The agents got back in the car, all breathing faint sighs of relief at escaping the winter chill. But no one was thinking of going home to a cup of hot chocolate and a warm house.

"So who went where?" McGee asked.

"Or are they together?" Tony tossed out.

Ziva leaned forward a bit from her place in the backseat. "You do not believe Samantha was telling the truth about what Daniel told her?"

"I believe he told her he didn't know where Ryan is," Tony said, ignoring the ache in his chest to turn backward in his seat. "And I believe she believed him."

"But you don't believe him," Gibbs finished.

Tony turned back and shrugged. "I don't know." He closed his eyes for a second while Gibbs started the car to head back to the Navy Yard. "But I do know Ryan didn't make the search for the hotel."

Gibbs nodded as he pulled back onto the interstate. "Because he hates computers," he said, remembering Daniel's words in interrogation.

"Or Daniel made that up," Tony said, sighing softly. "We can't take anything he said at face value."

"The mother confirmed the computer thing," McGee said, looking up from the laptop. "She mentioned it when you were in with Daniel."

"Oh, right," Ziva said, nodding. "She said Ryan would be terrified being surrounded by all the computers in the squad room, but Daniel would be in heaven."

"If he knows computers," McGee said, tapping his finger in thought, "then he probably knew we'd find the hotel search."

"You think it's a misdirect?" Gibbs asked, drawing a shrug from his agent.

"Could be," McGee said. "Or he likes computers but doesn't know much about them."

They rode for a moment in silence before Gibbs slammed to a stop at a red light at the last possible moment, making all of his passengers reach out for the nearest available surface to steady themselves. Gibbs caught Tony's wince and shot him a rare apologetic look.

"We know one thing Daniel said in interrogation was true," Gibbs said, frowning tightly.

Tony nodded. "He took the blame for a lot of things Ryan did when they were kids."

"So now it's payback time," Gibbs agreed.

"I can't believe a brother would set up his own sibling for murder," McGee said, wincing as he remembered his feelings of frustration and helplessness when his sister was caught up in a murder case.

"His own twin," Ziva said, shaking her head. "I cannot imagine a stronger bond, a greater love."

"Loves his mother more," Gibbs said.

"Daniel thought Ryan was ruining his mom's life," Tony said, remembering the anguish in Samantha's eyes as she spoke of sitting up late, crying and wondering what to do for her boys. He ignored his own memories of being that child awakened by his mother's soft sobs—and the helplessness that came with those blurred recollections.

Gibbs pulled into the NCIS lot and flicked a glance at the mirror. "McGee, take Ziva and go check out the cabin. We're going to Aberdeen. You two arrest anyone you find there, got it?"

Ziva frowned, her hand on the door handle. "And if it is Ryan?"

"Identical twins," Gibbs reminded, impatient.

"But we can check for the scar," Ziva countered.

Gibbs gave his watch a death-glare and opened his mouth, but Tony spoke instead.

"The info on the scar and the relationship came from the family," Tony explained. "The impartial witness identified the face—which they share."

"So Ryan could still be the shooter?" McGee asked. He cocked his head thoughtfully, nodding. "There was no GSR on Daniel when we brought him in."

"But Daniel probably ditched the yellow shirt—and the gloves he was wearing," Tony said, realizing he should have picked up on the gloves but no jacket detail much sooner. He glanced at Gibbs' leg, which was starting to twitch at the delay. "Let's bring 'em both in and sort it out later."

"But first we gotta find 'em," Gibbs said. "So if you're done?"

"Done, Boss," McGee said, practically scrambling from the car with Ziva quickly following suit.

Their doors were barely closed when Gibbs shoved the car into gear and put his foot to the floor, sending them on their way to catch a killer.


They were barely ten miles out of the District when Gibbs finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Speak, DiNozzo."

Tony didn't say a word, but Gibbs could practically see the thoughts churning in his head and he wondered if the anger would be back when his agent finally did open his mouth.

They were halfway to Aberdeen—about an hour into the trip—when Tony finally spoke.

"Fine, I'll play," he said, as if he hadn't been ignoring a direct command for such a long period of time. "Why did you want me with you instead of McGee or Ziva?"

Because I almost lost you two days ago, and I don't want to let you out of my sight. Gibbs had known the question was coming and he kicked himself for not having ready an answer he could actually put voice to. He thought about giving Tony the truth but settled for, "You're hurt." He saw Tony bristle and Gibbs went on, gruffly, "Wanted you where I could keep an eye on you."

DiNozzo nodded in one tight movement. "Oh."

Gibbs couldn't read any emotion in that single syllable so he cast a sidelong glance at his agent—one that Tony apparently misread along with the words.

"So you didn't trust me to have their backs," Tony said, eyes on the bright scenes flying by outside the car.

Gibbs tried not to sigh. He took his eyes off the road for a moment and said, "No, DiNozzo. I wanted to be absolutely certain someone had yours." He looked again at the traffic on the interstate and added, "Only one way to do that."

A glance to the right showed Tony looking more tired than angry, but neither agent spoke as they sped toward their destination—toward a suspected murderer.

Many miles later, Tony let out a bone-weary sigh and said, "I'm sorry, Boss." He held up a hand. "And don't yell at me for apologizing. I actually do hate it when you're pissed at me."

Gibbs gave him a wry smile, and Tony laughed for the first time in what felt like an eternity. It still felt wrong, having so recently held a murdered little boy in his arms, but he remembered Abby's words and tried to keep smiling.

"Okay, when you're actually pissed at me."

Gibbs' smile widened for a second before he released a weary breath of his own. "While we're breaking rules, I should probably say—"

"Gibbs, don't," Tony cut him off, the smile instantly gone. But there was no anger in his voice. Only pain.

And Gibbs heard it. And though he knew Tony was still hurting over the lost little boy, he also knew there were still words that needed to be said. He took a more indirect route to an apology and said, "I misread your code—"

"Please," Tony said, half-choking on the plea, his hand moving to his chest as the emotional trauma of that night reawakened his physical pain. He took a breath to steady himself and said, "You don't have to—"

"Tony," Gibbs said firmly. "We're a team. And a team needs to trust each other."

Tony shifted uncomfortably and said, "It was a simple miscommunication." His hand tightened on the door handle as they both lamented that the simple miscommunication had cost a young boy his life.

"Well, yeah," Gibbs said, huffing out a puff of air and wishing again he were better at offering comfort. "I was speaking sniper and you were speaking cop. It's like me throwing out Russian and you trying to answer in Italian. It just didn't work."

Tony was quiet for a moment before turning to watch Gibbs' profile. His eyes went bright and he said softly, "Kevin still died." He closed his eyes and looked away, practically whispering, "Still hard not to blame myself." Those green eyes popped open again as images of blood and broken bone seared his closed lids. He swiped at his face, feeling again the warm stickiness of the boy's blood on his chilled skin, the stinging in his wounded neck nowhere near the crushing pain that had consumed his entire being as he had registered that crack of gunfire—and the too-small corpse in his arms.

"Hey," Gibbs said, needing only that one word to snap Tony back into the present. Gibbs knew as well as anyone how consuming painful memories could be, and he wished he had some sort of advice for Tony on how to escape the looped reels of terror and tragedy.

Tony nodded his thanks, and they rode in silence for many miles.

"I blame myself, too, ya know," Gibbs offered quietly as they reached Aberdeen's city limits. He didn't wait for Tony to speak and continued, his voice slightly strained with the guilt of his admission, "All those mentions of 'red' you were giving… You were begging me for help and I thought you wanted more time. I'm sorry I didn't give you the help you needed, DiNozzo."

"Thanks," Tony said softly, verbalizing his gratitude this time because he knew the gravity of receiving an apology from Gibbs.

Gibbs guided the car to a stop at a red light in the middle of the busy city, the silence hanging slightly awkwardly in the small confines of the sedan.

"Soooo," Tony said, giving a tiny smile and feeling like his world was slowly righting itself. Again remembering Abby's advice, he said, "Should we make a chart or something to hand out to the team? Codeword 'red' doesn't red-light the sharpshooters. It means emergency. We could add more colors. Abby would like that—maybe she could make the chart. Codeword 'green' means everything's peachy. Or would that be code peach? Huh. Hey, code yellow could be for 'Probie's about to piss his pants.' "

Gibbs rolled his eyes and reached over to give DiNozzo a quick headslap.

Tony smoothed a hand over his hair and frowned as they pulled up to the hotel's main office. "I have no codeword for that, Boss."

"Good," Gibbs said with a grin. "It's always better when you don't see 'em coming."