Note: A huge thank you to the 6 people who reviewed the last chapter, Belker, peanutmeg, samanthasgal, Keydazy, nicksfriend and diana teo. And also to Catsmeou for her glorious begging e-mail. I really do appreciate you taking the time out to comment, it made my day and gave me some validation that people are actually reading this. Getting numerous alerts from people adding this to their favorites or wanting a mail when the next chapter is up is great but it really isn't the same as geting a lovely review. So thanks to the above people. I love you and want to have your babies!


Chap 4

Tony could feel every beat of his heart as it crashed in his chest. A steady beat that squeezed at the back of his throat and pulsed around his whole body in a tight wave. His eyes moved downwards and locked onto the gun as Stryker aimed.

He couldn't help but jump when he heard the shot as it reverberated off the surrounding building— and it took one long second to realize that he was still standing, unlike the man opposite who was falling face first onto the sidewalk in a shower of red.

Tony saw a cloud of dark hair and the glint of metal in his peripheral vision and understood why he wasn't the one on the floor with a hole in his body.

He gulped tightly and numbly nodded to his partner in silent thanks as she moved towards him. He watched Ziva kick the gun out of Stryker's hand, although Tony doubted the man, if alive, would still have the requisite motor skills to function, seeing that half his head was now missing.

Tony holstered his weapon and moved in instinctively to scoop up the shell-shocked boy and the hysterical woman and propel them away from the corpse that lay at their feet. They'd been through enough without having to see the grey brain matter and skull fragments that now splattered the ground.

Tony pushed them into a store doorway and held on, shielding them with his body so they couldn't see the fallen criminal, trying to make things better but knowing that it would take a hell of a lot more than a hug from him before this family would sleep soundly again.

He looked up and saw McGee hurriedly puffing up to Gibbs, out of breath, his face red and sweating. From the looks of it Gibbs was already issuing orders, but his eyes were firmly looking straight towards him. Tony sighed and looked away. He was used to that pissed expression now. Not long ago it would have devastated him to know that his boss was disappointed in him, but nowadays he really couldn't bring himself to care much. He was just tired of dealing with all the same shit, day in, day out.

He glanced towards Ziva as she knelt by the fallen security guard, her hands pressed down against the gunshot wound in his gut. She was also staring at him but he couldn't decipher what was going on behind the look, so he did what was becoming second nature to him—he just ignored it.

The woman clung to him, fisting the cloth of his shirt, her tears and snot soaking the fabric of his jacket as she screamed hysterically, her whole body shaking. The boy had silently buried his head into his neck, his small hands and legs clamped hard around his body like a limpet.

Tony muttered, not even sure of what he was saying, his words mingling with the steady murmur of the growing crowd and the sound of distant sirens. He shifted the boy higher on his hip and tried to work out why his back and legs were hurting when the tiny body weighed next to nothing, but his brain felt fogged and useless so he gave up trying to think and squeezed the bodies next to him a little bit tighter.

The warmth from the boy was strangely comforting and Tony breathed in the unique scent of small boy— musky, faintly grubby with a hint of soap and shampoo— as he willed his own legs to stop shaking.

The moment Gibbs realized that it was Stryker laying on the ground and not Tony, the relief he felt quickly turned to a white-hot rage that gathered in his chest and gut.

Gibbs willed himself to stay calm as he started to claim the crime scene. It wasn't easy, though. He couldn't even think straight, couldn't work out what the hell had happened until McGee had appeared at his side. Apparently Ziva and McGee had lost Stryker's brother almost immediately when he'd jumped on a motor bike, so they'd immediately doubled back and followed. Ziva had then peeled off to see if she could get ahead of the perp.

She'd obviously managed it. It was down to her quick thinking and excellent gun skills, her experience, that had provided the backup needed while he'd stood like a fucking probie pissing his pants.

Ziva was the only reason Tony wasn't dead.

They should work together like a well-oiled machine but lately they barely seemed to function. And he knew damn well who was causing the tear in the fabric of the team.

You shouldn't have to second-guess your team's actions, shouldn't be distracted because someone you cared about seemed to be working off a different page. The team did not need a loose cannon careering around on deck. This time Tony had dodged a very real bullet, but next time he might just get someone else killed.

Someone who didn't share Tony's new-found cavalier attitude to life.

As team lead it would be on his head.

Dammit.

He needed to get a grip because there were too many people around for him to march up to DiNozzo and grab him by the lapels and start yelling like he wanted to. It didn't help matters that, when Tony eventually looked his way, all he saw was an impassive dull eyed stare. The old DiNozzo would have been silently pleading forgiveness for fucking up, but this Tony didn't seem to care.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so angry. He knew his jaw was clenched and his hands balled into fists but he forced himself to secure the crime scene and to function like he didn't want to shake some sense into his second-in-command like a pit-bull tearing into a rat.

McGee felt like he was late to the party. He couldn't quite understand what had happened to make the atmosphere so shitty. Okay, a civilian getting shot was never a good thing but this went beyond the usual ire over the many man-hours of extra paperwork it generated. A palpable cloud hung overhead, and he'd be damned if he knew what caused it.

Both Ziva and Gibbs had been snapping at him from the moment he arrived on the scene. The only person who wasn't acting like they'd just eaten broken glass was Tony, but then he wasn't exactly his usual self these days.

As he photographed Stryker, he noticed that Gibbs and Ziva's black moods were specifically aimed at Tony. Neither seemed to speak directly to him for some reason. It was like he was in exile. He'd tried to ask Tony what was up but all he'd gotten in response was a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders, even though Tony's body language looked anything but relaxed— his face was pale and his jaw seemed to be competing with Gibbs' as to who could clench it harder.

The feeling he got in the pit of his stomach didn't lessen when he noticed Gibbs pounce on Ducky the moment he arrived, and by the covert looks they were both sending Tony's way, he was clearly the object of their discussion. The obvious worry on Ducky's face as he listened to what Gibbs was saying made him want to stand on the coffee cart next to him and yell, "Will someone please put me in the loop and tell me what the hell is going on?"

It was only when he'd started to take the witness statements that he got a grasp on what had happened. The stories differed slightly in the telling but the general gist was the same:

"…then that tall cop told the man with the gun to shoot him…"

"…the dude over there got totally in the other guy's face and goaded the guy to shoot him, I guess it's some fed training shit or something but man, it was brutal…"

"...he lowered the gun and asked the man to let the woman go and said that if he wanted to shoot someone then to shoot him…"

"…lowered his gun…"

"….he said shoot me…."

McGee looked at Tony as he stood talking to several Metro cops, and it was like he was seeing him for the first time.

Where the hell was the guy who acted like everything was a big joke?

Where was the annoying guy who acted like life was one huge party cake and he was eating the biggest slice?

Where was the guy who acted like he wanted to jump every attractive woman within a mile radius?

Watching Tony rub a hand over his face as he talked, he saw for the first time just how tired and careworn he looked. Okay, they'd been worried about him recently, Tony's spark seemed to have left the building but this was…well, it was fucked-up in anyone's language. McGee couldn't imagine what it was like to stare that closely down the barrel of a gun like Tony had, but to actually bait someone who had already shown he could pull the trigger with no remorse was just incomprehensible to him.

McGee turned away, suddenly not wanting to think about what it all meant.

As much as he hated being called all the stupid names Tony came up with, the practical jokes, the stupid life lessons, McGee hoped that that guy hadn't disappeared because he needed him.

Tony knew he was screwed.

It was just a matter of time before Gibbs tore him a new one, and he didn't know how he was going to get out of this one.

But the worse thing was, the whole damn episode was a blank.

One minute he'd been chasing a perp across town and the next the guy had been on the ground, care of Ziva.

What happened in between was one big fat void.

That scared him more than anything.

It felt like he was slowly losing his mind. How the Hell could you say and do things you had no real memory of?

Oh, recently he'd lost time at home, but it didn't matter when you were sitting on your couch, and sometimes he woke up with strange women in his bed with no recollection of where he'd picked them up. Then there was the whole driving-home thing when he'd suddenly find himself outside his apartment with no knowledge of the actual journey but he figured that was okay…everyone did that sometimes.

Didn't they?

He knew what he'd done from the Metro cops. Half were slapping him on the back and acting like he was Mad Max and Batman rolled into one, but the other half— the older cops, the ones with experience—were giving him covert looks like he was radioactive. He guessed they'd seen it all, and the stench of being a fuck-up carried.

What really scared him was the fact that he couldn't seem to hold it together at work anymore. He'd always done the right thing on the job. Oh, he bent the rules when needed, but essentially, when it came down to it, when it truly mattered, he did things by the book. But today he couldn't explain his actions.

How could you defend yourself when you didn't know why you'd done it?

Maybe he was more tired than he realized.

Or maybe he was just sliding into the realms of straitjackets and soft padded cells.

The paramedics were long since gone, Jimmy had left with the body, the cops had drifted off as had the thrill-seekers and rubber-neckers, but the anger was still there like a tight knot in his gut, festering.

Gibbs gulped his now-cold coffee and watched as Tony, Ziva, and McGee packed the truck away. He nodded to Ducky as he stood obviously regaling them with a tale of derring-do (if the glazed looks on their faces was anything to go by) and if they wondered why the medic was still there, they didn't say. He loved the way that Duck would unquestionably change his plans at the drop of a hat if the team needed it, and thankfully, this was one of those occasions. He would take Tony to the damn hospital to get checked out, as his second's limp was getting more pronounced as the afternoon wore on. He figured that sending Duck would be a safer bet the way he was feeling, plus he needed to get back to the Navy yard and put out some fires.

Maybe Ducky could figure out what the hell was wrong with DiNozzo while they waited for the x-rays.

But he knew he couldn't put it off any longer.

"DiNozzo!" he barked.

In other circumstances it would have been amusing to watch as four pairs of eyes snapped up and stared at him like he was the Antichrist but not today. He ignored Ducky's silent plea to go easy and marched away so he could put some space between himself and the rest of the team, knowing that Tony would follow.

He stopped and waited for Tony to catch up, watching his second as he walked. His head was defiantly up but his eyes didn't quite match the stance.

Gibbs stood and tried to collect his thoughts but the instant Tony stopped in front of him he couldn't help but spew out what was foremost on his mind.

"Do you plan on telling me just what the HELL you were thinking?" He leaned forward, crowding Tony. His voice was registering just under a bellow, and he was pretty sure that the rest of the team could still hear him even though they were a good distance away—not what he wanted, but he couldn't help himself. All the tension he'd been holding in his body just exploded in a volley of words.

"Do you have a death wish, DiNozzo? Because if you do, I need to know!"

Old Tony would have laughed, would have looked at him as if he were crazy— Hell, he would never have pulled a stunt like he had today— but Gibb's knew this was a different animal.

"What? No…I…No!…Jesus, I was just…just trying to distract the guy."' Tony was usually loquacious, but he stumbled over his words and flushed red as he burst out a denial.

"Oh, you did that, DiNozzo, and you almost got your damn head blown off in the process. Was that the goal, huh? 'Cause that's sure what it looked like to me," Gibbs spat out.

"No!"

Tony ran a hand through his hair and started to pace. When he didn't respond beyond the one word, Gibbs asked again, frustrated, not sure that he wanted to know the answer but knowing he needed to know.

"I repeat," Gibbs barked, his voice rising again. "Do you have a death wish, Tony?"

"'I knew backup was coming," Tony bit out angrily as he stopped pacing and stared at him.

"So you thought the best thing to do was incite a gunman while you waited?"

"I wasn't…"

Gibbs just stared.

"I…look… the woman was terrified, the guy was getting twitchy…he was going to shoot her….her kid was right there…what was I supposed to do? You'd have done the same in my position."

Tony was obviously trying to rationalize the situation in his head, but Gibbs knew from the defeated look on his face that DiNozzo knew it was a crapshoot, and that kind of took the wind out of his sails. Tony argued, he got mad, he could talk his way out of the most impossible situations— but to see Tony struggle so clumsily to justify himself was so pitiful he couldn't maintain his anger.

Aw, Hell. He could cope with belligerent, but seeing Tony look like a whipped puppy, all confused and so damn…tired made what he knew he to do all that much harder.

"No, Tony," Gibbs said quietly. "I would have tried to calm him down and taken the bastard out the first opportunity I got, as I've been trained to do. As you've been trained to do. I wouldn't have lowered my weapon to give him a free shot."

Gibbs watched Tony lower his gaze to the ground.

"Tony, I don't know what's going on with you right now, but you're either going to get yourself killed or get one of us killed and I can't allow that to happen. Not on my watch. You know that, don't you?"

Tony's eyes snapped upwards.

"You're firing me?"

"To be honest, I don't know what I'm going to do, but until I decide I need to take your badge and gun.'

Tony paused, and Gibbs hoped that he had something to say on the matter, but he just wearily unclipped his gun, then produced the wallet that held his card and pushed them at him.

Tony turned and walked away without another word.

Gibbs felt like a complete bastard. He felt like he was kicking DiNozzo when he was already down, but he couldn't let emotion get in the way of the decision he knew he had to make.

"DiNozzo, go find Ducky. He's going to take you to hospital to get checked out."

"What?" Tony turned and looked confused.

"You almost got totalled by a car, Tony."

"Oh, yeah. Right." But the look of confusion was still there.

"Get checked out, then go home, get some sleep." Gibbs walked up to him and rested a hand on his arm. "You need a break,Tony. When was the last time you had a real vacation?"

Tony seemed to think about it.

"Spring Break, last year."

That kind of said it all. Gibbs squeezed his arm.

"Go find Duck, Tony."

Tony limped away again.

Dammit, how had he not seen this coming?

Gibbs walked to the truck, ignoring Ziva and McGee as they eyeballed him. He jumped up into the driver's seat and yelled at them to get in. Ziva predictably called shotgun. McGee scurried around the back, and soon his face was peering through the central panel.

Gibbs leaned forward over Ziva, flipped open the glove box, and threw Tony's gun and badge inside. He made sure both of them saw before slamming it shut.

He turned his head and glared at each in turn, daring them to say one word on the matter.

He didn't need to feel worse than he already did.

Gibbs knew he'd just done something either completely valid or unbelievably stupid.

He wasn't sure yet which it was.

Tbc