Author's Note: Paranoia sets in.
HELL BENT
"They give me a shot and a handful of pills to swallow.
I stare at the thin red wall of my inner eyelid and listen to my skin,
and I can't be sure how the medication is affecting me.
I can't remember how I'm supposed to feel.
I can't remember my name.
I have never seen my face."
- "Kiss Me, Judas"
Chapter Nine
Three days before the mess in the director's office, Tim grudgingly agreed to lunch with Tony. It wasn't that he didn't want to have lunch with Tony- Well, maybe that was halfway true. The man could be an ass even at the best of times. But no, it wasn't that he didn't want to have lunch with him. After all, Tim did have to eat, eventually, and he wasn't particularly keen on eating alone. But he had been busy, darn it, and the last he needed was to lose an hour-
As soon as the two of them walked outside, the stress seemed to vanish.
"See?" Tony jabbed at him with a sidelong, I-told-you-so glance. "You were getting that look in your eye up there. McGeekVision."
The Washington Navy Yard was a sprawling place, all of it fenced in by security check posts and razor wire, uniformed personnel moving around like automatons on a mission. Busy, always busy. It wasn't really a place to enjoy a nice spring day, so they took Tony's car downtown and found a claustrophobic parallel parking spot between an F250 truck and a VW Eurovan. Tony didn't have enough cents to feed the meter; Tim did.
They set off along a tree-lined promenade, walking side by side in the filtered sunlight. The trees were beginning to bud, and the grass had already turned pre-maturely green. There were squirrels and bunnies and fat robins pecking at the dirt. Tim took a deep breath of fresh air. It was unusually warm for this time of year. Sunny, too, with a light breeze. At half past two, the business lunch crowd had dwindled, leaving tourists, students, and wandering locals to ply the streets in their wake.
Tony was yammering on about something or another while they somehow chose a food cart without any discussion about it. Well, Tony chose, and Tim settled with no complaints.
"You know, I read this book recently," Tony started talking while simultaneously shoving rice into his mouth. "It was about this guy - an ex-cop gone kooky - who wakes up in a motel room ice-bath." A few grains of rice fell out of his mouth as he swallowed and stabbed at a shrimp with the cheap plastic fork.
Tim watched his friend with poorly veiled amusement. As he listened, he picked out all the peas and moved them to the side of the plate.
"What?" Tony looked up from his food.
"You read a book," Tim replied innocently.
"I bought it from a used bookstore-"
Tim attempted to hide his mocking smile. He knew for a fact that bookstores and libraries were probably the last places Tony would choose to spend time at. "You went to a used bookstore."
"Okay, McGee. There was a girl, and she turned out to be a real book nerd." Tony chewed slowly on a shrimp. "I didn't see that one coming. Anyway, we went to a used bookstore. Huge place full of old, smelly books-"
"That's generally the idea," Tim poked with a smirk.
"-I think we spent a lifetime in there, and she ended up with no less than twenty paperbacks. I'm not kidding. I was poking around the fifty-cent table, I see this book, and I say why not. If I'm going to be locked up all day in a dusty tomb of moldy paper and intellect, I might as well entertain myself. Right?"
The smirk had slid off Tim's face, and now he appeared genuinely interested in Tony's uncharacteristic used bookstore date. It was a first on many counts. The first time Tim voluntarily cared to hear about one of Tony's dates. And the first time Tony had ever dared to venture outside his well-worn zone of comfort.
"Anyway, I buy this book, and we go home. Pop open a bottle of vino, have a few glasses. And then we started reading." Tony looked moderately disturbed by this revelation. "Maybe I'm getting old. I mean, we sat there and read. And I didn't want to stop because about an eighth of the way in, I was hooked. Not even when she put her book down and crawled onto my lap."
Tim almost choked on a half-masticated shrimp. He would have a laugh sharing this little story with Ziva later. Then again, Tony was being unusually transparent. It almost felt like this was some kind of secret, and that made Tim balk at his earlier thought. Tony was an asshole ninety-five percent of the time, but that wasn't a license for cruelty.
"So this guy wakes up in an ice-bath, and he's missing a kidney," Tony continued.
"Sounds like that urban legend," Tim chewed thoughtfully. "You know, hooker steals kidney."
"Exactly," Tony enthused, "But then it spirals into this guy's quest to find his kidney and the prostitute slash surgeon gets him hooked on heroin and he's certifiable and he may or may not have shot his wife in the face."
Tim had stopped eating; he blinked at his friend.
"It was a good book," Tony reasoned with a shrug. "I mean, don't get me wrong, your book was pretty good too, Timmy." He smirked. "But yours didn't have any hookers stealing kidneys."
"No," Tim had to admit, "No, it didn't."
The two of them ate in companionable silence, until Tony suddenly said, "Maybe in your next book, huh?" Tony dug in his coat pocket for the Ibuprofen bottle. He tapped two tablets into his hand and chased them down with a mouthful of Dasani. He gingerly got to his feet.
Tim was watching him surreptitiously.
"Got a headache," Tony offered.
"Been getting lots of headaches lately?" Tim asked innocently.
Tony grinned. "Yeah, I call it Probie-itis."
Tim huffed. "So what's her name?"
"Whose name?"
"Your girlfriend," Tim clarified. "The book nerd."
Tony simply smiled and chuckled. He gathered up his coat.
They both threw out their trash and started along the path back towards the car.
"Hey, have you been talking to Director Vance lately?" Tony suddenly asked.
"Uh, no. Not really," Tim answered with a curious look. "Why?"
Tony didn't provide an answer; he just kept walking, looking around at the surrounding people, back stiff and tense. "You know I look out for you, right, McGee?"
Tim frowned. "Uh, yeah? Of course you do."
"Okay. Good." Tony unlocked the door. They both got in.
As soon as both of the doors were shut, Tony abruptly turned towards his partner. "Tim. I need you to stay away from the Director."
Tony was looking so vehement all of a sudden, that Tim had pressed his back against the passenger side door. It was a complete shift from the calm, companionable version of Tony he had just been having lunch with. "Uh," Tim sputtered. "Tony?"
"Stay away from him. Do not talk to him. Just… stay away." Tony's hands gripped the wheel, and he was nervously checking the rear-view mirror. They were still parked on the street. Tony suddenly put the vehicle into gear and edged out of their spot.
Tim went out on a limb, back still pressed against the hard plastic door handle. "What's going on?"
"Stop asking questions," Tony snapped. "Just do what I tell you."
But Probie wasn't quite a probie anymore. Tim set his jaw and asked again, "Tell me what's going on."
"I just got a feeling. Don't know what it is," came Tony's short reply.
Tim decided to let it lie. For the entire ride back to NCIS headquarters, he sat tensely in his seat, staring straight out of the window, only sparing the occasional glance at Tony.
Two days later, Tim received an email from Director Vance.
And a day after that, Tony was dead, and the Director was in the hospital.
Tim hadn't touched the email.
"I was wrong," Dr. Ryan spoke past the highball glass that hovered near her lips. After her enlightening conversation with Vance, she had finally gotten in touch with DiNozzo. "You're not a game show host. Not exactly." She took a sip, swallowed slowly, and fixed him with a look that could peel an onion.
Tony didn't move from where he sat. He fingered his own glass still situated on the cocktail napkin. He waited. The hotel bar they sat in was dark and quiet, just a few other people and a jazz piano.
"You're an actor for sure," Dr. Ryan finally concluded. She took a larger sip and then put the glass down. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the tops of her knees. Narrowing her eyes, she studied him closer than she had in the past. There was something about this agent, something intelligent and cunning and guarded. Admittedly, it had surprised her; it sent her for a brief whirl before she ultimately backtracked and re-evaluated her approach. For some perverse reason, she liked it.
Gibbs kept DiNozzo around for a reason, and it certainly wasn't for comedic relief. Maybe this was why. It was the man's unwelcome curiosity and his propensity to snoop around for the things others feared to uncover.
So yes, Dr. Ryan decided that she liked that, but she also decided that she didn't like DiNozzo. Not at all.
Tony didn't open his mouth to deny her assessment. His thumb moved slowly over the seam of his jeans. Suddenly, he smiled, ironically exactly like a game show host.
"Back off, Agent DiNozzo," Dr. Ryan all but growled. A moment passed, and then she leaned away, taking on a look that was a bit softer and a little less like a jungle predator. "Your snooping around is unwarranted."
"Is it?" Tony questioned, "Because some things smell a little hinky…"
"You don't want to go any further," she warned, expression hardening once more. DiNozzo was stubborn and he was game, but more than that, he was loyal.
Loyal to a fault.
Dr. Ryan soothed, "Trust me, Tony."
"I can't back off," Tony shot back. "And I won't. Something's going on."
Trust issues. That was something he had in common with Gibbs. Actually, it was something in common with all three of them. It was a big happy family of doubt and suspicion. But unfortunately for Dr. Ryan, she was the odd member out. Sure, she had Gibbs' attentions, but that was a fickle success. All it would take was some DiNozzo-style blabbing, and the jib would be up. Gibbs would take Tony's word over hers any day.
Dr. Ryan had time to figure something out. Luckily, Tony was smart, so he would probably wait until he had proof of something. And then there was the fact that she hadn't wanted any part of this business in the first place. Despite her better judgment, she liked Gibbs. She liked him a lot.
Tony was already forging ahead. Like the flip of a switch, the agent's paranoia fueled agitation ratcheted up several notches. "You stay away," he demanded harshly. He was no longer quite as smiley as he had been just minutes before. "Stay away from Gibbs. Stay away from McGee. Stay away from all of them."
Dr. Ryan frowned at the mention of McGee. Her body tensed, fearing the feral look that had taken up residence in the man's hazel eyes. "Exactly how much do you know, Tony?"
Tony gave the question an indirect answer, and then some. "Enough to know the game you're playing, Ryan. And I don't like it."
"I wasn't really looking for your opinion."
"You aren't going to read Gibbs into it, are you?" Tony suddenly asked. "You are going to suck McGee into it, under the radar or whatever. Some Black Ops bullshit."
"Not me-" Dr. Ryan protested, gripping the highball glass and attempting to keep herself from swigging the entire thing in one gulp. Nervous habit, perhaps.
"Okay. Maybe not you." Tony reasoned. "Vance."
She gave him a sour look. "Vance is hardly calling the shots."
Tony narrowed his eyes. He leaned forward. "Then who is?"
Dr. Ryan paused. Her job was to chase DiNozzo off, not answer more of his questions. "Director Vance is going to offer Agent McGee a unique opportunity. I can't tell you anything else." She then considered something. "Unless you're jealous?"
"Been there, done that," Tony ground out.
She assessed him, and suddenly she realized what he was alluding to. Tony had indeed been there and done that. She'd read into the files. After all, if she was going to be working with Gibbs, she wanted to know his people. From the looks of it, somebody was still smarting, and that same somebody also had a long and implacable memory.
"Suicide mission," Tony growled.
"It's nothing so dramatic," she practically whispered. Giving the hotel lobby they were sitting in a glance, she looked back at Tony. "Just some technology things. Hacking, et cetera."
"Fine. Career suicide mission. I'm not letting McGee make the same mistakes I did."
"But look at you. You're fine."
"Yeah I'm fine." If it was possible, Tony was looking even more pissed off and agitated.
Dr. Ryan stared at his hands. They were shaking. "You should calm down. You're going to give yourself a heart attack."
"I will calm down when I damn well feel like it," Tony all but snarled. "So you can go tell Vance to find somebody else!" Tony was suddenly standing and leaning over Dr. Ryan.
She sat still and stared up at him. She tried not to move, wondering somehow if that would set him off. "Tony," she gently placated him. She was changing tactics. A few other people sitting nearby were watching them with wary eyes. "I'm not the enemy here."
He was reading her face, his eyes boring into hers. He breathed hard, hands still shaking. Suddenly, he pulled away and threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table.
Dr. Ryan didn't resume normal breathing until DiNozzo was pushing through the revolving door.
