AN: To the people who reviewed and weren't logged in, thank you very much for your kind words anyway.
Drake's Drum
Chapter 3
McGee nodded dumbly, in a state to refuse any comfort. "But I said you weren't Gibbs… I –"
"No," Tony said patiently. "That was everyone else."
That did the trick; Tim's chin shot up in defence of the girls. "Tony, they didn't mean it –"
"They didn't mean it the way I took it." They did, but he wasn't going to beat McGee up about it. He was over it. "I get that. Now, can we forget the whole thing? Look…" his hand dropped from his friend's shoulder. "Listen… Don't go on a guilt trip over this. Yeah, I felt bad at the time. Yeah, going to Rota kind of brought things back. But you can't seriously be thinking poor Tony here… like I said, there were so many things going on. The Ziva thing; Ducky was angry…"
"Everything went back to what it was; except that it didn't."
"No. You'd been a SFA, and I'd been a Boss, and suddenly I was calling you Probie again…"
"Gibbs tore me off a strip about it; he said Franks still calls him Probie."
"He heard that conversation?" Tim nodded, and Tony's face twisted. "I might have known. He never said a thing to me."
"What, about tearing me one?"
"No… wouldn't have wanted him to do that. It'd be like telling tales. But he… I could have done with a word from him right then… he never said anything to me about being good enough… or not… guess he thought I wasn't."
"Tony…I am so wishing I'd never started this… everything's the opposite of what I tried to do."
Tony shook his head. "No, it isn't. You're here, aren't you? Look, McOverguilty, maybe this'll convince you… the hazing… yes, it's been a defence thing since I was a kid, you should hear the things I said to my Dad's pompous dinner guests, inside my head of course; yes, it's how we were in the frat house all the time, it'd the only way we knew how to treat each other; and yes, I started doing it to you with the intention of hardening you off a bit… but I tease – you – and Ziva, because I like it. Because it's fun. And I like it when you fight back – it becomes a battle of wits. I've never said I was a nice guy, McGee – so don't see me as a victim here. Get mad at me; you'll soon forget that night."
"Get mad at you? OK." Tim's voice took on the tone of obeying instructions to the letter. "What about?"
"Well, not right now, McGee –" He realised he'd been suckered, and burst out laughing. Tim joined in, and Tony clapped him on the shoulder again. His face went serious, stern, even, and he wagged his finger. "So you forget about it, right? It's done. You forget it."
Abby rode the elevator up from her lab, then stopped, horrified, in the doorway. She hadn't expected anyone to be here so early. She'd had a fascinating night playing with a mini-submarine, and knowing how conscientious Gibbs was at reading his emails, she'd brought an interim written report to leave on his desk – and now she'd walked in on a confrontation. Tony had her Timmy by the shoulder, and was waving a hand under his nose, telling him to 'forget it' about something. Tim, his back to her, was lifting his hands defensively, and agreeing, "OK, OK!"
Abby didn't hesitate. She stormed across the room, erupting. "Tony! What d'you think you're doing, Mister? Leave Tim alone! Just because you're Senior Field Agent doesn't mean you can bully him!" Tim began to turn towards her, and she realised he had a grin on his face, just as she yelled, "You're not Gibbs!"
Tim winced. Tony's shoulders dropped, so did his head, and his whole body twisted away from her so she couldn't see his face as he sat down. When he looked up again, he was smiling. "Hey, Abbs… did you like the present we brought you back from Spain?"
Abby looked confused. "Tony…why were you shouting at Tim? And Timmy, why were you smiling about it? And what are you both doing here so early in the morning, because Gibbs always gets in before anyone else, and what's Tim supposed to forget, and why are you looking at me like that?"
Tony looked at his fellow agent with an expression that was practically pleading, and Tim said consideringly, "Well… Abby… Tony wasn't shouting; there's no-one else in the place so we don't have to raise our voices. I was grinning because Tony was being so serious. We're early because we have a lot of things we need to discuss, I've forgotten what I was supposed to forget, and we're looking at you like that because you managed to ask five questions in one breath. We're amazed at your skill."
"McGee! You're teasing me!"
"Abby, Tony wasn't having a go at me. We were talking about the Rota trip and some points it brought up. Have you been here all night looking at the sub?"
"How did you know?"
The two men grinned.
"Orange –" Tony said.
"Coverall." Tim agreed.
"Har. It's still very early for you to be having discussions – unless you don't want anyone else to hear them." She put her sheet of notes on Gibbs' desk and turned back to them. "Who are you keeping secrets from? Gibbs or Ziva?"
"I do not believe they are keeping them from me, Abby," Ziva said, emerging from the elevator. She looked from one man to the other. "Well, I thought we had things to talk about, and you have beaten me to it, McGee." She wrinkled her nose, as Tim had done. "You have been here all night, Tony!"
"I don't smell that bad!"
"You took Thierry Mugler to Spain, but now you are wearing Herrera, and it is fresh. You have just had a shower."
The SFA pulled a wry face. "It's a fair cop. So, Ziva, what urgent things do we have to talk about?"
"I have come to help," Ziva said as if it were perfectly obvious. "I called you last night, and got no reply, and I did not think you had enough energy left to be drowning your sorrows in a bar somewhere. I thought it likely that you stayed here." She sighed, and laid her hand on Abby's arm. "Abby, you care about Gibbs very much. You need to know that you must not speak of this to him unless we all agree that we should, or, you need to go back down to your submarine and pretend you know nothing of this."
"Of what, Ziva? Drowning what sorrows? What's wrong with Bossman?"
"Have you truly not noticed his distance from us? Or the alarming way he has been treating Tony?"
"Ziva, Gibbs would never be distant! And he'd never, never treat Tony badly! He's Gibbs! He loves us all, he goes Poppa Bear for us –"
Ziva said, as gently as she could, "Maybe you do not see it, because you are usually down in your lab. But we have noticed a difference lately – we are not imagining it."
"No… no –" Abby held up both hands. "Gibbs loves us. He wouldn't hurt any of us. What are you doing? I'm not listening to this… I'm going back to my submarine, like you said –"
"Abby!"
NCISNCISNCIS
Enough, Gibbs thought as he drove, you've let it go on long enough, you know it, and nobody can put a stop to it but you. Abby's never going to tell a soul, neither's Vance, you either tell DiNozzo, or you shut up for ever, and damn well live with it, and stop taking your own guilt out on him. If he thinks less of you, so be it.
Even now, with years of hindsight, he had no regrets about the deed, but it was a terrible secret to ask anyone to share. Vance had regarded it, as he had, as the execution of a murderer, the removal of a cancer; his anger had been for the trouble it had caused NCIS, and the difficulty of cleaning it up. Abby, however, was another thing. She didn't see life in shades of grey… He never asked her outright, but he knew that she had been close to telling the truth. Her idol had feet of clay – however much she loved him, her forensics said he had committed murder, and so he had, no matter how he dressed it.
He was afraid of telling Tony. He didn't want another person he cared about to see him diminished…
You're a self-indulgent old bastard; you don't bother to control your bad temper; just go on expecting him to suck it up, and deflecting it from the rest of the team… dammit, you were pleased when you found out he'd got a secret of his own – meant you had a reason to be mad at him, 'stead of just being mad anyhows. Like you shouldn't have figured it out a long time ago.
He shifted down a gear hard; he ought to have been ashamed of himself.
"Moreton's seriously screwed things up, Jethro. He's being recalled – I'm not sure if he's a criminal or just criminally stupid. I need you to take your team out to Rota and sort the mess out. Starting with who killed Seaman Freeman." Vance laughed grimly. "Don't know what DiNozzo'll think when he sees what he's missed. It pains me to admit, but none of this would have happened if he'd been there."
He'd grunted something non-committal, and hoped his face hadn't revealed his shock. Vance had offered Tony the posting before Moreton, and he'd turned it down. No… Vance wouldn't have offered; he didn't like the man, at least, he hadn't two years ago…and he knew he'd be up against Gibbs if he did. The hell – had he been dropping hints that he'd offer Tony the position now it was vacant again?
It had been Jenny… he recalled the SFA accidentally letting it out that he was on first name terms with her, and he remembered her telling him what a good job Tony had done in his absence. As usual at the time, he'd only half listened; he'd only half a memory anyway then, and couldn't even figure out how the guy had got on his team, let alone become his second in command. The man he'd written off as a doofus at the time had given up his own team, hindered his own future career, to stay with him at a time when he hadn't even realised how badly off he'd be without him… Enough. It was stupid to be angry that he'd never been told, he ought to be thankful.
But if he'd been told, he'd have worked through the guilt by now instead of having it dumped on him. So it was fine to have his own secrets and not worry about confessing them to DiNozzo. He'd felt, really felt, the lash of his SFA's anger a few times, and he could take that; but now he imagined seeing censure – hell, contempt even – in the perceptive green eyes, and while his soul shrivelled a little more, his anger flared – but not at himself.
What could DiNozzo know of it? How dare he judge him? He hasn't, Jethro. No, well he's not going to get the damn chance.
The guard at the gate lifted the barrier as he saw the familiar Daytona Yellow car approaching, and he swung in with a sketchy wave of acknowledgement. His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he saw that in an otherwise empty parking lot DiNozzo's, McGee's and Ziva's cars stood in a line, with Abby's hot-rod one slot away, leaving his usual space for him. He frowned as he got out of the Challenger, and stood looking at them, unease stirring in his gut.
Disquiet was followed by another rush of anger; he didn't believe in coincidence. Why had they agreed to such an early start – what were they saying behind his back that they couldn't say to his face? This would be DiNozzo's doing; those damn campfires he used to be so fond of… had he organised one without him? To whine about him? Did he really think he could do that and not be found out? What were the rest of them thinking about, going along with it? They were his team, not DiNozzo's…
In the back of his mind a tiny voice was saying, 'you're not thinking straight… this is what stressing over your Dad for four months does, having no-one to talk to about it; this is guilt talking…' and he might have listened, but he was taking the stairs so they wouldn't hear the elevator, and it made his knee hurt, and as he emerged from the stairwell he heard Abby's voice, high and thin with indignation.
"…What are you doing? I'm not listening to this… I'm going back to my submarine, like you said –"
"Abby!"
Gibbs strode forwards as he said her name, ready to rescue her. "What the hell are you doing, DiNozzo?" His voice was a low, enraged growl. "You've got these two doing your thing, whatever it is, and now you're trying to bully Abby into getting involved? You want to tell me what you're up to? Behind my back? With my team?"
He leaned threateningly over Tony, who rose to his feet slowly, and spoke softly, his face stiff.
"McGee, Ziva… why don't you go with Abby down to the evidence garage, so she can show you what she's been doing with the sub all night?" For a long moment, nobody spoke, then Tim put his arm round Abby's shoulders and began to turn her away. He mouth was a dark, round O of shock.
As they left, Ziva said over her shoulder, "Gibbs, the only one who has spoken to Abby since she came up to the bull pen is myself. I shall be happy, when I return, to tell you what I said. Tony has not said one word." She disappeared into the elevator.
Gibbs turned back to Tony, taking a disbelieving breath to begin venting his fury, but Tony started first, low and intense.
"Do you want me to go? Are you trying to make it so unpleasant for me that I'll request a transfer? Is that it? It won't work. I made up my mind in Peoria a long time ago that I wouldn't be forced out through the back door – if you want me off the team, you tell me to my face, and explain why. Don't try to put the decision on me, so you can go round saying, 'Oh, DiNozzo quit'. Because I won't. What would you do if I did, huh? If I wasn't around to take your bad temper? Would you start on the others once I wasn't around to protect them? Cuz they wouldn't take half of what I do before they'd spit in your eye and go!"
"You saying you protect them from me, DiNozzo?"
Tony's smouldering glare hit him between the eyes. "You saying I don't?"
Gibbs couldn't answer that one without agreeing with his SFA, which he wasn't about to do. He looked at Tony and suddenly realised that the younger man was beyond angry, although he was holding his distance and not getting in Gibbs' face, waiting for an answer. He reacted with matching anger himself, even though that awkward little voice inside was still saying 'don't do this'…
"I don't know what you're doing, Dinozzo, but if you've got a grouse with me, you tell me, you don't hold a meeting with the rest of the team. And you've no damn right to involve Abby –"
"You don't know what I'm doing? Behind your back? Not a damn thing! Abby came up to leave her notes on your desk. She wasn't expecting to find anyone here. I've been here all night. Couldn't seem to go home. The others, well, they independently decided the same thing – that I must be here and I might like someone to talk to. Just like good team-mates would. And if you want me to tell you about a grouse, why not pull up a chair and sit down, cuz we'll be here a while!"
"I'll stand."
Tony shrugged. "Then so will I." But he took care not to close the distance between them. If Gibbs wanted to choke the daylights out of him, he'd have to come over here to do it. "Shall I start? You've been on my case since the Mexico thing – since Abby met Mr. Oily Aly-handro Rivera. I could live with it, not the first time. But since you walked in here and said we were going to Rota, you can't stand the sight of me. And since I'm not good at mind-reading, and guess-work just hasn't been doing it for me either, you want to tell me why that is?"
Gibbs hesitated. He didn't want to go anywhere near the subject of secrets. There wasn't a plot; his anger was beginning to dissipate, but oh boy, Tony's wasn't.
"You're exaggerating."
Tony leaned on his desk, stiff armed, head down, then he looked up again. His eyes were mad. "Like hell I am."
No avoiding it then. Damn it if he wasn't going to force him where he didn't want to go. Well, what was the alternative? Tell him to shut up, and recommend him for immediate transfer? DiNozzo? "All right then… you want to explain to me why I had to find out from the Director that you turned down team lead at Rota? You couldn't be bothered to tell me yourself?"
"When d'you suggest I should have told you?"
"Well –"
"You couldn't even remember my name… Davenport himself walked in one day and you didn't know who he was. So I called him 'Mr. Secretary of the Navy' to remind you, and got looked up and down as if I was being a smartass. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have had a freakin' clue where Rota even was… So I'm supposed to say, 'Oh, Boss, I've been offered my own team on the other side of the Atlantic. But don't you worry, I'm staying here to look after you!' Sure. And the longer it went on, the less it seemed as if anyone would give a damn anyway."
He shook his head miserably. "You overheard Tim and me talking that night. I only just found that out. He didn't think I merited my own team. Now he's feeling guilty, even though I've told him there's no need. You spoke to him, but you never said anything to me… you think you'd have been ready to listen if I'd talked to you? You think I'd have wanted to hear you agreeing with him? And d'you know what's worse now? I've seen the set-up there, and I would have done a damn good job. For the first time since I told Jenny I wouldn't go, I'm wondering if I made the wrong decision. That good enough for you, Boss?"
AN: I've re-written this three times, still not sure about Gibbs' voice. Can't face a fourth time, if it won't make it any better. Dear, dear, the old girl's feeling insecure tonight…
