Three Cheers to the Mirror
A/N: I'm just full of episode tags lately, aren't I? Anyway, tonight's ep - holy crap. The Tiva friendzoning was disappointing, but not unexpected, and then the ending... the team handing in their badges, and then Fornell in the crosshairs. Mind blown. Anywho, this takes place directly after Tony, McGee, and Ziva resign. Just a little something I felt compelled to put together.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.
You know, he had never really put much thought into his life after NCIS. Mainly because he never thought that he would even have a life after NCIS. He had always assumed that he would go down fighting, that he would die in the line of duty. Yeah, it would be a little cliché, but that's how the movie ends, doesn't it? The hero goes down in a hail of gunfire.
He'd yet to see the movie that ended with the hero turning in his badge and then heading back to his apartment with his two best friends to mope. Wait, right, they weren't moping, they were planning. The question on all of their minds was basically, what now?
He, McGee, and Ziva sat around his kitchen table, each holding a bottle of beer. One dim light barely illuminated the kitchen, and the shadows danced on their faces. McGee, who was to his right, was tapping distractedly on the neck of his beer bottle, staring blankly at the wooden surface of the table. On his left, Ziva took a long draught of her beer, eyes narrowed. He could almost hear the cogs whirring inside of her head.
They had all just quit the job that meant the world to each of them. The job that McGee had worked everyday of his life to prove that he earned. The job that Ziva had renounced her country and allegiances to Mossad for. The job that he would define as the only thing that had kept him from going off of the deep-end for the past twelve years.
It all came back to the Unspoken Rule. You do what you have to for family. If it took the three of them turning in their badges to get Gibbs off the hook and send him on his merry way to do the suicide-mission-slash-saving-grace Morrow had planned for him, well, that's what they would do. And that's what they did.
They hadn't told anyone yet. Only Vance. Abby, Ducky, and Palmer had no idea about their resignation yet. They didn't know where Gibbs was, didn't know if he'd been informed. According to Vance, it was likely that they wouldn't be hearing from Gibbs for a few months yet, at the very least. Top secret assignment and all that... and here the three of them were, left to pick up the pieces. It wasn't the first time he'd left them behind, but it had been different then. Gibbs wasn't running away this time. He was just trying to stay free. Tony couldn't fault him for that.
The fact was, Gibbs had stood in front of a force of armed Internal Affairs goons last week and taken the fall for the three of them without any hint of hesitation. Gibbs would lay his head down on the block for them. They owed it to him to do the same. They were a family, and families looked out for each other.
"So," he said finally, breaking the uncharacteristic silence that had settled over the three of them. "What's next?"
McGee and Ziva looked up at him simultaneously. "It is not obvious?" Ziva asked, dark brown almost black eyes boring into him. "Once Gibbs returns from this mission, Parsons will be after him again. We have to throw a ratchet in the works to stop that from happening."
"Wrench," Tony corrected automatically. "Maybe I should change the what to how. We just gave up all of our nice federal agency resources. Finding something to end Parsons' witch hunt isn't going to be easy."
"Worthwhile things rarely are," Ziva replied.
"We still have the makeshift command center in that old apartment building that we used to find Bodnar," McGee pointed out. "We could set up shop there again. I can hack into any server in DC from there."
"Without leading Parsons and his goons straight to us?" Tony asked, taking another sip of his beer.
"How long have you known me, Tony?" McGee asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Tony nodded in response.
"Just asking, McCocky." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What are we going to do for work?"
"Work?" Ziva questioned. "You want to get another job?"
"If we can't clear Gibbs' completely before he gets back, no one is going to wave a magic wand and get us our jobs back. We're only going to be able to rejoin NCIS if Parsons is out of the picture," Tony explained. "I've got some cash set aside, and I'm guessing you two do too, but still. If this isn't fixed quickly, we need new jobs."
"I've actually got enough cash to survive for the next decade or so without work," McGee admitted sheepishly. "Book royalties."
Tony and Ziva both stared at him. "You had enough dough to live comfortably without working, and you still busted your ass twelve hours a day at NCIS."
McGee shrugged. "It was my job, Tony."
"McGee, we do not say this to you enough, but you are a good man," she told him, before letting out an irritated breath. "This will probably sound bad, but I am beginning to wish we could just kill him," Ziva said, thumping her fist down on the table in frustration. "This is ridiculous. All four of our lives have been thrown into chaos, all because of that spineless excuse for a man."
"For once, I agree with the Mossad in you," he replied with a growl. "But we can't solve our problems by just offing the people we don't like, now can we?" He couldn't help but cast a pointed look at Ziva, who refused to meet his gaze. McGee cleared his throat awkwardly.
"We don't need to kill him to beat him. We've got the upper hand over Parsons. He may have the resources, the contacts, and the manpower, but we have something that he doesn't, and that's what makes us better," McGee said resolutely, taking another sip of his beer.
"Oh? And what's that?" Tony asked with a tilt of his head. McGee smirked in response.
"We have each other," he said. "No matter what gets thrown at us, we've got each other. As long as we stick together, we have a chance of getting things back to normal."
"McGee is right," Ziva added. "We are a team, NCIS or not." In spite of their dismal circumstances, Tony couldn't help but let a slight smile play on his lips.
"Well then," he said as he lifted a beer. "I propose a toast."
"To?" McGee and Ziva chorused.
"Having each other's backs, no matter how deep a grave we dig ourselves," he said, his words somehow cynical and hopeful at the same time. Ziva and McGee bowed their heads, both of them lifting their drinks. They clinked them together. "To being a team."
"To being a team," Ziva echoed.
"To being a team," McGee repeated.
Tony took a long draught of his beer, draining the last dregs of the cool alcohol, a spark of hardened determination coming to light in his chest. Oh, they were probably going to go down in flames, but at the very least, they would go down fighting, and they would go down together.