Reconnection

Tony Version

By Gunnery Sergeant

The story is set during Season 5, after "Dog-Tags" but before "Judgment Day".

"Gear up!" Leroy Jethro Gibbs ordered his team as he pulled his desk drawer open and removed his weapon and badge from it. "We have a dead Marine in Arlington."

DiNozzo, Ziva and McGee rushed to grab their backpacks and quickly followed their leader toward the elevator.

The ride to Arlington was mostly a silent one, and Gibbs was grateful for it. He had awoken in a bad mood that morning, with a familiar sense of foreboding in his gut that told him something would happen that day and, whatever it was going to be, it probably wouldn't be good.

Of course, his team didn't know about this feeling of his, but they were aware that his knee had been bothering him a lot, due to the damp climate caused by a week of almost incessant rains.

So they prudently stayed silent and refrained from their customary bickering as he drove, allowing him to mull over what was bothering him, gut feeling aside.

To put it simply, Gibbs was feeling lonely— even if he would never admit it aloud. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but this time it had a different connotation from the past.

After Shannon and Kelly had been killed, Gibbs had been overwhelmed by how empty and lonely his house and his life had been. So, taken by the need to fill the emptiness and dispel the loneliness, he had remarried—again and again.

It hadn't gone well and when, finally, the divorces had been finalized, Gibbs had welcomed his solitude and the freedom to do what he wanted – staying late at the office, working on his boat well into the night, falling asleep in the basement, waking up in the middle of the night for a cup of coffee -- without hearing complaints and protests.

That period of grace had gone on for years, until Hollis Mann had entered his life. Their relationship hadn't lasted long, because Gibbs hadn't been able to open up to her about his secrets, but Hollis' presence and her subsequent disappearance from his life, had reawakened his loneliness.

Gibbs was rapidly coming to realize that working every night on the boat, while still being relaxing, was no longer as fulfilling as before. It would be much better if he had someone to talk to as he worked, or someone willing to help him.

And Gibbs knew exactly who he wanted with him.

They had a name and a surname: Anthony DiNozzo, his senior agent, who was currently sitting at his side on the passenger seat.

Gibbs had known from early age he was attracted to both sexes, but his experiences with men – all of them happened after Shannon and Kelly's deaths -- had never been overtly pleasant.

The heart of the matter was that while Gibbs was naturally dominant, he preferred gentle sex.

It was his way to unwound, and to reconnect with the kindest part of himself, the part that had been a doting father and a devoted husband.

Gibbs didn't enjoy causing pain or be violent in bed, even when he gave full rein to his instinct.

And yet, all the men he had attracted during his, admittedly few, walks on the wild side had wanted him to fuck them, the harder the better, and some had even wanted him to beat them into submission. Perhaps he had simply chosen the wrong places where to find company, but those experiences had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

So Gibbs had concentrated only on women, until Tony DiNozzo had entered his life. He didn't know, precisely, when he had started loving Tony, nor he cared about it. He just knew he loved Tony and hoped to have a future with the younger man.

However there were two problems with that: one, Tony seemed to be as hetero as they come. Gibbs had never seen him give a hint he might be bi as himself. Two, would what he had to offer be enough for Tony if, by some miracle, it turned out he loved Gibbs back?

Ultimately that was the cause of his current bad mood, because Leroy Jethro Gibbs wasn't used to feeling insecure, hesitant and without a direction—and he didn't like it in the least.

---

The crime scene was located in Glencarlyn Park, a few blocks away from Arlington National Cemetery.

There, sprawled on a wooden bench was the body of Lt. Paul Winters. He was lying on his back, an arm stretched as if to touch the grass beneath the bench, and looking asleep but for the deep gash at his throat.

"David, bag and tag! DiNozzo, photos and sketches. McGee, examine the area, from here to the nearest parking lot. I want to know how many people walked on this terrain after it rained yesterday evening—and I want to know where they went."

As his agents rushed to obey his orders, Gibbs walked toward a policeman who was standing nearby and who looked like he was dying to say something.

"Agent Gibbs," he said flashing his ID.

"Officer Daniels, Sir," the policeman, a young man probably fresh from the academy, answered, almost snapping to attention like a soldier.

"Did you find the body?" Gibbs asked opening his notepad.

"Yes, Sir. I usually cut through the park to reach my district. I saw him lying on that bench," Daniels used his hand to indicate Lt. Winters, "and I went to check him. Last month we found a dead homeless man in this park, the poor guy had died during the night because of the chilly weather. I wanted to make sure this man was fine, but…he was not."

Gibbs saw the policeman shudder and pale at the memory.

"What time was it when you found the body?"

"O6.34, Sir. I looked at my watch as I called in to dispatch."

"Did you move him?"

"Of course not, Sir!" Daniels sounded almost scandalized. "I just touched his wrist to see if I could find a pulse—not that I had many hopes, given the cut at his throat."

"How did you know he was a Marine? Did you look for his ID?"

"No, I saw the dog tags around his neck and used my pen to move them, so I could read them."

Gibbs grunted in approval. "And tell me, did you see anyone when you arrived here?"

"No, Sir, the park – or at least this section of it – was deserted when I arrived. I often see people jogging later in the year, when the sun rises earlier, but during the winter months it's still too dark in early morning…this morning more than usual."

"Why?" Gibbs asked, tilting his head.

"The lamps here in the park and in the nearby streets weren't working. I guess there has been a blackout. I had to use my flashlight to see where I was going."

Gibbs nodded, "That was a good report, Agent Daniels."

"Thank you, Sir!" the young policeman exclaimed, clearly pleased by the praise.

Gibbs turned around and saw that the NCIS truck had arrived and Ducky was working on the body. He quickly covered the distance separating him from his friend.

"Hi Duck," Gibbs said, kneeling at the ME's side with a grimace.

"Good morning, Jethro, or at least I hope it is. I see your knee is still bothering you. Have you applied the salve I prescribed you?"

"Yeah…" Gibbs answered with scarce enthusiasm. That salve smelled like rotten eggs, was difficult to remove from his hands and clothes and so far hadn't done any good. "What can you tell me?" he asked, tilting his chin toward the corpse.

"Estimated time of death between 00.00 and 02.00. As for the cause, well, it seems pretty clear, although I'm not going to take anything for granted. This poor fellow's throat was cut so deeply the head was almost severed. He must have bled out in a few minutes, even if…" Ducky's voice died as he observed the ground beneath the bench.

"What?" Gibbs prodded, impatient.

"The quantity of blood I see here isn't consistent with this kind of wound. There should be more blood, Jethro."

"Are you suggesting he was killed elsewhere and then moved here?"

"Maybe…but I can tell you that wherever he was killed, Lt. Winters didn't go down without a fight." Ducky raised one of the corpse's hands and pointed at the dark brown substance under the broken fingernails. "He tried to defend himself and this is dried blood. Hopefully our Abigail will discover to whom it belongs."

Gibbs just nodded.

"Would you help me to secure this evidence, Jethro?" Ducky asked, pointing to the hand he was still holding. "I sent Mr. Palmer to fetch the gurney and it seems he managed to get lost even in this park and on foot."

Gibbs nodded again and helped Ducky wrap Lt. Winters' hands inside two evidence bags, in order to protect them during transportation. As he did so, he hoped the blood beneath the dead man's finger nails would really be useful in catching the dirtbag who killed him. There was something unsettling in that murder, something that brought back memories Gibbs didn't want to remember and it set his gut feeling on red alert.