It may be nothing.
With that text to McGee, DiNozzo got out of his car and headed up the steps and in the front door. As Senior Field Agent – and Gibbs' friend – he couldn't stand by and let Gibbs go off on some undercover assignment without backup. If that's what this was.
Sure, if he disappeared every year as Ducky said, it was probably a visit to a long lost cousin, or a fishing trip, or even a monastic retreat. But if he hadn't learned it before NCIS, DiNozzo had it imprinted into his psyche by Gibbs that assumptions don't mean squat – you check. Everything.
But the more he thought about it during their day of interviews and debriefings, the more he had a bad feeling about another Gibbs-crusade brewing, and wanted to at least be nearby if his boss needed a hand. But before he went off half-cocked, and got anyone else involved with his snooping, he was here to gather intel. And when he stepped into Gibbs' house, the sight that met Tony caused his stomach to drop even further in its concern, one more familiar to him than he liked.
As he knew well, the former Gunny, a creature of well-trained habit, still prepared for an op as he always had, squaring away each kit and pack as he filled and checked them by placing them in the corner of his small dining area, ready to go. Tony's practiced eye took in at two rifle cases, at least one of which was Gibbs' own sniper rifle, one that could be used for long range, and the roll Gibbs packed with an emergency kit, stripped down outdoor sleeping gear, hiking boots and clothes for three or four days.
So he was going off the grid again, damn it. Not even Gibbs would pack like this for a spa retreat. No recent signs that he'd been itching for some new payback or self-appointed manhunt – was this some mission for the director? How did that square with Ducky saying that Gibbs disappeared every year? He was nearing the end of his patience with Gibbs' occasional unpredictability and being kept in the dark, not something he liked much generally but really aggravating where Gibbs' safety was concerned.
The sound of movement upstairs, followed by the soft creak of the steps as Gibbs came to investigate, made Tony quickly tamp down the mix of frustration and worry bubbling even more insistently with what he'd found. He looked back toward the stairs with a mild expression.
"Hey, Boss..." Tony managed a light, vacuous tone. "Looks like you're planning a weekend at the spa. Never figured you for that kind of guy, but I've always liked a good stone massage..."
"DiNozzo – " Gibbs' frown of surprise gave away nothing of the slight irritation that he'd been caught. So that's what all this has been? he wondered. 'How did he find out? "What're'ya doin' here?"
"I was elected to talk you into coming to Thanksgiving dinner at Ducky's. I thought I'd better not wait until the last minute to start working on you. I guess my gut was right this time, too." He didn't know why he thought the Boss might offer an explanation without being forced, but when his words were met by silence, he managed to stay level headed about what he saw. "Looks like you have an op planned. Anything you'd like to share?"
"No."
"Okay, let me rephrase that." Tony breathed, working on his patience. "Anything you should tell your second in command, in case you need back up?"
"DiNozzo, I don't need back up."
"I thought we'd decided you weren't going to go off on these missions of yours," DiNozzo ground out. "Or maybe Vance handed you an op..."
"Why would you think that this is an op?" Gibbs deflected. "It's not like we haven't been in each other's back pockets for the last couple weeks. When would I have had a chance to be read in on something?"
"Well, gee, I don't know, maybe you actually took a phone call when the rest of us were in holding cells or interrogation rooms over at the Hoover Building?" DiNozzo threw back at him. "I get that not everyone is big on turkey dinners, but your trademark pile in the corner is suspicious. And the rifles," Tony laughed, without humor. "And the stripped down Marine field gear. I've been an investigator for a while now, Boss, and I gotta say this looks kinda like you in pre--op mode."
Even though, stubbornly, Gibbs resisted DiNozzo's pestering him about where he was going – maybe even resented his agent's persistent intrusions at times – he recognized the protectiveness in his second's anger and frustration, and found his own irritation lessening with the realization. He hadn't had someone so relentless about having his six since the Corps. And while sometimes that was a pain in that six, he was appreciative of having such a stalwart partner – and friend. But if ever he was going to let DiNozzo know that, with Tony's mood and the late hour, this wasn't the time or the place.
And so, Gibbs relented a little, meeting the younger man's gaze and nodded once, cooly. "Okay."
DiNozzo's eyebrows shot up, and he blinked. "'Okay?'" When nothing more was said, Tony shrugged, urging more. "And...?"
"And ... I got plans. People make plans. No back up needed." Gibbs repeated, steadily. He paused, then said, "go home, DiNozzo. Get some sleep. We start again in at 0700 tomorrow, and we might get out of there by 1100."
His second was sharp enough to recognize immediately that he was being dismissed, Gibbs saw, and as Tony straightened at his words, more quickly than he did when headslapped, Gibbs felt a twinge of guilt that he took advantage of the man's willingness to follow his orders. Yet DiNozzo hesitated, if only for another moment, before that damned forced calm came over his features, and he nodded, shrugged, and offered a smile. With a forced chuckle, he nodded again. "'night, Boss." He turned to leave without a second look.
Gibbs stood in place for another moment, considering the exchange, before heading back to the stairs to grab his final few things to add to his kit. It had been a rough year on them all. Maybe, when he got back, he'd reassess. His team was as close as family – as close as his brothers in the Corps. Maybe they'd all come through enough hardship that it was time to let them each know he had their backs, too.
Tony moved out the door and down the porch steps to slide seamlessly into his car, start the engine, back out of the driveway, and drive a mile before he pulled over. Grabbing his phone, he typed one more text before heading home.
Fill you in tomorrow.Pick you up at 0530 – I predict you'll have a flat.
