A/N: Thank you to everyone that left a review-you're all wonderful. For those wondering; yes, I am crazy, for starting a story the second I finish another one. As someone who knows me pretty well said "you are not happy unless you're juggling a cazillion balls in the air". She's pretty much got me down pat ;)
I'm also going to be using a lot of Jenny/Tony friendship-I know that didn't really get explored until season four of the show, but I like it, so I'm going to be adding that in, along with Tony/Gibbs friendship. So, expect that in the future, along with some subtle Jibbs (nothing over the top on this one).
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or its characters.
Kids.
Did he want a kid?
No, of course he didn't. He didn't have time for some snot-nosed, noisy brat. He was happy with his way of life; he met pretty girls-young girls-and he had a good time. He was happy.
But since meeting Kate Todd that afternoon, kids had been all he'd been able to think about. His kids. Their kids. His thoughts were so jumbled and twisted, he didn't know which was up and which way was done at this point. He'd been in a fog since he'd met Kate, and the alcohol he'd been drinking wasn't helping anything.
He'd just met this woman, so how was it that she could dominate his every thought? No woman had done that before-the only women he'd felt even relatively close to were Paula and Abby, and they felt more like family than anything else.
He couldn't get Kate off of his mind.
Opening his third beer, he took a large drink, the alcohol rushing directly to his head. He knew he shouldn't get drunk-he had work in the morning, and Gibbs would have his ass if he showed up hung-over. But he couldn't stop himself from downing the drink, setting the now-empty bottle on the kitchen counter next to the two other beer bottles and the half-empty vodka bottle.
Glancing at the kitchen table, he saw the crumpled piece of paper that held Kate's number, and he swallowed. Picking it up, he ran his fingers over her slanted writing, each number precise and exact, no mistakes or questions about them.
In a drunken moment, he picked up his phone, and squinted at the numbers, reading them in the dim light as he punched them in. Putting the ringing phone to his ear, he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
After a number of rings that he lost track of because his head began to throb, her voicemail picked up, prompting him to leave her a message in that no-nonsense voice he'd heard this afternoon. For a moment he hesitated, breathing heavily enough that it would pick up on the machine, before he spoke his next three words, all of them slightly slurred enough to notice.
"Kateā¦I'm sorry."
With that he snapped his phone shut, throwing it so that it landed on his couch, a few feet away. Leaning back against the counter, he shoved his hands through his hair, frustrated.
This woman was making him feel things he'd never felt before, and he stared at the phone on the couch, waiting for it to light up again. When it didn't, he shook his head and headed for his bedroom, slamming his door shut.
Maybe things would look less bleak in the morning.
When Tony awoke the next morning to his screaming alarm clock, however, the only thing he'd gained was a massive headache and a growling stomach. Glancing at his alarm clock he realized he'd overslept, and he swore loudly, getting out of bed and quickly showering before throwing on a dark blue button-up shirt over a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, running his hands briefly through his hair and brushing his teeth before grabbing his phone off the couch, shoving it into his pocket as he grabbed his keys.
He stopped briefly for an extra large cup of coffee with extra sugar before arriving at the NCIS parking lot. Stepping out, he grabbed his backpack and tucked his keys into his pocket as he walked to the elevator.
When he arrived in the bullpen, only Ziva was there.
"Late night?" she asked, raising one eyebrow at him as she leaned back in her chair. He glared, throwing his backpack behind his chair and sitting down, opening his email on his computer. "Tony, what is wrong? You have not been the same since that woman came to see you."
"Nothing, Ziva," Tony answered, not taking his eyes off of the screen. For some reason, hearing Kate referred to as "that woman" sent a surge of inexplicable anger through him.
"Clearly, Tony, something is wrong," Ziva continued, and Tony looked at her, his hazel eyes flashing.
"Ziva, it's none of your business. I've had a tough few weeks-I lost my partner, and it hasn't been the same without Paula. Pardon me for having a bad day," Tony said, standing up and grabbing a folder off his desk. "I'm bringing this up to the Director. Tell Gibbs where I am."
Shoving his chair back he stormed to the elevator, wanting a minute to collect himself before he spoke to the Director.
It had taken some time to get used to having Jenny Shepard as their new director after years of Morrow, but so far he'd liked what he'd seen. She was beautiful-thick crimson curls and pretty green eyes, and while they'd met under the not-great circumstances of Paula's death, he was impressed by her.
Well, that, and the fact that there were unanswered questions about her past with Gibbs, which made everything that much more interesting about her.
Reaching the Director's office, he stopped by Cynthia's desk.
"Is she in yet Cynthia?" he asked, trying to put a cheerful note in his voice, but mostly failing. Cynthia nodded, and he offered her a half-smile as she pushed the intercom button. He grasped the door handle and pushed, entering the director's office, finding Jenny sitting at her desk, looking up at him expectantly.
"Good morning Special Agent DiNozzo," she said, slipping her glasses off of her nose and setting them on the desk in front of her. "How can I help you?"
"I have a report on the Anderson case," Tony said, indicating the folder he held in his hands. Jenny nodded and he stepped closer, setting the folder on her desk, which she took and set on the pile of files already on her desk. She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow slightly.
"Something on your mind, Agent DiNozzo?" Jenny asked, and Tony sighed, scratching the back of his neck as he looked anywhere but her. "I'm going to take that as a yes, then."
"Is everyone talking about me?" Tony asked partly under his breath, shaking his head.
"Only the ones that care about you Tony," Jenny said, and the use of his first name alerted Tony to the seriousness of her voice.
"Just having a bad day Director," Tony said, pushing away from the help being offered. "Nothing to be worried about."
"If you say so," Jenny said, bending her head forward slightly as she picked up her glasses and slid them back on. "Could you send Agent Gibbs up when you see him for me? I need a word with him."
"Of course ma'am," Tony said with a nod before slipping out of the office, for some reason feeling a touch better than when he'd first walked in.
He walked back to the bullpen down the stairs, finding Gibbs and McGee at their desks with Ziva.
"Director wants to see you Gibbs," Tony said as he sat at his desk, surprised to find an unfamiliar address in his email, received only moments after he'd left his desk. Gibbs nodded before standing, heading up to Jenny's office while Tony clicked open the email. It was short, only six words, and as he read it he realized there was no question as to who it was from.
Next time, don't call me drunk.
Mentally cursing, he shut his email and laid his head on his desk, closing his eyes.
It was gonna be a long day, if the start was any indication.
Up in the Director's office, Gibbs was having one of the longest staring contests he'd ever had with an ex-lover, not that he'd had many.
"You needed to see me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he sank into one of the chairs at Jenny's conference table, turning to face her.
"I saw Tony this morning," she replied, her hands steepled under her chin as she looked at him over her glasses. His interest rose as he sat forward slightly, waiting. "I agree, something is wrong. But he isn't budging Jethro."
"I know Jen," Jethro said, running a hand down his face.
"He may just need time, Jethro," Jenny said gently, dropping her hands to the desk and picking up a pen, playing with it. "Sometimes loss hits people at different times. He may just be feeling Paula's loss more than before."
"I don't think that's it," Jethro said, shaking his head. Jenny raised an eyebrow, sitting back in her chair.
"What's your theory?" she asked, an amused smirk sliding onto her face. He stood, walking towards the door and grasping the handle.
"That's need to know," he replied, his face becoming unreadable for a moment before he left the office, leaving Jenny hiding a sad smile and closing her eyes, wishing desperately that things could be easier.
It was going to be a long day.
