Disclaimer : I own nothing, but the typos. Oh and the OCs.
Warnings : Rated T for language, violence and mayhem.
Author's Note : Thanks for all of the follows/favorites so far. And many thanks to those who left reviews.
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9:32pm – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC – Office Director Leon Vance –
Seated in one of Vance's guest chairs, Tim feels oddly like a kid that got sent to the principal's office. At least, he thinks it should feel a lot like this. Back in grade school, he never had the chance to take the long walk down the short hallway that was the daily routine of a juvenile delinquent.
I bet Tony knew the way by heart before he even hit middle school.
Tim isn't sure how he is supposed to sit while he waits for Vance to, presumably, rip him a new one.
So he leans back in the seat, crosses his legs. Suddenly, he decides that he looks too comfortable—way too relaxed and more like how he imagines Tony would sit. He drops both feet back to the floor and fidgets with his hands in his lap. That makes him appear too agitated. So Tim ends up right where he started: gripping the armrests with white knuckles and his left leg bouncing with its own nervous energy.
It isn't like it matters anyway. Vance is too busy reading Tim's report on the Michaels arrest and grinding a toothpick into splinters to notice.
After what feels like an eternity, Vance clears his throat. He catches Tim in a glare that is one step below Gibbs' level, but enough to scare Tim. His vision goes spotty and for a moment, he is about to keel over.
"Agent McGee," Vance's voice is authoritative and terrifying, "am I reaching when I say that your report downplays today's events?"
Tim drums his fingers against the chair. "I know my methods were a bit unorthodox, but – "
"I think that's being kind," Vance interrupts. "You took an untrained civilian into the field, let him discharge an unapproved—not to mention, unregistered—weapon, and nearly got yourself killed."
Unconsciously, Tim rubs the band-aid on his neck where Michaels tried his hand at rudimentary surgery. The anger eases from Vance's face as he replaces his worn toothpick with a fresh one.
"I did what I thought was right," Tim says quietly. "I showed Tony DiNozzo how we do thing here at NCIS. Isn't that what you asked me to do?"
Vance half-smiles. "I think the Hollywood-level heroics are best left to your novels. Out of everyone on your team, I thought you were the safest one for Tony DiNozzo to follow around."
Tim tilts his head. "What should I have done, sir?"
"I don't know." Vance pops the toothpick out of his mouth. "Show him some computer stuff or let him read a bunch of cold case files? Hell, you could've dropped him off in the evidence locker for a few hours while you and one of your teammates checked out your lead on Michaels."
How could I have not thought of any of those?
Tim drops his gaze to the director's plush carpet. Even though he wants to defend himself, he can't find his voice.
What is he supposed to say anyway?
That Gibbs wouldn't let him investigate their dead petty officer and he decided to check out Michaels alone to get back in his boss' good graces? Because while Vance might actually buy it, Tim still had so many other choices that he could've made.
Tilting his head, Vance leans forward. "Then there was the matter that you promised the suspect that he could be the villain in your next book."
"It got us a confession." Tim's smile is fleeting.
"The ends don't always justify the means, Agent McGee." When Tim starts to protest, Vance shakes his head. "No matter what Agent Gibbs might tell you, it doesn't."
"Yes, sir," Tim says quietly.
He waits for the tilt of a head to send him back to his team, but it doesn't come. Instead, Vance appears to be holding back from saying something that he obviously doesn't want to.
Tim gestures towards the door. "Can I go now, sir? Tony DiNozzo was about to leave when I came up here. I'd like to have a chance to say goodbye."
"Not quite yet, Agent McGee." Vance slides a piece of paper out from underneath Tim's report. "I think we need to discuss the consequences of your actions."
Tim swallows hard. "Consequences?"
"I just finished reviewing your request for two weeks of leave. Starting now."
"I didn't fill out any…" Tim makes a face. "Wait, are you suspending me?"
Vance shakes his head. "There is a big difference between a suspension and a required use of your overwhelming amount of unused vacation time."
"It sure doesn't feel like it."
"I think it's in your interest to take a few weeks out of the office. Learn the difference between what happens in your novels and the agency." Vance offers Tim a assuaging smile. "Just so you don't learn too many bad habits from Agent Gibbs."
"I understand." Tim can't bring himself to meet Vance's eyes. "Is that all, sir?"
"Yes, Agent McGee. We'll see you again in two weeks after your vacation is done." He turns to his paperwork. "I've already notified Agent Gibbs of the situation."
Tim doesn't trust his voice to respond. He just nods like a broken wind-up toy and stumbles out of his seat. He rushes out of the office, ignores the questioning glance from Vance's secretary.
He takes the stairs back to the bullpen as slow as he can because he doesn't know what he is supposed to say to his team. Sure, he can play along with Vance's like that he decided on a two-week vacation at the last possible minute…while they were right in the middle of a case and the upcoming time of year that Carolyn likes to refer to as, "Dead Petty Officer Season."
But maybe a vacation—suspension—isn't the end of the world.
He probably could use the time to rest and recoup. And who knows, maybe it could be the cure for his writer's block. Or perhaps, he could hop on a plane and visit all those places he keeps saying that he will, just as soon as he gets the time. Hell, he could even use the time to deal with all of the bullshit that his literary agent keeps hounding him about for the movie.
When Tim hits the edge of the bullpen, he just outside the cubicle walls, unable to bring himself to enter. He stands stock-still, watching his team interact with each other. These are the moments that he tries so hard—and fails so spectacularly—to recreate in his novels.
Boxes of Chinese food and take-out containers litter every available inch of workspace like a typical all-nighter. By her desk, Carolyn sits as close to Tony as she can get without making him uncomfortable. The first few buttons of her shirt have come undone and she dips towards to him, obviously pretending that she isn't giving him a show. Of course, she is hanging on every Tony's every word. Ziva is at her desk, clearly ignoring Carolyn's shameless attempts at flirting.
"…and that's when the gun went off." Tony's slurred words from a mouthful of food carry all the way to the stairwell and probably through the whole freaking building. "I didn't know what to do next, so I threw it at Michaels."
Carolyn's hysterical giggles ring out as she cranes her neck towards Tony. "Then what happened?"
Ziva perks up: "Why did you just not throw a knife at Michaels? That would have stopped him quite effectively."
"Because I left it with my paper clips back at the office," Tony says sarcastically.
Carolyn cracks up and Tony joins in.
Ziva reaches for a letter opener. "Do not mock my methods for they are useful."
Carolyn suddenly grows serious when she says: "She's right, Tony. You're better off not questioning how she does things. What happened next anyway?"
Tony's mouth is full again. "Well, Tim went all Rambo on Michaels' ass and took him down right then and there. It was so cool to watch a fight happen when it isn't choreographed to death like my movies."
"That's fascinating," Carolyn trills, but she doesn't sound interested at all. "Are most of your fight scenes choreographed?"
"By ballet instructors and kung-fu teachers and anyone else a studio can find." He rolls his eyes. "The worst was the final show-down from my movie Don't Die Again."
"Isn't that the one where you and your love interest make love during the battle because you think you're both about to die?" His roguish grin takes her breath away. "That scene was so hot."
He dips closer to Carolyn to whisper in her ear and in that moment, it's like they're the only two left in the world. Whatever Tony says makes Carolyn's face turn as red as her shirt. Ziva rolls her eyes.
And that's when Tim understands why Tony wouldn't be the right fit as Agent Liam MacGregor in the upcoming movie. MacGregor is soft-spoken and patient, intelligent and prudent, not to mention completely hopeless around women. In fact, he is nothing like Tony.
But the actor's natural personality is still so familiar. It's the way he is a quick-draw with a sarcastic quip, a walking encyclopedia for books and movies, and a brazen flirt with his easy, impish grin.
Oh my G-d, now I know why he feels so familiar.
Tony DiNozzo is a living, breathing version of Agent Tommy DeNiro.
Inhaling deeply, Tim figures that it might just be time to face Tony and his team. He holds his head up high, plasters a bright smile on his face, and heads straight for his desk.
Tony glances up from trying to get into Carolyn's pants. "We were wondering when you were coming to join us, Tim. We got you some General Tso's chicken. Agent Bullock here says it's your favorite."
"Thanks, but I'm really not hungry." Tim stops behind his desk to grab his bag as well as their most recent casefile and the notebook full of plot ideas for his next novel. "I'm going to head home."
"How did it go-" Carolyn's eyes draw towards the director's office "—up there?"
"Fine, great. Wonderful." Tim shrugs with one-shoulder. "I'm going on vacation for a few weeks."
Flinching, Carolyn reads right between the lines. "Ah. That sucks."
"No, I put in a request a while ago to…" Tim drops his gaze to the floor.
"To give me a few weeks to run lines and show me my proper motivation," Tony jumps in. "I'm glad the director finally came around and let you take it."
Tim meets Tony's eyes and smiles. The thank you goes understood, but unspoken.
"Anyway, I think I'm going to head home for the night." Tim is halfway out of the bullpen. "I'll see you guys in a few weeks. I'll call you tomorrow to discuss the part, Tony."
"Have a nice vacation, McGee," Carolyn says before turning back to Tony.
"Goodbye, McGee. I will check in later in the week," Ziva calls as she spears something in her takeout container murderously with a fork.
But Tony is on his feet instantaneously. "Wait up, Tim."
Tim pauses. When Carolyn clears her throat, Tony doubles back and scribbles something on a piece of paper. Tim swears he hears him mutter, Call me, to her. She sinks back into her chair with the paper clasped to her chest as though she might be swooning.
Then Tony joins Tim again. He slings his arm around Tim's shoulder. "So you finally had that change of heart, Tim? What made you realize that I would do a great of a job as MacGregor?"
"Actually, I decided that you'd be perfect as Agent Tommy."
Tony goes dead silent as they finish the walk to the elevators. It isn't until the doors close that Tony's mind catches up to his body. His nose wrinkles into the furrow of his brow.
"You think I should play Agent Tommy?" he says. "But I'm nothing like him."
