Title: The Art of Deception
Author: Jasmine
Date: June 16, 2011
Rated: PG-13
Universe: NCIS, Season 7
Summary: The team is introduced to a new NCIS psychiatrist and Tony is being singled out for evaluation.
Challenge: Under 5,000 words (5,015 actually, failed again)
Part 1
Gibbs rounded the corner, deep in thought. Something wasn't quite right about their current case; unfortunately, that thought never got a chance to mature because someone caught his eye. At this hour, he didn't expect to see anyone sitting at Tony's desk, but there she was, the recently hired and much talked about NCIS psychiatrist. He stared a moment too long, not sure if it was because he was startled to see someone other than his senior field agent sitting there, or because she was just plain attractive. Breaking the silence, he asked, "Can I help you, Dr. Andrews?"
"I thought I'd catch up with Special Agent DiNozzo this morning."
"Why?"
"That's confidential."
"You always meet with your patients this early?"
"Who said he was a patient?"
"You did, when you used the word 'confidential'." He observed a slight grimace cross her face.
"Maybe I just want to meet him," she replied, kicking herself for not thinking of something more plausible.
"Yeah." He settled in at his desk and opened a file folder, took out a piece of paper, and studied it for information about their latest victim: Petty Office Lance Croward, an average looking, single white male with no apparent enemies. His gut told him that Croward wasn't involved in anything illegal and that he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. And, like every other marine, Gibbs owed it to the young soldier to follow the clues and gather the evidence that would ultimately send his assailant to prison.
"Boss?"
He looked up expectantly to two of his team members staring down at him, "What?"
McGee hesitated so Ziva ticked her head over her shoulder and asked, "What's she doing at Tony's desk?"
"Waiting for him to come in."
McGee furrowed his brow, confused, "Doesn't she know he never gets in early?"
"I don't know, McGee, why don't you ask her?"
"Ah, that's okay. She'll figure it out soon enough."
Ziva studied the blonde haired doctor discreetly, then added, "I wonder what she wants with Tony."
Having no time for office gossip, Gibbs pushed the paper back inside the folder and left.
The Israeli looked at the doctor, and then to McGee. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but must have thought better of it, and simply said, "I need to see Abby."
Standing alone in the middle of the bullpen, McGee suddenly felt vulnerable. If she asked him any questions about Tony, he'd blab away as sure as the sun would rise tomorrow. He knew this to be a fact; everyone knew it to be a fact. He needed to leave, protect himself from imminent death brought about by the senior field agent if he peeped so much as a word about him. His thoughts were racing through his head, and when he looked over at her, she smiled at him, no doubt planning her strategy to extract the information.
"I, ah, haveta. Go. To. The restroom."
Dr. Andrews stared after him as he disappeared down the hall, wondering why everyone suddenly left. She had only heard rumors about "Team Gibbs", as they had been dubbed; an eclectic group of agents whose closure rate was inferior to none. But her orders were specific, albeit vague. She only had to speak with one agent, and she was given a name. She was told that she was only to ask general questions on his attitude towards women; afterwards, her findings would be evaluated and, if necessary, she would be given further instructions.
Within an hour of getting the assignment, she had pulled his file. Within three hours, she had read every piece of information she could find on Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. He was quite intriguing and she had already admitted to herself that she had found him extremely attractive, but she had never allowed a client's appearance to interfere with her professionalism and she wasn't about to start now. She had wanted to work at NCIS for a very long time, and she wasn't going to do something stupid so early in her tenure to screw things up.
She looked around at his work space. Her clip board rested easily beside his keyboard. A mighty mouse stapler stared up at her from atop a neat desk, which was not just tidy, but immaculate; not a speck of dust or a pencil mark anywhere. It seemed at odds with what she had read and heard about the agent.
The team responded to her presence as expected for she was used to feeling unwelcomed; she had grown accustomed to it actually and might have thought something was afoul if they'd behaved any other way. She was never really welcomed anywhere she went. A psychiatrist meant questions, and questions felt like probing, and probing was what the agents did to suspects, not to each other. Her mere presence put everyone on the defensive and heaven help the office politics if she was caught chatting it up with an agent in the lunch line. Luckily, she had been trained by the best and it had been drilled into her head that her chosen career path would never win her any popularity contents, and that most probably, by the time she was finished with NCIS, she'd be considered persona non-grata. But that was for different reasons; now, she just had to concentrate on one case and one individual. 'Just how late does this fellow come in?' she wondered.
"He should be here any time now."
Her eyes shot in the direction of the voice, "How'd you know what I was thinking?"
Gibbs answered, "You're not that difficult to read."
McGee hurried back to his desk, mad at himself. He had been loitering behind the staircase waiting for either Gibbs or Ziva to return, but Gibbs took the elevator and slipped by him.
"Where's Ziva?" Gibbs asked as McGee slid into his chair.
"She had to talk to Abby."
"Get her back here. I want an update on Croward's last days."
"Sure, Boss." McGee had no sooner dialed the lab when Ziva walked past, saying to Gibbs, "I was just about to call you." She picked up the remote and displayed Croward's official Marine Corp picture and credentials. "Petty Officer Croward's last known address was 329 E. Atlantic Avenue. After interviewing his neighbors, it is safe to say that he was a critter of habit; he jogged every morning at 0500. He returned to his house an hour later. He would leave again at 0630 and arrive at work at 0655."
McGee displayed cell phone records on the plasma and added, "According to this, he made five calls the day he died: two to his mother, one to a pharmacist, and two to his friends, both in the Marine Corp."
"You check them out?" Gibbs asked.
"I checked out the mother and the pharmacist, but not the friends."
Gibbs frowned at the news. "Why not?"
"They weren't home, but I'm trying to locate them now. Petty Officer Croward also sent several text messages."
"To who?"
Ziva replied, "To Jason Wilson and Scott Ainsley. Those are the friends we are trying to locate. Abby said the messages were simple, one word texts: 'face' and 'white'."
"Any idea what it means?" Gibbs asked.
McGee and Ziva shrugged.
"Well, find out!"
Scurrying to her desk, Ziva looked up just in time to see Tony step off the elevator. She was going to delight in his reaction when he saw the blonde sitting at his desk. Feigning to be busy, she pulled some papers in front of her and scribbled nonsense on one of them while keeping half an eye on her partner.
Tony stared down at the woman who had been the topic of locker room conversation for the past three weeks, and asked, "Have I been replaced? I know I'm a little late today, but usually when someone's been fired, it comes with some sort of notice….on pink paper."
Dr. Andrews glided out of his chair and took her clip board with her. "No, you haven't been replaced—at least as far as I know. I'm actually waiting for you."
Tony tossed his backpack in the corner and slid his gun into the drawer. "Waiting for me? Why?"
"I have a few questions to ask."
Tony laughed, "A few questions?" Sizing her up, he continued, "Are the questions of a personal or professional nature?"
"Strictly professional, Agent DiNozzo."
"Then, strictly speaking, I'm busy."
"You don't have a choice. I have orders to evaluate you, so you'll have to come with me."
"Orders? Who gave you orders?"
She ignored the question. She had been warned that DiNozzo was a master at deflection and could turn her words around faster than an F-15 could disappear out of sight.
"Okay, if you won't tell me who ordered it, you have to tell me the nature of it."
She did not want to address this sort of question here, but from everything she had read about him, she knew that he knew his rights and she would have to supply an answer if she wanted him to come with her. She tried to persuade him again, "It would be best if we discussed this in my office."
"If you want to discuss anything, you'll have to tell me what we're discussing. It's not every day that the company shrink wants to talk to me."
"The subject is women."
"So this is personal," he quipped. "Well, Amanda, what do you want to know? You want to know what I like in a woman? Or what I don't like? Right now, I like your perfume, and I like that outfit you're wearing."
"Agent DiNozzo!" she huffed, taken aback by his borderline harassment, " I am here as a medical doctor, not as one of your one-night stands. I strongly suggest you desist with the jokes and silly comments and come with me so we can get this over with. Oh, and by the way, the name's Dr. Andrews, not Amanda, and I'd appreciate it if you treated me like the professional I am."
Welcome to the world of DiNozzo, Gibbs thought. Tony versus the psychiatrist… if nothing else, this should be fun to watch. Tony was going to have her for breakfast. It seemed unfair to send in a pretty young doctor to analyze the brain of his street-wise field agent, but there she was, in her navy blue suit and four inch high heels, asking him to follow her off to some quiet and no doubt darkened room to reveal his inner most thoughts on women. Yep, Tony was in his element. He would pay money to listen to their conversation.
"Okay, Dr. Andrews," he cajoled, "there's nothing I'd like more than to treat you like a pro."
Ziva dropped her head while both Gibbs and McGee suppressed a smile, nothing like being compared to a prostitute to get your blood boiling.
"I don't appreciate that reference."
"You still haven't answered my question. What is it you want to discuss?"
Suitably annoyed, she said, "Very well, Agent DiNozzo, if you insist, I'll tell you." She yanked back the first sheet on her clipboard and read verbatim, "This psychological evaluation is being done to determine Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's ability to interface with women in a variety of settings, and to seek his underlying feelings towards women. It is based on the fact that he has witnessed an unusually high number of tragedies involving women and the desire for this agency to know whether or not these tragedies have impacted his ability to do his job."
Tony was stunned, and refuted, "I've not been involved in a high number of tragedies―"
She cut him off, flipping to another page on her clipboard, "―The previous director of NCIS, Jenny Shepard, was murdered under your watch; your partner, Kaitlin Todd, was executed in front of you; a former NCIS agent and team leader Paula Cassidy took her own life to save yours; a former associate and NCIS attorney, Michelle Lee, was killed on an operation you were working; a woman who you were once romantically involved, Dr. Jeanne Benoit, accused you of murder; you witnessed your mother's death―"
"Alright already!" Tony interrupted. "You've made your point." Burying his initial shock, Tony pushed off his desk and smiled, "You can ask all the questions you want to ask." He buttoned his jacket and gestured with his hand for her to lead the way while he followed quietly behind.
McGee and Ziva exchanged a concerned look, then glanced at their boss. He was watching the two walk away. Tony was never easily flustered and even though he hid it well, Gibbs could tell that her little spiel did not set well. But what did she want, and who had ordered this evaluation? And to what end? He felt the hairs on his neck tingle, and he looked up to see Director Vance staring down.
Any comments are welcomed and help keep my muse alive.