Not Quite Gibbs
By Simply Shelby
"Hey, Jenny?" Tony knocked lightly on the already open door to her office and leaned inside. "Can I ask you something?"
The Director looked up from her paperwork and waved him in, "Of course, Tony. More girl trouble?"
"Ah." Tony thought back to the last time he'd asked advice from the Director. Like that had gone well. Once again, it was either her or Gibbs, and he was going to make a wild guess the bossman wouldn't particularly enjoy this conversation. "No. No, I—uh—" Jenny waited for him to continue, patiently. "You remember the Boone case? The serial killer that Gibbs—"
"I remember, Tony. I'd only been director of NCIS for a few hours." She watched him lean up against the table in the middle of the room, and noticed how he kept his legs and arms uncrossed.
"Yeah." He swallowed, nervously and stopped himself from tapping his fingers against the table or scratching the back of his neck. "Ducky… he said something to me then and now I can't seem to stop thinking about it…"
Jenny settled back into her chair and raised an eyebrow. "What'd he say?"
The young agent took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He said Gibbs used to be a lot like me." An uncertain terror flickered in his eyes. She'd have thought he'd be flattered being compared to Gibbs. That or scared to death. It seemed he was more the latter than the former. Completely understandable.
"Ah." And, suddenly, Jenny knew exactly where he was going with this. "Ducky's right," she answered his unspoken question, telling him exactly what he didn't want to hear. "He was a lot like you. And you're a lot like him, Tony. In some ways." She paused, letting her words sink in. If anything, Tony looked ten times more nervous than he had knocking on her door. "In other ways you're as different as night and day."
"I'm not Gibbs," Tony summed up, somewhat relieved.
"No, Tony, not quite."
"That's what people kept saying. At the time, I wasn't sure if it was an insult or a compliment." When Gibbs abandoned them, he'd done everything he could to keep the team together and working. And if acting like Gibbs did the trick, by God, he'd do it. Even if people criticised and insulted.
"And now?" Jenny was curious.
He shrugged. "Honestly, I'm still not sure. I'd rather not be him, if that's okay?"
Jenny nodded, amused. "Just don't go building a boat in your basement," she ordered.
Tony chuckled. "Won't be a problem, Director." His shoulders were loose and his body relaxed, comfortable.
"You don't have a basement." She remembered his somewhat expensive flat, his film collection, and the large grand piano that took up his living room. She remembered his "campfires" and his rearranging of the supply truck. She remembered how smoothly he'd bounced back from Gibbs's return, from Jeanne's departure. "You're going to be just fine, Tony."
"How do you know?"
She remembered Gibbs's head slaps, Tony helping Gibbs in his basement over beers, Tony in Gibbs's hospital room after he'd been blown up, Gibbs talking to Tony about Jeanne. She could see it, even if no one else could. She smiled. "Don't worry too much, Tony. After all, like father, like son." She enjoyed watching him gape.
"Dismissed, Tango Eight."
Tony strutted out, closing the door behind him. Not quite Gibbs was quite good enough for him.