A conversation in the aftermath of "Legend."
As always, Bellisario et al. are hereby given whatever rights may exist in this work.
~ NCIS ~
Tony opened the door to Gibbs' house and stepped inside. He didn't bother turning on the lights. Those weeks he'd stayed with his boss after various disasters had made him almost as familiar with Gibbs' house as his own apartment.
A hint of light crept from beneath the door to the basement, and it was there he knew he'd find Gibbs.
He made his way down the stairs, not trying to be quiet but not deliberately announcing his presence, either. Either one of those choices would have put Gibbs on the alert and defensive, and Tony didn't want to be on the receiving end of Gibbs in either state.
He sat on the bottom step and for just a moment watched his boss. The effects of a high-stress operation plus a cross-country red-eye flight showed in the set of Gibbs' shoulders - not quite as straight as usual for him - and in the lines of fatigue around his eyes and mouth that Tony could make out despite the awkward shadows of the single overhead bulb.
"Long day," Tony observed, and got a grunt in return. Yep, definitely a long day, and for a moment, he debated just having a drink and leaving. Something inside him rebelled at that thought, so he'd stay and say what he'd come to say even though he hated adding to Gibbs' stress level.
"Any update on Callen?" he asked after a few minutes of watching Gibbs patching any imperfections in the joinings of the planks that made up the current boat's hull.
"Out of surgery," Gibbs said. "Still in ICU."
Tony nodded, and again contemplated leaving. Monosyllabic Gibbs was not the best Gibbs to have this conversation with - but it needed to be had, and sooner than later, if his own gut were even half as reliable as Gibbs'.
"Bourbon?" Gibbs asked finally, and it wasn't the opening Tony would have liked, but it would have to do.
"No, thanks, Boss," he said. "We both should be sober for this."
That, at least, got Gibbs' attention, if the glare directed his way were any indication.
"What's this?" Gibbs demanded, straightening from where he'd bent over the boat.
Tony felt himself straightening in response. "A conversation best had sober and in full light."
Gibbs just looked at him, didn't even bother quirking an eyebrow in inquiry, and Tony smiled tightly in response.
"Harder for both of us to hide."
"Fine," Gibbs said. "Go start coffee. I'll clean up here and be upstairs in a minute."
Tony did as instructed, and was checking the bottle of hazelnut creamer he found stuck in the back of Gibbs' fridge for its expiration date when Gibbs came up the stairs and crossed to the living room. A moment later, the light came on.
Three years out of date was probably too long to chance, he decided, and tossed the bottle in the trash. At least he knew Gibbs had sugar - if only for Ducky's tea - and he added a couple of spoonfuls to his cup.
Minutes later, Tony carried two cups to the sofa where Gibbs sat. In the brighter light, he looked even more tired than he had in the basement, and Tony offered him a cup without a word.
Tony sipped his coffee, knowing that he was only delaying the inevitable. Suck it up.
Gibbs' lip twitched, and Tony groaned.
"I said that out loud, didn't I?"
"Yep. Good advice, though."
"Yeah." Tony took a breath. "Remember when Ziva ID'ed Michael Rivkin?"
"My memory's not that bad, DiNozzo."
"What she didn't tell you is that she'd seen him here in DC just a few days ago."
"What?" Gibbs shook off his surprise. "How do you know?"
"She's been acting weird lately - and weird even for her," Tony said. "Which I wouldn't care about - we have Abby, after all, and she acts weird a lot - except that it's affecting her performance on the team."
"How so?"
"Domino," Tony answered immediately. "Our orders were to infiltrate, and if we were confronted, to stand down and surrender, not engage our own troops."
"I remember."
"She didn't." Tony heard the flatness of his own tone. "She fought. And I should've stayed out of it, I should have followed orders, but …."
His voice trailed off. Somehow, he wasn't surprised when Gibbs finished the sentence for him. "She was your partner."
"Yeah." Tony blew out a breath before continuing, "I wouldn't even bring that up, except for what's happened since."
"Besides withholding information that could have been relevant to the investigation?"
"That's the most important thing, yes. But I think she's fixated on me somehow."
Gibbs turned on the sofa so he fully faced Tony. "Explain."
"She as much as told me that she only reacted the way she did because I was threatened," Tony said. "And she keeps accusing me of being jealous."
"Of who?"
"Now I know it's Rivkin. She's seeing him."
"She's allowed a private life," Gibbs reminded him.
"She is - but only until that private life interferes with an investigation, or places someone else at risk."
"What someone?"
"I don't know," Tony admitted. "I know Rivkin's in DC now, and she's probably with him. I hope that's all it is."
"They're Mossad," Gibbs pointed out.
"I know that." Tony swallowed, fought to keep his tone level. He was here to, if not persuade, at least influence, and anger wasn't the way to do either of those. "But remember that Mossad is Israeli, not American. Their methods and ours - hell, their goals and ours - don't always match."
"Ziva's done exemplary work since she's been attached to NCIS -"
"That's what we've seen," Tony said. "We haven't seen what else she might have done. She's Israeli, not an American citizen. She hasn't taken an oath to uphold and defend the Constitution. She hasn't even completed FLETC training, and yet we've let her deep inside NCIS."
"That's a lot of suspicion," Gibbs pointed out. "Not a lot of proof."
"Yeah," Tony admitted. "I know."
"Why come to me without proof?"
Tony took that to mean, Why are you wasting my time?, and reached for the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He pulled out the envelope he'd brought with him, but held it just outside of Gibbs' reach.
"Because if she's trying to seduce me, when it doesn't work, I don't know what'll happen. I do know that I saw a couple of good cops get killed in Baltimore because their backup was just a moment too late."
"You don't think -"
"I don't know," Tony repeated. "But if the worst happens, someone else should know, too. This is everything I've seen, everything I've suspected, since she came onto the team."
He offered the envelope to Gibbs, who eyed it warily.
Stubborn bastard. Tony let the sigh out. "You don't have to read it now - and I hope the worst never happens. But if it does, I trust you to see it through."
"This the only copy?" Gibbs asked.
"It's a copy," Tony said.
"There are others?"
"There will be."
Finally, Gibbs took the envelope, and Tony felt lighter than he had since he came in. Still burdened with suspicions and a growing distrust of his teammate, but lighter. He rose.
"Thanks for listening."
He took his half-full cup to the kitchen and rinsed it before turning to leave. He'd done what he could - no, he corrected himself. He'd begun what he could. Gibbs had reminded him he needed to make more copies - Jimmy, Ducky, Fornell - not because he didn't trust Gibbs to follow through, but because in this situation there was no such thing as being too careful or too thorough.
"DiNozzo."
Tony paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"
"Rivkin stopped a terrorist cell."
Tony grinned, but even he knew there was no humor in it. "So did Ari."