A/N: Been working on this for a long, long time. I have no excuses except reading fanfiction is a lot easier than writing it and I win at procrastination.
Let me preface this chapter by saying I have never been to D.C. or The Phillips Collection Museum and I have taken certain liberties with hours, layout and what not. That being said, I have looked at the website quite extensively and some of the art mentioned actually is exhibited in this museum. I actually take a lot of liberties in this chapter.
Obviously this also disregards just about everything that happened in the season 13 finale (yeah it's been that long) which was great but kind of messes with the whole premise of this fic. *Spoilers ahead for those who haven't seen the finale and wish to at some point*
For the record, I didn't want Ziva dead. I doubt Tony could carry on a fledgling relationship with anyone if he found out Ziva had died and he had a daughter.
*End of spoilers*
Disclaimer: I have one more college loan, any takers?
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, favorited, read. I'm so happy that people are enjoying this and sticking with me despite my unpredictable posting.
Paige: Not sure if a Jeanne/Tony ending would have gone over better or worse than Ziva dying (if you haven't noticed there's a lot of dislike for Jeanne/Scottie Thompson). I thought for the time they were together that Jeanne and Tony had a fairly stable and adult relationship (again nothing against Ziva) and it would have been nice to see something more play out without Jeanne getting hurt again or Tony having feelings for a married woman.
TheNaggingCube: Thanks, although I love angst, drama, and romance I'm finding that it's much easier to do humor.
VG LittleBear: Glad you liked it. I tried to find a balance so neither Tony or Tim comes off as idiotic or perfect since they both have their strengths and flaws.
This chapter got kind of out of control, but I hope you enjoy it.
Let's Pretend we're Normal
By Tuesday McGee's twitching and suspiciously nonchalant demeanor had mostly subsided as it became obvious that the world was not about to implode with Gibbs' anger and he apparently remembered that he was a highly trained federal agent. At the very least he'd stopped giving Tony shifty looks when he though no one else was looking, which was of great relief as Tony had started getting odd looks from other agents in return.
No one else seemed to have caught on to Anthony DiNozzo's latest escapades, a simultaneously freeing and worrying prospect, if one considered the usual time it took for gossip to circulate the pumpkin spiced walls of NCIS. Not even Gibbs with his all-knowing gut showed signs of suspicion as he sat, ill-tempered, at his desk and jabbed at his keyboard as though it had offended him somehow.
They'd closed their latest case earlier that day which left them with the usual reports they'd all filled out a thousand times before. It didn't stop Gibbs from throwing out the occasional order to get to work or type faster. Tony ignored it; he was used to Gibbs' increasingly mercurial temperament and he better uses for his energy then going up against his cranky team leader.
At a quarter to five Tony glanced at his watch, heaved a sigh and quietly approached Gibbs desk, attempting a confident air he didn't quite feel. It was a full ten seconds before Gibbs acknowledged his presence with a sighed,
"DiNozzo?"
"Gotta leave by 5:30 today, Gibbs." He said, ignoring Gibbs' barely concealed eye roll. As long as he finished his share of the paperwork there wasn't much left to do and it wasn't like he didn't have about a year's worth of comp time to use at his discretion.
"Why?" Gibbs asked in a thoroughly disinterested tone.
"Doctor's appointment." Tony answered glibly. He almost could hear McGee's head snap up and he didn't need to look to feel the daggers burrowing into the back of his head. Gibbs grunted his response.
"Next time fill out the paperwork." Tony nodded agreeably.
"It was kind of a last minute thing, but next time I have to see my doctor I'll totally do that." He babbled earning a low groan from behind him.
"Something wrong, Tim?" Gibbs asked, concern coloring his voice. A second strangled noise emerged and McGee choked out a 'fine, Boss'. Tony gave a final cheerful nod. As he settled back behind his desk he caught Tim's eyes who shot him a look that was mostly disbelieving but also had a hint of admiration.
"DiNozzo, you are insane." He muttered. "Hope you enjoy your appointment." Though the words were barely above a whisper and said with a hint of derision, Tony find himself smiling nonetheless at his reluctant coconspirator.
Dinner was not intended to be an extravagant affair. Although Tony had considered booking one of the many five-star, six-month-waiting-list restaurants that D.C. had to offer he vetoed that idea in favor of something simpler which was why he and Jeanne were currently strolling along a nicely lit sidewalk, edged with empty flowerbeds and an eclectic mix of small, privately owned restaurants.
Jeanne's arm was loosely tucked into his elbow as she peered at the brightly colored doors and windows with apparent interest.
"This was not what I was expecting when you said dinner." She commented, craning her neck to get a better look at a menu that advertised 'real' ostrich eggs. "I don't think I've ever been to this part of town before. Where exactly are you taking me, Tony?"
"It's called "Die Burg". The best way I can think to describe it is German inspired food meets Baroque décor. Jeanne raised her eyebrows at that. "I'm not kidding. But the things they do with potatoes makes it all worthwhile." Tony assured her. The intricate décor lining every spare inch of wall had alarmed him at first, but he'd quickly been won over by the chefs heavenly creations.
"I'm surprised we're not having lasagna." Jeanne said, earning a frown from Tony.
"Did you want lasagna?" Tony asked, slightly confused. Jeanne smiled a little and shook her head.
"You gave a fifteen minute speech about the merits of lasagna the other night. Said it was the only true food out there and only an idiot would disagree." Tony felt a wave of heat creeping up from his collar and faked a cough. Although Jeanne was doing an admirable job of not laughing at his plight, she couldn't hold back a small giggle.
"Yeah, that does sound an awful lot like me, although I'm kinda surprised I wasn't talking about pizza."
"You insisted that there was nothing like 'noodles smothered in a blanket of cheese, covered in a cloak of sauce and baked to perfection', if I'm remembering correctly." Jeanne finished, allowing a previously well-contained chuckle to escape. Tony pressed his thumb and forefinger against his closed eyes.
"Oh god, what are the chances you'll forget most of that and we can go back to pretending that I'm normal human being with a normal level of interest in cheese?" He was mostly joking, but there was still something humiliating about having no memory of what he'd done or said that evening. Surprisingly he felt a set of fingers gently brush against the side of his head before Jeanne whispered in his ear.
"I gave up hope on that a long time ago. Besides, I found out that normal gets old really fast." Jeanne swept her fingers down his cheek once more.
"Was this before or after the corgi reenactment?" Tony felt the urge to ask despite the warm feeling that Jeanne's voice had created in the pit of his stomach.
"Both, actually. You seemed concerned that I didn't understand the importance of lasagna."
"So, anyway the braised beef tips are really good and did I mention the potatoes?" Tony offered amidst Jeanne's renewed snickering. "And then, if you're nice to me, I thought we could check out the Phillip's Collection museum. It's about twenty minutes from here, so if you're feeling up to it we can probably get there before it closes."
"An art museum?" Jeanne repeated.
"Yeah, I figured we could pretend to be sophisticated and throw around words like 'neo-modernism' and 'negative space'." Jeanne roughly pulled her arm from his, making him stumble a little over a crack in the cement. "Hey, you lose a shoe or something?" He asked, not expecting to see her wearing a furious expression.
"Really, Tony?" Tony laughed. It was probably, no make that definitely, the wrong response, but he was almost certain he hadn't said or done anything wrong in the last two minutes. "An art museum?"
"Uh, yes…is there something else I'm supposed to be saying here because I'm obviously seriously challenged mentally speaking and could use some help." Jeanne shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together as though she couldn't quite find the words to express the depth of his mistake. He was used to seeing that expression, but he usually had some idea what he'd done to inspire it.
"You said we'd be honest with each other from now on yet you used your resources to find out personal information about me. How did you think that was going to make me feel?" He let out another incredulous laugh.
"Jeanne, I don't know what you're talking about." He insisted.
"So you just got lucky and happened to choose an art museum that just happens to have a large collection of impressionistic art." Jeanne hissed. Without waiting for a reply she spun around and started walking away as quickly as her high heels would allow.
"Hey!" Tony shouted, breaking into a light jog and grasping at Jeanne's wrist with the tip of his fingers. He gently tugged her to a halt and brought her around to face him once again. "You didn't let me even try to explain."
"Tony, there's not much to explain." He felt his heart tapping out a funeral march, his stomach tightening as the urge to panic and run or shout something he'd never be able to retract fought for dominance, but he tamped it down with a short intake of breath. Carefully gathering her other hand so both were between his much larger ones, he pressed them against his chest. She let out a shaky breath but didn't try to move away.
"Fine." She bit out in a slightly wavering voice. Keeping his hands cupped around hers he gently nudged her farther to the side so a curious couple could pass.
"Despite what past events might suggest, I have not used any means, nefarious or otherwise, to investigate you since you came back. To be honest I didn't do it the first time around. I was given a file on you but I only read the first page."
"Then how did you know?" Jeanne whispered.
"I didn't, swear I didn't." Tony assured her, still uncertain why it was such a big deal. "It just seemed like something you'd enjoy." Before he could say anything else Jeanne tugged her hand free and pressed it against his lips.
"Do you promise? I don't think I could take it if I found out you were lying to me again." Jeanne whispered. His heart stuttered. Never before had he hated Tony DiNardo more than he did in this moment. During their relatively brief relationship he couldn't recall Jeanne ever being so cynical or uncertain.
"I promise." Tony murmured back fervently. Under the pretense of turning her head, Jeanne swiped a finger beneath her nose. Without thinking Tony pulled her into arms and cupped his palm loosely around the back of her head, careful not to muss her hair too terribly.
"Hey, I swear I will do my very best to never intentionally hurt you again. Now, I can't promise I won't ever make you angry because I'm gonna do some stupid things, that's just a given but I will not lie to you." Jeanne laughed wetly, her hands going to fist in the sides of Tony's jacket.
"I won't argue with you about that, although I think you're a lot smarter than you let on. And…" She paused to suck in a deep breath. "I'm sorry that I accused you of being dishonest. It's actually really sweet that you thought of Phillip's." Tony pressed a kiss to the top of her head before slowly releasing her.
"It's ok, I probably deserved it." He assured her. Reclaiming Jeanne's hand, they resumed their stroll down the sidewalk. "Now, if we hurry we can still get a good table."
"You still want to go out tonight?" Jeanne questioned incredulously.
"If we don't eat every time you get mad at me we might starve." Tony said quite earnestly. "Besides, did I mention they have potatoes?"
Sometime later when they were both pleasantly filled with a combination of braised beef tips, potatoes (Tony was insistent) and roasted vegetables, Tony voiced a question that had been nagging at him.
"Jeanne, why didn't I know that you like art?" Rather than look surprised by his question Jeanne flushed and fiddled with the edge of her napkin. "I mean, other than a few notable exceptions you weren't too reserved about personal details."
"It's so stupid, Tony…it's just something I haven't told anyone about in years."
"Ok, unless you were an art thief in another life, I think I can handle it. C'mon tell me and I'll buy you a piece of Leslie's lemon cheesecake which is to die for."
"You are so weird." Jeanne said, rolling her eyes. "Ok, but you can't laugh at me. When I was really little, maybe four or five, my dad started taking me to art museums. At first I hated it, I thought it was so boring when all the other girls I knew were picking out life-sized dolls or watching Disney movies. But after a couple years I realized that I got to spend a whole afternoon with my dad without my mom or anyone else interrupting us and he'd pretty much let me do anything I wanted." Tony nodded encouragingly while he pictured a miniature Jeanne running riot in the Louvre while an indulgent Rene Benoit trailed behind.
"By the time I was ten I loved art and started begging dad to take me to the museum whenever he was home, even thought my mom hated it. They were divorced by then and she couldn't stand that I loved something he'd introduced me to." She paused to take a drink of water, her expression distant as she reminisced.
"That doesn't sound so bad, aside from your mom hating your dad." Tony observed. His own shared activities with Senior, few and far between, left a lot to be desired and he found himself oddly jealous of Jeanne's relationship with her father. "So that wonderful first meeting wasn't just for my benefit, she's like that all the time?" Tony asked, striving to keep his tone light. Jeanne sighed knowingly and lifted one hand in a forestalling gesture.
"No, she wasn't treating you any differently than she's treated the rest of my boyfriends. And that story is going to take a lot more time and wine than we have right now." Tony nodded, not pushing a subject that was obviously still sore.
"Anyway, museums were my thing with dad. If he took me to a different state, occasionally a different country, we had to visit at least one museum there. I never thought it was strange, special definitely, but nothing extraordinary. I mean I went to private school straight through high school and most of the kids went to Jamaica or Hawaii several times a year." Tony listened avidly, not that surprised that she'd had a privileged upbringing; it was evident in the nice apartment and lack of overwhelming student loans straight out of med school. He understood though, he'd been among those very rich kids for a good part of his life, even been one of them at times. It was a bit of a shock the first time you realized not everyone lived in a mansion or had servants.
"It wasn't until I started college and I was around a lot more people from different backgrounds that I realized I wasn't so normal. I got pretty used to people treating me differently and I think I handled it pretty well until this guy I was dating found out I'd had an all access pass to the Smithsonian since I was eight and he called me a princess. I was planning on just ignoring it but then he asked why I was going to college, I obviously had enough money that I'd never have to work." Tony chuckled darkly which earned him an appreciative look from Jeanne. Jeanne might have been privileged but she definitely wasn't a princess and he knew she worked very hard to dispel that image.
"And is the man still alive with fully functioning parts?" He teased. Jeanne nudged him playfully and stole one of the remaining potatoes from his plate, ignoring his protesting exclamation.
"Yes, he is alive and well as far as I know, I don't think the same can be said for his limited edition Killers t-shirt though." She said nonchalantly. Tony wasn't quite sure how she managed to look graceful as she popped an entire new potato in her mouth, but she did.
"Ooh, let me guess…red wine?"
"Tomato sauce, actually."
"Nice." Tony said, appreciatively. "But you know the guy was an idiot, right?"
"Yes, he was but he was also right a little bit too. My background wasn't exactly full of hardships. So there were a few things that I, perhaps foolishly, hid to make myself seem a little less privileged, a little more approachable. I don't know if it worked but it made me feel less guilty." Tony frowned.
"But why did you keep it from me? Did I give you the impression I would judge you for something like that?" Even as he worked to keep his tone light he felt a hint of doubt. He'd worked hard to make Tony DiNozzo a less harsh version of himself, without the judgement and unkindness that sometimes plagued him.
"No, you were great about everything…which was part of the problem. I liked you so much that I didn't want there to be any chance you'd ridicule what I was most self-conscious about." Jeanne explained hastily, obviously realizing Tony was taking her words personally.
"And how do you feel about that now?" Tony asked softly. Reaching across the small space between them Jeanne carefully took his hand in hers.
"I still like you, maybe more than I did then, and I don't want to hide anything else from you. Even if telling you causes me extreme embarrassment." Tony's face creased with a slow, happy smile. He gave Jeanne's hand a tug even though there was less than a foot of space between them and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek. Rather than moving away as he'd expected, Jeanne leant into his touch, her cheek brushing the length of his nose once, twice, before moving back ever so slightly.
"And just so you know, I will never ridicule you, tease incessantly, yes, but never ridicule." Tony assured her, his voice achingly sincere.
They made it to the Phillip's museum just as the attendant was closing down her station. Tony smiled genially as he fished out his credit card and she lost her less than pleased expression, directing them to the open exhibits with a mostly sincere smile of her own. Jeanne snickered for a few moments over Tony's blatant use of charm which he insisted what simply common courtesy.
"I was just being nice. It's not my fault she's a sucker for killer good looks." Tony said, pausing by a conveniently placed ornate mirror to preen. .
"Uh-huh, is that why you winked?" Jeanne said as she led them past a collection of Renaissance art to an upper wing
"I have a twitchy eye." Tony replied absently, his head tilted at a ridiculous angle while he squinted at a blurry painting. "Are those birds?" Frowning, Jeanne took a few steps back and narrowed her own eyes. Tony moved closer so he was less than six inches away. "Definitely birds." He confirmed.
"It's called Can Can, Tony."
"Birds doing the Can-Can, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that's a little strange." A woman with a knitted hat that covered most of her forehead who'd been drifting between a painting of a sunset and what looked like a poorly formed rhinoceros shot Tony an incredulous and slightly disgusted look. He waved brightly and she adjusted her long coat, swinging her overlarge handbag dangerously close to a glass display case as her cheeks tinged an interesting shade of reddish-purple.
"You're terrible." Jeanne observed, biting back a smirk as the woman scurried behind a randomly placed statue on the other side of the room.
"You'd think she painted the thing herself." His comment was followed by a brief glance at the accompanying placard by both of them.
"Well unless she's visiting us from the great beyond, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say she's just a snob who thinks that even pictures of Campbell's soup are full of hidden meaning." He hooked his thumb in the direction of the still skulking woman.
"Actually they represent the materialistic nature of our present culture and the shift from an agrarian society to an industrial society and the negative impact it has on the individual." Tony fumbled momentarily, flummoxed by Jeanne's apparent appreciation for Warhol's artwork but he rallied quickly.
"Well, I guess if you think about it they might have some meaning and they certainly are realistic and…bright." His voice trailed off as he tried to think of something else positive to say about a painting of a red and white can. If that was the kind of thing that Jeanne considered art then maybe he understood why she wanted to keep it quiet.
Pulling him from his worried introspection, Jeanne gently grasped his arm and turned him away from the dancing birds to face her.
"Tony, I'm joking." She assured him.
"Oh, thank god." Tony breathed gratefully. "That shade of red would totally clash with my décor." Jeanne meanwhile was wearing a disgusted expression.
"You really think I find pictures of cheap soup illuminating?" She asked incredulously. "I had a Monet reproduction hanging in my apartment."
"You know, all this teasing is cruel and uncalled for." Tony protested and attempted his most distraught face which Jeanne merely rolled her eyes at. He leaned close to Jeanne because the nosy woman was lurking nearby again, not particularly minding that it brought him in close proximity to her loosely curled hair. It smelled like something light and slightly flowery, different from the scent he vaguely remembered her wearing but no less appealing.
"Oh, you just wait 'til we get back Doctor, I have all eight seasons of Magnum P.I. on DVD, collector's edition. I'd say we can get through at least one disc tonight." Jeanne frowned at this apparent threat and cast a glance at her watch.
"Tony, it's nearly 8:30, by the time we–" Tony grabbed her hand, linking their fingers together and cutting of her protest.
"Which is why we should leave soon, but first let's check out that one of the melting donkey." Tony said, dragging a slightly off-balance Jeanne after him.
They were chased away from the melting donkey, which was supposedly a warrior of some sort, fairly quickly. A different and far less agreeable curator than the one at the admissions desk shooed Jeanne and Tony away with a stern admonition that it was five minutes past the closing time.
"I don't remember you having an animal fixation when we were together." Jeanne commented as they walked out into the brisk night air. It had been warmer earlier, reaching an almost spring-like forty degrees but had dropped back down to a temperature more appropriate for December.
"I like to think of it as my own creative interpretation of reality." Tony answered loftily, noting that Jeanne had her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. Though she was wearing a coat, it most likely hadn't been intended for extended walks in twenty-some degree weather. He paused and slipped his own coat off and then his suit jacket, handing it to Jeanne before he added, "You can imagine what my college art teacher thought of me."
Taking the jacket with a smirk, she shrugged it on, the hem hanging down to just above her knees. "I thought you studied physical education, what were you doing in an art class?" Tony might have taken offense at the assumption if it weren't so true. He distinctly remembered laughing incredulously when his advisor suggested the class.
"I was a freshman and I needed a Liberal Arts elective and it seemed better than political science. Besides, I was promised there would be nude models." They started wending their way once more through the mostly deserted sidewalk. The frigid breeze seemed to have sent most people inside so they were walking at a more leisurely pace.
"And were there?"
"Nude models? Nah, though there was the faculty Christmas party where I hear out teacher got a little frisky and tried to pose for the Assistant Dean." Tony said, affecting a light shudder at the memory.
"Did you enjoy it? The art class I mean, not your teacher." At Tony's inquisitive expression she hastily added, "You were very believable as a films professor which is a little difficult to reconcile with you actually being in law enforcement…I just wondered if you were pulling from any real life experience." Tony forced his mind back to when he was coping with the heady and slightly terrifying combination of complete independence.
"A lot of it's blurred together but if I remember correctly Mrs. Leonard couldn't stand me, mostly because I didn't put any stock in the idea that anything could be art." Tony explained. "It probably didn't help that my exhibits sucked and then there was that incident with the stick figures."
"Sounds like you were a model student." An amused Jeanne noted as they approached the parking garage containing where Tony parked his car.
"Hey, I got an A+ in History of Cinema and I was the only student who wasn't an Arts Major."
"So Professor DiNardo was actually partially based on reality?"
"Where do you think that thesis I showed you came from?" Tony replied somewhat haughtily. It was probably the first time either of them had made as reference to his alias without any tension or an argument breaking out. "Besides, I've always watched a lot of movies, it wasn't much of a stretch. I could talk film theory in my sleep."
"Wait." Jeanne said, bringing up a hand and making Tony stop in his tracks halfway up a flight of stairs, instantly on alert.
"What?" He hissed, thinking that it would be just his luck to end the night with an armed robbery.
"You wrote that paper as an undergrad? It was over a hundred pages long." Instantly he relaxed and shrugged his shoulders in the face of Jeanne's astonishment.
"Well, I tweaked it a little before you read it, but basically."
"That's incredible." Jeanne murmured. "None of my undergrad classes required anything of that length, and I had to participate in medical studies."
"It may have a gotten just a little bit out of hand." Tony admitted sheepishly. He felt silly for unknown reasons; normally he'd love the chance to discuss movies with a willing participant, but something about the awe in Jeanne's voice was making him uncomfortable.
"So, in between grueling football practices and a full academic caseload, you found the time to write your epic thesis, The Golden Age of Film: Bogart, Bacall, and Bergman?"
"I don't know, like I said, it wasn't that hard." Tony searched for some way to describe the feeling of ease, the sense of comfort that came from movies. It wasn't as though he could go into in depth cinematic analysis with his college friends, who put up with him babbling about the latest Bond but would never understand his fascination with black and white film. "It was almost like a release, I guess. Something I couldn't really find in the rest of my classes or in sports. I was a jock, I wanted that image, you know, it wasn't like it was forced on me, but it didn't really give me much room to express myself."
They were standing beside his car now and though the wind was whipping through the open spaces of the garage, chilling any uncovered bit of skin neither of them attempted to seek shelter. Jeanne was staring at him with a fond expression that simultaneously made him want to squirm and sent a soft warmth through his stomach. It wasn't often that he chose to, or even felt comfortable enough to share something that left him vulnerable and so very open to ridicule.
Coming to lean against the hood of the car so Tony was standing in front and slightly above her, Jeanne reached for his hand again. He could definitely get used to that.
"For the record, I think you would have made an excellent teacher." Tony snorted at that which elicited a frown and a sharp squeeze from the woman across from him. "I mean it." She insisted. Still smiling at what he found to be a thoroughly amusing idea, Tony released Jeanne's hand in favor of finding his own seat against the dark paint of his car and swung an arm around her shoulders.
"Jeanne, I'd probably be the first teacher who got reported for being disruptive. Seriously, putting me in a roomful of anyone under the age of 25 and making me responsible for a part of their education would be a terrible idea."
"Tony, I'm not joking, your passion shows in your writing and I don't think it would be that difficult for you to funnel that passion into something else. I'm sure your imaginary students would be lucky to have you. So, I guess I'm saying if this whole Federal Agent thing doesn't work out, you can always give Professor DiNardo another try." Jeanne's voice, which had started out strong and assured, was so low when she finished that Tony had to lean down in order to hear her.
Even if he thought it was ludicrous, he couldn't help feeling a little touched. The overwhelming opinion when Tony DiNardo's chosen profession came to light was 'what the hell had Jenny been thinking?' and for the most part Tony had agreed with them. His cover job was good only so long as Jeanne never dug too deeply into his lesson plans or asked to sit in on one of his classes.
"Well" Tony began in a voice that came out a little less flippant than he intended, "on behalf of my non-existent students, I thank you." A sudden gust of wind had him ending on a shiver. "And on that note, I think it's high time I got you home, Dr. Benoit."
A/N: So, there it is. Leave your love or hate or questions in a review. Let me assure that while this chapter was a lot less angsty than the rest, the drama is not over yet. There's still a lot for Tony and Jeanne to work out, I just thought they deserved a slight reprieve.
