Hope Yet
He watches her discreetly from behind his desk, his forehead furrowed in concern.
Ever since she arrived back from the latest crime scene she'd visited, she'd been unnaturally quiet and it's scaring him.
An open file sits on the desk in front of him, but he can't remember a word of it, though he's read it at least 15 times now. He wants to throw it across the room; he wants to hurt it, because while he has work, he has no excuse to see her (and to comfort her).
He forces his eyes to read once more over the lines of black text that have long ago become indistinguishable to him. That's when he finally loses it.
He grabs the first scrap piece of paper he comes across – because he knows full well that he can't destroy the actual file if he wants to live – and screws it up into a ball, tossing it across the room as hard as he can.
It bounces off the head of a passing marine, who aims a glare at him but moves on.
"That's it," he says, leaping out of his seat, all but ignorant of his paper missile victim. "I'm done sitting while you're like that."
She glances up at him for the first time in an hour, startled as he walks purposefully to her desk and takes her hand. "Tony!"
He ignores her protests and pulls her towards the door. "We're going for lunch," he calls over his shoulder to Gibbs and anyone else who cares enough to listen. "And we," he tells her, "are having a little talk."
She looks about ready to protest but he puts a finger up to silence her. "Ah! You get no say in this. We're talking and we're binging on ice cream."
She smiles at the last part and lessens her protests. He takes that as a good sign.
There is hope yet.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
"You know it's illegal to kidnap your co-worker, don't you, Tony?" she asks, flatly.
He looks at her as if he's bored and the irritation at being pulled away from her desk rises in her chest again, despite the alluring thoughts of ice cream.
"Tony?" she tries again.
He doesn't bite. Damn.
She sighs in frustration and lets him lead her on in silence.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"I killed him," she says with a slight grimace. Her words seem harsher now that she's said them out loud, but now that she's started, she can't stop. "I aimed my gun, pulled the trigger and now he's dead. I couldn't…I had to…"
Tony places a hand on her arm, cutting her off. "You had to," he confirms with a nod. "What you did was the right thing given the situation." He pauses as if to allow her time to digest that and then squeezes her hand gently. "I'd have done the same," he very nearly whispers.
She clamps her eyes shut firmly to keep from crying. Jaw clenched, she takes several deep breaths. Steady. Calm. One. Two. Three.
She opens her eyes again to find Tony watching her, concern written all over his face. A half smile curls her lips despite her distress. She likes this protective side of Tony. If only the circumstances weren't so bleak. She sighed.
"I know I did what any agent would have," she finally says – might as well confide in him fully now that the dam has been unleashed. "It's just hard. Killing someone… It wasn't on my to-do list today." It's a weak joke, but it's something.
Anything less and she's afraid of what Tony might do to make her feel better. Anything less and she's afraid of what she'll do.
"You'll be okay," Tony tells her. He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb and she realises they've been holding onto each other for almost 10 minutes.
She gently prises her hand free, missing the warmth and comfort immediately but knowing to give in to it would only lead to trouble. "We'd better finish these before they melt."
Tony smiles softly at her and nods, "yeah."
They resume eating their ice cream, each falling into their own thoughts or lack thereof. Tony is the first to break the silence.
"I'm here for you, you know," he says, "if you need it."
She smiles and wipes ice cream from her mouth with the back of one hand. "I know," she tells him.
To herself, she thinks…
There is hope yet.
fin.
