AN: A couple of things – I usually research actual drugs when I write about them, but I don't want to be sued, so these are made up ones. I don't know what terminology is used for USA planning regulations so I've used English ones. I don't own NCIS, or profit from it in any way, but would like to thank those who do for letting Tony grow up, and MW for insisting on it. Oh, that's three things.

Prime Real Estate

Chapter 2

"You took your sweet time plucking up the courage to come in," she said bluntly. "Er… I mean, hello, DiNozzo, so you're my babysitter, then?"

Her drawn face was flat, her eyes mean; there wasn't even a hint of amusement in her tone.

Tony crossed the room, and stood looking down at her with his head on one side. After making a great show of thinking about it, he said, "You don't look like a baby."

Jeanette glared and bristled. "But you think I'm acting like one?"

Not wanting to loom over her, but not wanting her to think he was humouring her, the tall agent sat down on the window ledge. He regarded her with the same quizzical expression. "I only know one baby," he said innocently, "and she always smiles when she sees me."

"I don't feel like smiling," Jinny said petulantly. "I don't want company. I don't want a nursemaid. I told Ollie –"

"I was a babysitter a minute ago," Tony pointed out.

"Whatever! I told Ollie I was fine by myself. He knew better of course –"

"Of course. What happens if you need the bathroom… or a coffee… or the phone rings?" He gestured at her wheelchair, that stood maybe six feet from the one she sat in, seemingly just out of reach. He wondered if she'd kicked it away, which would have hurt her, which would have made her even madder, then saw the rubber scuff mark on the wall at the level of the foot-rest and knew he was right.

He thought of the happy, brainy girl who could never quite conceal the delight she felt when she pulled up that one salient fact that her husband had mentioned. He'd seen the same thing in McGee, the pleasure and the attempt to hide it; it had always made him smile inside. He, of course, never made any attempt to hide it when he'd done something smart. Hell, the only thing that'd shut him up was a Gibbs-slap, which was probably why he did it… forget the probably.

Gibbs-slaps… he knew how he was going to play this. He went on blithely, "No, you'd ignore the phone of course, unless you felt like yelling. What if it was Kath? D'you know, I believe you'd yell at her right now. What would you have done? Fallen out of that chair and dragged yourself to your wheels? Or to the phone? You were considering it, weren't you. You'd have hurt yourself more. Very sensible. You sure you don't need a nursemaid?"

Jeanette jerked forward in her tall chair, eyes furious. "You just going to sit there and make fun of me, DiNozzo? When I can't fight back?"

He grinned in the most infuriating way he could, and Tony DiNozzo was a very good actor. "Oh, you can still fight, Jinny. Tell you what," he goaded, "Let's make the playing field more even. I'll lift you back into your chair, then you can run me down."

"Bastard! You just make a joke of everything! You're a clown, that's all you are, an empty-headed clown. How are you ever a Fed?"

The clown emerged less frequently these days, and only when he was needed, and anyway, he was trying to make her mad, so her words slid off him like water off the proverbial duck. She realised it, lost it, remembered 'Renato', and went for the throat.

"D'you put on an act all the time because there's nothing underneath? Mr. Hollow Man?"

"Wow… a movie reference… Josh Brolin, 2000… Nice one, Jinny –"

"Damn you, you heartless –" She looked at him, really looked, for the first time, hoping to see some reaction, and realised with a strange knotting of her stomach that the pain she was ashamed and pleased to see in his eyes was for her, not at her words.

She slumped back against the wing of her chair. "What are you doing, DiNozzo?"

He slid from the window ledge and onto his knees in front of her chair. "Digging," he said softly. "Looking for someone. Looking for Jinny."

She leaned forwards again, and covered her face with her hands; when she drew them slowly down again, her expression was anguished. "She's gone… she'll never come back…"

"Ollie's certain she will."

"I know! That's why he married me," she said desperately.

"No… he married you because he loves you."

"Yes… no… I mean – he married me when he did because he thought I'd get better. But what if I don't? What if he finds I can't? If he realises he's never going to get a whole wife again… what then?"

"Life's full of what ifs," Tony said wryly. He stood up with a grunt which he hoped she wouldn't realise was manufactured. "Can't stay down there for long," he told her. He leaned in. "Cm'ere… put your arm round my neck and hang on." Ever quick on the uptake, she realised what he was doing, and didn't object, as he slid an arm under her shoulders, and the other, carefully, under her knees. All the time he was waiting for a moan, or a flinch, that would tell him he was hurting her, but there was none. He carried her over to the big sofa which took up most of the rest of the room, and lowered her down carefully, noting how she moved her legs, with a bit of a frown but without help, into a comfortable position. He passed her a pile of squishy cushions, and waited while she arranged them, thankful to see she still didn't need his help.

He regarded her thoughtfully. He knew she suffered a lot of pain, but clearly wasn't too bad right now, so she must be on pretty good painkillers. He wondered if they suppressed her appetite. "Would you like anything to eat, or drink?"

"You don't have to be my nur – to look after me," she protested feebly.

"I'm quite good at it. Do you?"

"OK… tea?"

When they were settled with a couple of steaming mugs, (he also found some tempting looking shortbreads and put them on a plate enticingly near her elbow,) Jeanette comfortable on the sofa, Tony perched close by on a large leather foot-stool, he took a deep breath.

"Go on…" Jinny said resignedly, "I'm behaving like a brat. I get worked up and I don't know how to stop myself."

"You're behaving…" Tony said slowly, "like someone whose life's been turned upside down, with a side order of terrible pain, who's feeling insecure about the future..."

"And who's behaving like a brat about it…"

Tony rocked back on the leather stool until it squeaked in protest, and Jinny actually giggled. "Ollie does that," she said. "He makes it fart."

"You know he loves you, no matter what, right?"

"I believe what he says… but what if –"

"I should settle for just believing him. Next wise thought of DiNozzo… If there hadn't been an improvement… if you weren't getting better, d'you think the head shebang from New York would have let you out of hospital, or taken that contraption off your leg?"

"No… Tony I know that's true… Ollie says it too, and I know it's true, but…" Jinny came to a halt in despair.

"You're fine now," Tony pointed out gently.

"It'll start again as soon as I've got nothing else to think about, or I get a pain."

"Mmm… you 'get worked up' – your words – and it all takes off again. Have you thought of talking –"

"To a shrink? They tried to get me to speak to a counsellor in the hospital, but I didn't have the energy or the patience." She sighed and shuddered, and tried to repress a yawn. "I still get so damn tired."

Tony pointed to the red plush snuggle-rug that was folded neatly over the end of the sofa. "Do you want to take a nap? It looks like you do sometimes."

"Would you mind?" Tony grinned and shook his head. "Well then…"

He helped her to swing her legs up onto the couch, and covered her with the rug as she lay down on her side. "Thanks, Tony…"

"We're not done talking yet," he told her seriously. "Sweet dreams anyway."

"Mmmm…"

He drew the drapes to darken the room for her, and wandered off into the kitchen, where he'd noticed the dishwasher needed emptying and refilling, and when he glanced into the utility room he saw that the clothes basket was overflowing. He supposed Ollie didn't have much time for such things just now, and settled down to an hour of domesticity.

NCISNCISNCIS

Tim sat in the old wheelchair that Ollie had promised him, in front of a desk that had him thinking of a boomerang, or a Gibson Flying V. The top was coated in a frictionless pale blue-grey stippled finish, so that an optical mouse could be used anywhere without the need for a mat. The height of the desk could be adjusted easily by a hand operated hydraulic lever, so a chair could be wheeled underneath, then the desk set at any height. There was a recess to store a gel wrist support, a coffee mug cradle that could be clipped on either wing, and height-adjustable racks that swung in and out, including one to hold a printer and a fax machine.

In front of him an odd collection of cereal packets, Pringle drums and shoeboxes represented equipment, and Tim was just finishing a complicated set of operational mimes that had the staff of Equipease mesmerised, when Caroline's phone shrilled.

"Is he, indeed? I knew I'd need that shotgun. Hold on, Emma…" She looked rather grimly at Oliver. "I'm rather glad you're here. Ackerman just arrived. With company."

"How many?" the cop asked. Caroline went to a monitor similar to the one in the break room, hung from the ceiling where anyone prone to fiddling with electrical gear couldn't reach it, and pulled a remote from some hiding place that even Tim didn't see. The picture came up of Emma's desk, where the young receptionist sat with two average and one rather larger man hulking over her.

"Which one's Ackerman?" Ollie asked.

"Moe," Caroline said darkly, pointing to a guy with dark straight hair that spread out like a mop from a central point on his crown. "I don't recognise Curly or Larry. And I was only joking about the shotgun. Unfortunately."

"Good," Ollie said. "You leave this to us. Do you have a store-room or something in your office?"

"I have a loo…"

"That'll do nicely. Tim, will you go along with this? I know we've already promised you an explanation."

"Ackerman ba-a-ad… that's good enough for me…" They hurried to Caroline's inner sanctum, and were standing silently like two naughty kids smoking in the school toilets, when Emma showed the three stooges in to where Caroline sat at her desk, radiating Cool And Unflappable.

"Mr. Ackerman, gentlemen… do sit down." She smiled sweetly, as there was only one chair. Curly, who had hired muscle written all over him, stood by the door. Larry, who wore specs and carried a briefcase, looked around hopefully, then sat on a side table. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"Miz Yorke, my employers were wondering if you had considered their offer yet?"

"As I told you last time, and the time before, there's nothing to consider. I've told you my terms, they won't change."

"Ah. We were hoping to get something settled today. This is Mr. Swinson, of Swinson and Perks law firm of Arlington."

Larry came forward as if commanded, coughed politely, and offered a document from his brief case. "You'll see, Miz Yorke, that our client has substantially increased his offer. He wishes me to stress that this is to expedite the transaction as soon as possible. It's a very generous offer."

Caroline took the document, quickly got to the relevant parts and shrugged. "My concerns are not addressed, Mr. Swinson. The only thing different is the number of zeros, and they don't come near what this land would be worth as prime real estate."

She got up and paced, ostensibly to relieve her tension, but more to be nearer to the door behind which her allies lurked.

"Just in case Mr. Ackerman hasn't explained, allow me. When this place was in the middle of a swamp I bought the land cheap because no-one else wanted it. I started the business in a small way, and it grew. Which is why the building is an architect's nightmare. We built what we needed, when we could afford it. I'm aware that the draining benefited Equipease by accident, and that this carbuncle of a factory would be a serious blot on a residential landscape."

She paused, and her voice grew hard. "I'm very well aware that people buying your new houses wouldn't want a 'bunch of retards' in their midst, and frankly, I wouldn't want my people bothered by prejudice from them! What they have here is a way to find their own levels, and be happy. I intend to see that they keep that. I won't have their quality of life interrupted.

"Which is why my terms have nothing to do with money. I've no objection to going; to your building houses here. What I want is a purpose-built factory, in a quiet area, ready for us to move into. Before you knock my carbuncle down and build a couple of the ritziest houses up here on the hill. We're not going, under any circumstances, until we have somewhere decent to go. Build, or fit us decent premises and we're gone."

Ackerman frowned, and wouldn't let the lawyer answer. "I've explained many times that we can't do that. If we don't cut the first earth soon, county planning regulations have to all be redone. Our contractors are ready to move. We need to begin now, Miz Yorke."

"Then why haven't you spent the last ten weeks having your contractors fit me a factory, instead of assuming I'd capitulate? We're finished here, gentlemen. Redo your planning applications, then we'll start again. I'll have Emma show you out."

As she moved towards the door, Curly stepped in front of it. They'd been expecting this, since it was the first time Ackerman had brought muscle with him it was clearly a new tactic he was intending to try. Tim and Ollie tensed, but didn't move yet. They could just see the large man through the tiny aperture they'd left, and he was standing in a non-threatening way so far.

"Are you sure you won't move under any circumstances, Miz Yorke? I'm sure that accidental cutting of the power cable last month must have caused you great inconvenience. There are lots of things that can go wrong in an isolated spot like this… a collapse of the causeway, a fire… you really would be safer in a different location."

His pause was heavy with unspoken threat. "Some of your staff –"

Caroline had agreed to let Ackerman hang himself, but she was in his face like the tigress Ollie had said she was.

"Oh, no! You WON'T threaten my people! Don't –"

Swinson stepped in smoothly. "Nobody's making any threats, Miz Yorke." He shot a warning look at Ackerman. "We're simply pointing out that it's in your own best interests to sign now. The money would be available immediately; you could rent –"

"Tell your goon to move away from the door." Curly looked hurt, and didn't move. "We don't go until I can tell them we've somewhere of our own to go to."

"You're being unreasonable," Ackerman said, not bothering to hide his fury. He shoved the papers under her nose. "Sign. Now. Let's be done with this."

Curly moved towards Caroline, took her by the shoulders and pushed her down in her chair. Ackerman picked up a pen from her desk and thrust it at her, grabbing her wrist. "Sign, dammit."

"Don't think so," Ollie said cheerfully, stepping out from his hiding place. "Heard a lot about you, Mr. Ackerman. Nice to finally meet you."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Well," Tim said, stepping into view, "he's a cop, and I'm a fed, and that's all you need to know."

"No it's not," Ollie said patiently. "They need to know that they'd better not ever come back."

"Oh, that goes without saying."

Caroline was beginning to smile. Swinson decided to go for damage limitation, and said politely, "Gentlemen, my client will leave now. No threats have been made; he was merely pointing out some important facts. We don't wish to seem like troublemakers."

Ackerman shot him a glare, but followed the lawyer's lead and subsided.

"No threats," Tim said derisively, although he knew that in court the lawyer would be able to carry that point. "What's the matter with your wrist, Caroline?"

Again Ackerman looked belligerent; he had the air of a schoolboy who was about to say 'I didn't do nothin', but again, the lawyer carefully stepped in. "Mr Ackerman, these gentlemen clearly didn't see from where they were, how you tried to prevent Miz Yorke from stumbling as she sat down. Those elegant shoes have very high heels…"

Tim took a close look at the lawyer. He deferred to Ackerman, but his eyes were sharp and calculating. The man was a lizard. "Leave," the agent said. "All three of you. If you come back we'll arrest you."

"Sir, that would require an injunction –"

"There'll be one in place within the hour. Leave."

Curly glowered at him as they went, but he walked quickly towards him and the man just as quickly turned away. Ollie grinned. "Wow," he said. "McIntimidating…" and laughed at the look of resignation on Tim's face. "Just call me DiNozzo," he said.

NCISNCISNCIS

The dishwasher was running, the whites were in the dryer and a load of coloureds were in the washing machine. The kitchen was clean and tidy, and Tony was hunting something appetising for lunch, when he heard a yelp from the living room. He hurried in. Jeanette was sitting up on the sofa and rubbing her right calf furiously.

"Hey, you OK?"

Uh-oh… silly question. The down-turned, mean mouth was trying to sneak back. "No. I need a pain-killer."

"I'll fetch them. Stop biting, you know I'll only bite back."

Jinny tried to smile. "Sorry. But I do need one. And the loo."

He fetched the pack, and a glass of water. Disefenac… not one he'd ever heard of, and he thought he knew every analgesic in creation. He brought the antibiotics that she was still taking for the wounds in her leg where the screws had gone through to the bone, and she took them meekly enough, before he lifted her into her chair, opened the door to the downstairs toilet for her, and left her to it.

He went to heat up the chicken soup he'd found in the freezer; it looked home made, and he guessed kind neighbour. He kept an ear out for Jinny at the same time, and after a while he heard the crash of the loo door being slammed overly hard, then the crunch of the living room door being barged open. The Jinny who bowled her way into the kitchen doorway was definitely the one he'd met that morning.

"Why are you cooking? I don't want food. I'm not hungry. I'm never hungry."

Tony waved the wooden spoon in a fairly rude gesture. "That didn't take you long."

"What? Going to the loo? What the hell would you care?"

"No… losing your temper again. It's as if…" He blinked as one of his random ideas materialised.

"What?"

He turned the gas off under the soup, spun her chair round and chugged her back into the living room, snatching up the painkillers as he went. He looked into the box. "There should be a leaflet with these…"

"There isn't," Jinny snapped. "We looked. I thought Ollie had lost it."

Tony shook his head. "I've got a feeling…" No information, plain pack but for the name – he was tapping speed-dial as he spoke.

"Hey, Patch… yeah, fine, you? How's your gorgeous wife, and my gorgeous god-daughter? Yeah, Sunday, not forgotten, I'll bring the ribs… course I want something, don't I always? What can you tell me about Disefenac?"

AN: The chapters won't always be this long… but I wanted to get to this point before I stopped.