’ve told him about the tunnel and saved some time in beginning their search.

“Anything?” Fornell asked, stepping out of the store behind him.

Gibbs remained silent.

“We’ll find him. I’m going to call the local PD and have them cordon off this area, so we can search in a grid pattern,” Fornell said, pulling out his phone.

“Check the abandoned buildings first. DiNozzo found the last bodies in an abandoned building,” Gibbs said.

He kicked a clump of snow, only it was too frozen by the cold to do more than hurt his foot. He gazed up and down the street, hoping his gut would give him some sort of hint on which direction to head.

He’d been the one who insisted to Jenny that DiNozzo was the one for this job. That he could handle it better than anyone. Had he pushed too hard? There had been a string of undercover ops in the past few years that hadn’t gone that well for DiNozzo, although each time, they got their man.

DiNozzo nearly died from the plague less than a year ago, and here Gibbs was again, looking for the culprit that hurt him. He hadn’t been fair to his SFA lately, suspecting he was the one causing the disharmony on the team rather than where the problem really lay. Why did it always take DiNozzo being injured or in trouble to remind Gibbs how much he meant to them… to the team as a whole… to him.

He was a bastard, and he knew it. Always had been, although perhaps he’d mellowed some when Shannon was alive. Her image, forever young, appeared to him now, as it always did when he needed solace, and he smiled sadly. She’d always had a mischievous sparkle in her eyes making it appear she was up to something.

DiNozzo’s had that same sparkle, and sometimes it made Gibbs wonder if he and Shannon ever had a son, if he would’ve had those same impish eyes. Kelly had his eyes, although a darker color – somber, more serious. He’d always wished she’d inherited Shannon’s instead.

After the loss of his family, Gibbs found a job where he could do some good, and it helped fill the emptiness. But he knew he was impossible to work with – Tom Morrow told him that often enough. Impossible, until he’d teamed up with a hotshot cop from Baltimore. DiNozzo never seemed fazed by his glares, snarls, and insults – whether they were deserved or not. Gibbs knew he’d hit his mark on occasion, and DiNozzo wasn’t as Teflon-coated as he appeared. Still, he’d always shown up for work the next day.

Had he used up too many chances? Pushed his luck too far once too often? He hoped not. He needed another opportunity to make it up to his agent, the best one he’d ever known.

Ah, Shannon, can you just keep an eye on him until I get there?

Once the various police departments showed up that morning, they began cordoning off the area. They paired off in twos to begin searching the buildings. As the day wore on, and they turned up nothing, Gibbs’ anger and frustration continued to grow. He was short with everyone, furious and enraged by their lack of progress. Even Fornell was giving him a wide berth.

The sun was beginning to set, and they’d just finished sweeping yet another building, still coming up empty.

McGee had been eyeing him nervously all afternoon. Every time he started to approach, he shook his head, turned around, and found something else to do. They’d been up all night, they were running on fumes, and they’d found nothing. Gibbs didn’t have the time or inclination to hold McGee’s hand and soothe his anxiety.

Still, he had to give the younger man credit when he eventually bucked up and approached him.

“Er… Boss,” McGee said, swallowing convulsively. “I’m… er… I know I shouldn’t have been dancing.”

“Ya think?” Gibbs asked, unable to control the heat behind his words.

McGee flinched. “I know, and I’m beating myself up over it…but… I had Tony in my sight the whole time while I was on the dance floor,” he said miserably.

“Then how did he end up missing?” Gibbs asked.

McGee’s shoulders slumped. “I should’ve followed him to the men’s room. I know that,” he said.

“Yeah, you should’ve. What possessed you to dance? That’s not like you,” Gibbs said.

“I know,” he moaned. “Ziva said it would help me work on my undercover skills since I was so bad at it. I knew I needed to improve–” McGee stopped, halting abruptly. His eyes grew wide and panicked as soon as he realized he’d let slip it was Ziva’s suggestion.

“She’s been grooming him.”

DiNozzo’s accusations from that night in his basem*nt rang in his ears.

Gibbs was more at fault than McGee. Dancing while undercover wasn’t the problem, if, as the younger man said, he’d kept his eyes on DiNozzo. The problem was listening to Ziva’s decision to not follow him into the men’s room. McGee was there as a bar patron; there was nothing out of the ordinary about dancing or wanting to take a leak. He needed to learn to stand up for himself. Even Abby knew exactly how to get what she wanted from him. He had a problem with domineering women.

Gibbs should’ve already broken him of that. It was time to start.

“And what would you have done if she told you to turn off the radio on a stakeout? Demanded you do it. Would you have stood up to her or gone along?” he asked, shouting.

McGee’s face colored brilliantly. Even his ears turned red. “I.. ah.. I’d like to think I w-wouldn’t,” he said quietly.

He was so earnest, so sincere, Gibbs couldn’t keep at it. Berating McGee didn’t do anything to quell the raging anger he felt. He had to walk away, leaving his junior agent standing there, before he said something McGee would never recover from.

He noticed Fornell on the street corner with the captain from one of the precincts that had been helping in the search. DiNozzo’s old department wasn’t there.

He’d asked.

That would’ve at least given him a target for his rage.

“We’ve still got nothing. Some of my guys have been on duty since yesterday. I have to send them home for some sleep. I’ll have replacements here within the hour,” the captain said.

Gibbs’ fury erupted. He went storming up, grabbed the man’s arm and spun him around. “An hour? Do you have any idea what can happen in an hour? Keep your men here until their replacements arrive,” he shouted.

“Gibbs!” Fornell said, grabbing his shoulder and trying to pull him back.

“Hey! Who the hell are you to tell me my job? Get your hands off me,” the Captain said, bright red spots of anger appearing on his cheeks as he shoved Gibbs off.

“Jethro, stand down, or you’ll have to be removed,” Fornell said, sternly, still holding him back.

He glared at Gibbs, and Gibbs knew him well enough to know when he couldn’t be pushed. Jerking away from the hand on his shoulder, he stormed away, toward another one of the buildings that hadn’t yet been searched. Night had fallen, and the temperature plummeted even further.

As he was walking away, he heard Fornell mutter, “Don’t mind him. It’s one of his pups who’s missing.”

Gibbs kept walking. They were nearing the end of the squalid area they’d been searching. There was a street running perpendicular that had more traffic, and there were more businesses and occupied buildings that way. The few shopkeepers who had businesses in this end had gone home for the night, putting the security bars back in place. Still, with the steady police presence all day, there were more people around. Their curiosity made them brave the cold to gawk at all the activity from behind the barrier the local PD put up.

As he rounded a corner, he stopped, breathing in deep gulps of the night air. They were no further along than they’d been that morning, and DiNozzo had been missing for nearly twenty-four hours. Bad things tended to happen after twenty-four hours. He knew that on a professional level, but he refused to believe DiNozzo had run out of time. The guy was quick on his feet and had talked his way out of bad situations before – particularly during undercover work. That was a bad trend that should’ve been considered. Gibbs felt powerless, not a feeling he was used to having.

They’d located Barrows and Evans’ cars in the lot at Vault Tavern. They hadn’t been moved or approached all day. Warren’s car was still in his driveway. They’d even tracked down Sonny Warren’s address and put a BOLO on his car. Nothing yet. They could be anywhere right now, but his gut kept telling him they were close.

DiNozzo was here, somewhere. He just had to find him.

While he’d been lost in thought, he’d let his guard down. Suddenly, he detected a presence stealthily approaching him from the right. He grabbed his weapon and spun around.

“Freeze,” he said coldly.

The woman – a street walker – gasped but stopped moving, her eyes widening like saucers. She was painfully thin and had the haggard appearance of too much drug use. She wore jeans and a lot of make-up, teetering on the ice in her high-heeled-boots.

He put his gun away, deciding she wasn’t a threat. “You’re going to have to go back behind the police tape,” he said wearily.

“Are you Gibbs?” she asked, her voice trembling.

His exhaustion instantly evaporated, and he looked at her more carefully. She was spooked, ready to bolt in an instant.

“Who wants to know?” he asked carefully.

How could she possibly know his name unless someone told her? Finally. He had to restrain himself from grabbing her and shaking the information he wanted from her, but he knew that would be a mistake.

“Are you Gibbs?” she repeated, her voice growing stronger but her eyes moving quickly from side-to-side.

He nodded. “I am.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, her body sagging. “You come with me.”

“Did Tony send you?” he asked, already sure of the answer but needing to hear it. If he’d sent her – he was alive.

“Come with me,” she repeated.

“Okay. Let me just go get my partner and–”

“No!” she shouted, taking a step back and shaking her head forcefully.

He watched her, considering.

“He said to only trust you,” she whispered.

There was never any question he was going to go with her. Fornell and McGee would panic, but they’d be happy if he came back with DiNozzo.

He swung his arm out invitingly, “Lead the way.”

Chapter 16: Someone Saved My Life Tonight

Chapter Text

Tim McGee sagged against the crumbling brick of an abandoned building, watching Gibbs’ back as his boss stormed away. He was exhausted, and the cold air seeped into his bones, despite his heavy layer of clothing. The FBI provided hand-warmers that he wore inside his boots and gloves. They’d worked quite well in the beginning, and his pocket was stuffed with extras, but after sixteen hours of searching, they’d lost their effectiveness.

Yesterday, once they’d confirmed the raid was a go, they’d all been sent home for a mandatory rest period – even Gibbs, who Tim secretly suspected never slept. The man seemed permanently on – even when they were stuck in the office working cold cases.

He knew they were already past the time they should’ve had more rest, yet they kept going. If they gave up and let others take over the search, it would feel like giving up on Tony.

Tim’s guilt over the fact his partner went missing, right under his nose, nearly choked him. He couldn’t blame Gibbs for being furious; he deserved it. Still, he’d never handled it well when his boss was pissed – particularly if he was at the center of that fury. In reality, he knew Gibbs was pissed at Ziva, too, but she was searching in another area and not beneath Gibbs’ direct wrath.

Despite knowing he’d been the one who’d asked to come along, it didn’t make it any easier, and he resented Ziva for escaping it. He hadn’t seen Gibbs this livid since Ari Haswari took Autopsy hostage.

They were nearly at the end of this rundown section of the city, and besides the blood they’d discovered where the underground tunnel deposited them, there’d been no other trace. Fornell sent those samples back to the FBI lab, who confirmed one of them came from Tony. At the news, Tim’s stomach dropped, and he’d yet to lose the queasiness.

He could see Gibbs in the distance approaching Fornell on the street corner and decided there was no point waiting for his return. It was probably better if Gibbs worked off some of his frustration anyway.

He waved at another pair of the FBI’s search and rescue team, joining them to begin a search of the brick building he’d been leaning against. One of the pair offered him a nutrition bar, but he declined. He knew there was no way his already delicate stomach could handle it. He didn’t think he’d be able to eat again until they’d located Tony.

As his new team entered the building, Tim took a good look around. Like most of the others they’d searched, this place was a disaster and already marked for demolition. Parts of the ceiling were missing, and spots of the floor were worn down to concrete. There was broken glass everywhere. He suspected it was probably once a small hotel. It had three stories, but the search group decided to stay together in case there was any kind of collapse.

It smelled stale and musty, never mind the more unpleasant odors of trash and urine. Tim had no idea if it was animal or human, and he really didn’t want to know.

Realizing the other two had already begun looking around the lobby area, Tim pulled himself back together. As they moved around, plaster would occasionally fall, creating dust clouds that blurred their vision and caused coughing fits. It was pitch-black inside, so they all held their standard-issue heavy-duty flashlights. The light created long shadows on the walls. Tony would’ve come up with some sort of horror movie reference or something… The Shadow Knows.

The lack of sleep might actually be messing with his head – Tim was projecting Tony now. He felt another twinge of guilt at all the times he’d been infuriated with Tony’s constant movie references and practical jokes. He’d gratefully listen to a joke now. Maybe there was some sort of explanation for his disappearance that he wasn’t seeing, but he didn’t know what.

Although they all remained on the same floor, they each searched individual rooms in an attempt to keep things moving. Tim marked the one he’d just completed by spraying an X outside it with bright orange, fluorescent paint.

As he searched for any sign that Tony might’ve been here, his mind, which was constantly processing, recalled the dressing down he’d just received from Gibbs. Even now, his ears burned and his stomach clenched. He’d denied the idea he would’ve listened to Ziva if she’d asked him to do something he knew was wrong, but his subconscious kept twinging because it was sort of what he’d just done. Ziva was the one who didn’t want to follow Tony to the men’s room. Why did he listen to her? He knew he was supposed to keep him in sight. He should’ve followed, but it wasn’t like he was the only one at fault.

Tim knew Gibbs, Fornell, and Kehoe were keeping each other apprised of their progress, but Ziva kept calling Tim for a progress report anyway. He imagined she was worried about Tony, too, and it was hard being left behind. He suspected Gibbs left her with Tina to prove a point about the chain of command. They were in enough trouble already, so he didn’t want Gibbs to find out she was calling.

Right now, Gibbs only concern was Tony, but there’d be hell to pay once they found him – hopefully unharmed. One of them should've followed him, that was the assignment. Ziva's reasoning seemed sound at the time, but she did tend to intimidate him, so he wouldn't always speak up even if the thought she was wrong.

While he'd denied it to Gibbs, he could admit to himself that he was distracted by the girl at the bar. She was pretty, and she approached him. That wasn’t something that happened to him every day, and he was flattered by it. It boosted his tattered ego.

He did make sure to keep an eye on Tony, glancing at the bar frequently, but he didn’t notice how long he’d been in the men’s room, or that Ziva moved from their table and was standing too close to the amplifier. Maybe they could’ve begun the search sooner, or even been able to stop it, if he’d been more aware. Ziva should’ve realized she was standing right next to the damn thing. Why should he have to tell her?

If only he’d followed Tony. If something happened to him… he found himself wishing this was just another of Tony’s endless, childish pranks rather than anything serious. He really didn’t want him to be injured. The cold and exhaustion were messing with his head.

He marked the room he was in with another orange X and trudged on.

As soon as he walked through the next doorway, he realized it wasn’t an old guest room. It was much larger. He scanned the walls with his flashlight, illuminating several dryer vents hanging loosely, the dryers long gone. He was in the laundry room.

He walked around, scanning the space with his flashlight. There was something protruding from the ceiling, and when he shone his light on it, he realized it was an old laundry chute. This hotel was even older than he’d thought.

Getting ready to move on, he lastly shone his flashlight across the floor… and froze. There was a splash of vomit right beneath the laundry chute, and it was recent enough that it hadn’t had time to congeal. As his light continued across the floor, he noticed blood spatter near the vomit. More blood than the minimal amount they’d found earlier, and the trail led toward the exit door.

“Got something!” he shouted, his heart thudding with adrenaline. His breath made swirly puffs of vapor even indoors.

Forgetting his squeamishness, he knelt down, removing evidence gloves and collection swabs from his backpack. He pulled off his heavy-duty winter gloves and pulled on latex ones. It smelled disgusting. It couldn’t have been here longer than a day.

Tamping down on his desire to rush, he waited for his partners to join him. One of them took pictures of the entire area while the other handed him a few collection tubes so he could scrape a sample of each.

“I’m going to get these out to Fornell and have him send a few more agents back to help us search. We can move through here quicker that way,” one of the FBI guys – Neil or Ned, Tim couldn’t remember which – said.

While Tim’s gut wasn’t nearly as developed as Gibbs,’ he was sure this was the place, and Tony had been here recently. He’d either managed to escape or had been thrown down the laundry chute from one of the upper floors. Maybe his captors thought the concrete at the bottom would kill him.

It might’ve if he’d landed on his head, Tim thought uneasily. The vomit could be a sign he was concussed, but clearly, the fall hadn’t killed him. Tim looked up inside the laundry chute, flashing a beam of light. It was too dark to see how far up it went, but since he knew the building had three floors, Tony couldn’t have slid more than two stories…

…Onto concrete, perhaps head-first. And there was also more blood here, indicating he was injured.

Tim sobered, swallowing thickly, and willed his panic away. Tony must’ve walked away, so it couldn’t be hurt too bad… right?

“Let’s go up a floor and look around since someone obviously came down the chute,” his partner said.

Tim nodded, and they climbed the stairs to the second floor. They exited the stairwell onto a long hallway of spaced door openings. Most of the actual doors were missing, and there was a beat-up old soda machine in front of them. Tim took the left side, his partner the right, and they began checking all the rooms. When Neil/Ned returned with more agents, they could begin searching the third floor.

Tim was usually very good with names, and he didn’t know why he couldn’t remember these guys. It was very unlike him. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. He was only functioning on auto-pilot and couldn’t process new information.

“I found the laundry chute in a supply closet. There’s more blood here,” his temporary FBI partner called.

Tim was fairly certain this one was called Joe… or it could be Jim. Regardless, Tim hurried to join him, seeing the blood on the walls, and a large amount on the rim of the chute. In his mind, Tim could imagine Tony stumbling around in the dark, feeling the walls, and perhaps lowering himself into the chute. He preferred that theory rather than envisioning a beating and a dumping from this little empty room.

Tony was good at escaping. Maybe he’d managed it again and would delight in telling exaggerated tales of his ingenuity. He hoped so.

Once they took photos and collected more samples, they continued down the hallway. The walkie-talkie hooked on Tim’s belt flared into life, and Fornell’s voice alerted him that more teams were on the way.

When they’d started the search that morning, each pair took a walkie-talkie. Gibbs listened to the instructions, then just walked away, leaving Tim to pick up one for their team. He wished Gibbs had it now so Tim could’ve at least told him they’d finally found some clues.

He supposed Fornell would let him know.

When he shined his light into the next room, his heart plummeted into his already upset stomach, and all the air evaporated from his lungs. Most of the floor was covered with a plastic tarp. It was wrinkled as if there’d been a fight, and there was more blood. A lot more blood. He carefully moved the light across every inch of the floor, coming across a glint of something long and thin against the wall.

Tim went over to investigate. He found a lead pipe, the same thing that had been used on the bodies that he and Tony found in that alley. His stomach churned, and even though it was empty, some of his insides still threatened to come up. Once again putting on latex gloves, he carefully picked it up, there was blood smeared all over it. Tim clenched his eyes and placed it inside an evidence bag, hands shaking.

Had it been used on Tony? He hoped not.

He’d seen what had been done to those victims. Broken bones, internal injuries, brain damage – and Tony was here... Tim thought he might’ve zoned out for a moment, because although it didn’t seem as if any time passed, he could hear Fornell’s voice in the hallway.

Swallowing, Tim stuck his head outside the door. “I’ve got something.”

“You four, head up to the third floor and begin the search. You two, start at the opposite end of this corridor and work towards us,” Fornell directed.

Tim watched a group of FBI agents split apart, following their orders. Fornell and the two agents who Tim joined earlier – Neil/Ned and Joe/Jim – met him outside the guest room where he stood.

“Need photos. Theres a bloody, plastic tarp in here,” he said.

“Body?” Fornell asked tensely.

Tim shook his head. “No, but I found an iron rod.”

Fornell held out his hand for the evidence bag. Unsettled, Tim gave it to him, glad to be rid of it.

“I’ve sealed off the building. We’ll get a crew in here to process the whole scene,” Fornell said, flashing his light around. “Where’s Gibbs?”

It took Tim’s distracted brain a moment to register Fornell’s question.

“What do you mean? I thought he was with you,” he said, eyes wide.

Fornell frowned. “I spoke with him outside, but that was about an hour ago. I thought he came back to you.”

An hour? Tim didn’t realize it had been that long. Uh, oh. I lost Gibbs, too.

“He never came back,” he said faintly.

“What? He needed to blow off some steam, but he should’ve been back by now,” Fornell said, pulling out his phone.

He hit a button, and Tim was sure he was calling Gibbs. Interesting that he had the number on speed dial. Maybe he did that for whoever he was partnering on a case. He certainly didn’t think Gibbs had Fornell’s number on his phone. He probably would’ve had to ask Tim to program it.

“He’s not picking up,” Fornell said, his eyes wary.

Did Gibbs find something, or was he in trouble? Did he get a call from Tony? Did he just go lone wolf without telling them anything? It wouldn’t be the first time, but it would’ve been nice to know.

“Down here!” another agent called, her voice urgent and solemn.

Tim knew whatever she’d found wasn’t good. He followed Fornell towards a room at the end of the hallway, dragging his feet, dreading what he was about to find. When they reached the room, the female agent stood aside, her face somber. Fornell shone his flashlight.

There were two bodies – neither of them Tony. Tim recognized Paul Bergmann, Eric Montague’s roommate. They’d received one of his fingers in the mail just yesterday. Tim pointed his flashlight at Bergmann’s hands; sure enough, one finger was missing.

They’d been killed recently. Tim had seen enough bodies to know that without Ducky’s help. The other victim was female, also recently deceased, but he didn’t recognize her. As far as he knew, no one had reported another missing person in relation to this case.

Tim met Fornell’s eyes across the room. Still no sign of Tony. No sign of Tina’s missing agent, either… and definitely no sign of the criminals who’d done all this damage.

Not to mention… Tim had no idea what happened to Gibbs.

On the street, Gibbs followed the call girl as she turned down a dark alley. He knew women were used to heels, but he couldn’t figure out how she stayed upright on all the ice. Perhaps she was using her stiletto boots like cleats. She hadn’t said a word since they’d begun walking, and while he always preferred a lack of conversation, there were things he needed to know.

He just wasn’t used to being the one who wanted to talk.

“How do you know Tony?” he asked, wondering if DiNozzo simply found someone willing to help, or if he knew her from his days on the force here.

Gibbs suspected he must know her like he did the homeless guy he and McGee ran into. He had a hard time believing Tony would simply trust a stranger after everything that happened – unless he had no choice.

She didn’t answer, but her eyes slid sideways, studying him, sizing him up. He couldn’t even guess how old she was, but her sallow skin and bony frame told him she’d lived a hard life.

“Did you know him when he lived here?” he asked.

“That was a long time ago,” she said, her voice husky like a long-term smokers.

“I met him in Baltimore,” Gibbs said.

He watched her contemplate that bit of information. “That where he lives now?” she asked.

“Nah. We work together,” he replied, cautious not to give away Tony’s actual address.

She nodded but didn’t ask. They were walking toward a cluster of buildings at the end of the alley. There were no lights in any of them, but there wasn’t anything else there. His senses were on high alert, carefully checking out any potential hiding spots in case of attack. He could smell smoke in the chilly air. They walked along a chain link fence, too exposed.

“You know that I’m Gibbs, but I don’t know what to call you,”’ he said, wondering if she’d trust him enough to reveal her name.

She paused, and he could see the uncertainty flickering behind her eyes. At last, she must’ve concluded that he wasn’t out to get her.

“Trixie,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Dino calls me Silly Wabbit.”

A half grin tugged at Gibbs’ mouth. Even he knew that one. His daughter used to love that cereal.

“Sounds like him. Is he hurt?” he asked.

She pressed her lips together and walked a little faster, but eventually, she nodded. “Worse than usual.”

Gibbs knew DiNozzo had a lot of trouble with the cops at the precinct where he’d worked, but he’d never mentioned things got physical. Typical. He clenched his fists, trying to control his temper. He didn’t want to scare Trixie off.

When they came to the end of the chain link fence, they’d reached the empty buildings. Trixie’s eyes scanned for threats in the same way Gibbs did moments before. She moved toward the one situated kitty corner. It was as dark and desolate as all the others, but the smoky scent was stronger. She didn’t go near what looked as if it had once been the front entrance, instead, she skirted down the side, pushing on one of the boards, causing it to swing out. She ducked inside, leaving Gibbs to follow.

He stepped into a large space with a good-size fire burning in a rock pit in the center. There was a makeshift chimney consisting of a board that moved to the side so the smoke could vent. Inventive.

The smell of marijuana was heavy, and a large group of vagrants and working girls huddled around the fire, soaking up the warmth. They all stilled as Gibbs followed Trixie inside, their eyes instantly wary and alert – at least the ones who weren’t already stoned or plastered.

Gibbs relaxed his posture, trying to convey he wasn’t a threat. Still, there was a large number of them, and he knew situations like this could go sideways fast.

“Trixie! You found ‘im,” a gruff voice said, sounding relieved.

Gibbs looked over to see a vagrant wearing a hat with long ear flaps and clutching a cigarette tightly in his stubby fingers.

Trixie nodded. “Course I did, Chico. Told you I could faster than you.”

The group around the fire relaxed as a whole once they realized Gibbs was with two of their own.

“He’s not doin’ too good,” Chico said nervously.

He moved aside, and Gibbs saw DiNozzo lying atop a pile of rags. He was sweating profusely, despite the cold air, yet also shivering. He had a fever. His face was battered and swollen with fresh blood shining on his lips. Despite all the bruising, Gibbs could see he was extremely pale. Ignoring everyone else, he moved across the room and knelt beside his agent.

“Tony. Tony, can you hear me?” he asked, gently shaking DiNozzo’s shoulder.

He didn’t get a response other than a faint moan. After a few minutes of vainly trying to rouse him, Gibbs realized it wasn’t going to happen. It was probably better since getting him into an ambulance would most likely be painful. Once they reached a hospital, the doctors could help him better than Gibbs could.

“He started coughin’ up blood,” Chico said, frantically. “He gonna die?

Gibbs didn’t answer. Coughing up blood wasn’t good. He knew enough about accident victims to know that probably meant a punctured lung. That would make it even harder to move him. DiNozzo’s lungs were his weak spot, and Gibbs’ concern shot up several notches, constricting his chest. He knew they weren’t going to like it, but he needed help.

“Trixie, I have to call an ambulance,” he said to the one he thought was most likely to help.

“No f*ckin’ way! They’ll bust us and close down this place. It’s f*ckin’ cold outside,” Chico said, and most of the others in the makeshift shelter shook their heads angrily in agreement.

“Has to be done,” Gibbs said firmly.

“I don’t think a meat wagon is a good idea,” Trixie said, looking at DiNozzo sadly and biting her lip. “Dino said there were bad guys after him, and sirens draw attention.”

She was right, but he didn’t see an alternative. Tony’s lungs trumped everything else.

“Look, I’m not going to let him die.”

“What if I can supply another way?” Chico asked, staring at Gibbs with squinty eyes.

“What other way?” Gibbs asked.

“Jonesy, gimme one o’ ya phones,” Chico said to a kid by the fire.

The kid, a dark-skinned youth who couldn’t be more than fifteen asked, “What’s innit for me?”

“Cops not findin’ us ‘ere,” Chico said gruffly.

Jonesy thought about it for a moment before opening his coat. Inside the lining hung a variety of cell phones, probably stolen and up for resale. He examined them all. Pulling off a particularly battered looking one, he turned it on and handed it to Chico.

Chico took it, pressing some numbers. Gibbs had no idea what was going on, but he decided to let it play out. He’d rather not have to shoot his way out of here.

But he would if it became necessary.

“Hey, Keshawn. Dino’s ‘ere and needs some ‘elp. Can ya bring your van?” Chico asked.

“Oh! That’s a good idea,” Trixie said, her face brightening.

When Chico finished the call, he tried to hand the phone back to Jonesy, but the youth shook his head.

“No way, man. You used it. They can track it now. Have Keshawn get rid of it,” Jonesy said.

“Who’s Keshawn, and what’s he going to do?” Gibbs demanded impatiently.

“This place has a back entrance that leads out to a slightly better neighborhood. Keshawn has a van. He can take you to the hospital,” Trixie said, still nodding.

“Why is Keshawn going to help?” Gibbs asked, unwilling to put DiNozzo in any more risk than necessary.

“He owes Dino,” Trixie said.

“Dino got ‘im outta spot of trouble when he lived ‘ere. Got ‘im an apprentice job with a local electrician,” Chico said.

“He’ll help,” Trixie agreed.

“Need a stretcher to move him. I think his ribs are broken,” Gibbs said.

Chico and Trixie stared at him blankly.

“What about a board? Got tons of those around here,” Jonesy said.

Gibbs nodded. Trixie was right that the club owners could still be hunting, not to mention the armada of police searching the streets. Gibbs wanted to get Tony to a hospital before he alerted anyone else that he was safe. Surest way to change that was to bring too much attention to the fact he was being moved.

DiNozzo did a damn fine job of escaping, lying low, and getting help all on his own. It was Gibbs’ turn to take care of him the rest of the way.

Jonesy stood up and dragged over a long board, thick enough to support a man.

“Gibbs nodded. “We need to lift him gently, so we don’t move him around too much.”

Trixie, Chico, and Jonesy immediately came over to help. Gradually, a few of the others joined in and they managed to move DiNozzo on his dirty blankets a couple feet onto the board. Tony coughed, despite how smoothly they were trying to move him, and slick spots of crimson dribbled down his chin. A car beeped outside.

“That’s Keshawn, I’ll get him,” Chico said, disappearing into the darkness towards the back of the building.

Gibbs phone rang in his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID – Fornell. He ignored it, letting it continue to ring in his pocket. He could see how nervous it was making everyone.

A moment later, Chico led a young man into their midst. He wore coveralls with the name of an electrician on the front. He looked as out of place as Gibbs amongst this crowd, but if Chico was to be believed, he’d once been one of them.

“Meet Gibbs. He’s helping Dino,” Chico said.

Keshawn’s eyes went wide, and he jerked his head from side to side. “Where is he?”

Trixie pointed to the unconscious DiNozzo, who looked frail and broken in the flickering light from the fire, his complexion nearly grey.

“What’s wrong with him?” Keshawn asked uneasily.

“He needs a hospital – without attracting a lot of attention,” Gibbs said, sizing up this new ally.

Keshawn looked at Tony, then back at Gibbs, then at all the faces watching him curiously.

“All right, let’s go. There are cops crawling all over the place. That have something to do with him?” he asked, jerking his head toward DiNozzo.

“Of course, it does?” Trixie replied.

Keshawn leaned over to take the top of the board Tony was lying on. Gibbs took the other end, and the others gathered along the sides. Carefully and gently, they moved Tony through the building and out a door in the back. Keshawn’s van waited with the doors already open. They slid Tony’s makeshift stretcher inside and closed him in.

“You coming?” Keshawn asked.

Gibbs nodded and got in the passenger seat, waving his thanks to the others. Once they got Tony to a hospital, he intended to give Keshawn enough money to get pizza and bring it back for all of them.

Chapter 17: Better Be Good to Me

Chapter Text

Keshawn and Gibbs arrived at the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Hospital not long after leaving the shelter. Keshawn drove slightly further than necessary because he insisted it was a better hospital, and Gibbs curbed his impatience because he didn’t mind putting some space between Tony and his captors. Despite the distance and the speed at which they traveled; it was a very smooth ride. Gibbs could tell their young driver cared about their patient. By the time they reached their destination, Tony was wheezing, and the sound put Gibbs on edge, visions of blue lights dancing on his brain.

When they reached the hospital’s emergency entrance, Gibbs told Keshawn to wait while he went inside to get some help. He marched right up to the front desk, flashed his credentials, and demanded Tony be moved to the head of the line. A team of medical personnel brought a stretcher out to the van and whisked a very pale DiNozzo inside.

Before Keshawn drove away, Gibbs handed him all the cash in his wallet. He told the young man to get pizza for everyone back in the improvised shelter to express his thanks for their aid. He was sure its what Tony would’ve wanted.

“Thanks, man. I’ll do that. Listen, when Tony gets better, tell him to look me up. I’m still working for Sal, only now I’m a fully-licensed electrician. I owe him,” Keshawn said, shaking Gibbs’ hand.

“I think you’re square – but I’ll let him know,” Gibbs said, slapping his hand twice on the hood before Keshawn drove away.

Gibbs returned to the waiting room and began to pace. Exhaustion was beckoning him too strongly to risk sitting down. He knew he should call Fornell but would bet that the doctors would be out with a diagnosis as soon as he attempted the call. Gibbs was Tony’s medical proxy, had been ever since the younger man contracted the plague. Although Tony was conscious, so he could agree to treatment when he was first admitted, it concerned Gibbs enough to insist that all his team have a local contact listed on their emergency forms.

Kate and McGee already filled theirs out correctly when they’d first been hired, but DiNozzo somehow slipped his through without a medical contact.

Gibbs put his own name on Tony’s form before he even handed it to him for signature. Tony didn’t say anything aloud, but he gave Gibbs a small nod, and it was never mentioned again. That’s how he and Tony used to work, but recently, their connection developed static. Gibbs finally realized just where the interference was coming.

“Anyone here with Cody Redman?” a plump nurse with large arms and an even larger personality called out.

It took a minute for Gibbs to register the name. He supposed being awake for over twenty-four hours could do that to a person. When the nurse repeated the name, he stood.

“That’s me,” he said, following her down the corridor.

Once they were out of earshot of the waiting room, he said, “His name is Anthony DiNozzo. I told your front desk.”

The nurse paused outside a room with a closed curtain acting as a door. “ID says Cody Redman,” she said suspiciously, her eyes squinting as she stared at Gibbs.

He didn’t have time for this. He pulled out his badge and held it right in front of her face.

“Federal agents, undercover. He going to be all right?” he asked, growling.

The nurse put her hands on her wide hips, dark eyes narrowing. “Don’t you get huffy with me. You don’t want to be on my bad side, Agent-man. You his partner?” she asked.

Gibbs pressed his lips together. Normally, he wouldn’t care whose bad side he put himself on, but he needed to know.

“Yes, and his medical proxy,” Gibbs said, jaw clenched.

The nurse appeared to approve of his slight change in attitude. “Very well, come on in,” she said, pulling the curtain aside and letting him into the cramped examination room.

“Dr. Kovalenko, this is LeRoy Jethro Gibbs, and he says your patient is called Anthony, not Cody. They’re federal agents,” she said to a fair-haired man in a lab coat adjusting the machines hooked up to Tony.

There was also another woman in the room. She, too, wore a lab coat while she adjusted a breathing mask over Tony’s face.

“Tony. He prefers to be called Tony,” Gibbs said, not entirely sure why he wanted that to be clear. Tony only seemed to use his full name when he felt he’d done something wrong.

“He’s taken quite a beating and has several broken bones, along with some internal bleeding. He’s going to need surgery to repair the damage. Do you know the name of his primary care, so I can get a medical background?” Dr. Kovalenko asked.

Gibbs nodded. “Dr. Donald Mallard at NCIS,” he said, reeling off Ducky’s number. “He’s a medical examiner, but he patches up all NCIS agents and keeps their histories.”

Dr. Kovalenko’s pale eyebrows rose, but he nodded. Gibbs wasn’t sure if he was old enough to be a doctor.

“Roberta, can you get ahold of this doctor for me?” Dr. Kovalenko asked.

The nurse bobbed her head and left the room, eyeing Gibbs sidewise as she did.

The other woman, who looked as if she might be an intern and even younger than Dr. Kovalenko, turned and asked. “Do you know if there’s any specific medical history that we should be aware? He has broken bones in his left hand and his ribs on both sides. An X-ray showed a bone shard from one of his ribs caused a Pneumothorax – a collapsed lung. There’s also some trauma to his kidneys that we’ll monitor, and a possible concussion. We want to get him up to surgery to stop the bleeding right away. They’re prepping a room for him now,” she said.

The hackles on the back of Gibbs’ neck stood on end, wishing they could just ask him these questions while they were moving him to the operating room. DiNozzo was entirely too pale and still for his liking. It was unnatural, and brought back more unpleasant memories of blue lights in an isolation chamber.

“Had the plague last May,” he said, voice strained.

Both doctors stopped what they were doing and looked at Gibbs carefully, as if they might need to check him for a head injury.

“Pneumonic plague. Treated at Bethesda Naval Hospital by Dr. Pitt,” Gibbs said, not wanting to get into the whole Hollywood confusion with Brad’s name.

Leave it to DiNozzo to end up with a doctor who shared a name with a famous actor. Gibbs just wanted them to hurry.

“You’re serious?” the woman asked, brow knitted.

“Nearly killed him. Can you move now?” he asked, his tentative grip on his temper slipping.

The woman’s face was stern. “I understand your concern, but if we’re going into his chest, that’s very relevant. I’m Dr. Okinyi, a Pulmonologist here. I’m going to confer with Dr. Pitt before I open him up,” she said.

“What if you can’t?” he asked sharply.

How young did they go through medical school these days?

“Bethesda will have his records, even if Dr. Pitt isn’t on duty. I assure you it won’t take long,” she patted his arm as if consoling an upset relative before she left.

The sound of Tony’s wheezing despite the mask covering his face was driving Gibbs insane. He needed to do something. The intercom buzzed, and Roberta’s distinct voice filled the room.

“I have Dr. Mallard for you,” she said.

Dr. Kovalenko picked up the phone and began speaking with Ducky. Gibbs walked over and took a good look at DiNozzo now that they were under the lights. He was sweating, although not as profusely as it’d looked in the firelight. Gibbs knew that meant his fever wasn’t dangerously high. His head was lolling to the side, his face battered and bruised. One eye looked as if it was probably swollen shut, the coloring spectacular. They’d removed his shirt and boots, leaving his lower body covered with a sheet.

Despite the impressive bruising, Gibbs could see his chest was covered in a light peach fuzz, although the Henna tattoo was still intact. Gibbs remembered the way Tony strut when it had first been applied. He wondered if Abby would hold off pestering him to get a real one while he recovered. He mentally added her name to the list of people who needed to be informed.

It seemed to take forever before Tony was whisked up to surgery, and Gibbs was led to the surgical waiting area. When he glanced at the clock, it really hadn’t been all that long. He immediately went for the coffee machine available in the back and poured a cup. This waiting room was less crowded than the ER’s had been, and he was finally able to sink into in a chair, his body sagging in relief. He took a sip of the sludge they called coffee, winced, and discarded the cup on an end table.

The doctors said the surgery would most likely take several hours, and he should go home, take a shower, and return in the morning. Although that sounded like exactly what he needed, he had no intention of leaving the hospital – or leaving DiNozzo unprotected.

He allowed his eyes to close for just a few moments, letting the tension seep out through his pores. DiNozzo was safe, and with people who could help him. Now he had to deal with the rest of his team. When he felt slightly more prepared for the deluge, he removed his phone and resignedly hit speed dial seven.

“Where the hell have you been?” Fornell asked so angrily that Gibbs pulled the phone away from his ear.

“Didn’t know you cared,” he replied glibly.

“It’s not funny. I know playing cowboy is your standard MO, but this is a joint investigation, damn it. I thought you had a rule about always being reachable,” Fornell said.

“D’you want a sitrep or just to be pissy?” he asked.

“Personally, I’d rather just be pissy, but your team seems concerned. Something you should’ve thought about when you decided to go lone wolf.”

“I didn’t go lone wolf. If you’d shut up a minute, I’m gonna tell ya,” Gibbs said, his limited amount of patience dwindling.

“Do it then,” Fornell said tightly.

“I’m at the hospital with DiNozzo. He’s in surgery,” Gibbs said, the full impact of the words creating a lead ball in his belly.

“Is he going to be all right?” Fornell asked, his anger turning to concern.

“He better be,” Gibbs said, knowing Fornell would be able to hear the concern by what he didn’t say.

“How’d you find him?” Fornell asked.

“He found me. Managed to get to a homeless shelter and sent one of the locals to track me down. He’s in surgery,” Gibbs said.

“Why didn’t you alert us? We’re still searching here,” Fornell said, the anger creeping back into his voice.

“DiNozzo instructed them to get me alone,” Gibbs said.

“Convenient. D’you want me to send McGee and David over?” Fornell asked. “McGee is wound tighter than the screws on a new playground.”

“No. Tell them to hit the rack first,” Gibbs said.

“Yeah, well, things have been rather eventful over here, too,” Fornell said. “Thanks for asking.”

Gibbs frowned. “Eventful how?”

“We found the building where your boy was being held. Also found two more bodies there, but no perps. One of the deceased is your missing NSWC roommate,” Fornell said.

“You found him?” Gibbs asked, surprised.

“Yes. Believe it or not, we continued the search after you disappeared. I’ve told you before that you’re not the center of the universe, Jethro. Everyone else’s lives continue when you’re not around.”

Fornell had accused him of this self-absorbed behavior in the past because he knew it got under Gibbs’ skin.

“Quit whining – you sound like an angry wife,” Gibbs said.

“You would know all about angry wives. You’re good at creating those,” Fornell said.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. “Was the other vic Mike Sullivan?”

“No. No sign of him. The other one was a woman, both recently deceased. The bodies have been sent back to our medical examiner, but I haven’t got an ID yet. I have the building here cordoned off, and a team will be out to do a thorough search in the morning. I’m going to send this crew and Tina’s home,” Fornell said coolly.

Gibbs hung up, leaning his head against the wall. He knew he had to talk to McGee next, then get all the doctorspeak translated by Ducky. He already felt as if he’d used more words today than he had the entire previous month. He hated phone calls where grunts, facial expressions, and head slaps didn’t suffice.

Another thing DiNozzo was going to hear about.

Deciding to just get on with it, he hit speed dial six. It was picked up on the first ring.

“Boss?” Tim asked, his anxiety coming across the line.

“DiNozzo’s safe at the hospital. It’s late, we’ll talk tomorrow,” he said, hoping the young agent would simply comply but aware it was a futile wish.

“How did you find him?” McGee yelped.

Gibbs sighed wearily. He supposed he owed McGee more than that. He’d been up all night and through the day searching. He still wasn’t ready to deal with either of his two junior agents, however.

“I didn’t. He sent someone to find me. She did,” he replied.

“She? So, he’s all right? He’s been with Stephanie this whole time? Why didn’t he contact us sooner?” McGee asked with righteous indignation.
.
“Did you miss the part where I said we’re at the hospital?” he asked, his voice rising on each syllable so other visitors turned to scowl.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Gibbs could picture the various emotions filtering across his agent’s face.

“Sorry. Maybe I did, but it’s been a long night,” he said resentfully. “How is he? What happened?. Why did it take so long?”

“That’s twice now you’ve jumped to conclusions. Facts, not assumptions. Oughtta know that already,” Gibbs said.

“Right,” McGee replied quietly, although to Gibbs it sounded sullen.

“Let Ziva know he’s been found. I’ll talk to you both tomorrow,” he said, ending the call.

He needed to add getting McGee past those defensive, knee-jerk reactions to the growing list of things he had to repair on his team. He was aware the junior agent felt guilty and afraid since DiNozzo went missing, aside from the lack of sleep. Didn’t Gibbs just snap at Fornell out of frustration and exhaustion? Still, consistently jumping to negative conclusions where his SFA was concerned needed to change. They all needed to change.

He wasn’t ready to talk to Ziva – she could stew. When she first joined the team, it was amusing to see how she could derail DiNozzo, knock him off his game. Kate was never quite able to do that. She’d get exasperated or offended and never realize half the crap he said was meant to wind her up.

Ziva could match wits, but her jabs had grown steadily harsher, belittling, personal. She was supposed to keep sight of DiNozzo, too, and it’s not like she’d never barged into a men’s room before. No matter what she said, she had to know she was too close to that amp. He wanted to talk to DiNozzo before he spoke with either of them, though. He was liable to shoot them.

Gibbs eyelids were heavy. All the adrenaline fueling him since they’d first realized DiNozzo was missing was rapidly evaporating. He needed to get a few more answers before he could allow a respite. He hit speed dial four.

“Jethro, how is Anthony?” Ducky asked, picking up immediately and sounding as bright and chipper as if it was morning rather than late at night.

“And here I thought I’d wake you,” he said sardonically.

“I wasn’t asleep. I knew you’d call after I spoke with Dr. Kovalenko, delightful chap. His wife has relatives in Scotland, too, although hers descend from Edinburgh rather than the Highlands. Edinburgh is…”

“Duck!” Gibbs interrupted with no patience for Highland relatives or any other sort. “Short on time here. What’s the prognosis on DiNozzo?”

“Oh, right,” Ducky said, collecting himself. “He has some broken bones in his left hand, but they looked like clean breaks. The ribs are more concerning. Several are fractured on both sides, and two completely broken on the right, that’s what caused the Pneumothorax. He has an elevated temperature, but with the damage to his lung, particularly with his medical history, they felt it was better to repair it straightaway.

“His kidney will heal without further intervention, and the bleeding has stopped. They must’ve hit him with something other than a fist or a boot,” Ducky said, concern bleeding through his words.

“Probably a lead pipe,” Gibbs said, growling.

“Barbaric. He has tissue and muscle damage to the right ankle, but it should recover nicely with anti-inflammatories. He also clearly took some blows to the head, but they can’t be sure if there’s a concussion until he fully awakens. Thankfully, they did not detect any swelling of the brain,” Ducky said.

“So… nothing permanent?” Gibbs asked, pressing.

“He’ll need to be on an oxygen regiment, of course. They used a needle to allow air to escape from his lung, but with rest and oxygen therapy, he will recover,” Ducky said.

“Hand going to have any limitations?” Gibbs asked, his body tense.

He didn’t think DiNozzo would take it well if the injury interfered with his ability to use a weapon. Gibbs wouldn’t want to have to give him that news.

“Well, I can’t fully answer that until we see his range of motion, but knowing the way Anthony pushes through recovery of the most serious injuries, I think he’ll see this as a minor bump in the road,” Ducky said.

“How he sees it any different than how it is?” Gibbs asked, wishing doctors could just give a straight answer.

“Let’s just leave it that we shouldn’t put the cart before the horse,” Ducky said firmly.

Gibbs didn’t like it, but he supposed DiNozzo was going to like it even less.

“What happened? How did he get away from his captors?” Ducky asked.

“Wish I knew, Duck. Found him holed up with a bunch of vagrants, unconscious,” Gibbs said.

“I’m sure there’s a story to tell, and Anthony will enjoy regaling us with all the drama and intrigue when he’s feeling better,” Ducky said.

“Anything else?” Gibbs asked.

“There were trace amounts of Barbiturates in his system, and you know the effect most pharmaceuticals have on him. I would guess they were used to subdue him, but it’s up to you to figure that one out,” Ducky said.

Gibbs snorted. “Maybe he didn’t escape at all. Maybe they just couldn’t take any more of him when he’s on those things.”

Ducky chuckled. “Still, it’s such a relief he’s been found. How are Ziva and Timothy holding up?”

“Just spoke to McGee and told them to hit the rack,” Gibbs said.

“Don’t you think rest would come easier if they could see Anthony for themselves?” Ducky asked.

“No. I want to speak with DiNozzo before he gets any outside interference,” Gibbs said firmly.

“Outside interference? Precisely what does that mean?” Ducky asked.

“Not sure it means anything,” Gibbs said.

“Hmm,” Ducky replied, clearly suspecting there was more being left unsaid. “Well, I’d suggest you phone Ziva, anyway. Poor girl has been very distraught at being left on her own. She’s phoned several times asking if I’d heard from you. I’m sure she’ll feel better with your reassurance.”

“She was with the Fibbies,” Gibbs said.

“Yes, still, no one from our tight little group. She said you took McGee and not her,” Ducky said, persisting.

“True.”

He knew Ducky was dissatisfied with his brief answer, but he wasn’t willing to elaborate. Like him, Ducky could be incredibly biased when it came to women, and he’d also developed a large soft spot for Ziva.

“Listen, can you call Abby and fill her in,” Gibbs asked, eliminating one of his calls.

“Of course. Am I allowed to share everything you’ve said?” Ducky asked testily.

“Yeah, although McGee probably already did,” Gibbs said.

“Very well. Goodnight, Jethro,” Ducky said.

Gibbs disconnected the call, lightly banging his head against the wall and vaguely wondering how Ducky could’ve gotten so much information out of Dr. Kovalenko in a such a short amount of time. He wasn’t even sure where a couple of his ex-wives’ families originated from, never mind a random doctor he just met on the phone. Still, he’d reassure Abby and fill her in after the surgery, as well. He was sure Ducky would know the diagnosis before he did.

People liked him better.

His gut was turning again. Ziva had been checking up on them through Ducky rather than Kehoe. He wasn’t fooled that it was out of any concern for DiNozzo. Finding these perps took priority, but eventually, Ziva would have to be put in line.

He blinked the weariness from his eyes. One more call before he could sleep, and it was the one he least wanted to make. Sighing, he hit speed dial two.

“Jethro?” Jenny answered immediately. “Has Agent DiNozzo been found? What about the suspects? Did you locate any of them?”

Gibbs paused a moment, stiffening. Per protocol, he’d alerted her when DiNozzo first went missing, but they hadn’t spoken since. He’d never mentioned that none of their warrants for the suspects had panned out, either.

“DiNozzo’s in the hospital, but he hasn’t regained consciousness. Still no sign of the perpetrators,” he said, giving her the bare minimum.

“Do you have any leads on where they might be?” she asked, unable to conceal the irritation in her voice.

He had a good idea where she was getting her information, although he hoped he was wrong. Still, he needed to figure out exactly what happened before she got the chance to interfere, so he had to give her something to keep her occupied.

“Found Paul Bergmann’s body. No ToD, but it’s recent. There were two bodies in the building where DiNozzo was held,” he said.

Jenny sighed. “I’ll have to tell the Admiral.”

“Hold off on that for as long as you can,” he replied.

“Why?” she asked, startled.

“Bergmann’s dead, but they never got the information from Eric Montague. He’s still a target,” Gibbs said.

“And he’ll want to return to NSWC the moment he learns of Bergmann’s death,” Jenny finished for him.

“The Admiral won’t want him in danger. You can come up with something,” he said, counting on her desire to keep the Admiral happy.

She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.

“All right. Let me know what you learn as soon as you talk to DiNozzo. Get some rest, Jethro,” she said.

“Will do,” he replied, suspecting she was up to something. He wanted to talk with DiNozzo before he got versions of the story from anyone else.

Tony was running. Running full out. He knew he couldn’t stop. It was imperative he not stop, but he was getting winded. Every breath felt as if knives were slicing into him. Colors were too bright, shapes all wrong, and everything sounded as if he were listening underwater. Panting, he had to stop, just for a minute to catch his breath. He leaned against a blue tree, watching a football as it zoomed around the trunk like a bird.

A bird of prey.

He wanted to grab it. He could play football. He so wanted to play. It was simpler, easier. As he reached up, the football transformed. Menacing, razor sharp-teeth snapped at his hand. He yanked it away, frightened, confused.

He had to move. Danny Price, his partner in Baltimore beckoned, but Tony knew not to go that way. Backstabbing pretender. The blue cloud he was trying to escape was moving ever closer. He could feel the icy tendrils licking against his skin. It was so cold. The smoke swirled, blue eyes flashed angrily, demanding, unreasonable.

There was nowhere left to go, and it was so hard to breathe. He could see the Navy Yard ahead, but angry ninjas blocked the entrance, spitting, scowling, brandishing their knives. They didn’t want him there.

Tony turned again, blue tendrils of smoke moving ever closer. He had to find it. There was something there, in the Navy Yard, but he couldn’t remember. Angry voices called, shadows sprung from the ground, hovering over the bullpen. He wanted to go in, but the shadows were snapping, snarling, warning him to stay away. The elevator pinged. As the doors opened, knives, deadly, sharp blades that could pierce through his armor sliced through the air, hissing like snakes. The blue cloud didn’t faze them.

It didn’t want them.

“Anthony! You must sit still and listen to the music. Stop fidgeting, shut your eyes, and let it in,” his mother said.

She held a blue ruler in her dainty hand. She hit his knuckles when he missed the correct piano keys.

It burned.

Betrayed, he looked at his mother’s beautiful face. She held a drink, blue liquid swirled, gradually turned black, and began to smoke. Tony didn’t want to her drink it, but his hand moved through her as if she was made of mist.

Blue mist.

He watched, horrified, and fascinated as her head faded until it was gone, leaving him reaching out to grasp vapor.

The piano morphed into Wendy. She was wearing her bridal dress, slashed down the front and dropping blue petals on the ground. She laughed, high-pitched and cruel.

“You don’t even see it, do you?” she asked, teeth becoming long and fierce like a viper.

Tony moved again. He had to run. He had to find it. There were barriers everywhere, and he couldn’t breathe.

The scene shifted, blue smoke swirled, and he found himself at his family’s house in the Hamptons. His father was there with yet another potential stepmother. She’d bought a ridiculous new hat with long, blue feathers.

It looked stupid.

He told her so.

“Junior!” his father bellowed, enraged, his face turning red with fury. He grabbed a bottle of Scotch, snarling…

And he morphed into Probie sitting at his computer, forehead scrunched, typing frantically as he sometimes did when he was trying to break a code.

“Not now, Tony. I have to finish this. Will you grow up and stop fooling around.”

He wasn’t fooling. He had to get it. Had to tell Tim, warn him, but the words wouldn’t come. It was too hard to breathe.

“You know my training,” Ziva hissed.

The blue coils reached him, spiraling around him, trapping him, holding him. He was running out of time.

He gasped and yelled. There was nowhere to turn. There was never anywhere to turn. He jerked his head from side-to-side, panicking.

Suddenly, he was in Gibbs’ basem*nt. Gibbs’ sniper rifle hung from the boat. A pointy elbow jabbed into his side, stilling him. The familiarity was both right and so very wrong. Kate stood there in her blue suit, slim pencil skirt. Cobalt blue. Tears streaked her face, making her mascara run, and a small, perfect hole appeared in the center of her forehead, marring the paleness of her skin.

She looked at him accusingly, disappointment shining in her eyes. “DiNozzo! She killed me – and you let her.”

No! That wasn’t true. He’d tried to save her. He’d saved her from the bomb in the blue car, but he couldn’t save her from the bullet, speeding toward her, unexpected, unaware. He couldn’t move fast enough this time, either. The blue bonds held him in place. He couldn’t move and had to watch it happen again, feeling the hot spray of blood all over his face.

Steadying hands – strong, warm, safe.

“Take it easy, DiNozzo. You can do this. Think,” a shadowy voice whispered in the wind.

“Rule Twenty-Eight,” said the wind.

Kate appeared again with reproachful eyes, the back of her skull missing.

“Rule twenty-eight. What are you going to do about it?” she asked, her eyes full of life.

Tony awoke with a start, unable to breathe, tears filling his eyes and in a world of pain.

Chapter 18: Dust in the Wind

Chapter Text

Gibbs’ body typically worked like a clock. He always woke at six AM – even when he’d tied one on the night before and awoke beneath his boat. This morning however, was different. After the marathon search and all the tension that went along with it, he was still sound asleep when the nurse came in to check Tony’s vitals.

After surgery, Tony spent some time in recovery before they’d moved him to a private room. Since the hospital staff realized Gibbs wasn’t going anywhere, they’d brought in an armchair that pulled out to a cot. Gibbs spent the rest of the night there.

“How’s he doing?” he asked, sitting up and stretching.

A still unconscious DiNozzo wore an oxygen mask to help him breathe. It was clear how deathly pale he was, despite the fact most of his body was shrouded in vivid bruising. His left hand rested on his chest, wrapped securely, his fingers bruised and swollen. The amount of damage was infuriating, and Gibbs intended to make someone paid for it.

“He’s holding his own, but his condition is still listed as serious. His prior lung damage necessitates caution. I’m going to take him off the mask and put in a nasal cannula to see how he responds. If you notice his breathing becoming more labored, just hit the call button,” the nurse said.

Gibbs watched her complete her morning tasks. He’d hoped to talk to DiNozzo first thing, but obviously that wasn’t possible. He’d have to confer with the FBI and figure out where to go next. Fornell would be chomping at the bit to get all the details about how he’d found DiNozzo.

Gibbs hated inertia, but he still wanted to talk to Tony before anyone else did. Although his teammates thought DiNozzo constantly tried to steal the credit for whatever they were working on – which was true – they never seemed to realize he also took the heat. If anything happened at the club around the time DiNozzo was taken, Gibbs wanted to know about it before Ziva or McGee could express their concern over losing sight of him. He knew DiNozzo would cover for them… or at least for McGee. He didn’t have time for ass-covering and wanted the un-redacted version.

“All right, the cannula is working, and he’s resting comfortably. We’re at the front desk if you need anything. Can I have them send up a breakfast tray?” the nurse asked kindly.

Gibbs shook his head. “No, but could you tell me where I can get a decent cup of coffee?”

The nurse grinned. “Not a fan of that hospital brew, eh? Can’t say I blame you. If you go down to the lobby level, there’s a great little coffee shop behind the main desk.”

Gibbs smiled tightly. “Much obliged.”

Once she’d left, he stood up and straightened his clothing, folding the cot back inside the bottom of the chair. He then leaned over his comatose agent.

“Won’t be long, DiNozzo. Don’t wake up until I’m back,” he said, shaking his head as he left in search of coffee.

By the time he returned however, there’d been no change. Gibbs made his calls to Fornell and Ducky, who told him it was perfectly normal for Tony to still be unconsciousness.

“He’s been through a great deal, Jethro. No amount of raging will awaken him any sooner than his body is ready. Let him be.”

Gibbs never did waiting well – not without a target in sight anyway. He’d just finished his coffee and was considering going to get another cup when Fornell unexpectedly appeared in the doorway.

“Knock, knock,” he said, pushing it open wide and taking a seat in the other chair.

He held two full cups of Starbucks coffee, and he handed one to Gibbs.

“How did you know where we were?” he asked, irritated that the FBI agent was there, but not that he’d brought more coffee.

He purposefully didn’t mention which hospital they were in when he made his calls last night, because he didn’t want any of them showing up until he’d had the chance to talk to DiNozzo.

Fornell’s eyebrows rose, staring back at him with his typical amused expression.

“I realize your arrival in the technology age has been hostile, but computers do make it much easier to locate someone. I’m sure your tech guru and the Israeli both know exactly where you are.”

“My agents,” Gibbs said, biting out the words.

“Yeah, them. I’ve got them compiling a list of any other vacant buildings in the vicinity that haven’t been searched,” Fornell said.

Gibbs nodded. “Good idea.”

“It was Tina’s. She thought since the bodies DiNozzo located were found in one, and Bergmann and the woman we located yesterday were in another, Sullivan or maybe our perps are hiding out in one somewhere within the city,” Fornell said.

“No sign of Sullivan?” Gibbs asked.

“Actually, some of the lab results are back, and we found DNA traces of both Sullivan and DiNozzo in that same building. Cleary DiNozzo escaped, but we need to know if he saw Sullivan or has any idea what happened to him,” Fornell said.

“You think the other two were killed after DiNozzo escaped?” Gibbs asked.

“I’d take those odds,” Fornell said grimly. “Looks like he slid down an old laundry chute to get away,” Fornell said.

Gibbs snorted. “Did you get an ID on the other victim?”

Fornell shook his head. “Nada. She’s not military, government employee, LEO, or ever been arrested. We haven’t found any missing person reports that match her description, either.”

“Someone knows she’s missing. Check if anyone left NSWC recently,” Gibbs said.

“McGee’s on that,” Fornell replied. “I thought the Naval connection might get answers more quickly.”

Gibbs nodded. “Any trace of the perps?”

“No. They must’ve had some sort of back-up plan in place. We’ve got a BOLO on their cars, and their pictures are being circulated through all the precincts in the city, and all points of travel. The club is also under surveillance.”

“Good. I’ll ask DiNozzo about Sullivan. Not sure how reliable his memory will be, though,” Gibbs said, already frustrated with waiting. DiNozzo was the only source for the answers they needed, but with a head injury, would he be lucid enough to answer?

Fornell nodded. “Keep me posted,” he said, taking his coffee and leaving Gibbs to the relative silence of the various machines monitoring DiNozzo.

Earlier, one of the nurses gave him a newspaper, and he was flipping through the pages when he heard DiNozzo mutter groggily, “Boss?”

Gibbs looked up. DiNozzo’s eyes were shut, so he wasn’t certain how he’d known Gibbs was there. He sounded weak and disoriented. Patience had never been Gibbs’ strong suit, and he had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from demanding answers. He gripped the arm of his chair, taut with impatience.

“Here, DiNozzo,” he said.

“Kay,” Tony answered, eyes still closed.

A few more minutes passed in silence, and Gibbs thought he’d fallen back asleep until he heard the weak voice again.

“Boss?”

“Yeah, DiNozzo.”

“Where’s here?”

Gibbs snorted. “Hospital. What d’you remember?”

One of Tony’s eyes slowly fluttered open, dazedly looking around the small room. The other was still swollen shut. When his unwrapped hand reached for the nasal cannula, Gibbs gently grasped his wrist, stopping the movement.

“Leave that alone,” he admonished.

Tony’s hand dropped heavily back onto the bed as his bleary eye studied Gibbs’ face. He seemed to be searching for something, but Gibbs didn’t know what. Eventually, his forehead furrowed, and he winced, as if trying to remember was hurting him.

“Easy. I don’t want to be stuck here any longer than I have to be,” he said, but without any bite.

“Club,” Tony replied, his voice scratchy and rough.

Gibbs nodded, making a Herculean effort to be patient. “Yeah, it started at the club.”

Tony’s eye suddenly widened, panicked, his breathing hitched, and the heart monitor began wailing in warning. He clutched at his chest, gasping for air.

“Relax and breathe,” Gibbs said, concern overriding his impatience.

He placed DiNozzo’s bruised hand on his own chest, attempting to get him to match Gibbs steady breathing like they did post-plague.

“Are they dead?” DiNozzo gasped, looking stricken.

“Is who dead?” Gibbs asked distractedly, more concerned with his harsh breathing.

Before DiNozzo could reply, several nurses hurried in, checking his monitors, and forcing him to lie back. One of them inserted a syringe into his IV while the other adjusted his nasal cannula.

“Just relax, you’re all right,” the nurse who’d been there earlier said, resting her hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Slow, even breathing. I know it hurts.”

The other nurse frowned at Gibbs. “If you’re going to upset him, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“No!” Tony yelped, although his voice was only a shadow of its usual strength. “He stays. Not… upset.”

The nurses didn’t look convinced, but they left them alone again. Gibbs knew whatever they’d put in the IV would take effect shortly, and DiNozzo never handled pain medication well.

“Are they dead?” Tony repeated hopelessly.

“Who?” Gibbs asked, trying his best not to pounce, but the urgency of getting some information was crucial.

He wasn’t sure if Tony was talking about the two bodies they’d found or Agent Sullivan. Gibbs would tell him whatever he needed to know, but even he could see DiNozzo wasn’t ready for all of it.

“Probie… Ziva,” he said, closing his eyes tightly.

That pulled Gibbs up short. “What? They’re fine. Why do you ask?” he questioned, dumbfounded.

Tony’s good eye opened, puzzled, and surprised, his breathing still labored. It was clear he was having trouble remembering, and his responses were slow. Gibbs suspected it was the medication.

Tony frowned again, trying to force the memory.

“I tried… stall. Thought they’d… realize… gone too long,” he said, his eyelids struggling to stay open.

Gibbs clenched his fists angrily, but tried to keep his fury hidden. DiNozzo was worried about the junior agents. He wouldn’t take it well when he realized what truly happened. Damn it. Like most cops, DiNozzo would see the failure to have their partner’s back – his back – as the highest level of betrayal.

And he wasn’t wrong.

Still, Gibbs didn’t want to upset him until he was stronger – until he absolutely had to do it.

“Your rescued sailor eventually told us about the tunnel,” he said, trying to curb his temper so DiNozzo wouldn’t think it was directed at him. This wasn’t in any way his fault.

DiNozzo nodded sleepily. Gibbs thought he’d dropped off again before his good eye again flew open wide, panicked. He grabbed Gibbs sleeve in his fist, clutching it.

“They knew! Knew I… was cop. Snitch,” he gasped.

“Who?” Gibbs demanded, alarmed.

“Dunno. They weren’t… sure if true. Check… Lola,” Tony said, his eyes drifting shut against his will.

“Stay with me, DiNozzo. What about Lola? The waitress?” Gibbs asked urgently.

“Maybe. Knows… something,” he said groggily before finally losing the battle to stay awake.

Ziva sat at one of the empty desks in the FBI’s Philadelphia field office, jabbing at her laptop keys irritably. Paper work! She was doing paper work. Not only did she have to fill out tiresome reports on the useless search they conducted yesterday, but she was also being tasked with locating other abandoned buildings around the city.

She was trained for action, not this tedious drivel. It was absurd that she, a member of the Mossad, was wasted on this nonsense. Then, to top it all off, Agent Kehoe kept returning her reports, insisting she do them over properly. There should be a secretary assigned to this, not a field agent.

The whole situation was a kakepize. She had been out in the frigid temperature for hours searching for that missing buffoon. She was certain they would never locate him, but she had to play her part. The longer it went on, the angrier she became. She kept herself warm by imagining the torture that childish oaf was enduring. She only wished she could be the one inflicting it.

Then, Gibbs sent her to work with that insufferable FBI woman and took McGee – insecure, scared-of-his-own-shadow McGee – with him, rather than her. It was ridiculous.

How was she ever going to make Gibbs realize what a valuable asset she was to him if he wasn’t there to see her? It was infuriating. Although… perhaps Gibbs wanted someone from their own team with each search party to ensure it was done properly. Of course, he would have charged her with what he saw as an important job, and he would supervise McGee. Yes, that made more sense.

She was simply feeling pressured. Her father expected her to pass on classified intel, and she was unable to supply anything while she was stuck here. At first, this case appeared to be a valuable, high-level security risk, but it turned into petty internal nonsense. A mere grievance from a disgraced sailor. There were no international ties, and it was a waste of her time. Time she did not have with her father’s dwindling patience.

Then, that damn fool DiNozzo somehow managed to escape, ruining her plans yet again. All her efforts for nothing. The bar owner had him. How could he possibly have let him get away?

When she slyly informed those at the bar that DiNozzo was a cop, it had gone as smoothly as she intended due to her superior training in subterfuge. No one suspected a thing. She distracted gullible McGee at the bar, so he never noticed when she moved to stand next to the amplifiers. She realized DiNozzo had been gone too long, so she knew something was afoot. It was her chance to finally be rid of him. Since she could not hear the FBI over the amplifiers, she managed to delay them and allow whatever was happening to continue.

They believed her fully when she said she did not realize the amplifiers would interfere with the radio. The fools. She could deactivate a bomb, and they thought her head was full of air when it came to electronics? Idiots.

After hours of searching, Kehoe finally informed them that DiNozzo had been found, but she had no other information. Ziva was forced to wait at the hotel, pacing, until McGee finally returned. She questioned him thoroughly, but he did not know anything useful, only that DiNozzo was injured, and some woman came to his aid.

Of course it was a woman.

Gibbs did not want them to come to the hospital but instead to continue the search for the perps. She was concerned that by being separated, she had not been able to influence Gibbs’ impression of what happened at the club. Since learning about his lost family, she knew just which buttons to press with him to gain his sympathies. He felt responsible for her because she had to kill her own family for him. He did not know it had been an order, a despicable one, but an order nonetheless. On another level, she knew it was an order Gibbs would never have asked of her.

He was very different from her father, and she was confused by the respect she’d come to feel for him. She still wanted to prove her worth and value to her own father, and she thought Gibbs could help her do that. Although this case was of no use to her, it could show Gibbs what an excellent duo they could be working side by side. They could outshine everyone both at NCIS and at Mossad. She and Gibbs understood one another as the others did not.

Her impatience was making her sloppy, however. When she used one of the FBI computers to see if she could gain access to their internal files, it locked her out. There must be a security system in place, so she knew she could not risk attempting it again. Her father would be disappointed that she had not gleaned any classified intel while inside the FBI, but she was too exposed here in the open. The cleaning crew would erase any evidence of her previous attempt.

Now, however, she was forced to use her own laptop to send an email to her contacts, asking them for information on DiNozzo’s condition. Using her own computer was risky when discussing DiNozzo, but she had little choice. She could clear it all once they returned to NCIS, and no one suspected her involvement, anyway.

When McGee came over to her workstation, she was pleased with the distraction. He looked anxious. Of course, he always looked anxious, but this seemed to be an extreme form of anxiousness.

“How are you, McGee?” she asked, putting on a pleasant face. “Did NSWC share anything significant?”

He shrugged. “They gave me a few names of those who have left recently, but they all checked out, and none have reported any missing persons. How can a woman just disappear, and no one is looking for her?”

“Well, we do not know that – just that they have not reported her missing. We know that Warren and Barrows are aware when the Delaware will get underway. Perhaps this woman’s kin is the person who is feeding them information in order to keep her alive. Or they had been,” Ziva said indifferently.

Hostages were frequently victims in power struggles. McGee’s sheltered life made him unaware of the atrocities of war. She grew up in a much harsher environment, so she was more suited to understand these things.

“Maybe,” McGee said, frowning. “Have you heard anything from Gibbs? I don’t know why he won’t let us see Tony for ourselves. I mean, just to see that he’s all right.”

“Do not be ridiculous. I am sure he is fine, and this is more a punishment for him than for us,” she said.

McGee’s large forehead burrowed in confusion. “Punish him? Why?”

Ziva rolled her eyes. “Gibbs is humiliated by that attention-seeking clown. He had the whole FBI out looking for him, and he was fooling around with some woman – again. It has to be embarrassing for Gibbs. DiNozzo needs attention like we need air. Gibbs is denying him that attention.”

McGee looked very skeptical. “I don’t know, Ziva. Gibbs was really pissed we just assumed that before and didn’t follow him to the men’s room. It makes me wonder if this is a test.”

“A test for what?” she asked.

“He wants us to follow orders, so he told us to stay away. I think he’s waiting to see what we do,” McGee said, his eyes round and wide in his baby face.

He could be so naïve, but it suited her. He was easier to manipulate that way. Even if it was some sort of test, and she did not believe it was, she could work it to her advantage.

“We are following orders. This is our chance to show him what real, capable agents look like and how much better we can do without all the buffoonery. Tony is just a cop, after all. We are more highly skilled than he could ever hope to be. I have the superior training, and you have the superior education. I am going to take advantage while that clown is away,” she said haughtily. “You should do the same.”

McGee remained skeptical. “I still think there’s more going on than he’s telling us.”

“Enough!” she said crossly. She was tired of this conversation. “I will not talk anymore about it. Gibbs and I think alike. He will approve of this dynamic. You will see.”

McGee looked both doubtful and uncomfortable. He was excellent with technology and a good resource, but he was not an equal to her or Gibbs. He could be taught and molded, unlike DiNozzo. She was going to need to find another way to rid herself of him. He was impossible. He couldn’t even die right.

Later that afternoon, Tina sat at her desk staring at McGee’s program of missing person reports issued over the past three weeks. She hoped she might find a name for the woman lying in Autopsy. It bothered her that she was still a Jane Doe. She hoped that once Agent DiNozzo regained consciousness, he’d know something about her – and especially – where Sully might be.

They’d found traces of Sully’s blood in that room where the bodies were found, but there was no guarantee he was still alive. She couldn’t come up with a solid theory on why they would’ve taken him, except that if DiNozzo didn’t tell them who he worked for, they might think Sully knew something.

Agent Sacks went to check one of the buildings McGee located this morning. It wasn’t far from the area where the other two were. The two NCIS agents remained in the office. Agent McGee was looking through hospital surveillance cameras just to see if any of their suspects turned up. Since DiNozzo was hurt, one of them might’ve also needed medical attention. Officer David was still seeking additional vacant buildings.

Covertly, Tina kept glancing outside her office while pretending to be engrossed in her computer. She suspected Officer David was up to something, because she kept hunching over her laptop as if burying treasure. She had been a nightmare to work with since SSA Gibbs left her with Tina’s team. Although she did assist in the search, her attitude was poor, and she was difficult. Before they’d heard Agent DiNozzo was found, some of the FBI agents on her team requested to not be paired with the Israeli again. She clearly didn’t work well with others.

Of course, Tina saw first-hand how difficult Agent Gibbs was, so that might just be how things were done at NCIS. For all she knew, maybe Agent McGee was the exception. Still, she’d only worked with Agent DiNozzo for a day before he went undercover, and although she’d found his frenetic ball of energy approach a bit exhausting, he was neither difficult or unfriendly.

Gibbs and David were both.

There was also something about the liaison’s reaction when DiNozzo was found alive that was just… off. Tina couldn’t quite identify the fleeting emotion that flashed across her face before she’d schooled it and celebrated with the rest. It almost looked as if it was panic, but that didn’t make any sense.

She watched Ziva and McGee huddled together, and she heard DiNozzo’s name. It was natural they’d be concerned, so she brushed off the reaction last night. They’d all been exhausted and snapping at one another. Stress, the cold, and fatigue affected them all differently.

She knew DiNozzo had undergone surgery for a punctured lung and was still unconscious. While she sympathized with his ordeal, she was as anxious for him to awaken as Fornell. She felt they were spinning their wheels now that they didn’t have anyone on the inside, and no idea where any of the suspects had gone.

She’d placed alerts on all the suspects’ phones and credit cards, but the phones never left the club, and as of yet, there hadn’t been any notifications that their credit cards were used. It was like they’d vanished into dust.

A commotion by the front of the office drew her attention. Gibbs and Fornell stormed in, snow dusting their hair.

“Gibbs!” Ziva said, standing up and appearing pleased. “It is good you are here. We have been awaiting your instruction on our next plan of attack.”

“How’s Tony?” McGee asked at the same time.

“You need me to tell you to do your job, David?” Gibbs asked shortly, causing Ziva to falter at the rebuke.

Gibbs never broke stride and barged right into Tina’s office. Fornell followed him and shut the door on Ziva and McGee’s stunned faces.

“What was that all about?” Tina asked.

Gibbs ignored her, too.

“DiNozzo’s awake,” he said, without adding anything else.

“And…” Fornell prompted, rolling his eyes.

“Said there was a Snitch,” Gibbs replied, clutching the arm rests on his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“A Snitch?” Tina asked, surprised. “Who knew? He doesn’t even live in Philadelphia.”

“Did about seven years ago,” Gibbs said.

“Yeah, but it’s highly unlikely anyone is going to remember a random cop from that long ago. DiNozzo would’ve just been a kid then,” Fornell said.

“He mentioned Lola,” Gibbs said.

“Lola? The waitress at the Vault?” Fornell asked.

“Her name is Lola Garcia,” Tina said, writing down Lola’s address and handing it to Fornell. “Did he say anything about Sully?”

Gibbs shook his head. “Nurses gave him something to calm him down. Knocked him out.”

“Calm him down? What did you do?” Fornell asked, raising his eyebrow.

“He thought Ziva and McGee were dead.” Gibbs said, nearly vibrating with anger.

“Dead? Why would he think that?” Tina asked.

“Because they didn’t investigate. Said he tried to slow his assailants down,” Gibbs said, growling.

Fornell and Tina looked at each other uncomfortably. That would be an ugly conversation once DiNozzo knew the truth. Partnerships had been destroyed over less.

“I’ll have Sacks check out Lola’s apartment,” Fornell said, breaking the awkward moment.

“Get Ziva to go with him. McGee can do his computer thingy,” Gibbs said.

“Thingy?” Fornell asked, smirking. “Do you mean an online search? Yeah, that could be helpful.”

Fornell left the office to distribute the tasks, closing the door behind him, still smirking.

“Did your search turn up anything?” Gibbs asked, reminding Tina that they hadn’t even done a debriefing.

“No, nothing. We searched all the buildings in that area, but they were empty other than a few vagrants,” she said.

Gibbs nodded. “DiNozzo was with a few, too,” Gibbs replied.

“Officer David has been anxious for your return,” Tina said as Fornell opened the door and rejoined them.

“I’d say,” Fornell said, catching Tina’s comment. “She kept calling McGee after you disappeared. McGee tried to hide it, but… let’s just say covert isn’t his middle name.”

Gibbs jaw tightened, although he said nothing. He briefly described what took place after he left them.

“You really found him with a hooker?” Fornell asked, thoroughly amused.

Gibbs jaw twitched into a half-smile. “He always says he does his best work at night.”

Fornell threw his head back and laughed, relieving the tension they were all still feeling. “Well, I suppose it’s better than an ex-girlfriend. At least the hooker helped.”

A loud commotion and a lot of screeching in the main area disrupted them. They all reached for their weapons, and Gibbs pulled the office door open.

In the center of the FBI bullpen stood Abby Scuito, wearing skull earrings, black gauchos, and a long leather coat, wringing her hands and shouting at McGee.

They all re-holstered their weapons, and Gibbs shouted, “Abby!”

She turned, eyes widening dramatically as she flung herself across the room and into his arms.

“Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs! Tell me he’s going to be okay. You have to tell me. You haven’t told me. I need to know he’s okay. I’ve been so worried,” she said without taking a breath in between.

Gibbs led her to a chair and sat her down, holding onto her shoulders so she wouldn’t bounce up again.

“How did you get here, Abs?” he asked, exasperated.

“I drove. You didn’t think I was going to stay behind when Tony was hurt and might need me, did you? Did you? How is he? I almost went to the hospital first, but I need you to prepare me if it’s bad. Is it bad, Gibbs? Tell me straight. I can take it,” she said, slamming her eyes shut and pulling her entire body into a tense ball.

“Abby–”

“No! I can’t take it. I lied,” she said frantically, grabbing him again.

“He’s going to be fine,” Gibbs bellowed, his patience at its end.

Abby opened her eyes, her body sagging as if someone had just let out all the air.

“Oh, well then, that’s good. Right? Who’s with him now?” she asked, brightening. “When can I see him?”

“He’s still unconscious. they’ll call as soon as he’s awake,” Gibbs said.

Her face fell. “He’s all alone?” she asked, horrified.

“Ah, Gibbs,” McGee said, still sitting at the desk where he’d been all day. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What now, McGee?” Gibbs asked.

McGee turned the computer to face them. On screen were a bunch of blurry, grainy images of what looked like hospital emergency rooms. McGee highlighted one of the faces in each frame.

“It’s Lola Garcia, Boss. I have timestamps of her visiting several hospitals in the immediate vicinity where Tony was found.”

Chapter 19: Turn the Page

Chapter Text

“It’s Lola Garcia. I have timestamps of her visiting several hospitals in the immediate vicinity where Tony was found.”

Horns blared and drivers swore, using angry hand gestures as Gibbs drove through city traffic with his usual fierce determination. Abby rode shotgun, leaning forward as if she could will the sedan through the throng of cars. McGee was in the back, clutching the handhold with both hands, eyes scrunched, and his skin a mild shade of green.

As soon as Tim uttered those startling words, Gibbs was already racing from the FBI office, Fornell’s voice ringing in his ears.

“I’ll call hospital security and tell them to be aware.”

He shouldn’t have left DiNozzo on his own. That was a miscalculation that would be corrected immediately – no matter how much his agent balked that it was unnecessary.

In the car, Gibbs made a particularly sharp turn to get around a slow-mover, causing the vehicle to list alarmingly, and McGee’s skin tone to darken another shade.

“If you’re gonna puke, McGee, roll down the window,” Gibbs said, catching sight of the junior agent in the rear-view mirror.

“Gibbs! There’s a little opening on the right if you can get into it,” Abby said, pointing frantically.

Gibbs actually drove on the sidewalk for a few feet, but he slid into the slot which allowed them to move again. While he knew in normal circ*mstances, DiNozzo could take care of himself, this wasn’t normal. His SFA was completely defenseless and unaware of the danger. He didn’t even have his service weapon, and Gibbs wasn’t sure what happened to the clothes he was wearing when they entered the hospital – including the belt with his hidden knife.

Once they finally reached the hospital, Gibbs drove right up to the front entrance, despite the sign with NO PARKING emblazoned on the metal. He jumped out of the driver’s seat, tossed the keys to McGee, and bolted inside. Abby didn’t wait for an invitation and quickly followed. McGee scrambled into the front seat and went to look for a legal parking place at a more sedate pace.

“Hold that elevator,” Gibbs shouted, running towards it.

He managed to stick his hand between the closing doors just in time, causing them to re-open. Abby’s clunky boots created loud clomping noises on the shiny hospital floor, her dark coat flying out behind her, pigtails swaying as she hurried to keep up. Hospital visitors and personnel alike watched her with wide, startled eyes, heads turning to stare until the elevator doors closed.

Gibbs pressed repeatedly on the button for the third floor as if that could make it go any faster. There were several other people in the elevator who’d all moved back against the walls, watching the newcomers warily. A nervous mother pulled her teenage daughter closer to her side.

Gibbs ignored them, but Abby’s kind heart took pity.

“Don’t worry. We’re federal agents,” she said, smiling reassuringly in her black lipstick.

None of the other passengers looked as if they believed her. When the elevator doors opened again, Gibbs and Abby rushed out, leaving the others staring after them, mouths hanging open.

“I always wanted to say that,” Abby said, giggling.

Gibbs reached Tony’s door apprehensively, but his concern was for naught. Tony was still there, sleeping peacefully, his bed slightly elevated to relieve the pressure on his lungs. A nurse was checking his vitals. She looked up, startled when they burst into the room, Gibbs eyes searching all the corners for potential threats.

“Can I help you?” she asked, stepping in front of Tony as if shielding him.

Gibbs flashed his badge. “Is there a reason you’re on guard?” he asked, because it was clear that’s exactly what she was doing.

She relaxed upon sight of the badge, squinting to read the name, “We got a call from security alerting us there could be trouble with this patient. What’s going on?”

Gibbs was impressed by her initiative. “Thank you. We’ll take it from here,” he said.

She looked at them quizzically, her gaze resting on Abby’s gothic attire. “Are the other patients on this floor in any danger?” she asked.

“Just him, and I’ll be watching,” he said.

She nodded, still a little wary, but she stepped out, leaving them alone with the door propped open so she could see inside.

Abby remained by the door, gazing at the unnaturally still form asleep on his bed. She studied the nasal cannula supplying oxygen, and a catheter bag still showing blood in his urine. Her lower lip began to tremble as fat teardrops rolled down her cheeks.

Anticipating what would happen, Gibbs was ready for it.

“Oh, Tony!” Abby cried, launching herself toward the bed, arms outstretched.

Gibbs reached out and grabbed her around the waist, holding her back.

“Broken ribs, Abs. Hugs are going to have to wait,” he said firmly.

Her eyes flew open wide, and she looked at him with a tragic expression, nodding in short, erratic spurts. She took a deep breath before reaching up and wiping her face, pulling herself together.

“Right. Right. Thank you for not letting me hurt him more. I’m here to help, and I’ll be whatever he needs,” she said solemnly.

“Abby?” Tony asked softly, his voice raspy.

Abby pulled away from Gibbs and approached Tony more gently this time. She reached out and gently ran a hand through his spiky hair. His right eye was still swollen, but now a sliver of green was visible through a small crack.

“How are you feeling? I really wish you’d let me put that tracker under your skin, Mister,” Abby said seriously.

Still waking up, Tony automatically reached for the cannula with his good hand, but Gibbs barked, “Already told you to leave that alone, DiNozzo.”

Tony’s hand froze, but his eyes looked around the room focusing and taking in the various tubes and machines hooked up to him. “How’d you… find me?” he asked hoarsely.

“Followed your breadcrumbs,” Gibbs said, smirking.

Abby reached over and filled a cup with water from a pitcher that was resting on the side table. She handed it to him and helped keep his hand steady as he weakly lifted it to his lips. He winced, but nodded gratefully before sinking back onto his pillows.

“A laundry chute, eh? Can’t say that’s one I ever tried,” Gibbs said.

Tony stared at him a moment; forehead scrunched as if processing the words. Gibbs didn’t like it. Tony was the one who usually made lightning-quick, intuitive leaps of logic, but now, he seemed to be struggling with facts. Needing to get that confused expression off his face, Gibbs’ impatience brought him right to the case.

“We found the building where you were held. How’d they get the jump on you?” he asked.

Tony flinched, and Gibbs knew he’d said the wrong thing again. Abby glanced at him reproachfully. She leaned against the bed, taking Tony’s uninjured hand in her own and lacing their fingers.

“Stephanie,” Tony said, not quite meeting Gibb’s eyes. He pulled his hand from Abby’s to rub the side of his neck, unable to reach the back. “Not airhead. Sharp puncture. Dizzy.”

“She was in on it?” Gibbs asked, eyebrows raised.

He didn’t see that coming. Ducky did mention they’d found traces of Barbiturates in DiNozzo’s system.

Tony’s eyes glazed over, concentrating, then he nodded. “Warren’s son and Matt… enforcers. Warren and Stephanie in charge. Barrows squeamish. More worried… about his club,” Tony said.

“That’s not how they were profiled,” Gibbs said, irritated with another FBI misstep.

“A profile is only as good as the information we have at the time,” Abby said.

“Better actress than… I thought,” Tony said, grimacing as he shifted. He was clearly growing uncomfortable but attempting to ignore the pain.

“You got more intel, and you got away. That’s a good job, Tony,” Gibbs said, feeling his conscience pulling at him because he wasn’t demanding more medication for his wounded agent. He still needed answers.

McGee appeared in the doorway after parking the car. He looked around cautiously to be sure he had the right room.

“McTardy,” Tony said, smiling and sounding genuinely pleased to see him.

“Whoa, Tony. You don’t look so good,” McGee said, eyes round as he cataloged all Tony’s injuries, the greenish tinge returning to his skin.

“McGee!” Abby scolded.

She put her hip on the edge of Tony’s bed, leaning close and resting her head on his shoulder as if trying to hug him without using her arms.

“Still… better looking… than you,” Tony said, grinning as he rested his cheek against Abby’s head.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Did you see Sully at all? Tina is eager to know what happened to him.”

Tony’s smile dimmed. “I didn’t see… anyone else. Woke up… in room. Was he… at hotel? Wondered, but… no time,” he said, his eyes troubled. “Too dark…silent.”

“He wasn’t there,” Gibbs said firmly. “We searched the building.”

McGee caught Gibbs’ eye guiltily, but Gibbs didn’t acknowledge him, unwilling to tell Tony about the dead bodies until he was stronger. Tony didn’t miss it, however.

“What aren’t you… telling me?” he asked, voice a little stronger.

“You said there was a snitch. Do you know who?” Gibbs asked.

Tony still stared intently at McGee, and the younger man squirmed but held his tongue. As Gibbs’ words finally registered in Tony’s medicated brain, he jerked his head back to Gibbs, straining to remember.

“They said… a woman, but… didn’t know if reliable source,” Tony said, gasping. “Couldn’t be… one of their regular… informants.”

“You mentioned Lola. Think its her?” Gibbs asked.

Tony shook his head, wincing. A fine sheen of sweat had formed on his brow.

“Don’t think so… They know Lola. Can’t get... good read, though. She caught me… in back room… after I let sailor go. Covered for me,” Tony said, his eyes following a scene playing in his brain. Suddenly, his expression became stricken, “Did he live?”

One of Tony’s monitors started bleating again, and Gibbs could see the line for his heart rate rising rapidly. The nurse hurried in, looking around at the crowd with a frown. Abby slipped off the bed and backed away, watching with concerned eyes.

The nurse checked Tony’s monitor, then plunged a syringe into his IV. Gibbs knew they wouldn’t have much time before Tony would have to give in to the medication’s pull.

“Please try and keep him calm. He’ll heal quicker if you don’t upset him,” the nurse said disapprovingly. She checked his other monitors and adjusted the canula before leaving them again.

“Did he freeze?” Tony asked immediately after she’d left.

“He’s alive. Told us about the tunnel,” Gibbs reminded him.

Tony nodded, relieved but still deep in thought, a frown creasing is forehead.

“You did everything you could for him, for all of them. None of this is your fault,” Abby said, seeming to read his thoughts.

“Couldn’t do much. Not enough time. Had knife in my belt, but couldn’t get… Sonny… and still get… away. Had pipe,” Tony said, eyelids drooping.

His breathing had eased, but he was clearly losing focus.

“We will figure out who made you,” Gibbs said.

“And Tony – you saved yourself before we could even find you. That was… well, incredible. Remember when you told me and Kate to work smarter, not harder?” McGee asked, grinning. “Drove her up the wall wondering how you did things like that.”

Tony’s brow furrowed, and his eyes became glassy. “Kate visited me. She’s sad,” he slurred.

“What?” Abby asked, eyes widening.

McGee frowned. “You mean you dreamed about her?”

“She’s not really sad, Tony. I’m sure she was just worried before Gibbs found you. She’s happy now,” Abby said confidently, as if she spoke with dead people all the time.

Knowing Abby, it was quite possible that she did.

Tony shook his head, agitated. “She doesn’t like it. She’s up to something.”

“What d’you mean she’s up to something? She’s dead, Tony,” McGee said gently.

“She’s a mouse,” Tony said.

McGee’s eyebrows rose, his lips pursed as he considered Tony thoughtfully.

“That mean something to you, McGee?” Gibbs demanded.

“N…no, but it seems to mean something to him,” he replied.

Tony shook his head again, probably trying to clear the fog the medication was inducing. His hands were shaking.

“What took you and Ziva so long? Tried to hold Matt off. Couldn’t,” Tony said, eyelids heavy.

Color suffused McGee’s face, beginning on his neck and rising all the way up to his forehead. He slammed his eyes shut, but owned up to his part it in what happened.

“I’m sorry, Tony. I thought you were fooling around with Stephanie. It was stupid, I know. I should’ve followed you,” he said, hanging his head.

Tony blinked slowly. “You didn’t follow?” he asked hollowly.

Tony was too injured, and the drugs were too much for him to pull one of his usual masks in place. The raw hurt and betrayal visibly shone in his eyes before he closed them, essentially shutting them out.

Gibbs reached over and squeezed his shoulder, offering what support he could, but Tony was already asleep. Gibbs had seen that look before – back in Baltimore when he first learned Danny Price was dirty. Tony cut and ran back then. Gibbs wasn’t about to let that happen again.

“Tim,” Abby said, breathing his name out in shock. “You couldn’t really think that. I mean, Ziva I get, but you, too?”

Tim nodded miserably. “I wish I could get a do over.”

Gibbs fury ignited again, particularly since Abby could so readily accept it from Ziva as if it was no surprise.

“You and Ziva both have a lot of making up to do, so you’d better find something to redeem yourself,” he growled, glaring at McGee.

Tim paled, but nodded resolutely, his face so openly earnest.

“I know. I’m going to. I’ll find a clue. I’ll get you some information to work with,” he said frantically. “I’ll find Lola before she finds Tony.”

“I’m not the one you need to make it up to,” Gibbs snarled. “Take Abby back to the office. Find me something to catch these bastards.”

Tim and Abby both jumped to their feet, moving toward the door. Abby placed a gentle kiss on DiNozzo’s forehead.

“I can help in the lab,” she said.

“Do you want me to ask Fornell to set up guard duty on Tony’s room?” McGee asked, worrying his lip.

“I got it. Go.”

Tim quickly typed on his keyboard, repeatedly attempting new avenues, but his frustration was overwhelming. He’d put feelers out for Lola, but so far, he hadn’t found anything. She was an online ghost. She wasn’t even listed on the payroll at Vault Tavern. He assumed the owner must be paying her cash under the table. Why though? There were plenty of people on the payroll, including Matt Evans and Cody Redman. Tina gave him a list of known employees since Sully was undercover. Most of the names were on the payroll, but there were a few exceptions. All of them women.

Tim wasn’t sure what it meant, but suspected it meant something.

The ride back from the hospital with Abby was cold and stilted. He could feel the anger and disappointment hovering around her like some sort of force field, warning him to stay away. She wouldn’t even look at him. Tim hated when anyone was mad at him, but especially Abby. She loved everyone. He knew he’d messed up, and he was determined to do better, but it wasn’t as if Tony didn’t get distracted by women. Tim wasn’t the only one who’d made the mistake.

Of course, when he pointed that out to Abby, she got even angrier and told him to stop with his passive aggressive bullsh*t. He was wrong, and he should own it. Tim’s feelings were hurt because he didn’t think he was passive aggressive, and she knew he hated hearing it. He didn’t attempt to engage her again for the rest of the ride.

When they’d arrived back at the FBI office, she left without another word and went to the lab to offer her assistance. She stayed there right through lunch. Although his head was down, Tim could see her approaching now, still unsmiling, but she looked as if she was ready to talk. Tim thought he should give her the cold shoulder for a while in payback, but he’d never been able to resist her.

She stopped in front of his desk, and slid an extra chair over. “Any luck finding Lola?” she asked as if they hadn’t been ignoring each other all afternoon.

“Not yet. She left her phone in her apartment, but she’s not there, just like all the others,” he replied, watching her cautiously.

He could never quite figure out how her moods changed so quickly. He hoped she was done shouting.

Her face brightened as if she’d just had an epiphany. “Lola wasn’t with them when Tony was kidnapped,” she said.

“Right.”

“If none of them have their phones, how did she know to look for Tony in hospitals?” she asked.

“Burn phones,” they both chorused excitedly.

Tim’s euphoria only lasted a moment, however. “How are we supposed to trace a burn phone if we don’t know the number, though?” he asked.

“Oh… right,” Abby said, also deflating.

“Unless…” Tim said, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “We know for a fact where Tony was held, and he escaped in the middle of the night, so there shouldn’t have been that many calls being placed. We could see which numbers pinged off the nearest tower.”

“That could work, McGee,” Abby said, leaning over his shoulder and watching him work.

“Are you done being mad at me, then?” he asked.

Abby’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, no. You’re not getting off that easy. Letting Ziva push you around nearly got Tony killed. I’m going to stay mad until you learn to stand up to her,” Abby said.

“How do you know it was Ziva’s idea?” he asked.

“Because I know you. You like to stay between the lines – unless you’re hacking something you shouldn’t be. You wouldn’t have ignored protocol unless someone pushed you to do it,” she said.

“I’m not a pushover,” he said, insulted.

“So, you’re saying it was your idea then?” Abby asked.

Tim’s shoulders slumped. “Well, no. It was Ziva’s.”

“Of course, it was. She doesn’t like Tony,” Abby said.

“Why do you think that?” Tim asked sharply, uncomfortably aware that it was the same feeling he’d been getting from Ziva since Tony went undercover.

Abby shrugged. “Little things. She’s always giving him digs, belittling him, acting like he’s incompetent. She excluded him from that team dinner she had a few weeks ago, and that just wasn’t cool,” she said.

“Abby, Tony digs at us all the time. It’s just how he is, so we follow suit. We all do it,” Tim said.

Abby shook her head, pigtails whipping from side-to-side. “Uh, uh. It’s different, more personal when it comes from her,” she insisted.

Tim thought about it, but he felt like Abby was being kind of unfair. Yeah, some of Ziva’s insults were below the belt, but it wasn’t some great conspiracy against Tony.

“She felt bad about leaving him out afterwards. She told me she did, and she offered to make him dinner the next night to make up for it,” he said.

“Was that before or after she told you his arm wasn’t grazed by a bullet but a piece of wood? I get that you like her… and I think she likes you, just not Tony. You both should’ve known that you needed to follow him. You were his back up. That’s like… like Special Agent 101,” she said crossly.

Tim deflated, her words like a punch to the gut. She was right. It was protocol, and he’d ignored it.

“I know. I keep kicking myself over it. You remember when I shot that cop? Tony came over to my place and dragged me to a club to get me out of my headspace. I was irritated at the time, but I really needed it,” he said.

Abby nodded. “I remember. I also remember that Ziva thought you shot first because you panicked.”

Tim’s eyes flew open wide. That wasn’t right. He shook his head.

“What? No, she didn’t. She told me she believed me.”

Abby shrugged. “I heard her arguing with Tony about it. Apparently they’d discussed it when they were out in the field, but they were still at it in the garage, and I overheard them. He said your brain was like a computer, and you would’ve processed a threat, not simply fired on impulse.”

Tim felt stunned and betrayed. Ziva insisted they all knew Tim hadn’t been the one to shoot first. She’d lied to him, right to his face.

“That betrayal you’re feeling is a fraction of what Tony’s probably feeling, only it was both of you, and you actually put his life at risk,” Abby said solemnly.

“Do you think he believed I was sorry, that I didn’t mean for him to get hurt?” Tim asked, desperate.

The idea that Tony thought he’d deliberately risk his life hurt, and he needed to make him realize he wouldn’t do that. Tony was his partner, and he wanted to prove it.

“I think he’ll figure it out. He’s smarter than he lets anyone see,” Abby said sadly. “And he’s definitely been suspicious of Ziva. I think what surprised him is that you went along with it.”

“What do you mean he’s been suspicious of Ziva?” Tim asked.

“Tim, I just told you he’s smarter than you realize, and he’s been onto Ziva from the start. I’m only sorry that I let her fool me, too,” Abby said.

“You’re suspicious of her?” he asked, feeling sucker punched.

Did the whole team mistrust Ziva? How did he miss that? Why didn’t anyone clue him in? He knew Abby initially disliked her, but he thought that was because she didn’t want Kate replaced. He thought she’d got over it. If this whole mess went even deeper than he realized, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was something IA would need to get involved in once they returned to NCIS. He inwardly cringed at that idea. Surely Gibbs wouldn’t let that happen…right? Unless…

“Gibbs, too?” he asked.

Abby shook her head. “I don’t think so… although after this, I’m not so sure. It’s bothering him.”

Before Tim could ask what that meant, Ziva and Sacks entered the office, shrugging off their winter coats. They joined them at McGee’s desk, shaking snow from their heads.

“Where is Gibbs?” Ziva asked, looking around at all the FBI desks.

“He’s at the hospital, guarding Tony,” Abby said.

“Hasn’t Lola been brought in, yet?” Sacks asked, frowning.

“She’s in the wind, too. I collected data from the local cell towers to try and pinpoint some locations, but it’ll take me awhile to sift through it all,” Tim said.

“I do not understand. Why is Gibbs doing a simple protection detail? Why not assign a case agent? Gibbs is team leader. He should be investigating,” Ziva said, puzzled.

Abby shrugged. “Because it’s Tony, and he’s part of Gibbs’ team. He’s not going to allow anything else to happen to him, Ziva.”

“Tony needs a guard because Lola is searching for him?” Ziva asked, looking confused.

“Well, also because we don’t know who the snitch is, I’d imagine,” Sacks said.

Ziva pressed her lips together and waved her hand dismissively. “Tony must have been sloppy and slipped up using his alias. Someone at the bar probably overheard him.”

“Tony’s better than that. He’s done a lot of undercover work and never made that kind of rookie mistake,” Abby said, scowling.

“Yeah. There’s no way Gibbs is leaving Tony unattended until we find the snitch. He’s pissed,” Tim said, nodding.

“Besides, Gibbs is Tony’s medical proxy, so it makes sense for him to be there,” Abby said.

“What?” Ziva asked, shocked. “But Tony’s father is alive, is he not?”

“Well, yeah, I think so, but he lives in New York, and NCIS rules state you need a local contact, just because of the kind of work we do,” Tim said.

“FBI is the same way,” Sacks said.

“My sister Sarah lives close, so she’s mine,” Tim said.

Abby nodded. “And I have Sister Rosita.”

“Tony is always talking about all his many fraternity brothers and how close they are, does he not? Why did he not choose one of them? I use the Israeli Embassy rather than making such a fuss,” Ziva said sounding very cross.

“None of them are local,” Abby replied.

“Steve Adler used to be, but I haven’t heard much about him since he dated Kate,” Tim said.

Abby shook her head. “His company transferred him.”

“One of Tony’s frat brothers dated Agent Todd? I did not know this,” Ziva said.

“It wasn’t for a long time. Do you remember how much Tony and Kate used to annoy each other about that? Kate was horrified her new boyfriend knew Tony,” Abby said, giggling.

“So… Tony did not set them up?” Ziva asked, unusually irritated.

They were interrupted when Tina’s door opened and Fornell and Tina came out of her office, looking tense.

“I’ll get the interrogation room ready,” Fornell said.

“What’s going on?” Sacks asked.

“Gibbs has Lola, no idea how yet. He’s bringing her in for questioning,” Fornell said as Tina grabbed her coat and left the office, nodding at the group as she passed.

“He caught her? Did she show up at the hospital?” Abby asked, looking alarmed.

“We’ll find out when he gets here. Tina’s going to stay with DiNozzo. Gibbs should be here shortly,” Fornell said.

“Of course, Gibbs caught her. It is why he should be working the case and not babysitting,” Ziva said, smiling as she followed Fornell and Sacks to arrange the interrogation room.

It was only after they’d all left that Tim realized Ziva hadn’t messed up her English once.

Chapter 20: You Oughta Know

Chapter Text

Tony slowly drifted back to consciousness. His body ached, and he felt as if he’d been run over by a Mack truck. His mind was full of cotton wool, and he couldn’t seem to grasp onto a single thought. He equated the feeling with being really hungover or on pain meds. His chest was so heavy, simply breathing took most of his attention. His muddled mind took a few moments to recognize whose skin he was in. He was Tony, not Cody. It always took a few days after being undercover to remember who he was – or who he was supposed to be.

He could sense there was someone else in the room with him, but it took a few moments to register who.

Gibbs.

Tony processed all this in his mind, yet to open his eyes. Bits and pieces of memories and conversations were coming back to him, scattered and in disarray. He hated the pain meds because he tended to lose large chunks of time, and he loathed that loss of control.

“I know you’re awake, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said gruffly.

It would have been funny – Tony refusing to look at him like a petulant teenager – if he didn’t recall the reason he felt so on edge. A foggy memory materialized in full, blazing detail – Ziva and Tim weren’t paying attention. They’d been in the club so he’d have back up, to be aware if there was trouble, but they’d slacked off. Even though they knew they were dealing with killers, they weren’t paying attention.

It didn’t really surprise him that Ziva would do something like that – particularly if Gibbs wasn’t there to witness it – but McGee? He knew things were strained between them since the Mossad expert-of-all-things infiltrated their team, but enough to risk his life? Tony thought they were friends.

Then again… he’d considered Danny Price a friend, too. And Wendy… she’d been more than a friend, so he supposed he must really suck at judging anyone close to him. Had it always been this way? What about the relationships he thought he had with his frat brothers? His old basketball team? Ducky… Abby…

Gibbs.

That produced a sharp pain that had nothing to do with his injuries.

He really wasn’t ready to talk about it, confront it, but he knew Gibbs’ impatience wouldn’t allow him to retreat. Before he was able to bring himself to open his eyes and face his hotheaded boss however, an urgent voice sounded from the doorway.

“Agent man, Agent man. A woman is down in the ER right now looking for Cody Redman. I thought you ought to know.”

Tony heard Gibbs push his chair back, and he sensed the movement beside him. He cracked his eyes open to see a heavy nurse standing in the doorway, the white of her eyes stark against her dark skin because she’d opened them so wide.

“Get Security up here,” Gibbs barked.

The nurse nodded. “I can do that. You go. I don’t think she’ll be there long. I’ll stay with your partner until Security gets here,” she said reassuringly.

Gibbs only hesitated a moment before dashing off. That signaled to Tony that Gibbs trusted this nurse. He didn’t recognize her, and after hearing how his own partners didn’t even have his six, he wasn’t inclined to trust anyone just yet. He wished he had his service weapon. Thin lines of perspiration formed on his brow and upper lip.

The nurse moved closer, picking up the telephone on the nightstand to ask Security to come up, pronto.

Tony opened his eyes as fully as he could, wanting to keep a close watch on her. He reached for his nose, hating the feeling of the tubing there. She noticed immediately and gave him a warm smile, although she firmly pushed his hand away from the cannula.

“Ooh, I love all this secret agent man stuff. It’s like being in a movie. Your partner, he got all huffy with me when he brought you in, but I straightened him out. Told him he didn’t want to be on my bad side, and neither do you,” she said, still smiling.

Tony had no clue who she was, or when all this supposedly happened. He watched her closely, trying not to reveal his apprehension.

“There’s nothing wrong with your head. You were unconscious when we met. I work in the ER, but I remembered you two. Not everyday we get secret agents with different names coming through, you know. I remembered that Cody Redman was really Anthony, but for the life of me, I can’t remember your partner’s name,” she said, patting his leg reassuringly.

Tony relaxed slightly. Even though he didn’t know her, he didn’t get any threatening vibes. In fact, he kind of liked her.

“You like movies?” he asked, throat dry and sore.

“Oh, I love movies,” she said, reaching over and helping him to take a sip of water. “Especially spy movies. Have you seen that Tom Cruise one with the red or blue pill? Fun stuff.”

Tony grinned. “I have… seen that one. Do you like… James Bond?”

She looked right at him with raised eyebrows. “Only if Sean Connery plays him,” she said matter-of-factly.

Tony’s grin grew. “I think you’re… the nurse… of my dreams. I’m Tony.”

“Roberta. That’s right, your partner said you didn’t like to be called Anthony,” she said.

“He did?” Tony asked, surprised that Gibbs noticed.

She nodded. “He did. Seemed very worried about you, too. Came in bossing all the staff around.”

“That sounds… like him. He bosses… everyone around, especially me,” Tony said, relaxing.

“You’re finding it hard to breathe because of those broken ribs and the pressure on your lungs. I don’t work on this floor, but I can get a nurse who does to give you something to relieve the pain. It’ll make breathing easier,” she said.

Tony shook his head, wincing. “No! S’alright. Makes me… loopy,” he said, alarmed by the thought being alone and unaware.

He needed to be alert. Even though he wasn’t sure what was going on, he knew there had to be a damn good reason Gibbs was here every time he awoke rather than looking for the bad guys.

“If that’s what you want, but if it gets too much, you let me know,” Roberta said in that calm, soothing voice she had.

She was comforting, nonthreatening of his desire to remain vigilant. “What other kinds… of movies do you… like, or is it just… spy movies?” he asked.

“Oh no, I like romances, too. If it’s a spy movie with a juicy romance – all those secrets and lies – even better,” she said, beaming.

It was if she’d dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.

“The only spy… I know would be more likely… to slit your throat… than begin a romance,” he said darkly.

“Well, just a rom-com then, how about that?’ she asked calmingly.

“Something tells me… you like the sappy stuff, Roberta,” Tony said, trying to lighten up and shake off his dark thoughts. It wasn’t Roberta’s fault, and she really was being good to him.

She laughed, a deep timbre that shook her whole frame. “Oh, you’ve pegged me right. I do. I do love a sappy, happy ending. I see enough heartache around here.”

A security guard appeared at the door, rapping his knuckled twice before entering. He was an older guy with salt and pepper hair and a Magnum mustache. He had dark, flinty eyes, and they were narrowed at Tony.

“You’re Anthony DiNozzo,” he said, and it was more a statement than a question. “I’ve been assigned to stay with you until an FBI agent arrives.”

Tony tried to sit up, but his ribs screamed in protest, blurring his vision, and leaving him gasping. This guy said he was security, but Tony didn’t want to be prostrate, just in case. His heart rate increased, the monitor started beeping, and his breathing became more labored.

Roberta stopped him from rising, gently pushing him back onto the pillows, and keeping her hand firmly on his shoulder.

“He is, but he likes to be called Tony,” she said, answering for him.

The guard nodded, remaining silent. He folded his arms across his chest and stood in the doorway, half in, half out of the room. Tony felt agitated, unreasonably tense with the unknown guard there. He kept looking around the room, searching for other threats, and he wasn’t sure what was wrong with him.

Roberta must’ve noticed his distress. “I think I’ll stay right here a bit until your partner returns. How about if I find something on this television for us to watch?” she asked.

“FBI?” Tony asked suddenly, registering what the guard said. “What did you… say? We don’t work… for the FBI.”

Technically, they were working with them, but Gibbs would never call himself FBI. Even Roberta turned to look at the guard questioningly.

He didn’t seem fazed by the scrutiny. “I don’t know. We got a call to come up here, then while I was enroute, my radio said there would be an FBI agent coming to relieve me. I wasn’t to leave until then.”

His posture indicated that no matter what Roberta and Tony said, he wasn’t going anywhere. It was exactly what a good security detail should do, but Tony still felt unsettled. He should tell Roberta she could go. He didn’t need a babysitter, but for some reason, he felt better that she was there. The guard stepped fully outside the room, his back still visible through the open door.

“How about that tv show. I wouldn’t mind getting to watch a bit with you while I’m on my break,” Roberta said, looking at his chart. “It doesn’t say that you can’t have some ice cream. What do you think?”

Tonys realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, probably at the diner right before his last shift at the Vault began. He should be starving, but the thought of food made him feel ill.

“TV is good,” he said, feeling bad he was taking up her break. Surely there was something else she’d rather be doing. “You can have… my ice cream.”

She turned the tv on and flipped through a few channels. There wasn’t much on at this time other than talk shows or game shows. She finally settled on the Price is Right. It reminded Tony of being home sick as a kid, shut away inside his solitary bedroom so he couldn’t spread any germs.

He wasn’t sure exactly how much time passed, Roberta chatting happily about the foolish guesses some of the contestants made. He felt sleep tugging at him again, but he refused to give into it, instead concentrating on the sharp, incessant pain in his ribs and left hand to keep him awake. The guard never said another word. Usually, Tony would’ve tried to engage him in conversation, but he really didn’t feel like talking, either.

The FBI agent who eventually arrived was Tina, and Tony relaxed. She had snow in her hair and on her coat, but she smiled when she saw him.

She showed the security guard her badge. “Thank you for staying with him. Any trouble?”

The guard shook his head, nodding to all of them, before he went on his way.

“I’m Roberta. I work down in ER, and I need get back. I’ve been too long on my break, but I wanted to see an FBI agent – and a lady one to boot. I thought Tony was FBI, but he said he wasn’t,” Roberta said, smiling.

Tina glanced at Tony, amused. “I’m Tina. Tony and Gibbs work for NCIS, but we’re working a joint investigation.”

“NCIS? Can’t say I know that one,” Roberta said, speaking to Tina as if Tony wasn’t even in the room.

He’d had enough of that. “Sorry about… that. We work for… Naval Criminal… Investigative Service.”

“Ooh, the Navy. I do love a man in uniform. Do you wear a uniform, Tony?” she asked hopefully.

Tina covered her smile with her hand.

“No, ma’am. I’m a… civilian,” Tony said.

Roberta patted his foot. “Too bad. You take care of yourself, now. Nice to meet you,” she said, waving at Tina before heading back to the ER.

“What happened?” Tony asked as soon as she left.

Tina removed her coat and sat down beside him. “Gibbs found Lola Garcia in the lobby, asking about you – or Cody. This morning, McGee found video evidence that she’d visited various hospitals, so they want to talk to her. Gibbs brought her back to interrogation while I came here.”

“Why? Why do I… need one of you… with me?” he asked, suspecting the answer.

His pain was now so insistent that he could barely take a breath, his face awash with sweat. It was making it very difficult to concentrate. The mention of McGee’s name caused another wound, deeper than the broken bones.

“Because we haven’t found any of the people who took you. Not a trace except for Lola. We’re hoping she can lead us to them,” Tina said, her eyes filled with sympathy.

Tony looked down, focusing on breathing through it.

“I know you heard about Tim and Ziva. They made a mistake, a big one, but I know Tim is desperate to make up for it,” Tina said, sensing… or maybe profiling how he must feel.

He didn’t respond, keeping his eyes down so she couldn’t read them. He didn’t have it in him to pretend it didn’t matter. He also noticed that she didn’t mention Ziva.

“Just Tim?” he asked.

Tina shifted uncomfortably. “I only spoke with Tim this morning,” she said, feinting.

Another nurse entered the room, this one Tony knew worked on his floor. He’d seen her earlier that morning. She smiled brightly at both, checking Tony’s monitors, and listening to his breathing. Her smile melted into a frown.

“That doesn’t sound so good. Are you in a lot of pain?” she asked.

“I’m… fine,” Tony gasped as a deep wave swept through his chest like wildfire.

“Don’t be absurd,” she said, withdrawing a syringe from her pocket. “This is here for a reason, so there’s no need to suffer.”

She didn’t give Tony a chance to refuse and plunged the syringe into his IV before he had time to protest.

Turning to Tina, she said, “That won’t take long to work. He’s particularly susceptible to it, and I think he waited entirely too long.”

Tony felt the relief flooding his veins almost instantly, and his entire body sagged into the mattress with relief. Along with it, however, came the dreaded fog in his brain. Colors suddenly brightened, and the room began to swim, swirling around a drain pipe.

“We were talking about Ziva,” Tina said hesitantly, biting her lip.

“She wants me… off the team,” he slurred, the words just slipping out. He wished he could call them back, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate.

Blurrily, he watched Tina press her lips together.

“She’s up to something, and I think you know it, too. Any idea what?”

A distorted image of Kate appeared in Tony’s mind, reminding him of Rule Twenty-eight – when you need help, ask.

Tony needed help, and there was no one at NCIS who could... but there was a reason he shouldn’t answer…

“Computer, can’t access… Hebrew,” he said, fighting the meds that left his tongue too loose. For once, he wished unconsciousness would hurry. “Gibbs not ready… to hear.”

Gibbs sat across from Lola Garcia in the FBI Interrogation room. He studied her silently, but the contrasting signals he was getting didn’t add up. When he’d apprehended her in the ER waiting room, she panicked, her eyes frantically seeking a way out. She even struggled to get away as he marched her out to his car.

Once they were underway, with Lola handcuffed in the backseat, she relaxed slightly, although her eyes kept darting outside at the passing scenery. Gibbs didn’t try to question her because he wanted the conversation recorded. Most perps grew agitated by his silence, and they often began spilling details he hadn’t even asked about.

The silence didn’t seem to bother her at all, though – not in the car, and not here in Interrogation. In fact, she seemed like a different person. She was slouched in her chair, the anxiety and panic long evaporated. She seemed perfectly content to sit in seclusion for as long as Gibbs wanted to keep her there.

It was pissing him off.

He was never the one who broke first, but today, he needed answers. There were lives – Tony’s included – depending on it. He had to try a different approach.

“Why were you looking for Cody Redman?” he bellowed abruptly, leaning over the table into her space.

She jumped, the wariness returning. Eyes wide, she carefully followed wherever he placed his hands. That set off alarm bells of a different kind in Gibbs’ mind.

“Well?” he asked.

She jumped again, licking her lips.

“I was trying to find him – to see if he was all right,” she said, swallowing thickly.

“So, you knew he’d been hurt?” he asked sharply.

“I- ah- well- no, not really. He just… he left work, and no one knew why,” she said, wringing her hands.

“You weren’t at the club that night,” Gibbs said.

The panic returned to her eyes, and her breathing sped up. She obviously hadn’t been prepared for him to counter her claim.

“Who told you he was hurt?” he demanded.

“Uh… I don’t know. No one told me,” she said.

Gibbs slammed several photos on the table between them, the same grainy images McGee found of Lola in the ERs of different hospitals.

“You’ve been searching for him all over the city. Who. Told. You?”

Lola flinched, frantically shaking her head back and forth.

“We took your phone when you arrived. It’s a burn phone that doesn’t belong to you, so we already have grounds to arrest you. Who gave it to you?” he asked.

He was stretching it, but she didn’t know that. Tears appeared in her eyes, but she continued to shake her head.

“You know that guy out there who has your phone? He’s now tracking all the calls. We’re going to find out, and whoever talks first gets the deal,” Gibbs said.

“I can’t,” she said, pleading. “They’ll kill me.”

Gibbs shrugged indifferently. “I don’t think you’ll do well in prison.”

“Did they kill him?” she asked, tears now streaking her face, leaving messy black lines.

“Did who kill him?”

“Pete and Stephanie,” she whispered.

“You think they’re capable of murder?”

She nodded slowly. “I know they are. Why else would you be asking all these questions? Cody was a nice guy – one of the only ones.”

“Then why did you sell him out?” Gibbs snarled.

This was the first thing he’d said since they arrived that brought her up short, and she reared back. “Sell him out? What d’you mean? I didn’t sell him out. I didn’t tell anyone he rescued that guy.”

“Then why did they hurt him?” Gibbs asked, hoping she’d give more away.

“I don’t know!” she cried. “I didn’t tell, so when Matt called and told me not to come to work, I thought I was busted. I knew they wouldn’t stand for it.”

“Yet you didn’t warn him?”

She hung her head. “I couldn’t. They’d kill me.”

“So, better him than you, huh?”

She remained silent, her shoulders shaking.

“How did you know he wasn’t Cody Redman?” Gibbs shouted.

He knew this was a dead end. She wasn’t the snitch, but he needed to confirm it, and figure out her role in this whole mess.

Flinching, her head shot up. “What? What do you mean? If he’s not Cody… who is he? What’s going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. If you knew Pete Warren and Stephanie Lake were killers, why didn’t you turn them in?”

“I couldn’t. Dave and Matt would kill me. I don’t know why they ever got involved with those two. Matt told me to find Cody, that he’d probably be in one of the hospitals. I was supposed to let him know where I found him when he called me back,” she said tearfully.

“What does Barrows have on you?” he asked, nodding toward the observation window.

Fornell would realize she wasn’t the leak, and they needed to keep looking. Still, there was something else going on here. How was she connected if not through the search for Naval weapons? Why was she so terrified of the bar owner?

“He owns me!” she cried. “He owns all of us, and he hands us out to his high rollers like prizes.”

Gibbs managed to keep his face from showing his surprise. Barely. Sex trafficking? He hadn’t seen that coming.

“What does he have on you?”

“If I tell you, do you promise you won’t use it against me?” she asked.

“I can’t promise that until I know what it is, but I will guarantee your protection from Barrows.”

She shrugged, as if she was out of options, and she’d given up. “He knows I’m not here legally. He keeps threatening to call ICE.”

“And the other waitresses? Same thing?” he asked softening his tone.

She swiped at her face, snorting bitterly. “Not all of them. He said he needed some girls that could actually take the orders without screwing up.”

“Do you know who told them Cody was a cop?”

She shook her head from side-to-side. “He’s a cop? Oh, no, no, no. Matt and Dave hate cops. Dave doesn’t want his business busted. Cody is really a cop… or was a cop? He was really good to me.”

Gibbs had the impression that there weren’t too many people in her life who’d ever been good to her.

“How are Warren and Lake involved?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why they’re there all the time recently. Dave has something else going on with them, but I’ve never spoken to either except to bring their drinks,” she said.

This was a dead end. She didn’t know anything about their case, but he did sympathize with her, so he’d do what he could. Dirtbags like Barrows needed to be taught a lesson – painfully.

“Someone will be in, and you’ll be given protection,” he said, standing.

He met Fornell in the hallway outside the Interrogation room.

“This just gets more and more twisted. We’ve got potential arms dealing, a terror cell, and now sex trafficking. Not to mention murder, kidnapping, and assault of a federal agent. This is going to be a paperwork nightmare,” Fornell said.

Gibbs rolled his eyes.

Fornell sobered and abandoned the Gallows humor. “We have to get the other girls out of there. FBI can handle that.”

Gibbs nodded. “Fine – as long there isn’t a Navy connection, it’s your jurisdiction. The numbers on Lola’s phone have to be Barrows and Evans. Does McGee have a fix on them yet?”

“He’s working on it,” Fornell said.

“If Matt Evans didn’t tell her to look for DiNozzo’s name as well as Redman’s, he couldn’t have known it,” Gibbs said, alarmed.

“So… the snitch who said he was a cop, didn’t identify him. DiNozzo’s still a target,” Fornell replied.

Gibbs’ phone rang, and he absently glanced at the caller ID.

Jenny Shepherd.

“I’ve got to take this,” he said irritably.

“I’ll get Lola settled and ask for the names of the other girls. We’ll set them up in a safe house until we have Barrows in custody,” Fornell said.

Gibbs moved into an empty office and shut the door, sitting behind the desk.

“Gibbs.”

“Is your interrogation complete?” Jenny asked without any pleasantries.

“If you knew I was interrogating someone, why are you interrupting me?” he asked, temper flaring.

He hadn’t had time to let her know anything about Lola yet, so how did she know? Ziva kept asking both Ducky and McGee questions, so his mind didn’t have far to look for the answer. Even after he’d warned her that she answered to him and only him. she’d bypassed the chain of command again. His mood continued to darken.

“Because you haven’t been keeping me in the loop as I specifically told you to do,” she snarled.

“I just talked to you last night. If you expect me to get these bastards so you can appease the Admiral, I need to do more than chat on the phone,” he said, teeth clenched.

“Don’t give me that attitude, Jethro. I am the Director of NCIS, and I have every right to know the status of my investigations,” Jenny said.

“You do have the status. Nothing’s changed,” Gibbs snapped.

“I thought you were in Interrogation. Do you have the snitch? You didn’t tell me that you’d caught someone.”

“Because it’s only just happened today, and no, I didn’t catch the snitch,” Gibbs said.

He could hear her deflating on the other end of the phone and could picture the frustration coloring her face. She wanted to impress the Admiral more than worrying about the potential fact these men had access to Naval weapon designs. It frustrated him to no end. She used to be a good agent, but he it seemed politics corrupted everyone.

“Nothing?” she asked. “She couldn’t tell you anything?”

“We have her phone, and McGee is running down her recent calls,” he conceded, knowing he’d have to give her something to get her off his back.

“How long do you think this is going to take?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Jen. I can’t catch them until we get a viable lead, and I’m missing my best man.”

“You have Ziva,” she said.

“Yeah, and she’s done nothing but piss people off. Most of the FBI team won’t work with her,” he said.

“They won’t work with you, either.”

“Exactly! That’s why I need DiNozzo. Someone has to play nice and get me what I need,” he snapped.

“When Agent DiNozzo is released from the hospital, I want you to send him back to NCIS. Internal Affairs needs his deposition regarding his abduction, and he’s going to have to complete a Psych Eval,” she said.

“We’ll handle all that when we get back,” Gibbs said, irritation pulsing through him so hard he’d bet his eyes were bleeding.

“He can’t work while on medical leave, and I want to keep this moving,” she said.

“His mind still works. You said you want it done, then stop slowing it down,” he snarled.

“I’ll expect you to keep me informed,” she said, the cold air coming across the line reaching frigid proportions.

“I will when there’s something to tell.”

Chapter 21: I'm Still Standing

Chapter Text

Tina began her morning like a woman on a mission. Despite the fact they already had plenty to do in tracking down these fugitives, shutting down all their illegal activities, plus a missing agent with another hospitalized, Tina voluntarily added more to her workload. It was that important. She couldn’t help but feel there was something rotten and potentially dangerous going on at NCIS. The whole liaison situation was strange and didn’t follow protocol.

She’d looked it up.

As a foreign liaison officer, Ziva David was required to have a DoD contact officer controlling what classified information could be shared. Ziva didn’t have one, and it didn’t sound as if the Director of NCIS cared. Ziva also wasn’t qualified as an investigator. If any of the lawyers who defended the criminals the MCRT prosecuted learned of this miss-step, they’d have a field day getting the evidence thrown out. Ziva should never have been allowed to handle it at any point during the discovery process. Tina was quietly ensuring that the Israeli had an FBI partner with her on this case so the chain of custody was air tight.

A liaison officer’s purpose was to liaise between the two host agencies. What was Director Shepherd trying to pull? The case here in Philadelphia revolved around American citizens, breaking American laws, and potentially trying to steal American weapons. There was no reason to involve a liaison officer from Mossad.

Maybe if they used those weapons to commit an international crime of terrorism, but as of yet, the information they had was that the target was an American warship – the USS Delaware. It had nothing to do with Mossad. NCIS was treating the liaison as if she were an actual agent, an investigator.

She wasn’t.

Tina wasn’t comfortable allowing Ziva access to classified intel, unlike the way NCIS apparently felt. She’d taken steps to block any access here in the Philadelphia FBI office, and when she received notification that there was an attempt to access that classified intel, she had a good idea of the culprit.

She suspected it – yet still had no proof. The access originated from a computer in the squad room – an empty desk – and not the one where David had been working since her arrival. Evidence that it was Ziva was only circ*mstantial, if that. It motivated Tina to begin her own investigation.

Despite her determination, she knew she’d taken advantage of DiNozzo’s altered state, and her conscience was bothering her. While she would’ve done the same on any other case, DiNozzo was a fellow LEO, so it made it more of a grey area. She didn’t think he’d have shared anything with her under ordinary circ*mstances, and she couldn’t blame him for that. Had the situation been reversed, and the FBI had a potential bad seed, they’d want to handle it in-house, too.

It didn’t appear NCIS was handling anything, however, and she wasn’t sure if DiNozzo had any support amongst his superiors when it came to the Mossad officer. While Gibbs was clearly protecting his injured agent, DiNozzo said he wasn’t ready to confront Ziva. What did David have over the territorial team leader? What was going on at NCIS? Something was off.

So, Tina did what she had to do and took advantage of DiNozzo’s compromised state. It didn’t mean she didn’t feel guilty about it.

She couldn’t get that strange – almost panicked expression – on Ziva’s face after they’d learned DiNozzo was alive out of her mind. When Tony mentioned Ziva’s computer, Tina remembered the way Ziva was hunched over it, as if she didn’t want anyone to see what she was doing.

Tina needed to get a look at that computer, even if just to see if there was reason to get a warrant. Besides, she was certain that if she did get a warrant while Ziva was still in possession, whatever was on it would suddenly disappear. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to prosecute her, but if Ziva was truly up to something nefarious, it might be enough to put scrutiny on NCIS and what she was doing there.

Before Tina decided to risk looking, she wanted to talk to Ron Sacks, who’d been partnered with Ziva for the past few days. Perhaps he could give her some insight if she was on to something or barking up the wrong tree.

Hence the reason she was sitting in her car in the parking lot at FBI headquarters. She knew Ron had developed a habit of getting breakfast at the little shop in the next building while he’d been in Philadelphia. She hoped he wouldn’t break that pattern today, because she found herself in the mood for a croissant. It definitely wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have in the office.

She didn’t have long to wait as Ron pulled his car into a spot not too far from her own. He huddled against the cold as he walked past the FBI building and into the coffeeshop. Tina got out of her car and followed him.

The snow from the previous day hadn’t accumulated much, yet it left clumps of dirty snow pushed against the sidewalk from the snow plows. Tina wore sensible shoes, but she still stepped over the patches as if they were landmines. She didn’t want to spend the rest of the day with wet feet.

Pushing open the door to the coffeeshop, she went up to the counter to order coffee and a croissant. She noticed Ron sitting at a small table against the wall, but she didn’t acknowledge him as she paid for her breakfast and turned around.

“Agent Kehoe,” he said, sounding pleasantly surprised.

She liked Ron well enough, although she detected a kiss-up lurking beneath that uptight, by-the-book agent he projected in the office.

“Good morning, Ron,” she said, taking the chair across from him. “Sleep well?”

Ron shrugged. “As well as you ever do in a hotel bed.”

“Hopefully we’ll be able to wrap this up, so you can all get back to DC,” she said.

“Maybe. It seems as if every time we think we catch a break, it only gets more complicated,” he said.

“Did you get all the women that Barrows was using into a safe house?” she asked.

“We did, along with Lola. We’ll keep them there until Barrows and Evans are caught. After that, its ICE’s decision,” he said.

She nodded. “Maybe their testimony against Barrows will work in their favor, particularly for Lola who reported it. McGee left his program running last night, tracking down the numbers on her phone. With a little bit of luck, we should get a location today.”

Ron grimaced. “As long as they turn the phones on. I have a feeling they’re keeping them off unless they need to use them, and once they realize Lola isn’t coming back, they’ll ditch those phones, too.”

She knew he was right, but still hoped they’d get a location before that happened. Even if it was just a spot they’d already abandoned, they might find a clue there.

“I’ll just be happy to end this joint investigation with NCIS. I hate working with those guys. Gibbs is even more impossible than Fornell usually is,” Ron said.

It was the opening she’d been hoping for.

“At least Gibbs and Fornell have been partnering with each other,” she said, earning a snort from Ron. “How has it been working with Ziva?”

Ron shifted uncomfortably, taking a sip of his coffee, giving him time to think.

“At first, I enjoyed working with her because she shares my dislike of DiNozzo. After a while though, it occurred to me that she’s supposed to be his partner. If my partner talked that way about me, I certainly wouldn’t trust her to have my back.”

Tina nodded. “I’m not so sure DiNozzo does, either.”

This time, Tony’s return to consciousness was a little easier. Although his chest still felt very sore and uncomfortable, breathing was somewhat easier. He wasn’t gasping, and the elephant that had been sitting on him must’ve gone on a diet. Somehow, being able to breathe without having to think about it made him more aware of the throbbing pain in his hand. He hadn’t really paid much attention to the fact his hand was broken, but now, he realized it would probably need physical therapy before he could even try for his requalification to handle his weapon.

As the night’s sleepy disorientation began to lift, he also realized he was alone. Vulnerable. This was the first time Gibbs hadn’t been there when he awoke. It wasn’t like he needed him. He wasn’t a child – as if anyone was ever there when he was, anyway – and his boss certainly wasn’t the type to hold anyone’s hand. He just… he’d become used to the company. His heart rate increased, despite his best efforts to remain calm. He watched the steady rise of the line on the monitor as it crept higher and higher.

He needed to get a grip or that thing would start beeping, and a nurse would run in here to knock him out again. Or worse – one of the endless residents who apparently found having a plague survivor in their midst of significant interest requiring all sorts of tests and study.

He didn’t want that. Turning away from the machine, he scanned the room for threats, carefully looking into each crevice and corner. His bed took up most of the room. There were two chairs, one a hard, standard hospital chair, the other – the one Gibbs had been sleeping on – softer, larger as it held the cot within. The chair was all put together now, as if it had never been used. The bathroom door was shut, causing a wave of apprehension to rush through him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Even though it was ridiculous, he still wished he had his gun. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. He’d been jumping at shadows and paranoid about every new face that entered his room. Knowing it was unreasonable didn’t mean he could stop it or talk himself out of it. He’d tried. He was a federal agent for God’s sake, he shouldn’t be this skittish. It wasn’t normal.

He probably should try and stand up. At least he’d be on his feet if there was going to be an attack – face it like a man. Problem was, he wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t fall right back over. How manly would that look? Still, if he wanted to get out of here, he’d have to prove he could stand. His ankle was only sprained, but he could see by the wrapping that the swelling hadn’t yet receded.

A fine sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead and palms, making them slick. As soon as he reached for the cannula beneath his nose, however, Gibbs angry voice filled the room.

“I’ve told you to leave that alone. Next time, I’ll break your other hand.”

“Boss,” Tony said, his entire body sagging in relief, the heaviness on his chest lightening. “Where were y… ah- I mean… what’s going on?”

He swallowed, knowing he sounded weak and whiny. He began focusing on his breathing, even though his ribs didn’t hurt quite as badly, hoping it would slow his heart rate down. He plucked at a loose thread on the blanket covering him. It was a pale, mauve color, thin, and of indeterminate age. There really was nothing flattering about it.

Gibbs put his coffee on the window sill, and a corn muffin on the sliding table that reached over Tony’s bed. He pushed it in front of Tony, placing a second muffin on the end near his chair.

“Eat something. There was a security guard outside your door while I was gone,” he said, answering the question Tony hadn’t fully asked.

He was hoping his boss didn’t catch his momentary panic, but since when didn’t Gibbs know what you didn’t want him to know? He poked at the muffin unenthusiastically.

“Was going to get you a donut, but they said it would make you puke,” Gibbs said, sitting down and taking a sip of his coffee.

He must be in worse shape than he thought if Gibbs was being thoughtful.

Tony continued to poke at the muffin, causing it to crumble and spread crumbs all over his tray. He still had no appetite. Now that the paranoia was retreating, he began to recall vague details about the night before. Tina visited, and although his mind was dangling the exact details just out of reach, he knew there was a reason for his disquiet. He’d revealed more than he’d wanted, and that should never happen.

Tony didn’t have a reputation for being good undercover because someone else thought so. He’d earned it, sometimes through blood, sweat, and tears. He was so used to keeping his true self hidden that it was second nature. He could immerse himself into another person, another life, and never mix up any of the details. After all, he only ever showed people what they expected to see.

How then, did he let Tina trip him up? Get him to admit… something. He couldn’t remember what, but he knew he’d slipped, and it involved Ziva. Gibbs was going to kill him.

“Stop playing with it, and eat it,” Gibbs snapped, apparently reaching his quota of concern for the day. His own muffin was nearly gone.

Tony forced himself to break off a piece of the now-crumbled muffin and stuff it in his mouth. It tasked like cardboard, but he chewed and swallowed it down. He ran a hand through his hair nervously. He needed a shower. And a hair wash.

“Ah, Boss, I really need… to talk to Tina. D’you… think you could ask her to swing by, or maybe… let me borrow your phone?” he asked.

If he could hear the desperation in his own voice, he knew Gibbs wouldn’t miss it – or mistake it for his lack of oxygen.

“Why?” Gibbs asked.

“I’m, I, ah, I just want to ask her… a question,” he said, ignoring the throbbing in his hand and the tightness in his chest.

“So, ask me.”

Tony shifted his position, his skin feeling too tight. He tried desperately to put on a calm façade. He couldn’t tell Gibbs the truth. Not now, not when he was already feeling so rattled and exposed. If Gibbs found out he was talking about the team’s business with outsiders – especially FBI outsiders – Tony would get his ass kicked, broken bones or not.

“Uh, see, it’s like this. You know how I usually… don’t react to those pain meds… all that well?” he asked.

“Usually?” Gibbs asked, smirking.

Tony felt his face coloring. “Right. So, you see… I can’t exactly remember all… the details of our conversation, and I think… I think I… might’ve said something I shouldn’t.”

There. Keep it vague, nothing he could be called on, just a simple discussion between he and Tina – so he could find out what the hell he’d said. Gibbs couldn’t demand specifics if he couldn’t remember what he’d said. There had to be a reason he felt so on edge. The stupid, assless johnnie he was wearing was scratchy, making him itch all over.

Gibbs rolled his eyes impatiently. “Couldn’t be that inappropriate, or she would’ve reported you. She didn’t.”

Tony rubbed the back of his neck with his uninjured hand, getting it tangled in the Cannula tubing. He pulled it away quickly, turning panicked eyes onto Gibbs, who half-smirked but didn’t say anything.

“See… I’d feel better if I knew… exactly what I said.”

“DiNozzo, we’ve got bigger problems. I’ll tell her I’m sending you to a sexual harassment, seminar,” he snapped.

“But–”

“Or maybe I actually will if you don’t drop it,” Gibbs said, voice rising.

Tony flung himself back against his pillows, frustrated, his ribs screaming in protest. Why couldn’t he remember? Those damn meds were going to get him in trouble, and he hated not having self-control.

With perfectly unwelcomed timing, a nurse came in to check on his vitals, and she asked about his pain level.

“I’m fine. Could I have… some Tylenol, though?” he asked.

She looked surprised. “Tylenol isn’t going to do much for broken bones. Let me get you something a little stronger.”

“No,” Tony yelped.

“DiNozzo, take the meds,” Gibbs said irritably.

Tony shook his head, resolute. “No. They make me… loopy, and I’m messing up.”

“DiNozzo!”

“Tylenol,” he said to the nurse, leaving no room for argument – from her or Gibbs.

She didn’t look convinced, but she handed him the pills. He dry-swallowed them immediately, before she could even fill his plastic water cup.

Gibbs scowled, but shrugged indifferently. “Fine. Suffer.”

“There’s another thing… I wanted to ask,” Tony said, deciding to just get it all out.

“You think you’ve earned any favors?” Gibbs asked sarcastically.

“If I’m not under the influence… of the drugs, I can have my… service weapon, “Tony said, flashing a brittle smile.

Gibbs eyes narrowed. “Why do you need your gun?”

“I’d just like… to have it. If I need a guard, then there’s… a real threat. I’d just… feel better if I was armed,” he answered plainly.

“You’ve got a broken hand, dumbass,” Gibbs said, but without any heat.

“I know, but it’s my… left, and I’m right-handed.”

Gibbs paused, staring at him, although he didn’t outright say no. “You don’t need it while I’m here.”

“But if you have… to go?” Tony asked, persisting, heart thudding.

He’d feel so much better being here, so defenseless and exposed, if he had access to his weapon. He trusted Gibbs, but right now, there wasn’t anyone else. He’d rather depend on himself.

Gibbs didn’t answer, but Tony knew that meant he was thinking about it. Gibbs would never be without his weapon, either.

“Tina said you found Lola… in the ER looking for… me. What did she say? I guess… it means she was… working with them, after all, but… they really sounded as if they didn’t… know the snitch well. I don’t get it. Maybe my memories… are distorted,” he said, trying to let Gibbs see he could still focus on their case, even if he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

“She wasn’t the snitch,” Gibbs said.

Tony looked up, something inside him shifting. He really didn’t want to believe it was her.

“Why was she… looking, then? They must’ve told her… something,” he said.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, studying him like a bug under a microscope. Tony wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he must’ve found it, because he continued to share.

“She wasn’t in on whatever’s going on with the weapons, but Barrows had a sex trafficking business on the side,” Gibbs said, his cold eyes nearly sparking with rage.

Crimes against women and children were always a touchy subject with Gibbs.

“Is she safe?” Tony asked, concerned.

Lola really did try to help him – better than his own partners did. He still was having trouble wrapping his head around it all, and he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do about it. He certainly wasn’t going to take it – but that meant either he left NCIS, or he broke up the team. He couldn’t help but wonder if Gibbs would just prefer the former. It would solve all his headaches – and he never took ultimatums well. If forced to choose, which side would Gibbs take?

“Hey!” Gibbs said, and Tony realized he must’ve zoned out and missed Gibbs’ response.

“Sorry, Boss,” he mumbled.

He picked off a little more of the corn muffin, just to have something to do, his hand was throbbing mercilessly. He knew Gibbs could tell what was on his mind. He’d also worked out the reason his boss parked himself here every day rather than working the case. That was far from typical Gibbs behavior.

He was trying to show – in his own non-verbal way – that Tony still had support. A back-up that was guaranteed to have his six. While he appreciated the effort, Gibbs’ bulldozer methods sometimes felt too much like taking all his control away. Right now, he felt desperate to hold onto it.

“I don’t know what… I’m going to do… about it yet,” he said softly, eyes down, knowing Gibbs would catch the non-sequitur as if they’d been discussing it all along.

He’d bet it was on Gibbs’ mind as much as it was on Tony’s.

“I know. I don’t, either,” he said, unusually open.

Tony raised his eyes, a tiny flicker of hope bursting to life. “But you’ll let me… figure it out?”

Gibbs paused, thinking. Tony could practically see all the scenarios running through his mind.

“I’d like you to talk to them before you decide on anything,” he finally said.

Tony grimaced. “I will – but not yet,” he said, pinning Gibbs with his eyes.

It wouldn’t be above Gibbs’ conscience to tweak the circ*mstances a bit and force a meeting. Tony wasn’t ready for that. He needed to put himself back together and feel stronger first. He didn’t want to look so weak when he confronted them.

“They know I’m pissed, but I haven’t addressed it,” Gibbs said.

“Why not?” Tony asked, surprised. Patience certainly wasn’t Gibbs’ strong suit.

“Too much going on – and the case has to be first,” he said.

“And you don’t want… to deal with it… in front of the FBI,” Tony said astutely yet disheartened.

He stared out the window at the cold grey day, feeling it mirrored his insides. Gibbs was right that Sully, along with the potential of a mass casualty event, had to come first. The problem was, he still wasn’t sure that Gibbs wouldn’t make excuses for Ziva. He was already starting with the need to talk to them. Tony was fairly certain how that would go. Ziva would manipulate the situation so that Tony came out looking like the one at fault.

“Hey!” Gibbs said.

He’d moved closer while Tony was lost in thought and not paying attention. He reached out and placed his hand on the back of Tony’s neck, giving him a light squeeze. Tony’s aching body leaned into the contact.

“You said Ziva was grooming McGee. I need to figure out how far it’s gone, and if either of them is salvageable.”

Tony’s eyes widened in surprise; unsure he’d heard that right.

“You… You’d do that?” he asked quietly.

Gibbs looked at him solemnly. “What d’you think I’ve been saying? If you can’t trust your partners, the team can no longer function.”

“And…you’re sure you… want me to be… the one who stays?” he asked cautiously, needing the confirmation.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. “Told you before that I consider you a friend. Not about to lose you.”

The words warmed Tony’s chilled soul more than he wanted to admit. He’d searched so long for someone that would think he mattered, but he’d been burned too often to take it at face value. No matter how much he wanted to do just that.

There could be no take-backs. No saying something nice, lowering Tony’s defenses, then pulling it back and leaving him floundering.

“What’s changed?” he asked.

“What? Failing to do their job isn’t enough?” Gibbs asked.

“You’ve known for a long time… that I didn’t trust Ziva, and you… didn’t care then,” Tony said, brutally honest.

Gibbs pressed his lips together, clearly struggling to keep his temper in check. “I listened to what you said, and I’ve become more aware. With this dereliction of duty, there’s valid grounds.”

“Valid grounds? And the constant insubordination wasn’t? Or is that only… when it’s insubordination… against you? You still want… to protect her. You never hold women to the same standards… that you hold the rest of us. Well… except one,” Tony said bitterly.

Gibbs frowned; clearly unsure what Tony was talking about.

“Paula Cassidy ring… any bells? You were all over… her from the start,” Tony said.

“Yeah! She was a suspect in a murder investigation,” Gibbs said, and for the first time since Tony was hurt, his voice held its usual bite.

Tony shook his head. “Even after she was cleared, and on… every case we’ve worked together since, you hold… her to ridiculously high expectations. Yet you let Ziva – and even Kate – slide on much worse.”

Gibbs shoulders slumped, surprising Tony. This brief glimpse of defeat was so out of his realm of experience, he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

“I could see what was happening,” he said, his voice low.

“What are you… talking about?” Tony asked, lost.

“I know you like to put on an act in the bullpen – play the clown, the frat boy, the playa – but I think you forget that I know it’s an act. I could see she was different for you – but her act wasn’t,” Gibbs said, frustrated.

“Wasn’t what?” Tony asked, not following.

The fact Gibbs seemed to be opening up had him wrongfooted. It was uncharted territory.

“An act. I knew you were going to get hurt,” Gibbs said.

“I knew what I was doing. Don’t you… think that was my decision… to make?” he asked.

Gibbs took a deep breath, seeming to struggle with what he wanted to say. It was typically around now when he’d just explode, or hit Tony on the back of the head and tell him to drop it, unwilling to discuss anything emotionally charged.

Gibbs didn’t do any of those things this time. Instead, he hung his head.

“I know. Doesn’t mean I liked it.”

“That sounds like its… coming from experience,” Tony said, his natural investigator shining through.

It wasn’t often Gibbs allowed this brief glimpse into his personal life, and Tony didn’t want to do anything to interrupt.

Gibbs sighed. “My Paula was Jenny Shepherd. I wanted to spare you that, Tony.”

Gibbs had been trying to protect him? Imagine that. He had a weird way of showing it, but maybe things weren’t as lost as Tony feared.

“Well, if it makes… you feel any better, you were right,” he said, shrugging.

If Gibbs was coming clean and opening up, Tony owed him the truth. The pain in his chest was becoming more and more insistent, and he feared he wouldn’t be able to cover it soon, but he still didn’t want those drugs.

“No. It doesn’t make me feel better at all,” Gibbs said quietly.

Tony gave him a small smile, feeling as if the past few years were melting away. They were back to a two-man team, backing one another up, and more like partners than a boss and subordinate. Tony really missed those days. Not so much all the work and schlepping around all the equipment by himself, but the comradery, feeling as if they shared a like mind. Even the pain that had been steadily growing more insistent seemed to improve at the words.

Gibbs apparently knew what Tony was thinking, and he returned the smile.

“Don’t give up on me, DiNozzo. I might be stubborn, but I still believe you don’t waste good. Whatever happens with the others, you and I work together.”

Tony nodded, trying to pretend there wasn’t a huge knot in his throat.

“Anything new… on Sully?” he asked once he was able to speak again, trying to steer the conversation onto safer ground before he embarrassed himself any further.

One of those small, secret smirks that Tony always liked to see crossed Gibbs’ face, and Tony knew he was just as happy to steer toward less emotional topics.

“There was evidence he’d been in the same building where they’d held you, but no idea how long ago,” Gibbs said, sobering up.

Tony winced. “You think… he’s dead?”

“I don’t know. It’s been a while, but… we also found two bodies in that building, and he wasn’t one of them.”

Tony’s head shot up, surprised. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“No, not when you were so ill.”

“So… what are we doing to find him?” Tony asked, stomach churning. The pain had become so intense, he was trembling.

“We are following up on leads that we got from Lola’s phone,” Ziva said unexpectedly from the doorway, her dark eyes documenting all his injuries in that superior way that drove him nuts.

McGee stood behind her, smiling widely as he peered into the room.

“How are you feeling, Tony?” she asked, obviously perplexed by how relaxed he and Gibbs appeared sharing their breakfast.

Reeling, Tony turned his face toward Gibbs, stunned and betrayed.