Title: Personal Demons

Summary: Set at the end of season 7; Tension erupts at NCIS when Jeanne returns in need of protection. TIVA

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. it all belongs to CBS and its affiliates.

Note: This is an introduction, to see if anyone is even interested in reading.

Monday 08:00

Tony took off his aviators and hooked them onto the front of his shirt as he repeatedly punched the 'up' button on the elevator. He swore under his breath as he turned dejectedly toward the stairwell.

"Elevator broken?" McGee's voice broke Tony's thought process.

"Either that, or Gibbs has a meeting." The two men audibly sighed and headed toward the stairs. Tony shifted his backpack as he ascended, cursing McGee's energy level as he trudged behind him. "You're bounding," he said flatly. "Like a yearling in the dandelions."

From above him, he heard McGee chuckle and push open the door to NCIS.

The office seemed quiet for a Monday morning, however, there was a stack of manila envelopes on Tony's desk and a dozen more in his in-box. He tossed his backpack under the desk and shook his jacket off. The weekend had gone by quickly. Though he was grateful for the rare two days off, it made it harder to return on Monday. Ignoring the stack of papers on his desk, he twisted around in his chair so he could see McGee.

"What makes you so chipper this morning?" he asked.

"I didn't know I needed a reason to be in a good mood, Tony." McGee continued to type, ignoring Tony's enquiring stare.

"It's Monday," he stated.

McGee continued typing. "I am aware of the day."

"Nobody's in a good mood on Monday."

McGee hit 'enter' and folded his arms. "Just because you're not in a good mood on Monday doesn't mean nobody else can enjoy it."

"They don't say 'I've got case of the Tuesdays,' or 'Fridays.' It's always Monday, McGee."

"Who says that?"

"It doesn't matter. It's true. Stop your good mood, it's ruining my melancholy." Tony turned his chair back toward his computer and powered it on.

"Where is Gibbs?" Ziva swept past Tony, carrying a watering can, moving toward her potted plant. "I have not seen him this morning."

"I'm sure he's here somewhere, lurking around the corner, waiting for one of us to say something about him so he can…" Tony trailed off and whipped around to look behind him.

Ziva raised her eyebrows. "He is not behind you, Tony."

"Huh," Tony shrugged, "usually works."

The three agents settled into their morning routine of reviewing new case files and closing solved ones. By ten-thirty, Tony was through half the stack of papers on his desk. As he stood up to stretch his legs and refill his coffee, he peered over to his boss's still empty desk. The computer was off, which was not abnormal, but an empty coffee mug and an open dossier file suggested that Gibbs was in the building. Tony was hit with an uneasy feeling. He hadn't seen Vance come in yet this morning either, nor had he noticed the man leaving to take his normal coffee break.

"Tony?" Ziva's voice broke the silence. "What is it?" Her dark brown eyes bore into him, searching him.

"I don't know," he paused, "It's too quiet." He undid the top button of his shirt and readjusted the holster around his shoulders so that it wasn't digging into his skin. Walking over to Gibbs' desk, he spun the open file around, hoping to get a better look.

Ziva and McGee were standing behind him when he turned, holding it in his hands.

"Well?" McGee asked.

"Nothing. Just the case file from last week, waiting for the rest of his signature."

"The rest of his signature?" Ziva pulled the paper out of his hands and stared at it. She shook her head, "It says Leroy Jeth…. As if he vanished mid-scribble."

McGee furrowed his brow, "There's something going on. Gibbs would never leave something unfinished for…" he looked at his watch, "over two hours."

"I believe we are about to find out."

Tony turned to see where Ziva was looking. Gibbs was hurriedly walking out of the Director's office, eyes glued to a thick case file. The team watched as he took the stairs in twos. As he rounded Ziva's cubicle, they turned to face him. His eyes were set, mouth a hard line. He slapped the file closed and pushed it toward McGee.

"McGee, David… read this," he spoke straight at Tony.

Tony swallowed.

"When I get back, I want to know everything about the people in that file… including where they are right now and what they had for breakfast this morning."

Tony was afraid to break eye contact.

Ziva spoke up, "Gibbs, is there something wr—."

"It's in the file, Ziva." He paused. "DiNozzo… with me."

Tony's mind reeled. He couldn't think of anything he had done wrong lately that would warrant Gibb's irritation. He had been on his best behavior since the incident a few months prior with the obnoxious prince and the yoga instructor. In fact, he had only been mildly sarcastic toward local law enforcement recently. His mind swam as he followed his boss through the interrogation room hallway. He watched him pull open a door, look inside, and then hold it open for Tony to enter. Tony stepped inside and Gibbs pulled the door shut behind them. He leaned against the recording board and rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful.

After a few seconds, Tony couldn't handle the silence anymore. "Boss, what is this about?"

Gibbs crossed his legs at the ankles, looking at something above Tony's head. A few seconds went by before he answered. His eyes returned to Tony's. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "Jeanne."

Tony's stomach fell to his knees. He had not expected to hear that name again. He did his best to remain expressionless, trying not to allow Gibbs to see the scars. His mind shot to his ex-lover's face the last time he saw her. Her eyes were dark, torn with pain. Fury mixed with sadness, stabbing him through the chest as she disappeared behind the elevator doors. Anger surged through his body as he remembered her accusation and the interrogation that followed.

He took a short breath, cleared his mind and forced a nonchalant smirk. "What about… her?" his voice caught and he fought to maintain eye contact with Gibbs. He couldn't say her name. His voice would break, and Gibbs would see right through him. Tony focused.

"She's in trouble."

He stared into Gibb's eyes, maintaining a stony expression. "I don't see what that has to do with us."

Gibbs face was soft, his voice still gentle. "She asked for our help."

Tony leaned against the wall and turned his head toward the door. There were so many thoughts battling for his attention. She was the only woman he had ever loved. He had lied to her, gained her trust, and then betrayed her. There was no way he could undo the torment he had caused both of them. The thought of facing her made him nauseous.

"Tony."

He raised his eyes toward the man standing opposite him.

"Say the word, and I'll reassign you until it's over." Gibbs was two feet away from him now; his unwavering stare penetrating every fiber of Tony's being.

"No."

Gibbs nodded.

Tony took a breath and managed a half-smile. "We all have our demons. Mine just happens to come in the form of a leggy brunette."

Gibbs put his hand on the door of the interrogation room and looked back toward Tony. "Redheads," he said.

Phoof