Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional
A/N:- Reminder that I have taken some liberties with the legal and medical aspects to keep the storyline flowing.
NIGHT TIME
Chapter Seven
Tobias Fornell sat at his makeshift desk in the NCIS forensic laboratory where he'd spent the last several hours poring over old reports. Tentatively, he flexed his back and shoulders, wincing at the sound of his cracking joints and tendons and cursing the fact that only his long-standing friendship with Leroy Jethro Gibbs could make him give up his first three-day leave in months.
He startled as a steaming hot coffee and bagel was placed on the desk in front of him and he looked up into the dark eyes of Ziva David. Nodding his thanks he watched as she handed beverages to Abby and McGee and spoke quietly to them before returning to her own temporary workstation. Taking a sip of the strong blend Fornell's eyebrows shot upward as he realised the coffee was just as he liked it. 'How did she…?' His eyes darted in her direction as she gazed innocently back at him before continuing her work.
As he leaned back in his chair, a small smile curled his lips as he recalled the cool reception he'd received just a few hours before.
FLASHBACK
"Then maybe I can help."
At the sound of the familiar voice, all heads swivelled in unison to see Senior FBI Agent Tobias Fornell standing at the door to Abby's lab with a visitor's identification tag clipped to the pocket of his jacket.
"Agent Fornell," Ducky greeted coolly. "If memory serves, the last time you were here to help, you believed Anthony to be guilty of the murder of Rene Benoit."
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees as Fornell looked at the five displeased faces.
"Actually, I'm here to-"
With her arms crossed over her chest indignantly, Abby cut him off mid-sentence.
"If you think that we will tell you where Tony is rather than face a jail term for impeding your investigation, you are so wrong, Mister, "she said. "Like, big time, hugely, enormously, astronomically wrong."
"W-wait a minute," Palmer stuttered worriedly. "J-jail term…really?"
The Assistant ME's solar plexus received the point of Abby's elbow.
"Of course, what I meant to say was, if you want Tony, you'll…you'll have to get by us first," Palmer declared brazenly before strategically placing himself behind the Mossad assassin.
"One little mistake and they never forget," Fornell muttered.
"In actual fact, Agent Fornell, there were two mistakes. You will recall that you also arrested Tony for murdering that woman and cutting off her legs."
"Of course, thank you for reminding me, Officer David," Fornell replied dryly. "I'm not here to arrest anyone and nobody's going to jail."
"Oh thank, God," Palmer whispered gratefully.
"Then what are you doing here?" McGee asked.
"I come in peace," Fornell replied as he walked toward them and placed a thick file on the workbench. "I spoke with Gibbs and I'm here to help."
"Awwww," Abby said, switching emotions like the flick of a switch as she engulfed Fornell in a huge hug. "Then why didn't you say that, silly! Wait…you spoke to Gibbs? When? How is he? How's Tony? And what about Jackson? Are they okay? I mean, I know they're not okay-okay but I need to know that they're…okay. Okay?"
"Abigail, you really must calm down," Ducky said. "I told you that Jethro would be calling later this evening. Now, let the man speak."
"Thank you, Doctor," Fornell said, still looking warily at the forensic specialist. "The FBI conducted an investigation into Thomas Grayson's business affairs about ten years ago. We got nothing. Both witnesses who were prepared to testify against Grayson died a short time after the case was closed and as you know…"
"Gibbs doesn't believe in coincidences," the others replied in unison.
McGee opened the file and leafed through the first few pages.
"There's not much here, it shouldn't take us long to go through it," he said hopefully.
"That's the case summary," Fornell said. "I've got a dozen boxes in the trunk of my car."
"Then we best get started," Ducky said. "Anthony is depending on us."
END FLASHBACK
Fornell looked at his watch. It was well after midnight yet they were all still here. The medical examiners had retrieved the written autopsy results on the two dead witnesses. With the vigour and energy of someone half his age, Doctor Mallard, with his youthful sidekick, had scurried back to his office to review the reports with a fine-toothed comb.
Looking over the rim of his coffee cup, Fornell watched as McGee scanned the data streaming across his computer screen. He was tired and frustrated by the lack of success but the young man was doggedly determined to break the encryption on the proxy server on Grayson's account - something told Fornell that he would do just that. He didn't know McGee well and rarely understood the computer gibberish he spoke, but he was a good man; quiet and unassuming. No flash, no dazzle, just a solid commitment to the task at hand.
Making her third phone call in a short period of time, Ziva had changed languages from English to Spanish to French without batting an eye. Fornell observed how each conversation began with professional cordiality but the tone quickly became sharp and non-compromising as the perfumed steamroller urgently sought to extract information regarding the dead gun man from her Interpol connections and Spain's Policia Nacional.
Abby's voice drew his attention and he watched as she urged her computers and scientific equipment for faster results; gently cajoling them as if they would double their efforts at her bidding. He thought back several months and recalled his own words as she squashed her face against the glass in the interrogation room:
"I've never been entirely certain she's all there."
But as he watched her work diligently throughout the night, he saw the brilliant mind behind kooky, outlandish and downright bizarre behaviour and for the first time he was certain...in the field of forensic science, Abigail Scuito stood alone.
Scuito had turned her lab into some kind of DiNozzo shrine. Large photos of the man were plastered throughout the cavernous room denoting the friendship and loyalty this team had for each other. He shook his head recalling his many encounters with Gibbs' irrepressible right-hand man. On numerous occasions he had asked his NCIS counterpart what the heck he saw in the guy with the expensive wardrobe, the Hollywood looks and the smart mouth and he watched with intrigue as Gibbs replied with rare pride and a casual shrug of his shoulders.
'He's an acquired taste.'
Fornell had always thought DiNozzo to be a wisecracking, flippant, pain in the ass but over the years he'd learned one thing. With DiNozzo, there's what you see and there's what you get and the biggest mistake you'll ever make is thinking those things are one and the same. Even when he was being completely outrageous or a total goofball, there was always a reason. Tony DiNozzo had been Gibbs' senior field agent for eight years and, more importantly, he depended on DiNozzo to watch his six…there was no greater sign of trust than that.
Shaking himself from his musings, Fornell returned to his work.
0-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0
The night sky crawled into the grey hours of the early morning as the new dawn brightened the sky. Gibbs had watched helplessly as Tony moved agitatedly around the room, unable to sit still for more than a few minutes as painful spasms and aching joints conspired to keep him from the rest he desperately needed. He moved from the bed to the armchair to the window seat; his attention span minuscule as he bounced from one position to another, again and again and again.
Moving back to the bed, Tony stifled a groan and shoved a pillow tightly against his abdomen to counteract the gnawing that seemed to be eating him from the inside out. He writhed, biting down as a sudden tidal wave of nausea engulfed him and he gritted his teeth and locked his jaw to silently drown in the onslaught.
Alternating night sweats and chills added to his misery with fever and headaches ebbing and flowing throughout the night. Gibbs lost count of the number of times Tony had tumbled into an exhausted sleep only to have hypnagogic jerks or nightmares hurl him rudely back to wakefulness where the agony of withdrawals waited hungrily for his return. The former Marine wrapped his fingers around the younger man's wrist and the touch that had banished a hundred nightmares offered Tony a promise of quiet strength.
The faulty mute switch on the younger man's nightmares revealed snippets of the demons he was battling in his subconscious but Gibbs had a sickening feeling that, even in his sleep, his agent was holding something back. There was no way to rid him of the visions he was seeing in his mind's eye and there was no way to take away the pain. All Gibbs could offer was his unwavering support and he hoped like hell it was enough.
He felt, rather than heard, the presence of the other man in the room and turned to see his father standing by the door. Jackson held an empty coffee mug aloft and raised a questioning eyebrow as Gibbs nodded in response and watched his father leave the room.
It was another twenty minutes before the lead agent entered the kitchen and inhaled the rich aroma of strong coffee.
"He asleep?" the older man asked handing him a mug of coffee.
Gibbs took a long pull of the steaming liquid and nodded.
"For now," he replied.
"Just spoke to the Sergeant outside," Jackson said. "The Sea King will collect us in three hours and fly us to Anacostia. We'll have just enough time to call in at your office before heading for court at ten o'çlock sharp."
"Us, Dad?"
"That's right, son, us," Jackson glared. "If it's all the same to you, Tony and I started this withdrawal thing together and I'd kinda like to see it through."
Too tired to argue he lifted his hand to his neck and massaged the stiffness from his muscles. He looked at his father through tired eyes.
"S'been like that every night?" he asked.
"Some not so bad…some a whole lot worse," Jackson admitted, guiding his son to the living room. "It's not easy to watch, is it?."
"He talk about them?"
"The nightmares? Nope, never wanted to talk about 'em. Can't imagine where he learned that."
Gibbs opened his mouth to say something harsh and hurtful but closed it again when he saw the pain in the older man's eyes. Placing his coffee on the table Gibbs pressed the heels of his hands into tired eyes.
"I'm missing something, Dad. Something's tearing at him."
"Lord knows you've never been one for words, Leroy, but maybe you should try asking him."
"If I push before he's ready he'll clam up tight," Gibbs returned sharply.
"How the heck will you know if he's ready or not if you don't ask him?" Jack asked, clearly exasperated.
"Won't have to ask…he'll come to me."
Tony had always retreated into himself when he had problems or struggled to work out a bad assignment. He needed time on his own to think things through but inevitably, in the guise of sharing a six-pack of beer and a pizza, he always reached out to Gibbs.
Jack released a jaw-cracking yawn, the third in as many minutes, prompting Gibbs to look closely at the signs of haggardness on the old man's face. His gut tightened and he took a deep breath before speaking the words that needed to be said.
"Dad, I…" He looked at the ceiling as if expecting the words to magically appear then he dropped his gaze to meet his father's. "Thank you…for this…for Tony."
"Truth is, despite the situation, I enjoyed getting to know the boy these past weeks," Jack replied. "But you know, son, I didn't do this just for Tony. Lotta water's passed under the bridge and I hoped…well heck, I reckon I thought that you and I might work out a few things, too."
Gibbs' face remained expressionless for several long seconds until a small smile played across his lips.
"Why'd ya think I left him here," he said rising to his feet and squeezing his father's shoulder affectionately as he walked toward his old room. "I'll be with Tony."
Jack's blue eyes were edged with grateful moisture as he watched his son leave. So many years had passed; so much hurt lay beneath their conversation, jagged as broken glass. They still had many issues to resolve but they had at last reached a point in their lives when they were willing to try.
0-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0
As he was led into the interview room at Petersburg Federal Correction Institution, Thomas Grayson's flint hard eyes zeroed in on the smug smile occupying his attorney's face.
"Well?" he asked when the guard left the room.
"Last night, the prosecution asked for another continuance," Scott said.
"And?"
"It was denied," he replied oozing in self-gratification. "I successfully argued that every moment you remained behind bars for a crime that you had no knowledge of, the bigger the law suit we will file against the federal judicial system for wrongful imprisonment, defamation and loss of business revenue."
Grayson stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"You're confident you can get me out of here?" he asked.
"Absolutely. I'm telling you, Thomas, the prosecution's got nothing!" Scott stressed. "Do you think they'd be asking for a continuance if they had any proof against you?"
"What's the plan?"
"My information is that DiNozzo's team mate, Tim McGee is the IT Specialist and the agent most likely to decrypt the proxy server," Scott said.
"Can we arrange for him to…meet with an accident?" Grayson asked.
"The team's in lockdown. They're eating and sleeping at the office until the hearing is over."
"Then how do we do this?" Grayson spat.
"I placed McGee on the subpoena list. He's required to be at the court first thing this morning and I'll request that he remain as a rebuttal or expert witness," Scott said. "He'll have to stay in courtroom for the entire hearing."
"And then what?"
"Then you just sit back and relax while I systematically destroy what's left of Tony DiNozzo's career and self-respect," Scott sneered.
0-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0
Still reeling from the recent loss of his agents, the director was taking no chances and arranged for another Marine guard to escort Tony, Gibbs and Jackson from Anacostia to the Navy yard where they would travel by convoy to the courthouse.
With just a few hours of restless sleep, Tony was ashen-faced and shaky as he arrived at NCIS and was ushered away from prying eyes to Abby's lab. Needing the physical comfort that he allowed only Abby to provide, Tony closed his eyes and rested his head against her shoulder as she wrapped him in a warm embrace. She held him close, feeling the residual heat of his fever and every tremor and muscle spasm that continued to wrack his body. Overwhelmed with fatigue and the emotion of the last few weeks, Abby's eyes swam behind an curtain of tears that, inevitably, overflowed and tracked a trail of mascara down her pale cheeks.
"Boss," McGee whispered. "We had some clothes sent over from Tony's apartment. He'll need to get ready soon or we'll be late for court."
Gibbs looked over his shoulder noting that Tony and Abby hadn't moved an inch. He cast his mind back to when Tony had joined him at NCIS and the cool reception he'd received from Abby. It had been a rocky beginning but when they finally connected it was for life; they became staunch allies, firm friends and developed a strong, sibling-like affection.
"Give 'em a few minutes," he said knowing how much they both needed the comfort.
0-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-0
Tony stood at the door of the courtroom looking around the impressive chamber and tugging nervously at the sleeve of his charcoal Amarni suit. The Gucci shoes, crisp white business shirt and his favourite purple and white Zegna tie completed the ensemble retrieved from his apartment, but although the clothes looked a million dollars, the man inside felt like a buck forty-five.
"You ready?" Gibbs asked quietly.
Ignoring the twinge from his broken ribs, Tony straightened to his full height and gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head. Taking a bracing breath he willed his shaking legs onward and started down the centre aisle, grateful for the former Marine's solid presence by his side. As they made their way to the front of the courtroom, his gaze fell upon his friends seated in the gallery and he nodded in acknowledgement as they sent him silent messages of strength and reassurance.
Wearing Navy class-A's, Commander Peter Barnes noticed Tony and Gibbs' arrival and stood to greet them. Mindful of his agent's weakened condition, Gibbs gripped Tony by the elbow and steered him to a seat in the front row. He watched the younger man with guarded concern as the JAG officer spoke quietly with them.
"How soon can you call McGee to the stand?" Gibbs asked.
"I'll call him as the first witness and have him off the stand and back breaking that code before you know it," Pete answered. "If Scott tries to retain him as an expert witness, we'll call our pinch hitter into play."
Tony frowned slightly at the term but didn't question it. He was subdued; a shadow of the larger than life, gregarious man Gibbs knew. The trembling was barely detectable but the residual effects of the withdrawal seemed to come and go without warning. His face was without colour and his eyes - hollow and dull - were shadowed with nightmares both waking and not. The sense of panic he'd seen in Tony earlier was gone, bottled up and replaced with a ruthless determination to see justice done. There was an unmistakable stiffness in Tony's posture – a small signal that told Gibbs that although the younger man was down, he was far from out.
As if on cue, Cameron Scott entered the courtroom with an over-confident strut. Spotting Tony in the front row Scott bared his teeth in a predatory smile that faded when he locked eyes with Gibbs and received a glare on par with liquid nitrogen. Having been transferred from the correction institution, Thomas Grayson was led into court. Despite the prison garb and the handcuffs, self-importance wafted behind him like cheap aftershave.
The court officer called everyone to their feet as Judge Eugene Brayden entered the courtroom. Approaching retirement after 29 years on the bench, Judge Brayden was an esteemed member of the federal judicial system. White haired, tall and lean, his shoulders were stooped with age but despite his poor posture he held himself with great dignity. His thin face and angular features were lined like the cracked mud of a dry creek bed but his eyes retained a sharp intelligence that demanded respect. The judge waited for the court officer to identify the case and call the spectators to order.
"This is a preliminary hearing," the judge said. "The responsibility of determining whether there is enough evidence to require a trial is tasked to me. As the prosecuting attorney, Commander Barnes, your job is to establish probable cause and yours, Mr Scott, is to prove reasonable doubt. Should it be determined that the defendant has a case to answer, he will be held over for arraignment and will be asked to enter a plea at that time. Are there any questions?"
"No, Your Honour," Cameron Scott and Commander Barnes replied in unison.
"As this is not a trial, you may dispense with your opening statements," the judge said. "Commander Barnes, you can call your first witness."
"Thank you, Your Honour," the commander replied. "The prosecution calls NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee."
McGee took a deep breath then walked through the small swing gate. The court officer swore him in before directing him to take a seat in the witness box.
"Special Agent McGee, would you please tell the court your current position with NCIS?" Commander Barnes asked.
"I am a field agent on the Major Case Response Team."
"You are the IT Specialist, correct?"
"That's correct."
The commander took a multi-page document from a file on his desk and handed it to McGee.
"Agent McGee, will you tell the court what this document is?"
"This is a joint savings account statement from the Cayman National Bank in the names of Thomas and Evan Grayson," McGee answered.
"Is this the first time you have seen this account?"
"No. NCIS was recently assigned to investigate an increasing incidence of drug related activity in the US Navy," McGee explained. "During the course of the investigation we discovered a chief petty officer in the supply corps who used his position to distribute drugs to various Navy vessels and bases and was receiving large payments into his account in return."
"Were you able to locate from where those payments originated?" the commander asked.
"Yes, we were," McGee said, indicating the statements. "The payments originated from this joint account owned by Thomas and Evan Grayson."
"These payments are highlighted on the bank statements?" the Commander inquired.
"Yes they are."
"How did you obtain this information?"
"It wasn't easy," McGee replied. "The account used an extremely intricate and sophisticated network of international servers to bounce the payments all over the world. There was also an encrypted online security protocol that automatically and randomly changed every 6 hours making it impossible to penetrate without the decryption codes."
"I take it that kind of security technology is not standard on bank accounts?" the commander asked.
"No, Sir," McGee said. "It was state of the art technology that many government intelligence agencies would love to get their hands on."
"As you were able to penetrate the security protocol, I assume that you found the decryption codes," the commander said.
"Yes, Sir. While on undercover assignment, my partner, Special Agent DiNozzo befriended Evan Grayson and managed to extract the codes we needed from Grayson's computer."
The JAG officer leafed through the pages of the bank statement.
"All these payments went to one chief petty officer?"
"No, Sir. We traced payments to customs officials, law enforcement officers even members of various foreign and domestic drug cartels," McGee said.
"And all payments originated from the joint account of Thomas and Evan Grayson?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Thank you, Special Agent McGee," the commander said. "I have no further questions."
Cameron Scott was on his feet instantly, striding confidently toward the witness box.
"Special Agent McGee, would you tell the court your qualifications," he said.
"I have been an NCIS field agent for five years. I have a Bachelor of Science degree in biomedical engineering and a Master of Science degree in computer forensics," McGee replied.
"A degree from MIT no less."
"That is correct," McGee said.
"Very impressive," Scott replied with a nod of the head. "Tell me Agent McGee, of the two account holders, Thomas and Evan Grayson, who initiated these payments?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Would you please tell me whether it was Thomas or Evan Grayson who initiated the payments?"
"Er…the account was in joint names and-"
"Oh come now, Agent McGee, surely someone with your impressive background in computer forensics would be able to tell which of the Graysons made the payments in question."
"Ordinarily I could but-"
"The simple fact of the matter is that you are unable to determine with any certainty, whether my client initiated any of the payments in questions. Isn't that right?"
"I am currently working on a program that will-"
"I will ask you again, Agent McGee and remind you that you are obliged to answer the question," Scott said insistently. "At this point in time, can you categorically state that it was the defendant and not his son, who initiated the payments highlighted on these statements?"
Several long seconds passed as McGee struggled with the answer.
"No, I cannot but-"
"Thank you, Special Agent McGee, you have confirmed what we already suspected and that is that the prosecution has no evidentiary proof against my client whatsoever." Cameron Scott turned a disdainful glance in Tony's direction before addressing the witness again. "Agent McGee, how long have you worked with Special Agent DiNozzo?"
"I was temporarily assigned to the MCRT on two occasions before my appointment as a permanent field agent five years ago."
"In that time, have you ever seen Special Agent DiNozzo acting under the influence of narcotics in the workplace?"
"Objection, Your Honour," Pete said rising quickly to his feet. "The question lacks relevance. Special Agent DiNozzo is not on trial here."
"Your Honour, my client has been forced to endure the last several weeks in a federal correction facility due to charges brought against him by Special Agent DiNozzo," Scott replied. "As I was denied the opportunity to depose Agent DiNozzo prior to this hearing, the defence requests a little latitude."
"Very little latitude, Mr Scott," Judge Brayden replied. "However, I'll allow the question."
"Thank you, Your Honour," Scott said. "Agent McGee?"
A slightly pained expression formed on McGee's face and he realised he was being verbally manoeuvred into a corner.
"Agent McGee, would you like the court reporter to read back the last question?"
"That won't be necessary," McGee replied. He took a deep breath and with no small measure of angst, he answered the question with extreme reluctance. "Yes I have but there was extenuating-"
"Agent McGee, my sources tell me that there have been frequent instances of erratic behaviour by Special Agent DiNozzo, including the application of superglue on your computer keyboard, constant humiliating nicknames, unwanted intrusion into the private lives of his colleagues, just to name a few."
"No." McGee said with a shake of his head.
"No?" Scott replied. "Are my sources incorrect? Has Agent DiNozzo exhibited this type of erratic behaviour before or has he not? Yes or no, Agent McGee?"
McGee's frustration was palpable as he turned disheartened eyes to Tony. The senior field agent straightened in his seat and with the hint of a smile and a "what-are-you-gonna-do" shrug, Tony silently instructed his younger partner to answer the question.
"Yes," McGee grudgingly replied.
"I have no more questions for this witness, Your Honour," Scott said, turning on his heel and resuming his seat.
"Your Honour, permission to redirect?" Commander Barnes asked.
"Proceed, Commander," the judge agreed.
"Agent McGee, would you please explain to the court, the circumstances under which you witnessed Agent DiNozzo acting under the influence of narcotics while at work?" the commander asked.
"A short time ago, Tony and I were both injured while apprehending a suspect. The suspect broke Tony's nose and he was given Percodan for the pain," the recollection brought a small smile to McGee's lips. "It made him a little…loopy."
"This Percodan, it was prescribed by a doctor?"
"Yes, Sir, I was with Tony at the hospital when the doctor prescribed it."
"You were also injured?"
"I dislocated my shoulder," McGee replied.
"Did you receive pain medication?" the commander asked.
"Yes, Sir, Percodan, the same dosage as Tony," McGee said.
"Yet you were unaffected?"
"It was a low dose, just enough to take the edge off the pain."
"Then, how do you explain Agent DiNozzo's reaction."
McGee's eyes found Tony's and the younger man smiled.
"I guess he has a higher threshold for pain and a lower threshold for pain meds. If there was any doubt at all about our ability to do our jobs, Special Agent Gibbs would have benched us."
"So, to summarise, the narcotic was in fact low dose pain medication prescribed by a doctor after you and Agent DiNozzo had been injured in the line of duty," the commander said. "What about these other claims of erratic behaviour?"
McGee sighed heavily.
"You've gotta know Tony. He's the like the circuit breaker or the emergency valve on our team," he explained. "Ours is not an easy job; the hours are long and the work can be frustrating and dangerous. Tony provides a release from the tension but none of what he says or does comes from malice. I believe that's why the boss, er, Special Agent Gibbs, allows him a certain amount of latitude. Do I find it irritating at times; absolutely, but when it counts, when we're in the field, Tony has always had my back."
"What about the nicknames and the superglue incident?" Pete asked. "Don't you find that kind of workplace bullying humiliating?"
"Annoying sometimes but never humiliating," McGee answered truthfully. "As for everything else – anybody who believes that I am an unfortunate victim of workplace bullying isn't giving me enough credit. This isn't nursery school and I'm not some shrinking violet – I am a US federal agent and if I had a problem with how I was being treated, believe me, Tony would know about it."
He locked eyes again with his senior field agent who, despite looking like a stiff breeze could blow him off his feet, was nodding his head in silent agreement.
"I have no more questions for this witness, Your Honour," Pete said.
"Mr Scott?" the judge asked.
"Your Honour," Scott replied. "The defence requests the right to recall Special Agent McGee at a later time."
"With all due respect, Your Honour, Special Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo are still to testify which means Agent McGee is the most senior member of the MCRT and is required back at NCIS headquarters."
"Your Honour, Special Agent McGee's qualifications speak for themselves. By anyone's standards he is considered an expert in his field. The defence may have further questions that require clarification from someone with his excellent qualifications."
"Then we're in luck, Your Honour," Pete said with the hint of a smile as he pointed to a young redheaded man in the gallery. "NCIS Special Agent Joseph Blowfield also has a Bachelor of Science degree in biomedical engineering and a Master of Science degree in computer forensics from MIT. Agents Blowfield and McGee have worked very closely over the past three years and he has kindly agreed to act as an expert witness if required."
The courtroom fell silent and Gibbs felt his gut tighten as the judge contemplated his decision. If there was any chance of decrypting the proxy server they needed McGee working on it, not stuck here twiddling his thumbs.
"Special Agent McGee, you are dismissed with the thanks of this court," Judge Brayden stated.
"But, Your Honour-" Scott protested.
"I've made my decision, Mr Scott," the judge said putting an end to the argument.
Scott chanced a look at Thomas Grayson who met his gaze with eyes that sparked with incandescent fury.
McGee walked back through the swing gate and moved in behind Tony and Gibbs.
"I'm going back to the office," he whispered receiving a concerned frown from his team leader.
"The Marine guard?" Gibbs asked.
"Waiting for me in the hall" McGee answered. "Hang in there, Tony, we won't let you down."
"Go speak the geek, Probie," Tony replied with a thin smile.
Giving Tony's shoulder a nudge of support, McGee turned on his heel and left the courtroom. As Commander Barnes approached he noted the look of confusion on Tony's face.
"How you holding up?" Pete asked his ashen-faced friend.
Waving off the commander's concern, Tony's frown deepened.
"Um, Pete, I see Joe Blowfield buzzing around the office all day but he's on another team," Tony whispered.
The commander looked stricken as he turned to Gibbs.
"You told me Agents Blowfield and McGee worked closely every day!" Pete hissed accusingly. "Please tell me I didn't just lie to the judge."
A small smile tugged at the former Marine's lips.
"Wouldn't call it a lie exactly," Gibbs drawled. "Blowfield's desk backs onto McGee's so...they work closely every day."
The JAG officer's jaw was in danger of hitting the floor as he gazed open-mouthed from one man to the other.
"And what if he's called to testify?" Pete asked.
"That would be bad," Tony nodded.
"Very bad," Gibbs added.
"What he said," Tony agreed.
Despite the situation, Gibbs enjoyed the easy banter with his agent. The Blowfield fake out had hopefully bought them some time and his IT Specialist was on his way back to the Navy yard to do what he did best.
Without specific proof of Thomas Grayson's involvement, the burden of establishing probable cause weighed heavily on Tony's shoulders. The senior field agent had been holding on by his fingernails ever since his undercover assignment had been blown and Gibbs feared that the additional pressure could loosen Tony's tenuous grip.
He heard his agent take an audible breath as Commander Barnes called Thomas Grayson to the stand.
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A/N Thank you again for the overwhelming support received for this story. And a big thank you to Zee Viate for her invaluable feedback on my first courtroom scene ever and for her calming influence regarding my extreme case of butterflies.
I hope you enjoyed it, L