The team sat in a solemn stillness at the close of another long week. The office was gradually falling darker as workers from the surrounding desks switched off their lamps and retreated one by one to the elevator for the weekend's reprieve. The bullpen was silent but for the slow and soothing buzz of McGee's snores; sleep had taken the agent slouching backwards in his chair, his battered suit jacket draped over his chest. It was a testament to the nature of the week their fearless leader had put them through that said leader did not react to McGee's outward display of exhaustion. Instead, Gibbs looked rather pensive; leaning back in his chair, he subconsciously scrubbed a palm against his chin, as though to will away the danger the three agents that sat before him had been placed in this week.
To his right, Ziva David absent-mindedly rearranged the stationary on her desk over and over again, as if desperate for some sense of purpose to distract from the feelings of helplessness they all felt only hours before, when it seemed they had finally met their match. Her eyes were glazed, her stare absent, as her hands repeated the unnecessary shuffling of staplers and highlighters. After some consideration, Gibbs shifted his gaze to the only remaining agent in the room.
He was instantly greeted with a stark and unexpected contrast. Tony DiNozzo was seated upright at his desk, his glare intent on the words appearing on his computer monitor as his hands worked the keyboard. Every now and then he scrunched his brow, pausing only momentarily to glance downwards at the manilla case files scattered around his computer, before ironing out his expression and continuing his work.
Gibbs had told them all that their reports would keep; he didn't expect anything more from his loyal team than for them to head home for the weekend and rest up. But, as per usual, they put up their routine protests of we're staying if you're staying, albeit particularly half heartedly, and the result lay in front of him. He suspected they all needed to cope in their own unique ways. McGee needed to return to a state of safety and ignorance, thus he drifted happily into a few short moments of sleep where the horrors of the week could not reach him. Ziva, on the other hand, felt the desperate need to restore some sort of order to a life and team which were almost lost not hours ago, so she worked fruitlessly on restoring order to her desk. But DiNozzo was always different. He would keep his mind occupied by carrying the weight of the entire team on their shoulders while they rested and coped, and in turn, he will cope too, thought Gibbs.
They carried on in this manner for a while longer until Tony broke the unintended rhythm of the evening by cautiously lifting his bruised and aching body out of his chair and retrieving the now complete report. Gingerly, he slowly shuffled towards Gibbs' desk and placed the pile of papers before the still reflective agent.
"My report, Boss." He stated the obvious while holding his gaze anywhere but his boss' astute glare, which was now focused on the senior field agent, clearly not missing his reluctance to return the eye contact.
"You didn't need to do it tonight, Tony," Gibbs murmured quietly, almost as if not to break the other agents out of their own states of recovery.
"Well," started DiNozzo, who had apparently lost control of his hands, which were now scratching nervously at the back of his head. "Thought I'd just get it done, didn't want this one on my mind all weekend."
"Uh huh," Gibbs nodded with a regretful smirk, knowing full well that this case would be haunting his senior field agent all weekend, if not longer, regardless of whether or not a meaningless stack of papers were neatly assembled on his desk. "Come on," he nodded his head towards the elevator. "Let's go back to mine, there's a half eaten pizza in the fridge with your name on it."
"Oh, that's alright, Boss," Tony answered, still finding it immensely difficult to maintain eye contact with Gibbs, although entirely unsure of why. "There's a couple of things I want to do tonight. Just gonna head home now and, ugh -" He picked absent-mindedly at his fingernails, as if purging them of the week's uncleanliness - "get started on them," he finished, with considerable effort.
Never removing his glare from the agent, Gibbs watched on as DiNozzo gathered up his things, mumbled a goodbye and made his way into the elevator.
Gibbs moved to the rain sodden window as he watched DiNozzo exit the car park. Racking his brain, he kept a concern eye on the car until, after many bends and turns, it disappeared along with its puzzling driver into the night.
Next chapter to come very soon. While I know where this one is going, feel free to review and let me know what you'd like to see next; I'm always open to incorporating your awesome ideas. Thanks again for all the lovely feedback for my last story 'Broke' - it always makes me smile.