AN: Hi again! Sorry it's been so long, but I actually kind of hate the last chapter - don't ask me about the many idiotic decisions that went into publishing this. Anyways, I'll continue, but just because so many of you have PM'd me about doing so. I hope you like where I am taking this. I'm currently trying to think of ways to resolve the dilemma I got myself stuck in last week. Again, sorry for the long wait, but I hope you enjoy it. Please R&R!
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.
Chapter 4: Spats
Gibbs strode into the bullpen, coffee in hand, a glare smeared over his features. Today's upcoming conference on the rising threat in the Middle East was clearly getting on his nerves, as the whole agency had been abuzz with talk of that, rather than focusing on their work.
As he spotted his agents all working quietly at their desks, he felt a little wave of sadness at the loss of his old team. Ziva had died – arguably one of the hardest moments in all of their lives was the moment when her death was announced – and he missed his daughter so much every day. McGee had been promoted to Assistant Director of the agency, and was doing a fine job along with the new director. Tony had been assigned that job the day Vance had retired, due to severe medical problems from Dearing's bomb blast; and was doing a fine job with the agency. Budgets were being usefully spent, and case closure rates were at an all-time high.
Although his old team was gone, they were all doing well in their respective positions. Abby and Ducky had also been treated kindly by the years – he retiring after a long, successful career and now living with Abby, McGee, and the kids; and she remaining the sole forensic scientist of the agency, and a damn good one at that. Gibbs himself was still the same as ever, the coffee-swigging, hard-hitting, criminal-catching ex-Marine of the good ol' days. He could have retired years and years ago, but preferred to stay on and witness the brilliance of his children firsthand.
However, his new probies were less than satisfactory. Ever since the promotion of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, there had been a revolving door of agents taking turns in the infamous bullpen. All wanted a chance to prove themselves to the almighty Gibbs, but none had yet succeeded in matching up to the insurmountable standards set by the team from the past. Legends were still heard around NCIS about the Mossad assassin, her movie-loving, Italian playboy partner, the computer-geek-cum-author, and the gray-haired (I didn't know whether to put something like superman or man of steel. Please help with some noun about an invincible hero, if possible.) who taught them all.
"What are you waiting for," he barked, already irritated at the upcoming events of the day.
Startled, the three agents' heads all snapped up, confusion clouding their faces until recognition took over. Each jumped up, babbling nonsense like, 'yes, sir', 'of course, sir', 'good morning, sir'. The complete crap spouting from each mouth only served to elevate his anxiety, and with a snarl, he stalked out of the bullpen once again.
…...
The discernible stomps of Gibbs halted just outside of Tony's door. Said director's head popped up, startled at the lack of indiscretion displayed by his former boss. Usually, he just marched right in with no regard for Tony's door or privacy.
When the knock eventually came, Tony sat up straight, and removed his glasses hesitantly. What had happened to make the boss so uncharacteristically considerate?
The answer struck him as soon as he uttered a response to Gibbs' request. The conference was today, and everybody (McGee, Gibbs, and himself) was riled up over the event. Leaning back in his chair, he watched patiently as Gibbs barged in, back to his normal self.
"I know this is hard on you," Tony said, looking directly at Gibbs, who was now standing nonchalantly on the other side of the desk. "It's hard on all of us. But you need to stay calm and professional, or you can't come to the conference."
Gibbs stared at Tony with a glare that was at once inquiring, offended, and angry. "I need to stay professional. I need to stay professional. The last time we dealt with a growing terrorist cell in the Middle East, you risked the lives of our entire team to avenge Ziva – not even save Ziva, just avenge her. Not that I disagreed with you then, and I certainly don't now, but calling me unprofessional is a little bit hypocritical, don't you think."
Tony shrunk back a little, cowering in front of the mighty team leader, who was now red in the face from his little outburst. The director privately felt that he hadn't heard Gibbs say that much in the past year together, let alone in one go. He must feel very strongly about the memories this conference would bring up, not that the rest of them wouldn't feel those just as sharply.
"So if you don't care enough to even feel a little angry this week – and I know you, what you feel, you show, and you're not showing anything – don't bother trying to talk to me and McGee if it's not absolute necessary," Gibbs finished in one breath, still glaring vehemently at the infuriated man.
"Never say I don't care," he whispered, rising to his full height, and leaning menacingly towards Gibbs. "Never. Do you hear me? I cared more than any of you – more than all of you put together. I loved her, and I never got to tell her. This conference is affecting me more than you, so don't you dare say I don't care. I care so much it hurts."
By the time he finished, the two men were standing a foot apart, Tony having walked around his desk, glaring daggers at the other. Since Tony had become director, spats like this were not just uncommon – they were non-existent. The new head of the agency respected his former boss too much to utter such biting words to him or about him, and the MCRT leader was too fond of his "son" to talk about him in such a manner. However, the fiasco fifteen years earlier still grated on all of them, and all were loath to talk about it, lest a feud like this present itself.
"Now," Tony continued, inhaling copious amounts of air and turning his back on Gibbs. "If you would please exit, Agent Gibbs, I have work to do that does not concern you. Good day."
Gibbs, understanding that he could say no more to his past agent on the matter, nodded sharply and stomped out of the room. As much as he wanted to believe what he had just heard, Tony had not mentioned Ziva once in the past fifteen years without shutting himself off, and each time distanced himself a little bit more from his previous colleagues. Gibbs firmly believed that after a time, the other man had become apathetic to the subject, preferring not involving himself in the complexities of his emotions, rather than become so tangled in them that he would never be able to remove himself.
Oh well, Gibbs thought, returning to his desk and bullpen full of incompetent fools. I have work to do, and if DiNozzo wants to act like an idiot, that's his problem. He can't run away forever.
…......
McGee walked out of the elevator, shooting a smile at Gibbs on his way up, and jogging up the stairs to the conference room. Although he was no longer stationed in the Navy Yard, instead working wherever he was called – mostly in the DC area – he still came by for major conferences like the one about to occur. He was particularly prickly about this subject matter, and so were his wife, best friend, and father figure, as he was all too aware of.
Fifteen years earlier, the biggest mistake of their lives had been made. Leaving Ziva on that runway, to a path which would lead her straight to Saleem Ulman, was one of his biggest regrets, even if he hadn't been directly involved. After that fateful, nightmarish summer, he also regretted not paying more attention to his friend – if only he had noticed how sad she was, if only he knew what she was thinking, he could have saved her.
He quickly shook himself out of his stupor, as he was now directly outside the conference room. Dwelling on the past would do him no good, something he had figured out after many torturous sessions involving the same activity.
Entering the room, he saw DiNozzo pause in his introductory speech, acknowledge him, and go back to talking about the general topic of the symposium. After scanning the packed room, which was filled with not only people, but monitors broadcasting the event to agents worldwide, he took his seat on the right hand side of the director's chair, and quickly tuned in to Tony's address. With a wry smile, he remembered a time, a good twenty years earlier, when rather than listening to Tony's narcissistic speeches (most on behalf of Gibbs), people would exit the room and/or shut off the microphone.
"As much as any other country in the world, America has been active in the war on terrorism and will continue to do so in a manner that will reflect positively on both the government and the American people. The Navy, and NCIS particularly, have both been instrumental in this ongoing fight, and I am confident in our abilities to put an end to the horror that is terrorism. It is my fondest hope that one day our children can live in a world without terror, without the threat of a bomb dropping on them, without the fear that someone could take their entire lives in an instant with no provoking on their part. I wish to help in the creation of a society where one can live in peace, and not have to fear. To quote former president George Bush: The fight against terror goes on, but...America has sent an unmistakable message: No matter how long it takes, justice will be done. We will fight, and we will win. With no regard for how hard we have to work, or how long, or how much, we will wage war on those who would terrify us, and we will win. Thank you, and let us begin this conference on the rising threat in the Middle East."
A loud applause sprung up as Tony sat down, McGee clapping heartily along with the rest of the agency. As he looked around, one agent was very clearly not clapping. Instead, Gibbs, slouching inconspicuously in the corner, was steadfastly glaring at Tony, and not moving a muscle. It came as a shock that Gibbs was here, first off, as he usually skipped any and all official business meetings, and secondly, that he wasn't clapping for Tony. The ex-Marine was always seen wholeheartedly cheering on his "children" at whatever function they were talking at, and the lack of a fatherly manner surprised McGee. He shrugged it off, making a mental note to ask Tony later.
After receiving his cue from Tony, the Assistant Director stepped up to the podium, riffling through a collection of papers: a threat assessment, reports from field agents stationed near the cell, an overview of the conference from Tony. Choosing his speech on the terrorists, he cleared his throat and began.
"For fifteen years now, reports of an unnamed yet prosperous terrorist cell in the Middle East have troubled the navy. They have committed heinous crimes against not only members of the Navy, but against the American public and many other innocent citizens of other countries. As a specific target of theirs, NCIS has suffered debilitating losses. No matter how many strong agents set after them, only harm crosses their paths. We have lost so many wonderful people because of their belief that their actions are dictated by God, and therefore cannot be wrong in any manner. The reason why this group wishes to destroy NCIS in particular continues to evade us, but I am certain that with all the hard work of everyone present today, we will put an end to these terrorists. Thank you."