Disclaimer: Sad though I am to admit it, NCIS never has and probably never will belong to me.
A/N: Here's the Tony and Miles Wolf counseling fic that I promised you, albeit about a month late. Enjoy! (Oh, and just a word of warning: this fic contains mild T/Z undertones.)
Miles Wolf smiled a little to himself as he collected the next member of Gibbs' team for an interview. A psychologist really shouldn't play favorites, but Miles had to admit that he'd been rather looking forward to interviewing this fellow ever since he'd read Dr. Cranston's description of him.
Senior Field Agent Anthony DiNozzo, Junior, the note had read, AKA 'Brilliant Chatterbox' (BC). Only child of rich Long Island parents (see: Relationships), early-forties. BA in P.E. from OSU, former college athlete, former state cop in Peoria, IL (2 years), Philadelphia, PA (18 months), & Baltimore, MD (22 months). Has worked as a Special Agent at NCIS since 2003. Was emotionally neglected by father, leading to a fear of abandonment, a low sense of self-worth, and an eagerness to please others, particularly parental figures. Mother's death in childhood also contributed to above. Hides insecurity and a surprisingly sharp intellect behind chattiness and frat-boy exterior. Is slow to trust others, but very loyal. Has a long history of unhealthy romantic relationships and a fondness for women with guns. (See: Relationships.) Fears change. Loves movies.
The small glimpses that Miles had had of Tony earlier that day had only further excited his interest. The man seemed fascinating.
"So what tribal name did the good Doc give me?" Tony asked as he was ushered into the conference room. "Wait, wait, let me guess: 'Iron Magnum.' Ooo, or 'Bold Bond.' 'Cool-Hand Casanova?'"
As they both took their seats, Miles answered, "Brilliant Chatterbox."
Tony froze for a second, face conflicted.
"'Chatterbox?'" he asked in pained tones.
"Brilliant Chatterbox," Miles agreed.
"Still…" Tony muttered. "Chatterbox."
It was clear that the code name did not meet with his approval.
"It bothers you to be defined by your talkativeness?" Miles asked.
Tony shrugged awkwardly. "Not really. It's just… Chatterbox?"
He muttered something under his breath that sounded a great deal like, "Almost as bad as 'Game Show Host.'"
Choosing to let this go for the moment, Miles said cheerfully, "So, Tony – you don't mind if I call you Tony, do you?"
"Not at all, Wolfie," Tony said with a slightly forced looking grin. "Anything to help."
Miles promptly jotted on his notepad 'Subject uses diminutive names to reclaim power/control.'
"Excellent!" Miles said. "In that case, if you would kindly begin by telling me where you were when the bomb first exploded?"
"I was in the elevator," Tony said promptly.
Miles raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Tony.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Tony said self-deprecatingly, "Stupid place to go during a bomb threat, right? But Ziva dragged me in there."
"So what happened?" Miles asked.
Tony shrugged and said, "The bomb went off. Part of the elevator's ceiling fell down."
This, Miles thought wryly, was like pulling teeth. Apparently Tony was doing his best to prove Dr. Cranston's tribal name – brilliant term, really – for him wrong.
Miles nodded encouragingly and gestured for Tony to continue.
"We both fell," Tony said.
Miles remained silent.
"We tried to get out by ourselves. When that didn't work, we waited in the elevator for a couple of hours until a crew could dig us out," he added.
"Mmmhmm," Miles said. "So what did you do to fill the time?"
"Talked. Played charades. Can you believe that Ziva thought this was a teapot?"
Tony demonstrated the not-teapot with his arms.
"Are you… an elephant?" Miles asked, curious.
"Yes! Thank you," Tony said emphatically. "How much more obvious can you get?"
'Effective communication = issue,' Miles scribbled. 'Subject has desperate desire to be understood.'
"Mmm," Miles said. "That bothers you, doesn't it. When you give an obvious message that isn't interpreted properly."
"Well, it would bother anyone," Tony snorted. "But it was just a game, Wolfie."
"Was it? You tell me," Miles said.
Tony looked at him in bafflement.
"Uh, yeah, it was," he said slowly, as though concerned for Miles' sanity.
But despite the agent's certain tone, Miles couldn't help but remember one of the notes in Dr. Cranston's profile description: 'Confusing relationship w/ David (aka SW) – Friend/antagonist/co-worker/surrogate sister?/surrogate girlfriend?. Teases her consistently, but respects her. BC & SW clearly share a physical attraction & emotional connection. Had breakdown when she "died" and attempted suicide via vengeance; is still readjusting to being alive.'
Such a confusing relationship certainly lent itself well to charades. (Or, for that matter, to almost any game. It had been eminently clear to him that Tony had thrown that game of 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' back in the bullpen.)
"And how have you been coping since the bombing?" Miles asked.
"As well as anyone, I guess," Tony said.
"No nightmares?" Miles asked.
Tony shook his head.
Miles got the sense that he wasn't being entirely honest. Nonetheless, the nightmares clearly weren't so bad that they were affecting Tony's daily life, so he decided not to press.
"So, what do you think of NCIS?" Tony asked, changing the subject. "What you expected?"
"Dr. Cranston did an excellent job describing all of you," Miles said, "but I must admit that you are even more intriguing than mere writing could ever do justice."
"Well, no one ever said that we were a particularly functional group," Tony snorted.
"You misunderstand me," Miles said. "I think that all of you are quite functional. Surprisingly so, in fact."
Tony raised an eyebrow skeptically but remained silent.
"Is there anything that you wish to discuss?" Miles asked, making a few more notes on his pad of paper.
"Unless you follow the Buckeyes, not really," Tony said, leaning back in his chair.
"In that case," Miles said, closing the notepad with a snap, "I have everything I need. I pronounce you, Anthony DiNozzo Jr., officially cleared for work."
"So I'm sane?" Tony asked jokingly.
"As sane as I am," Miles assured him with a smile. "Shall we return to your co-workers? I still have a handful of interviews left to conduct."
"Sure," Tony said with a casual grin, shoulders loosening ever so slightly.
In his official report, Miles would write:
Subject is dealing relatively well with the recent bombing. Said bombing may have stirred up certain emotional insecurities, but none that should adversely affect his daily work. Is reluctant to discuss feelings with a counselor, but seems mentally stable.
Status: Cleared.