WHERE DO YOU GO, JETHRO?
Although DiNozzo was "on it," "it" moved way back to the back burner, given that for the next 18 hours, they were scrambling for evidence and a way to unravel the case, eventually hunting for a genius kid who had run away while leaving them a trail to follow her, and wrapping up a case with mom and daughter safe and the perp identified and body-bagged to Ducky.
But as Tony wrote up his after-action report, thinking that he could finally focus on unraveling the Gibbs dilemma as he did so – after all, he was a champion multitasker, so he though, and if he sat quietly at his desk typing, even the all-seeing, all-knowing Gibbs wouldn't hear him thinking things through – Gibbs' phone rang. Three sets of eyes around the bullpen lifted to watch Gibbs, warily, waiting as their last hope for Thanksgiving freedom was in the balance.
Gibbs listened silently, unreadable as always, knowing full well how his next words would affect his team, each itching for a few days away over Thanksgiving weekend. He didn't need to look at the three faces watching him to know the exact expression each of them would show. In the next moment he'd have to put another dent in their holiday plans.
...and he'd have a call to make that would be challenged, but understood...
He hung up, the air around him almost thick with both hope and dread. He suddenly amused himself with the thought of waiting just an extra few moments until one of them broke with curiosity – probably DiNozzo – but he couldn't throw that on top of their disappointment. It had been a long few months, and even he had been looking forward to the break, too. Anticipating what would come next, Gibbs kept his eyes on his desk, reached for his badge and gun, and called out, "Grab your gear!"
The groans were precisely as he anticipated – from McGee and Ziva. McGee let out an almost - silent little catch in his throat; from Ziva, he heard her daring, softly disappointed, "Gibbs." But DiNozzo, from whom he expected the loudest and most comic griping, was silent. As he let the others grumble just a bit longer than usual – it was a holiday, after all – he raised his eyes to Tony, who just stood looking at him with eyes slightly narrowed, as if trying to puzzle him out. "Hey!" he barked, glaring at DiNozzo to cover his own puzzlement at his second's response as silence descended from the entire team. "Thanksgiving isn't 'til Thursday. Anyone got a problem with working while we're still on the clock?"
"No, Boss." Tim murmured, pulling out his phone to send his sister a quick text.
No, Gibbs." Ziva sighed, thinking that her first invitation to a "normal" family Thanksgiving, extended by her neighbors, might now go by the wayside.
"Nope." Another odd reaction from Tony, although Gibbs would be damned if he'd react. He'd figure out what was going on with his Senior Field Agent soon enough. He usually did...
"What we got, Boss?" Tim ventured, feeling a bit guilty for his less than professional disappointment and hoping to boost everyone's interest in what lay ahead.
"Interviews. Homeland has tracked significantly increased chatter over the last thirty six hours, and tapped the FBI to assist in the investigation. Both were already thin with some other threats, especially in the Northwest, and they need some experienced investigators to develop intel and debrief some of those involved with their latest arrest."
"So this isn't a Navy case?" Ziva asked.
"SecNav says it is, Dah-veed. You wanna take it up with him?"
"No, Boss," DiNozzo answered for her quickly, his backpack already on his shoulder as he reached for his gun and badge, turning back to his boss now with a smooth, calm smile, the one Gibbs had seen him use in a variety of uncomfortable situations to hide what was really going on in his head. "Just as long as no one shuts me in a room with Agent Slacks, we should be just fine." To anyone who didn't know the two, Tony's expression would convey an even - tempered acceptance of events – and Gibbs' usual stony expression wouldn't reveal a curiosity about what DiNozzo was thinking.
"Ziver." Gibbs tossed the keys to the sedan her way and they were snatched out of the air as she came around her desk. As Ziva headed toward the stairs, Gibbs moved out in the other direction, toward the back elevator. "Meet you downstairs."
Tim and Tony, suddenly alone in the bullpen, made eye contact and, as they started toward the bullpen elevator, Tim wasn't quite so complacent. "My sister's gonna kill me," muttered McGee. "What do you know that I don't?"
DiNozzo looked surprised. "What?"
"C'mon, Tony, what about your all-you-can-eat poker buffet? On any other day, having your plans interrupted, you would have whined like a kid missing Christmas. Today you're Mr. Sunshine. What do you know?"
McGee watched as his partner considered his words and, to his surprise, nodded in appreciation. "Ah, you know me so well, Probie."
"So does Gibbs, but he didn't call you on it. He noticed, too."
"Yet he didn't ask. Maybe he knows that's the better bet."
"And maybe he already knows what's up?"
At that, Tony actually stopped walking for the moment, looking as if he'd been surprised into a more thoughtful consideration of Tim's words. After another moment, clearly weighing things before responding, DiNozzo relaxed into a smaller but genuine smile. "Oh, I'm sure he does. Gibbs always knows what's up. However, I don't. Really," he promised, as McGee tried a skeptical glare. He thought about making up some story to get Tim off the scent and off his back, but found that he just didn't want to lie to his not-so-probie-anymore partner. He started walking toward the stairs again. "I just overheard something the other day. Nothing about any threat or Homeland anything, just ..." he gestured vaguely, "sort of related. Probably nothing." He saw that McGee believed him but clearly wanted more. "Look – if it's nothing, it wouldn't be right for me to start blabbing things now," he fudged, convincing himself that it was sort of the truth. "If it's anything, I'll let you know." And he thought he just might – because if there was anyone whose help would be invaluable for tracking down a disappearing boss, it would be Mr. MIT--computer genius. He just wasn't so sure that it was fair to put his probie in Gibbs' sights, too, if investigating the boss didn't go over well. "Deal?"
"Okay – but I'll be watching, too."
"Oh, great," Tony moaned comically. "So much for keeping anything on the downlow." He mugged at McGee's rolled eyes. "So what's up with us helping out Homeland, anyway? Maybe the FBI, they barely have any investigators on a good day, but Homeland gets all the big bucks, doesn't it? And we just got off a case," Tony grumbled, "you'd think we were the only agents around here."
"Ah, there's the very Special Agent that we all know and love," McGee smirked.
"It had to be Fornell, right?" DiNozzo kept going, figuring that it was the best way to get McGee's mind off his concerns. "I mean, have we ever run into something that had the FBI caught up in it that didn't have Fornell behind it all?"
As the thought developed, McGee nodded. "You know, you're right..."
His partner snorted his agreement. "It's not like we call them in for help – and they have a lot more agents than we do."
"Wait – so you're saying you want to call in Sacks and Fornell and other random FBI agents to come help us on our cases?" Tim drawled, the idea amusing him enough to nudge him out of any remaining funk he felt with the call out. At the sharp, silent look he got in return, he chuckled. "Didn't think so."
The two came out of the stairwell just as the elevator into the garage opened, and Gibbs' voice could be heard ahead of them. "Not canceling," Gibbs voice had that not too patient tone they all knew, "just may need a later flight. I'll take care of it." Although Gibbs' forward stride did not change as he listened to someone on the other end of his call, his agents saw the slightest twist of his head and neck, and each figured the Boss had heard their arrival. This time when Gibbs spoke, his voice was noticeably quieter. "I'll let you know."
Tim frowned at the bits of conversation they'd heard. It wasn't like Gibbs to have any plans or flights that weren't related to a case – as far as he knew. Glancing at Tony in question, Tim's frown grew deeper to see DiNozzo's eyes widen, then narrow slightly in thought. He glanced back to Gibbs, stalking toward the sedan, then again turned to Tony. "What?" he whispered.
The senior agent stated to speak, but hesitated, apparently reconsidering, then stepped up his pace.
"Tony," Tim insisted as he matched DiNozzo's stride, sensing that whatever this was, it was related to his earlier unusual reaction in the bullpen, and to Gibbs, had his partner concerned.
DiNozzo didn't break stride, but again pausing for a moment, as he had before, he seemed to relent – just for the moment. "Later," he agreed.