Chapter 2
Balboa's team was able to come within the hour after all, their call-out a bust. As two of their agents drove off with the 'suspects', the others helped process the scene and place collected electronics and other items for forensics into a van. Ducky and Palmer had already removed the body and had probably already begun their preliminary examination as the agents wrapped up their work on-site.
Tim finally managed to catch Ziva by the open trunk of their sedan. "Ziva? Do you think he's freaking any? I'm still freaking a little… You don't think he really believes that stuff, do you? I mean, he was just crawling into that guy's head, right? I've seen him do that before… and Gibbs… but it doesn't usually involve holding guns at each other's heads and a dripping hole for the love of…" McGee knew that had to remind Tony of Kate even more than it did himself. How could he… Jeez.
"I do not know Tim. With Tony, it is always hard to tell. We tire of his usual shallowness, but his depths may be too dark for our comfort." Shrugging, she added, "It worked, it is over." Seeing Tim was still, as he put it, freaking out a little, she continued, "Take him this bottle of water, he might talk to you better than me right now."
"Right," McGee said uncertainly. He had the impression Ziva already knew more of Tony's "darkness" than he did. And talking with Tony about something personal did not always provide answers, usually just more questions… or a load of irritation.
Ziva knew McGee would do better with definite data to collect. "And Tim, check…" she flashed the team-only hand signal of a curved hand in front of her torso; a shaking hand holding a bottle.
McGee nodded and seemed more settled as he walked off to find Tony, still searching for any hidden evidence in the warehouse. Ziva had long ago taught Tim how to check for the almost imperceptible signs such as shaking hands that DiNozzo was becoming hypoglycemic; in need of a snack to restore his blood sugar before becoming snappish, maudlin, or worse possibly.
Considering the many insufferable moods of the standard healthy DiNozzo, Tim and Ziva teamed up whenever possible to ward off the avoidable unhealthy variations. They had once laughed about the odd fairness of themselves shielding the team, the two of them mostly, from Tony's down moods this way, while he protected the team from Gibbs' far more alarming bad moods with his own body when necessary.
Tony knew he was still... off. He'd be trapped in that bubble of intimacy for a while yet, especially when he closed his eyes. He could still feel Hennesy's warm body pressed along his front, and the smell of the sweet soda he must have been drinking minutes before their… moment… together.
The SFA could feel his altered state in every sensory experience for now. Every sound, every smell seemed new and precious. And it felt remarkable that he was still alive to experience them one after the other. The feel of his cell phone in his hand, tiny buttons yielding with their tiny click to his thumb. The vibration of his voice tickling his nose. The cooing of pigeons shuffling on the fire escape. Shutter click of the crime scene camera. Dust motes floating through the room, sparkling in the sunlight.
The abrupt scream of the body bag's zipper forced him to close his eyes and breath deeply for a moment.
He'd been processing the scene remotely so far, long habit directing him more than any conscious thought. He knew from long experience just to keep moving, get the job done. Do not look back, look forward. Dwelling on this oddness led nowhere… although he could see it leading him to "just walk the earth" like Jules in Pulp Fiction. Or becoming lost in the senses like newly-turned Louis in Interview with the Vampire.
Heaving another sigh, he nodded calmly. Yep, definitely time to get back to work.
The summer sun was well up, and the warehouse had become sweltering in no time. The strange warm fluidity of his altered mental state felt perfectly matched in the warm sweat rolling down his body by now. Tony DiNozzo knew he was a grateful man, a lucky one, and was so in his element at this filthy hot crime scene that he caught a soft smile on his face at odd moments. But the NCIS jacket still felt like an oven mitt.
He'd been glad there was such a large area to process, and they found a tremendous amount of evidence that should destroy the network entirely. But Tim had said on first impression the computer didn't look like it held all that much, and Tony had a feeling something was left to be found. He prowled around the office one more time, letting details sift into his subconscious however they liked. At the same time he also tried to tune out that same subconscious attempting to compare the sensation of sweat rolling down his back to his body's tears of relief and joy. It was no surprise to him his subconscious gushed poetic at times like these.
DiNozzo was staring with hands on hips at the giant old metal office desk that had held the computer when McGee found him. Standing at the SFA's side, he cracked open the bottle of water and handed it to Tony, "Here. Ziva's ready to go."
Half a guzzled bottle of water later, Tim thought Tony's blood sugar might be ok, but he was thirsty as a fish. Tim also decided to go with his standard opening ploy of obviousness… since he'd never found another conversation opener that had worked any better.
"You ok?"
Finishing the bottle with a loud satisfied sigh, Tony wiped his lips and said, "I'm beyond ok McDasani, now I'm fluidly fantastic. Didn't realize how thirsty I was, thanks."
It was ironic that the actual, verbal gratitude raised a red flag for Tim that something was wrong with the older man. He decided to attempt a Gibbs interrogation method - say very little and let the other guy just ramble out the desired info… worked for Gibbs all the time. Although Tim was too smart to fully expect the same thing would work for him right now, especially with Tony.
"So… earlier…?"
Tony nodded. "Yeah, earlier you said what was on the computer wasn't enough so I'm still looking."
"I did say it could just be hidden better than my first impression showed too."
"Sure, but I bet you were right Tim, I trust you with this stuff." He continued to stare distractedly at the walls, dirty windows and 1950's era furniture.
"Plenty of reason to. Of course I wouldn't trust you with driving my car or dressing me…" he paused to glance sideways at the junior agent, "… or yourself. But you, a computer, and evidence… no question." He sat at the old table in the equally ancient heavy metal chair and craned his head back to look at the open ceiling, frowning at ductwork and electrical lines hanging down randomly.
Tim had long since learned to tune out the insults in order to glean the praise of his skills from Tony. At least Tony threw it out there sometimes, unlike Gibbs or even Ziva. But right now he couldn't tell if Tony was just trying to distract him from the question, or really didn't know which "earlier" Tim was referring to.
And Tim really, really just wanted to drop it. He had a feeling Gibbs wouldn't pursue this now, or Ziva. But he'd learned to follow his own instincts over the years, so another round of "What Would Gibbs Do" just wasn't good enough here. The younger man might not always enjoy Tony's… excessive Tony-ness, but he did admire him… in certain areas, such as what the senior agent pulled off this morning.
Tim was so, so glad Tony wasn't actually his brother, but couldn't deny that basically had become their roles for each other over the years. And it twisted Tim up inside that Tony might just be waiting to die in the line of duty. Planning on it. That wasn't just inevitable, wasn't supposed to happen. Tim swallowed, his chest tight. They were supposed to get old enough together so that Tim could tease him mercilessly about hair loss and needing reading glasses.
While Tim angsted over his next question, Tony had switched to tapping a rhythm with both hands while staring at the floor around the desk. As he stood to move the chair, he froze with hands on the armrests and cocked his head to the side. Head whipping up to stare high on the wall behind the chair, he snapped an arm pointing out behind him and said, "Probie, is that metal folding chair missing the rubber tip on the front right leg?
McGee's heart beat a little faster, seeing Tony was onto something. Tim loved it when this happened… which he naturally showed by being quarrelsome. "Yeah. You know, it's not really rubber anymore…" By then Tony was flapping his hand rapidly, indicating to bring it. Or having a bizarre muscle spasm.
Tim set the unfolded metal chair on top of the heavy office chair where Tony pointed, and he continued speaking as Tony climbed up to look at an air conditioner vent on the wall. "…hasn't been rubber for decades really. Rubberized plastic is an entirely different…"
Tony cut him off frowning, "Hand me your phone."
Tim's hand was already reaching for it while he protested, "Why my phone? I can see yours right there!"
"Yours has a better camera McWhiny Kodak moment!" He snapped two pictures from different angles before huffing and climbing down reluctantly. "Zoom into the shadows as much as you can. Those wires or just pieces of insulation?"
"There's a flash drive!"
"Yes, I know that. I don't know if it's booby trapped or not though. I'm thinking insulation, yeah?"
Tim quickly forwarded the snapshots on to Ziva with the text 'booby-trap?' "She'll be here in just a second."
Tony was distracted, thinking aloud, "These guys were bad bad men, but not munitions experts, not even one explosion in their history. They knew we were onto them, that they'd have to move fast possibly…" He wandered closer to the chairs, looking up at the vent.
"Just give Ziva a minute, what can it hurt? We don't know all their history, there could be…"
The SFA cut him off again, "Yeah. Give Ziva a call, make sure she's bringing the good camera." Tony started climbing the chairs again.
"I did. Here Tony." Ziva handed the camera up, continuing, "The best I can make out it is just insulation."
"Good. Stand in the doorway, both of you."
"Tony, come on. That's really not…"
Still distracted as he focused on snapping more scene photographs, the senior agent then stowed the camera strap over his shoulder. "Stand. In. The. Doorway."
Sharing an eye roll with Tim, but at least both moved to the door. Ziva called out, "Clear Tony."
Unscrewing and pulling out the vent carefully, Tony snapped more pictures one handed and called them back over calmly. "Alright then! I'm out of evidence bags - need one large bag for the vent, two regular size for the flash drive and…" his smiling face beamed at them while holding up thick bundles of cash in his gloved hand, "Money!"
In the rather odiferous car ride back, McGee was less 'freaked out', but still worried in the backseat. It felt like he'd missed his moment to bring up his concerns. But then he remembered all the deeply irritating times Tony persisted with his nosy behavior into their personal lives, declaring it was what made him a great investigator, and decided blatant turnabout was fair play. Besides, this at least was work related, and Ziva was distracted on her phone with an international contact.
"Tony, can I ask a question about your… conversation with Hennesy?"
"Hummmm. Yeah. Rather you not. This shark's got to keep swimming, ya know." Tony was silent while driving for a moment. Frowning slightly, he was dissatisfied with himself. He always tried to answer the kind of questions his Probie just wouldn't ask Gibbs. He sighed and made a valiant effort to extend a branch to the younger agent.
"I mean, I know it's a... thing, o.k.? Just not now. Not 'not' indefinitely. That's like telling you not to think about a pink marshmallow mainframe." He paused, then smirked, "Admit it, it's totally all you can think about now, yeah?"
McGee sighed, frustrated at both of them, "Yes!" He decided to go along with "the shark's" wishes and drop it, there had to be a better time than this to get DiNozzo to be serious with him.
And wouldn't most of the marshmallows melt with the heat of an average mainframe? The color was totally irrelevant.
