"You can't just quit, Tony!"
It's Abby.
Of course, it's Abby.
Of course she has the audacity to tell him what he can't do.
As if she doesn't think that anything, anything, that's happened in the years she's known him has been piling up on him.
Doesn't think any of that warrants any sympathy.
And that, maybe just maybe, this had been the straw that finally broke his back.
You can't just quit, she had said.
She means something else entirely.
She means for him to roll over and take it.
Take it like a man, you should be used to this by now.
His fists clench in his jacket pockets.
It's always Abby.
He doesn't think the Goth girl had ever meant to hurt him on purpose.
Not until recently.
The forensic scientist had always had tunnel vision.
Only ever had eyes for Gibbs, who'd in turn, always treated her like the golden child.
God forbid you ever got on her wrong side.
Because anything that didn't fit into her own little narrative was immediately incorrect, stupid, or malicious in intent.
And as long as the grey haired marine was on her side, she'd get away with anything.
Because Tony had never been able to tell her off without poking the angry bear.
The brunette has half a mind to ignore her.
Ignore them all.
Because like Gibbs, Abby can't handle being on the losing side of any argument.
And he already knows who the team leader will choose to defend.
Tony looks down at Bishop.
Looks hard at the bandages.
Looks hard at the bruises.
Imagines the scars that are hidden beneath them.
Both physical and mental.
Tries to wrap his mind around how many screw ups that had to have happened for this to occur.
Tries to wrap his mind around how many people that had to have looked the other way.
How important this fucking information had to have been for them to allow this to happen.
For it to get this far.
Anger swells up in his chest.
And Tony decides that he's had enough of swallowing his pride.
He can't stifle his words in a box and throw away the key.
Because staying quiet obviously hadn't worked in the past.
His silence won't protect him. It won't protect Bishop.
Not anymore.
"You don't even realize what you've done have you?"
None of them answer.
Of course they don't.
That would mean admitting they'd done something wrong.
And they never do anything wrong.
Only do the questionable under the flimsy guise of the greater good.
Then sweep even that under the rug when things went awry.
First hand experience had taught him that.
It was a horrible thing to learn.
He draws in a breath.
Deep and slow.
The smell of antiseptics and adhesive infiltrate his senses.
Reminds him of where he is.
He lets go of the air.
Even slower.
It does nothing to ebb the anger. The disbelief.
The brunette can feel both bubbling within him.
"How long did it take?"
He surprises himself with the ability to keep his tone even.
He doesn't surprise himself with his inability to keep the anger out.
There's a beat of silence.
The tension in the air thickens with its length.
Tony can almost see Abby looking up to Gibbs.
Wondering. Waiting to see what he does. Waiting to take her cues from him.
He can practically feel the former marine burrowing holes into the back of his head with narrowed eyes.
Tony doesn't turn around.
He doesn't want to look at them.
Can't stand to look at them.
"Excuse me?"
He'd almost forgotten about Andrew.
He looks down at his reddening knuckles.
Scoffs.
It isn't that hard to hear over the beeping machines.
Everybody heard him.
They just don't want to answer.
"Don't bullshit me. You still have the 'panic' button things don't you? A wire? An earpiece?Something that would have told you, any of you, that things were going straight to hell. So answer me this one goddamn question. How long did it take? "
Another beat of silence.
Another sign of nervousness.
Another sign of guilt.
"That's confidential information. We're not at liberty to provide any particulars concerning the case."
Confidential.
Of course Kramer gives him that robotic excuse.
Feed the clown the usual line of bullshit and he'll never question it.
But Tony sees more than he lets on.
He notices the little things that most people often didn't think to consider.
And he remembers them.
So he knows what Kramer is saying is a half truth.
While certain particulars of the case won't ever be revealed for obvious reasons, release of information concerning extraction had never been an issue.
That had never been a thing.
Not when he was the one fulfilling the undercover role.
Not now.
It's a load of bull shit.
Confidential.
Only so they could protect their asses until they came up with another false truth.
"You know what I think. I think she pressed the panic button and I think you waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. Until you got what you needed."
Because he can't fathom how the blonde analyst could get beaten to within an inch of her life, if they'd made an effort to stop things immediately.
Can't fathom how she could even be in this hospital bed, if they'd pulled her out the first goddamn time he laid a hand on her.
He hears Abby shift on her feet.
Hears Andrew awkwardly cough.
Nothing from Gibbs.
Not a word.
"You're out of line, Dinozzo."
He let's out a snort of incredulousness.
"Me? I'm out of line?"
"Dinozzo…"
Oh.
So now he speaks.
Trying to put on that fatherly aura.
Trying to sound sympathetic and understanding.
Like all the times Tony spoke with him in his basement.
With that stupid boat.
It all sounds so fake now.
Sounds like a lie.
He whips to face them.
He can't be a coward.
He can't hide behind false pretenses.
"No Gibbs! I'm out of line? I want to understand how I'm the one out of line!"
Gibbs is steely eyed.
Abby stands behind him like a wounded puppy dog.
Andrew holds a tissue up to his nose as he stifles blood that dribbles from his nose.
"I can see that you're angry."
Angry?
Tony runs a hand through his unruly hair.
He wasn't angry.
He was livid.
And sad.
And disappointed.
And the disdain is dripping off his words.
"You're as much as fault as the they are. Honestly, I'm surprised any of you even came. "
His cynical jab manages to get something out of Abby, who temporarily leaves from Gibbs haven to speak out.
"Of course we came. We care about Bishop, but you don't understand Tony. We needed this information. If she hadn't had gone undercover, then-"
"Abby. Stop. Just stop."
So she knew too.
He would be laughing if it wasn't so harrowing.
It must look different from where they're standing because from over here he's missing the joke.
All he can see from his side is wave after wave of disgusting, incongruous apathy.
"You sent a probationary agent into a fucking hell hole with no partner. No back up. Then refused to pull her out until they put her into a fucking coma. A coma! Are any of you seeing her right now? As a person? Or are you just seeing a means to gain?"
The forensic scientist cringes backwards at his harsh words.
Andrew winces.
His former boss shifts his stoic gaze, ever so slightly, to the side.
Too little too late.
The worst part for him is that they knew…
When Bishop had told him that they were refusing to let her go he had blamed nameless faces.
But they had all known…
His coworkers. His friends.
And they had lied right to his face.
"You were supposed to have our backs. Don't you get it! "
Tony roars.
"It doesn't matter if you weren't there. Or if you were looking from behind a computer screen. Or if it was for the greater good. You were supposed to have our backs!"
Quieter this time.
Something flickers behind the grey-haired marine's steely exterior.
Realization.
Tony pretends not to see it.
"This isn't just about her is it?"
The brunette stifles a strangled laugh when he hears his question.
It shouldn't have ever had to be about her.
He wishes this were a one off.
That it was an anomaly.
But with everything…
He clenches his fists at his sides.
Shoves them deeper into his pockets.
"I'm just trying to figure out when you stopped caring."
Tears spring to his eyes when he says those words aloud and he hates himself for it.
Hates himself for crying when he was finally bringing all of his pain to light.
"I always thought it was a chauvinistic thing. That that was the reason you turned a blind eye to their faults. To Jenny's. To Ziva's. To Abby's. Why you rained hell on me. I thought that's what it was. Then you started putting pressure on Bishop and I realized it was something else. It was about power. "
His voice rises with every sentence.
Anger and fury fueling the fire in his words.
"It was about power when you let Director Shepard send me into a death trap. When you let Agent David shove a loaded gun against my chest. When you forced Bishop into overtime. And let Director Vance force us into countless, pointless undercover missions. When you let everyone ignore and criticize and discount me. It wasn't just this case."
It's all he can do to keep from hugging himself.
"It was when you realized that all of your subordinates were overqualified for their jobs. And that can't work in the chain of command"
Tony glares at them through angry tears.
The fucking chain of command.
"When I became an agent, I took an oath to protect and serve. But that oath doesn't just apply to the public. It means Bishop! It means me! It applies to us too!"
His chest is heaving with exertion as he finishes.
And he throws an angry glare at all of them.
Hopes it sinks into their souls. Hopes it freezes them.
Because he's done.
Done.
For a moment it is feels like he could hear a pin drop.
They all seem to be in various states of surprise.
Surprised that he had actually stood up for himself.
That he had actually raised his voice.
"Look. I'm not arguing anymore. Not in here. I don't deserve this. She doesn't deserve this. I'm done."
Abby tries again.
Tries one more time.
She sounds so small. So unsure.
"You can't quit Tony… We need you."
He looks away.
Because despite all of this.
He still cares.
Because he knows they're not evil. They're not insane.
They're all genuinely thinking they're doing the right thing.
But Tony can't associate himself with their twisted mindsets.
He can't be looked at like stock. He can't be made to serve their own self-interests.
Can't watch others be made to serve their own self-interests.
"You don't need me. You've never needed me. You needed a scapegoat. A clown. And I'm done being both. I'll hand in my badge and gun to Vance tomorrow morning. "
… … … … … …. …. … ….
Tony stays true to his word.
He always does.
He pauses as he approaches the entrance to his workplace for the last time.
Looks at the shiny letters that spell out Naval Criminal Investigative Service.
Waits for the wave of nostalgia to hit him.
Waits for the memories to hit.
Waits for the wave of regret to suddenly overcome him.
Nothing comes.
It feels strange.
He remembers approaching these same doors almost a decade ago.
Remembers his excitement.
His eagerness.
He remembers feeling like Bishop.
Ready to work and prove the world.
And now he feels cold.
Ambivalent.
But now that he's holding an empty box in his hands it feels real.
Somehow he can't believe he's actually doing this.
The familiar stifling work place grind hits him forcefully as the automatic doors slide open.
The clinking of coffee cups on the desks, the fluttering of papers, the shuffling of feet, the ringing telephones, the murmuring of voices.
No one spares him a second glance.
Nor does he expect them too.
They had never bothered too before.
When he reaches his designated office station, no one else is there.
Gibbs and McGee are nowhere in sight.
Her desk is still empty.
A pang of indignation stabs at him, but his mind placates the feeling.
His own desk will be empty soon.
Pictures, knickknacks, and office supplies disappear into the wooden box.
One by one erasing his presence.
One by one making it seem like he never there.
"So you're really doing it huh?
A wistful Timothy McGee approaches from behind with two coffees in hand.
"Yeah."
Tim nods.
Not necessarily accepting, more shocked, but understanding.
But it feels good for someone to look at him on the same level for once.
Tim offers him the other coffee.
And as Tony accepts, the computer specialist leans against the older brunette's desk.
"I'm sorry Tony. I didn't know. If I had…"
And Tony finds that he actually believes him.
Another welcome change.
"No. It's okay… I never said."
And neither did they.
He watches Tim stare somberly at his coffee.
"I suppose there isn't anything I can say to change your mind?"
He shakes his head.
Although his current future is unsure, he doesn't plan on ever going back to grovel for his job.
He refuses to give them the satisfaction.
"I thought so."
Tim pauses and awkwardly clears his throat.
"How's Ellie doing? I planned on visiting later today…"
Tony can hear the guilt in his tone.
Can feel the regret that Tim has for not looking harder into the case.
"It's… It's not good."
Tim nods haltingly.
And Tony feels bad for laying it on thick, but there was no way to sugar coat it.
"I have to go. I have to talk with Vance."
"Good luck Tony. I'm sorry. For everything…"
Tony nods as he lifts the box full of his belongings.
"Say hello the family for me, Tim."
And he leaves McGee behind in the place he once called home.
Vance doesn't even look up when he enters his office.
Just continues filling out paper work.
Tony pays no heed.
Instead he pulls out his gun, sets it on the desk.
The ammunition clip follows.
Then his identification card.
And finally his badge.
"You're being selfish, Tony."
He doesn't look back.
… …. … …. … …. …. …
It is five days before the medical staff at Bethesda decide it is safe enough to pull Ellie out of her coma.
And Tony is there for all five of them.
Living off the vending machines.
Watching reruns on the television.
Spending hours in her hospital room until the nurses force him out after visiting hours have ended.
The blonde looks pale and sickly under the fluorescent lights.
Looks so small and fragile in that hospital bed, with the machines looming over her as they press against the corner.
The bruises have begun fade.
Yellowish blotches instead of the angry purples and blues he'd seen that night on that porch.
The scarred, distorted and angry marks that had marred the areas along her shoulders and disappeared under her hospital gown seemed to have tampered down as well.
He doesn't think he'll ever get over the pins in her hands.
Long and black.
Arranged carefully in the braces that hold them steady.
Nerve damage, the doctor had said.
The hands were sensitive.
They could only take so many hits.
And she had taken too many hits.
Too many bone crunching hits.
Over and over again.
The doctor had given her an injection of something that would wake her.
Something with a long complicated name.
Something that the doctor had warned would be gradual.
Warned Tony that he would have to be patient as it took its effects
But Tony has all the patience in the world.
So he waits for her too slowly come around.
A flicker of movement here and there.
A twitch of the fingers.
He's settling in for the long haul when the blonde shakily inhales.
And the monitors let him know she's awake.
Tony freezes.
Doesn't dare move closer, partially because he wants to give her time to acclimate, partially because he doesn't know what to say.
He didn't plan on ever getting this far.
Bishop visibly tenses and her gray eyes flick up to settle on the his blue ones, rapidly deciding whether he was friend or foe.
Nervous, fearful, but mostly tired.
Always tired.
Something inside her must recognize him because she relaxes minutely.
And her eyes flicker away for a moment as she assesses the surroundings of the room.
But he can still see the flurry of emotion rush across her features.
Worry. Fear. Pain. Anguish.
When her eyes find his again, they're filled with tears.
"Did… Did I get it?"
Good God. She's still asking.
Her voice sounds garbled and congested and Tony knows it probably took all of her energy just to get out those words.
His eyes water.
"Yeah… You got it Bishop."
There's a pause as she takes this information in.
As he watches her take this information in.
"I can't… My fingers feel numb."
Tony looks away.
He doesn't want her to see his tears.
