A/N: If the fifteen or so review I got from the last chapter are anything to go by. I take it you all are liking this so far? I can honestly say I'm pretty shocked about this, I never expected so many people to like it. Fair warning I kinda of placed Tony in a more "Gibbs(ish)" attitude in here.
Okay, I'm wondering if I'm going to be able to do this story justice. If I don't think I can do it, or update on it anymore. I'm not going to take it down. I'll put it up for...adoption? Is that the right word for it? But that's if's and maybe's so...
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS
"In unrelated news, yesterday in front of the Hoover building a fist fight broke out between NCIS agent Anthony DiNozzo and FBI agent Tobias Fornell. Sources tell me that it is rumored to be over the latest case of the serial killer that has been terrorizing us all, Abe Dunphrey. Considering this monster has added a Petty Officer, a FBI agent, and eight civilians among his victims. Shouldn't we be happy that we have not one, but two federal agencies on this task force?
If only that were the case. How are we suppose to feel safe when two agents can't even get along? Or is it the higher-ups that are throwing the temper tantrums? Is it FBI and NCIS both? Or is it simply NCIS?
Oh yes people, rumor has it, or at least...this video shot at the scene. Backups the rumor that it was the NCIS agent who threw the first punch. Is this a way for NCIS to try and exert authority over other agencies? To try and make a statement?
Has NCIS always been like this? Or is it only from the leadership of their new director? The first female director of an armed federal agency, Jennifer Shepard.
This is Diane Sterling, signing out."
Jenny glared at the TV screen. Every muscles in her body tense, and a vein in her forehead throbbing. All-in-all, she looked as if she were having a stroke. And, honestly, even to Jenny it felt as if she were on the verge of one.
As the smug redhead on the screen faded, and the regular news resumed. Jenny closed her eyes, taking slow deep breaths and trying to calm herself.
'You are a director now. You cannot take your gun and shoot the b-, reporter. You are director. You are director. You are dire...,' it was her own personal mantra repeating over and over in her head. Reminding her that she didn't have the leeway to react as she did when she was an agent. Though, to be fair, she never would've been put in this situation if she was still an agent.
It seemed to be working, that and a few counts of ten in; Hebrew, French, and English.
And it would've continued to keep working, if she didn't just hear her door open and close behind her. Still, would've worked too, if the agent she knew to be Anthony DiNozzo himself didn't immediately start with, "Director, that's utter bull-."
"Hush," she snapped, her eyes flying open and her fist balling at her sides, she spun around to face him.
"Sit." She commanded, pointing at one of the conference table chairs.
For most likely the first time in his life, Anthony DiNozzo shut his mouth and meekly complied. Sliding into one of the rolling chairs, he folded his arms on top of the table and slouched forward. Somehow managing to look meek and compliant, but defiant at the same time.
Jenny could tell he wasn't happy at being told to be quiet, but she didn't care.
"Explain," she growled, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the TV where the tape of ZNN still played on mutely in the background. Grabbing the remote off the table in front of her, she paused and rewound the tape, to a still-shot of Diane Sterling.
DiNozzo glanced up at the screen, glowered, and looked back down moodily. Did it once more, and then finally looked to her.
"What do you want me to say? You won't believe me anyway." He grumbled, with a snotty little shrug.
"Try me," she challenged, the death glare she had leveled on him intensified. While thoughts and visuals of keelhauling ran through her head.
He stood up quickly, the rolling chair flying backwards. Placing his palms flat on the table this time he leaned forward instead of slouching, and Jenny mentally rolled her eyes at the stupidity of the move. He was like the typical bully trying to establish dominance in front of the teacher.
"Sometime today, would be nice agent DiNozzo..."
He simply continued to stare at her, completely silent.
Jenny was losing what little patience she'd had to begin with.
"I told you to work things out with agent Fornell, not beat the crap out of each other!" She exclaimed, and if she hadn't been so very pissed at his attitude and this whole situation. Then she would've laughed at hearing the word crap come out of her own mouth.
Turning on the delicate point of her heel, she jabbed the remote at the screen. Fast forwarding through Sterling's all too happy report, she stopped on the video of the fight that took place in the Hoover building's front parking lot. It looked like it had been taken by a bystander's cellphone if the grainy fighting figures of Tony and Fornell where anything to go by.
She freeze framed on an image of Tony throwing a right-hook, which just so happened to have been the first punch.
Facing DiNozzo again, her temper slightly cooled. She was able to ask more calmly this time, "How does a simple, civilized conversation over who has lead turn into a fist fight?! What did he do, insult your moth-"
But DiNozzo interrupted her.
Anthony DiNozzo had the nerve to interrupt her!
"Ma'am!" He basically yelled, somehow ignoring the promise of a painful castration she was sending his way. Instead his eyes were glued to the screen, a look of realization on his face, "Ma'am, I did not throw that first punch!"
"What?!" She spluttered out, of all the things she was expecting him to do; blame it all on her, stay silent as the grave, and taking perverse pride in it all being only some of it. This was not it.
His eyes locked with hers again, "Director, I. Did. Not. Throw. That. First. Punch." He reiterated, and his voice was just so full of conviction that she almost believed him.
Yet, she was a director, and she did not trust on convictions alone.
"What are you talking about agent DiNozzo?" She asked enunciating each word precisely, like she would if she were speaking to a toddler.
"Look!" He slammed his hands down on the table again, and she gave a low hiss. He backed off slightly and said a little more calmly yet still in a rush, "We met so we could discuss who was going to take lead. And one thing escalated into another..."
"Either way," he shook his head, dismissing the rest of the story. "He threw the first punch, director. I promise!"
She hung her head in exasperation, a huff of air escaping her. Why couldn't they all see that she couldn't go on convictions and promises in her job?
"How am I suppose to believe you?"
He stared at her in shock, as if he didn't know why in the world she would think he would have a reason to lie about this. But, instead of going off into a anger fueled screaming match that would result in her taking his badge. He said, in the most serious tone she'd ever heard him speak in, "Director that video has been doctored. I swear! Give Abby thirty minutes with it and I'm sure she could prove it. And if she doesn't, I'll...you-...you can fire me or keelhaul me! Whatever you want!"
She hesitated, and apparently it was too long for Tony because he looked distinctively nervous when he started rambling.
"C'mon Director. Everybody knows Fornell was sleeping with Sterling! Hell, I even think they have a kid together! And the woman has always had a thing for Gibbs, you know the FBI director?" He asked it as if she the director of NCIS didn't know the director of the FBI. But, he didn't give her a chance to respond before he was off again, "and I mean I've made a move on her in the past and she kind of rebuffed me. But I'm sure I could get her to forget that, 'cuz no one can resist the DiNozzo charm. Either way the FBI's basically got her in the palm of their hand and-"
"DINOZZO," she shouted over his rapidly rising in pitch voice. Effectively stopping his rant.
He shut his mouth, with a sheepish look, slightly embarrassed at his Ms. Scuito-esque behavior.
She kept her voice controlled when she replied, "I will email the link to Ms. Scuito in five minutes...she has twenty minutes afterwards."
''...Thank you...director...you won't regret this." He said with a slow nod of his head, as if reaffirming it in his own mind. Then in a matter of seconds, her office door was slamming shut behind his rapidly retreating form.
In the sudden silence of her office, Jenny groaned.
Before her feet gave out on her, and she succumbed to the comfort of sitting. She trudged over to her desk, and instead succumbed to the comfort of her cool leather chair over a hard plastic one.
Tilting her chair back, she glared up at the image of Diane Sterling. So, she had a kid with Fornell, and a thing for Gibbs...A kid with Fornell? She had met agent Fornell, and frankly the thought of having a kid with him disgusted her slightly...But, a thing for Gibbs...Oh yea, she could see that even through grainy film.
Speaking of Mr. Gibbs, this whole situation reeked of him.
Grant it, she'd only talked to him once. But, a doctored video? A reporter that the FBI had in the palm of their hand? A bystander who just so happened to have conveniently caught a video, which only DiNozzo could really be identified in?
It practically screamed something his reputation said he'd do.
But she didn't get on her phone. Didn't call up the FBI and demand a public retraction from their director. No, she wasn't going to do anything rash...She popped on her glasses, and turned on her computer.
She had an email to send.
On the other side of town while certain people in the NCIS building were most likely cursing his name, over at the Hoover building, Gibbs couldn't have been happier. Tilting back on the hind-legs of his creaky old chair, he propped his feet up on his desk with a satisfied smirk.
Public fist fight.
Check.
Flirt with Diane a little, and piss off Fornell some more.
Check.
Get pissed drunk with Mike.
Check.
Twice.
Check.
Ruin the new director's day-.
Check.
Heck, who was he kidding? He'd officially ruined Jennifer Shepard's week.
"Gibbs, you are a bastard," Fornell almost sung as he burst through the office door. Gibbs could've chuckled at the irony of it all, instead he crossed his arms behind his head and glared laconically at the other man.
But Tobias wasn't deterred, after all a glare was this man's typical greeting.
"So where's Mike?" Fornell asked, plopping down uninvited into the chair in front of his desk. Reaching with greedy fingers to the tumbler of bourbon that sat on the corner, pouting only slightly when Gibbs' large hand swatted his away.
They both knew Gibbs could do worse damage than a red mark had he wanted to.
"Didn't think director's were suppose to drink on the job," he groused quietly.
"Yet agent's, the one's that carry the guns-need I remind you-are suppose to?" Gibbs drawled sarcastically, with an arch of his eyebrow.
"We both know you still carry. But...point taken," the agent mumbled, then returned to their previous conversation, "Anyway where is Mike? I expected him to be in here laughing his ass off at your successful revenge." His eyes roamed the corner office, as if he expected a hung-over Mike to be snoring in the corner.
Gibbs shrugged, taking a sip of bourbon at the mention of his 'his success'. "Mike's on his way back to Baja," he answered simply.
"I'm sorry Gibbs," he apologized. He knew that the other man would miss having the obnoxiously randy older man around, whether he admitted to it or not.
"Don't apologize-" Gibbs started.
"It's a sign of weakness," Fornell finished.
"Yea, yea, I know," Fornell said with a roll of his eyes. He knew the rules like the back of his hand, and he also knew the only reason he was getting away with the eye roll and smartass attitude. Was because of the glass of bourbon currently in Gibbs hand.
Pushing his luck that a bullet from his own SIG was soon going to end up in his brain, Fornell spun around to look at the flat screen that was mounted on the side wall. Where the footage of the 'fight' played silently on a loop.
"Diane did good, didn't she," he said, nodding to the redhead. "How did you convince her to do it?"
After a moment of no comments, Fornell turned to glance at him out of the corner of his eye. The only response was cool glare.
Which, he automatically, took the wrong way.
In a state of shock Tobias Fornell promptly fell out of his chair. Sending him, and the chair clattering to the ground. Quickly he was back up, popping right up in front of Gibbs desk, still Gibbs remained as calm as could be.
"You slept with her didn't you?!" He demanded, and whimpered-as if Gibbs had personally offended him with the fact that he wasn't a virgin. "YOU-YOU-YOUR A-...a man whore." The first bullet would land between his eyes. The second, his heart...
"Why would it matter to you if I did?" Gibbs asked coolly.
"DAMMIT GIBBS, WE HAVE A KID TOGETHER!" Fornell blustered.
Gibbs couldn't help his chuckle, "Nooooooo, Tobias. I don't have a child with you, Diane does. And it wasn't like Emily was there. Nor you!"
Fornell was just about to launch himself across the desk, and most likely get his ass kicked trying to kick Gibbs ass. When Gibbs-the bastard-smiled, "Wasn't like I was there either."
"WHAT THE HE-wait, what? What the hell?" Tobias choked out, his head cocked to the side. And if Gibbs knew him at all-and he did- then he knew that Tobias was most likely wondering if sex had changed at all since the last time he'd gotten some.
Before he could-god forbid-ask, Gibbs threw his legs off his desk and leaned forward. Setting his glass of bourbon to the side, "I did not sleep with her."
Tobias deflated, and the red face disappeared before an angry glower took residence. Yet, Gibbs was the big boss, and Fornell would do well to remember that. So it was in a dangerous tone that Gibbs warned him, "and I suggest you get out of my office. Before you're out of a job."
Wisely, Fornell heeded his advice. Though, it was said that you weren't suppose to turn your back on a wild animal, Tobias turned around and risked death by walking to the door.
With one hand on the knob, and a foot out the door. Fornell glared at him over one shoulder, "Gibbs you are a bastard, and I'm sure she would agree with me." He hissed, and pointed over at the TV where a posed professional photo of Ms. Shepard was displayed.
He turned to leave, yet Gibbs voice stopped him as the wooden door was shutting. "Tobias," he called.
The door stopped an inch from being shut.
"I'm okay with being a bastard," he paused, "but if you ever call me a whore again..."
The threat was implied, and the door slammed shut all the way.
Gibbs turned, propping his feet backup on his desk, and turned to look back at the TV screen. Leaning forward slightly, he snagged the remote off his desk. He pressed paused.
The image of Ms. Shepard froze on the screen.
He was okay with being a bastard.
Wasn't he?
Thirty minutes later-ten minutes after her deadline, Jenny finally gets the call she'd been waiting for.
Grant it, Cynthia gets the call, and Cynthia tells her about it.
"Director, Ms. Scuito says...she's sorry it took so long?" Cynthia's voice rose in pitch with the inherent question stated there. But before Jenny could respond she continued, "and that she found something. And you need to come to the lab. And that you would never believe it. And she's really, really, really, sorry it took so long. And for you to please not fire To-agent DiNozzo-" Cynthia hastily corrected herself, and in the brief lull Jenny cut her off.
"Um-yes, I get the picture Cynthia. Knowing Ms. Scuito this could go on for awhile." Jenny said with a wry smile that Cynthia couldn't see. She heard Cynthia's murmur of acknowledgment and the beep as the intercom line cutoff.
With a deep breath, Jenny stood up; habitually smoothed her pencil skirt, and left her office. A rare tabloid shot of Director Leroy Jethro Gibbs, faded to black on her computer screen.
She walked past Cynthia, out onto to the catwalk, and into the elevator.
She pressed the button for the lab.
Two minutes, and a lonely elevator ride later, and she was there. Walking down the short hallway, she could already hear the crashing-racket-sounds of the music Ms. Scuito seemed to favor so much. Pausing in the entryway, she took a moment to process the scene in front of her.
Only Ms. Scuito was in the lab at the moment, and she was slightly shocked not to see agent DiNozzo in there as well. But, considering-everything, then it was most likely that he was hiding out in autopsy contemplating the reasons he should get to keep his job.
Because surely this video wasn't doctored.
"MS. SCUITO," she called out over the racket. Learning from personal experience that it was best not to sneak up on the bubbly scientist. At her call, the goth turned around to see her redheaded boss leaning against the doorway with a serious expression.
In leaps and bounds-the only way Abby knew how to move-she made her way to her backroom. Where her stereo was located.
Jenny's ears cried out in relief, when the racket was muted. While she was rendered temporarily deaf in the silence, her eyes worked just fine. And were able to make out a sheet of paper that was located on the lab table the scientist had been hunched over.
The heading on the paper read: REASONS NOT TO FIRE TONY.
"When are you ever going to call me Abby?" Ms. Scuito pouted from the doorway across from her. Jenny's eyes moved from the apparent list to lock with hers, and she watched as Abby's eyes widened when she saw where her attention had been.
Quickly-in one big bound-she was over at the table again, and sliding the sheet of paper under a bunch of other sheets of paper. She watched as Abby attempted nonchalance.
Abby didn't do nonchalance well, nor did she-clearly-know what subtle was.
Jenny simply arched an eyebrow, and said coolly while eyeing her attire, "That would be unprofessional Ms. Scuito." And with just those six words Abigail Scuito was subdued.
"The clip...?" Jenny reminded her, this time in a little less of a bitchy tone. With slumped shoulders, and-though she might just be imagining it-drooping pigtails? Abby turned to her main computer, pulling up the clip on herflat screen.
The clicking of her heels echoed off the linoleum and stainless steel surfaces, as Jenny made her way across the lab. Stopping by the monitor Abby was standing at, she waited patiently...
"Okay, seeeee..." Abby narrated as she fast forwarded it slightly, to the point of the first punch, then paused it. "Here!" She exclaimed, coming to stand next to Jenny, and in typical Abby fashion forgetting that she was ever upset.
"Alright?" Jenny asked, considering all she saw was Tony throwing the first punch.
Which...they...all ready knew, and she didn't think Abby would be so (excited?) over something they already knew.
"It's not what you think, Director." She assured Jenny, her hands flying as she went into tech-no-babble speak.
Vaguely Jenny wondered, as she dodged a flying limb, if she was going to make it out of the lab without a concussion.
When another hand came her way from an oblivious Abby, Jenny finally spoke up, "the point...Ms. Scuito?"
Abby stilled, and Jenny breathed a sigh of impatience, when a look that spoke of 'well isn't it obvious?' was directed her way. She shook her head, her mane of loose red hair flying around her face.
"Director! This. Video. Was. Doctored! Tony didn't throw the first punch! Someone set him up! There's a mastermind behind this! Some secret evil villain! Oh my god, I hope this isn't another Chip scenario! What if this is only a prelude to framing him for murder! What if-" Ms. Scuito rambled on, gaining steam in her worry.
"Ab-MS. SCUITO," she screamed for the second-no, third time today.
Damn, she really needed to reevaluate her staff.
Abby took a deep breath, and hung her head meekly. Glancing at the Director out of the corner of her eye, but her focus was still on the video.
"So, you're positive this video was doctored," Jenny clarified.
"Yes," Abby confirmed.
"Tony did not throw the first punch," continued Jenny.
"No," Abby played along, "he did not. Someone set him up...again."
"And...me," Jenny thought about what the snooty Diane had said this morning, and agreed with Abby's theory all over again. "Only this time...not for murder. And I know who it is."
"You do?!" Abby sounded shocked.
"I do," Jenny growled.
Without another word, and doing as much as she could to control her anger. She strode towards the lab exit, ignoring Abby's protests of who in fact had 'done it'. Cutting her off midsentence Jenny popped her head back in the lab, her feet already pointing towards the waiting elevator.
"Ms. Scuito," Abby quieted was more, and Jenny was glad because something didn't make sense. "If the video was in fact...faked. Then why were you making a list of reasons for me not to fire agent DiNozzo?"
Abby's expression cheered up at that, "Because I was late." She said simply, as if that couldn't be taken any other way.
Jenny only gave a short nod, and made her escape to the elevator. The metal doors slid close to the exclamations of Abby claiming that she wasn't pregnant with Tony's baby, but had just taken a little too long to get results.
Jenny rolled her eyes, and leant back against the cool metal wall.
A reporter the FBI had in the palm of their hand.
A set-up fist fight.
A doctored video.
A joint investigation.
FBI.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
That bastard.
Hours passed, and the sun set over the concrete jungle that was DC. Traffic got heavy in the evening rush as people made their way home in time for dinner.
A dinner they'd sit down to eat with a loved one, a family maybe.
Even NCIS was deserted-except for one Jennifer Shepard-who was doing what she'd been doing for hours now. Sitting at her desk, doing paperwork, walking in between MTAC and her desk, and well-pretending she actually had her mind focused on it all.
When, in all actuality, she was inwardly fuming, and wondering what the hell she was going to do about it.
Now, originally she'd been okay. After her trip to Abby's lab, she'd came back up to her office, only to be called to MTAC for an unscheduled operation that suddenly had to be ran today.
The operation was taking place in California.
She had concentrated solely on California.
In the back of her mind, she hadn't been thinking about a man she'd only met once. And that once was over a screen. She hadn't been wondering why he would pull a stunt like this. When she'd only turned down a (date?) with the man. And that was during a verbal (fight?). When they'd both said some harsh things.
After her op, when she hadn't been thinking those things, she'd gone back to her office. To do two things; one, try and figure out how the hell she was going to do damage control for NCIS and her name after Steriling's little report. Two, well-pretending to do the paperwork, while actually still doing the first.
The sun hadn't set yet, but a blood red hue had started to spread across the sky when Ziva came in...
"Tota, Jenny," Ziva greeted as she softly shut the office door behind her.
Jenny looked up from her 'paperwork', she took the entrance of Ziva as an excuse to give up on her façade. Resting her elbows on her desk, she slipped her reading glasses off, and massaged the bridge of her nose.
The headache that had blossomed about three hours ago, had resurfaced with a vengeance.
"Jenny?" Ziva moved towards one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of her desk. Tilting her head, and leaning to the side, trying to catch her eye. Jenny thought that Ziva was the only one who called her by her actual name anymore.
She was kind of tired of hearing 'Director Shepard', and 'ma'am' continuously for the last year.
"Yea, I'm alright." Jenny answered the unanswered question, and plopped her head down in her hands. While Ziva relaxed into one of the seats.
"Fine and randy, I'm sure." Ziva said sarcastically, and only someone with that blissful ignorance could make that sound...innocent.
"It's dandy, Ziva. Fine and dandy."
"Why would someone want to be 'dandy'?" Ziva blew up, sounding suspiciously indignant at being-shockingly-wrong at an idiom.
"Why would someone want to be 'randy'?" Jenny asked, taking her face out of her hands.
Ziva gave her a knowing look.
Jenny glared.
Relenting to her obvious wishes-for now anyway- Ziva changed the subject, "soooo...what do you plan to do about Tony's little...fight? This Diane-woman, would you like her to...disappear?"
And just like that Ziva David went from being 'fine and randy' to all business.
Jenny didn't know wherever to laugh or scream.
"No! No, I don't want her to...'disappear'. It's not that I actually care what happens to her-" She protested at Ziva's surprised expression. "I just don't want you back in that...'business'."
"Oh, that is okay Jenny. I have got friends, contacts that owe me. I would not even have to lift a finger-" Ziva started to launch into an explanation on how easy it would actually be.
"ZIVA," when Jenny had her attention, she had to squeeze her eyes shut for a moment. The brief yelling just exasperated her headache, "I need to have annual mandatory hearing tests for all of you." She groaned.
She opened her eyes again, and when Ziva didn't ask for an explanation. She didn't bother providing one.
"No," she stated, getting back on track, "I don't want her to 'disappear'. Besides-it wasn't even her-not really-, it was the FBI's director."
Before Ziva could interrupt her again, she raised a hand silencing her, "and no, I guess I don't-maybe. You know, it would just, like be bad if he disappeared...I guess."
Ziva seemed absurdly disappointed, and nodded a bit sadly. As if not being able to torture someone would just ruin her whole day.
Jenny leant back, her hand going to her top right drawer, and pulling out a pill bottle she reached for the bottle of water on the corner of the desk. Knocking back a few ibuprofen capsules, she mumbled-glancing warily at Ziva's sly smirk-around a mouth full of water, "remind me to tell agent DiNozzo to keep you away from the safety-pins."
When she swallowed, their eyes locked, and both snorted.
As if Anthony DiNozzo could keep Ziva away from a safety-pin.
"You guess," Ziva said, and leave it to her to focus on THAT portion of their conversation. "The Jenny I know, does not guess."
The redhead, snorted, "well, you never know, SecNav might not approve. Anyway, how did you know about...all of this?"
"Everyone knows," Ziva answered simply, and continued, "and you cannot just do nothing! Your name is being...(trashed?)!"
Leave it to Ziva, to get THAT one right.
"Did you, and their director talk before the fight? You seem to believe that he is behind this, did you do something...to...him?" Ziva trailed off at the steadily increasing ferocity of her glare.
Jenny stood up, "NO! I DID NOT! I did not do a damn thing to him! Not when he berated me like I was a Probie agent! Just for doing my job! AND HE HAS THE NERVE to ask me on a DATE! A date that the bastard probably expected something along the lines of me just laying down and spreading my legs for him! BECAUSEEVERYBODYSEEMSTOTHINKISLEPTMYWAYTOTHETO-"
When she felt Ziva's hand clamp down on her mouth, she had the childish urge to lick it.
"Calm, Jenny," Ziva-ZIVA, lectured her on staying calm. When the woman herself most likely couldn't go ten minutes without at least getting the urge to threaten someone.
But, regardless, Jenny complied-only the director side of her remembering that there could still be other agent's in the building. Other agent's who would've just heard her screams basically declaring that she wasn't the whore every male on the 'Hill' seemed to think she was.
If her cheeks flushed-Ziva didn't mention it, and Jenny was grateful.
Once her former partner was apparently satisfied that she wasn't going to continue blowing up. She slowly lowered her hand, both of them watching the other, to see what the next move was going to be.
Jenny lowered herself back into her seat, while Ziva remained standing over her. When Ziva didn't move to sit back down, Jenny glanced back up at her to see Ziva watching her.
After a moment of silent observation. Ziva opened her mouth and spoke in a tone of wisdom, "did he ever actually IMPLY that he wanted to have sex with you?"
Jenny's jaw dropped, and with a little smile on her face Ziva exited her office. Leaving a shell-shocked Jenny behind.
While Jenny was in her office, pondering a conversation from hours before. Across town, in an almost empty Hoover building, Gibbs was doing almost the same thing.
If wandering the hallways, and looking for coffee counted.
Now usually he would've just gone out for coffee. Snuck past his detail, and made his way to the twenty-four hour place a block away.
But after his little spat with Fornell, a few issues that he'd been dealing with the past year on the west coast had come up again. A few little problems, that went along the lines of; suspicious evidence gone missing, suspects getting tipped off, and money being mysteriously deposited in a few select agent's bank accounts.
Oh yea, the FBI had a leak. One, he thought he had dealt with during the past twelve months. Yet, the phone call he'd gotten only a few hours ago suggested that the 'dirty cop' hadn't only contaminated the one side of America. No, now it was looking as if this thing were a lot bigger than what he'd originally noticed.
That was the only-and he meant only-reason he wasn't currently out getting decent coffee. And instead he was in the break room, filling up on the disgusting sludge the accounting department had replaced the real coffee he use to have in here with.
As he spat the brown water down the drain, he could only thank god that Vance was out of DC. With him gone, and Gibbs himself being back, then he could start to undo the things that had been done in his absence.
'To hell with it. I've still got that bourbon in the office,' if he couldn't have coffee, he sure as hell was going to get something that would keep him from murdering the next person he had to speak with.
And besides, no one was here, it wasn't going to kill him to have another glass. He hadn't even had that big of one earlier today. With a new resolve, and in a slightly more pissed mood he stalked out of the room and back down the hallway that would lead to his office.
He'd just made it past the elevator himself and Mike had ridden in the other day. And was on his way past the large open bullpen when the sound of voices stopped him.
The hallway he was in led down to MTAC if he continued going straight. But, where he was stopped at was the doorway to the open squad room, where the teams resided. Teams that were made up of five or six, not two or three partners.
So rightly anyone could assume that the room-therefore the doorway-would be big. Hence, if someone was in said room, and he had to pass the doorway to turn down the small, secluded hallway that branched off by MTAC and led to his office. It would be a daunting task, if one wanted to do it unseen.
But he knew he could do it.
Heck he didn't even have to do it unseen if he didn't want to. It wasn't like anyone who wanted to hurt him could even get into the building, not when he knew for a fact that his security detail was positioned in at least ten different spots on this floor alone. And it wasn't like a normal agent-who worked here day after day, would actually want to try and engage the aloof, terrifying, director in conversation.
He was in the clear, but it wasn't the fact that there were voices, that made him stop. No, it was what the voices were saying that made him stop and press his back up against the edge of the door frame.
"You think it was actually the NCIS agent?" He heard one-distinctly nasal-voice speak.
"Oh c'mon, I heard their director's new. You know, Jennifer Shepard? That hot redhead, channel twelve kept showing pictures of all year? Yea, apparently that's her!" Gibbs rolled his eyes, as the new voice said in a high-pitched tone.
As if he, because the voice was male-even if it was squeaky, had just failed to hit puberty.
"You think she's gonna stir the pot with something so big, so soon?" That second voice spoke again.
"True," nasal person conceded.
"It was him, I tell ya. He did this." 'No puberty dude' said vehemently.
"Who? Director Gibbs?" The nasal voice asked, and by the instant way his name was brought into the picture. He had a feeling that-whoever these people were-they'd had this conversation, or one similar to it, before.
"Yes him! I heard the day that he got back from wherever he was, and it was rumored it was California he escaped to. But the day he got back, he went into MTAC and had a conference call with her! The technicians said that they got into an argument right off the bat, and that he literally got onto her!" Puberty man-no-boy, said it all gleefully as if it were just one giant tabloid article that he was reciting.
Gibbs made two mental notes; one, check and see if there were actual articles about it yet. And two, fire the MTAC technicians because he had a pretty good idea of where this conversation was going.
"And THEN he asked her out! And she told him off! They said she screamed at him, called him a bastard and everything." Gibbs heard puberty boy curse softly and then say, "I wish I could do that!"
What had he ever done to this person?
Gibbs racked his brains, trying to place if he knew the people behind the voices. They didn't ring a bell, nor send up any alerting red mental flags. But, though the person behind 'nasal voice' didn't seem to have a problem with him-'Puberty Boy', seemed to be prejudice against him.
"You think he set the whole thing up. Just because she wouldn't go out with him?" Nasal voice asked in amazement.
"Definitely." Puberty Boy confirmed.
Using the skills he'd utilized from his time in the Corps and in, well-the entirety of his career. Like the shadow he use to get to be, he melted into the background and passed the doorway. From one frame edge to the other, he only managed to get a swift glance into the room.
From their positions, and the lighting he could only make out one face.
A kid named...Gred Forge? Or at least he thought, was the one he could identify to be the nasal voice.
But Puberty Boy was hidden in the shadows, and Gibbs couldn't take any longer or go any closer to see who he was. Not without, giving himself up, and well-two people gossiping. Wasn't all that important right now.
'No,' he thought later, when he was sitting at his desk again. Staring at his desk phone, 'it's about the fact that people seem to think I set all this up. Just because...she said...no.'
It wasn't.
It really wasn't.
His hand drifted to the cradle, and picked up the extension. He should be calling his contacts and working on finding out what the hell was wrong with FBI agent's right now.
But...instead...his fingers were dialing a different number.
At midnight on a Wednesday, Director Leroy Jethro Gibbs picked up his phone and dialed the number to one Director Jennifer Shepard.
He waited with bated breath as the phone rang.
"Hello?"
She was sitting at her desk, just thinking over everything. The-infuriating-conversation she had had with Ziva, and how wrong her last words had been.
Not...that they had been wrong. They had been right. He had implied those...connotations.
He had.
Hadn't he?
The phone ringing brought her out of her reveries, and she didn't even have the presence of mind to wonder who could be calling her this late. At her office.
"Hello?" She answered, picking up the phone and bringing it to her ear.
She heard heavy breathing.
"Um...hello," a deep voice greeted her back. A deep, deep baritone that sent shivers down her spine, and anger to her heart all at the same time.
"Director Gibbs," she hissed.
"Jennifer." He fired back, and he didn't even take the time to wonder why she would be in her office this late. He hadn't before he'd called her, somehow he'd known. Known that she was the type to be in the office at midnight on a Wednesday.
"Thought we agreed it was Ms. Shepard."
"Thought we agreed it was Gibbs."
She glanced at the clock on her computer with a reluctant smirk. Oh god she should be screaming at him. Yelling curse words down the phone, and yet she was this close to smiling.
This banter they had going on...it was invigorating.
"Maybe this time we'll be able to beat our record, and have a twenty minute conversation," she said in sarcastic wonderment.
"And what was our last one?" Gibbs too was getting sucked into the conversation, he was well aware that they would be at each other's throats in minute. But for now, couldn't he enjoy a conversation with a woman that was intelligent. Knew she was intelligent, and wasn't afraid to show her intelligence.
"Fifteen minutes."
He chuckled slightly, and the line went silent. The time stolen, time they'd taken to actually enjoy a bit of today, was about to be given back in anger and-hopefully-explanations.
"Why did you call me, Gibbs?" She asked him, all playfulness gone. Serious infused every inch of her.
"I don't know." For the first time in forever, Gibbs admitted to someone that he didn't have all the answers.
It made a knot inside of him-ease.
"Didn't think I would be at home by now?" She questioned with an edge.
"Didn't really think about it at all."
The line went silent once more, and all Jenny could hear was his heavy breathing.
It was oddly comforting.
He might've been content to let the silence remain, but she wasn't. "So, did you see Mrs. Sterling's report today." Her voice tensely goaded him.
"Ms. Shepard, let's go get coffee..."
...
...
"You bastard," she whispered hoarsely. If he could see her now, he might've laughed. Her eyes were widened comically, and she looked furious and as if she'd just been slapped all at once. It was like deja vu.
"You don't get it do you?" Growled Jenny.
Gibbs stayed silent.
"You can do this. Set up agent's and director's to take the fall. You can do this all without facing the consequences! All because you have your assistant's, every subordinate you have-take your place in the camera flashes. Hell, Gibbs! Half the people in the intelligence community think you've been dead for the past ten years!"
The bastard was still quiet.
"YOU can do that all and not worry that someone's going to claim you are unqualified! You can accept a freaking date, and not worry that the only reason they're asking you out is because they heard rumors that you slept your way to the top! You don't have to do everything, and anything to command respect all because you sometimes wear a skirt and not pants!"
"Senator Winters is a cross-dresser," Gibbs revealed...
"...Ha," she chuckled weakly. Her body going limp with shock once again, she wanted to stay angry at him. She still was, but he was making it pretty hard to continue this...until he...said...
"So you wanna get coffee or not?"
Her eyes slid shut, and she gave a muffled scream of frustration. Her feet stomped briefly against the carpet. She had the irrational urge to tell him that he was just being...mean, while unbidden tears pricked at her eyes.
YES, she wanted to get coffee with him. And that infuriated her!
"Gibbs-you, you- know what? You pulled this stunt. Doctored the video, got the reporter-who has a kid with agent Fornell-to release it to the press. You ruined my name in that one report. I'm still such a new figurehead that, that one bad press release can have me destroyed. And...you want me to go get coffee with you?! You know what? If you ever want a shot of me getting coffee with you, then you go out in front of everyone. Get back in the world Gibbs, and tell people the truth. Then-...then, you can call me to collect."
"Other than that, then I'll see you in hell Gibbs."
With that Jennifer Shepard hung up on Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
...
...
She looked back at her computer...they'd lasted five minutes.
A wry chuckle escaped her, and she shook her head in resignation. Her head swam with all the emotions that had swamped her in the last five minutes alone.
She was exhausted, and after her conversation with him there was a good chance she might actually sleep when she got home.
The next day, Jenny came in late.
Carrying a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, and her briefcase in the other. She stepped off the elevator and into the squad room. Only to be greeted by the sight of all of her teams, huddled around their individual TV's.
Trying to catch a glimpse at one screen, and wondering if the world was ending and she just hadn't been informed. She made her way over to the MCRT's section.
Tony, Ziva, and Tim were all gathered around their screen. Tim and DiNozzo with expressions of shock, while Ziva looked like she was wondering what was the big deal.
None of them noticed her approach, standing behind them she arched her neck and stood on her tiptoes.
She gasped.
On the screen was a press conference, a single podium set up with mics positioned all around it.
The FBI emblem was emblazoned on the front. Black suited men that were identical to the one's she had on her own security detail-only ten times-more of them, were also surrounding the edges of the podium.
The crowd in front of the stage, that held multiple press reporters, silenced at some unseen signal. And Jenny glanced around, everyone seemed to be holding their breath.
She was too, but she knew what was about to happen.
It was the shock of it all.
Walking across the stage right now; dressed in a black suit and tie that matched his detail's, was one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The elusive FBI director had resurfaced.
He was getting back out in the world.
He was going to tell the public the truth.
She didn't need to stay in the bullpen any longer, didn't need to watch the release. Didn't need to later hear, that the FBI director no one was really sure existed anymore, had issued a public retraction.
Stating that the fight had been no one's fault.
'Unreliable sources,' he'd said.
'Director Shepard remained polite and diplomatic,' he had challenged a reporter.
She hadn't had to hear any of that, so she'd made her way up the stairs and over the catwalk. That day Jenny hadn't waited with everyone else to hear the words of that man, but had retreated into her office.
After all, she was expecting a call from a man about collecting on a coffee date.
A/N: GONNA BE A LONG A/N. Think this is the longest chapter I've ever wrote. Don't expect one this long every time. Lol. Okay so first, sorry about the whole Tobias 'Man Whore' thing yea...that was pretty stupid... (: actually my humor is pretty stupid. So dang I felt like I had expectations to live up to! It was a weird feeling! Sorry, if this let any of you down. I'm trying on this but this is the first type of story like this that I've wrote. And it's a hard thing to break into. And where I live it's 3 a.m. So I'm going to bed THIS CHAPTER NEEDS TO BE READ OVER FOR MISTAKES. But y'all seemed pretty excited for an update, so I'm just going to update it now. Then in five hours when I wake up I'll check over it. AND THE CURSING. I DIDN'T LIKE THE AMOUNT I PUT IN IT SO I'LL CHANGE THAT TOO
And rated M...I plan to turn this into an M rated fic, like in the next chapter type of soon. But if too many of you are against it, then I may not do it. So let me know...
"But we're not stupid-we know we're called Gred and Forge." ~Harry Potter, the Twins.