The air shrivelled in his lungs.
Glancing down at the moaning, blood-ridden figure at his feet, Gibbs' ability to keep it together was tested to the bitter extreme. Bending down in slow motion, he dragged Gerald to his feet and threw him back into his chair. Shrugging out of his jacket, he threw it at the whimpering coward with curt instructions to stem the bleeding. Getting as close to the creature as he could stomach, he spoke in a low, threatening voice. Glaring until he got the answer and assurance he wanted, he sealed the deal with the devil. Without another word or backwards glance, he stormed from the interrogation room and sprinted through the corridors and up the stairs to the Director's office.
Leon looked up in shock when his office door rebounded off the wall.
"Gibbs," he barked, "What the devil do you think you're-"
"Damnit, Leon, why didn't you clue me in as to what I was trying to extract from that son-of-a-bitch in interrogation? You completely forgotten how to be an Agent, is that it? You send me into a room, which by the way is still sporting a broken CCTV unit, with that dirtbag? Did you even stop to think about how that would go? You know what, you can't even look at me like that right now. You should've known better than to pair me with him in a private room. Period."
Leon stood slowly, his palms splaying on the desk as he leaned over it.
"What the hell have you done?"
His voice was deathly quiet and only the stoicism he'd learned over the years kept the flinch off Gibbs' face. He stood firm and gave a shrug of nonchalance that took every ounce of his acting ability. He was aching inside. Dying. Tony's words had wounded him more than any injury in the line of duty. It scalded him internally, festering lesions cutting into his soft tissue the longer he remained sober.
"I beat five shades of shit outta him, Leon, whaddy'a think I've done?"
The Director's dark eyes bled with a slow burning rage.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You can beg all day, ain't gonna change my answer. You throw me headfirst into a room with a child beating parasite, and my response is always gonna be the same. Without the slightest hint of change. But not to worry, the Agency's ass is covered. Gerald isn't gonna be talking to anyone about his time here. We have an accord."
Director Vance instantly became apoplectic.
"You have an accord?" he exploded, "What the hell does that mean?"
Wincing internally and shrugging externally, Gibbs didn't miss a beat.
"It means that he's gonna tell anyone who asks that he's always had two left feet and fell flat on his face and I'm not gonna stop by the bar he drinks at and finish what I started. A quid pro quo, if you like."
Leon's mouth swung open like a pendulum.
Even for Gibbs, and all his years of rebellion, this was something else. He pinched the bridge of his nose and picked up his phone. Speaking urgently, he waited with a biting impatience for the Agent on the other end to sprint to interrogation. As Gerald's condition was relayed to him in a stunned voice, his face darkened. When Gerald's mumbling explanation of his own fall from grace was repeated to him, his features became downright electric. Putting the receiver down softly, he was completely disgusted.
His soft voice was an odd contrast to his mask of raw rage.
"Your badge and your gun, Agent Gibbs. On my desk. Right now."
Knowing it was coming but still having to bite back the emotive response, the elder of the two gave a short nod. Mourning engulfed him as he swiftly unclipped his badge and unholstered his gun. Placing both quietly on the shiny surface-top, he held his breath and waited for the axe to fall. It was to be a swift and unyielding strike.
"Agent Gibbs you are suspended from duty, without pay, until such time as this matter can be fully investigated and your fitness for duty evaluated. You will leave the building immediately. Agent DiNozzo will lead in your stead. You will be contacted in due course. You should take this time to contemplate whether or not there truly is a place for someone like you in this era of law enforcement."
Without another glance, Leon sat down behind his desk.
"Get out of my sight, Gibbs."
Nodding without a word of complaint, the sacrificial lamb turned and strode from the room sans credentials and weapon. He felt bereft, naked. And the churning sense of agony at Tony's venomous words was kicking up a notch every three to five seconds. Closing the office door quietly, he allowed himself the relief of letting out the breath he had been holding. His chest deflated like a pierced hot air balloon. Now that he had the most time-pressured matter covered, his attentions were moving back onto the most important matter.
Tony.
He knew Leon would be watching on his maze of CCTV footage to see that he left the building immediately. He had no choice but to do so. He would just have to call McGee for assistance from the safety of his car. Barrelling from the building and praying he didn't run into anyone, he reached his vehicle in record time. He cursed himself all the way. He had allowed, he had truly allowed, himself the hope that things between he and his SiC were in repair mode.
Moron.
McGee answered on the second ring.
"Boss? Where'd you go?"
"Tim, I need you to track Tony's cell and send me his location. Tell no one I've been in contact with you. Tell no one you've run the trace. Cover your tracks and don't ask questions. I will tell you everything I can, when I can, right now I need to find Tony and nothing else matters. You got that?"
To his eternal credit, McGee did indeed, get it.
The location seeped into Gibbs' cell a minute later.
He grimaced when he saw it.
The same freaking bar as always. He should've known. It was a mere five-minute drive away, or a ten-minute walk. As he pulled into the bar's lot, he didn't see Tony's car and breathed a small sigh of relief. The familiar smell of state tobacco and draught beer hit him as he pushed the squeaking door open. He saw his SiC the minute his eyes adjusted to the haze of blue smoke.
He hadn't even had the chance to get his first drink.
Slipping onto the stool next to him, Gibbs had to hang onto the bar for balance when green eyes suddenly darted to his and filled with venom. Quietly ordering two coffees and ignoring the incredulous look of the bartender, he turned back to the now stiff Tony and tried to find the words.
"Tony, about-"
"Save it."
Rubbing his temples as the beginning of a migraine struck up, Gibbs shook his head.
"You don't have to answer me. But listen to me. The reason I pulled you off that bastard has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. Damnit, Tony, you are a federal Agent. You were in the middle of a governmental interrogation room with a suspect in NCIS custody. There is, whether we like it or not, a standard of professionalism and a duty of care owed. In all circumstances. What you did is enough to warrant a suspension leading to possible dismissal. I was just trying to save you from that. Nothing else and nothing more. It was all about you back there, not about that creep. You have my word."
The venom he had seen burst into Tony's eyes deepened menacingly.
"So now you're threatening to suspend and fire me? Really?"
Resisting the urge to order a bottle of bourbon to go, Gibbs shook his head.
"No, Tony, I'm not threatening anything of the kind. And I'm only telling you this now because you need to be on the same page when you get back to the yard, but I'm the one who's suspended right now. There was no CCTV in that interrogation room. I knew it. It's been on-and-off the blink for a while now and I noticed no red-light half way through that interrogation. After you left, Gerald and I came to a consensus. As far as NCIS is concerned, I am the one who attacked him. And that's the story you need to stick to. Right now, you're the AiC of the team and that means you cannot be sitting in this bar right now."
Tony nearly fell backwards off the stool as he paled to an ashen white.
"What?"
"You heard me," Gibbs responded calmly, knowing that the kid needed calm more than anything else. "Now, there is no time for histrionics and complaints. The team needs you to lead them. That's not a responsibility to be taken lightly. You need to get back there and make it like you were never gone. Can you do that?"
Ocular venom was replaced with iris laden shock.
"I can't go back and-"
"Tony," Gibbs interrupted firmly, "The teams need you. There is no can't when the team needs you. It's as simple as that. What's done is done and it can't be undone. It's all about damage control now. Leon will huff and puff for a while but he'll sign off on ending my suspension sooner or later. You are going to need to keep things running smoothly until then. With budget cuts and policy changes, you know scrutiny on specific teams is a dangerous thing. I need you to do this. Do you understand?"
Tony's eyes were in danger of bulging right out of his head.
But the enormity of his loss of temper was beginning to hit home and he nodded slowly.
"I understand."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Gibbs nodded and pushed the recently delivered coffee to him.
"Good. Then drink that and get back to work."
Staring down into the dark liquid, Tony's innards began to churn. His complete and utter loss of control frightened him. He was many things, but a liability was something he prided himself on not being. But the minute he had launched himself at Gerald, that's what he'd become. And now Gibbs was paying the price for his mistake. And he was willing to pay that price even after the cutting words he had thrown at him.
Boling regret suddenly consumed him.
"Boss, I-"
"It's alright, Tony," Gibbs interrupted quietly, "It's alright."
The younger man shook his head urgently.
"No, it's not alright," he countered with such urgency that the elder man didn't interrupt again. "I shouldn't have said what I said to you. I just lost it when that animal started saying all that shit. I didn't even think about the implications for the job or the Agency. And now you're suspended because of me and I can't change that, because then the Director would know you were lying. You should have let me take the blame. This is my mess. Cleaning up your own mess is a rule. Why didn't you give me the opportunity to clean up mine?"
Gibbs shrugged ever so slightly and took a long draught of coffee.
"I guess because you wouldn't have made that mess if I hadn't messed with your head, Tony. There's no point beating around the bush. You lost your cool with that creature because you'd recently experienced, from me, the very thing he was bragging about. Anyone would've lost it. It's understandable. Taking the can for it is the least I can do."
Tony choked on the air lingering in his windpipe.
"But, Boss-"
"No buts," Gibbs interjected firmly, "What's done is done."
Staring with a mounting sense of misery at the counter, Tony's voice dripped with regret.
"Are we ever going to get past this?"
Knowing exactly what was being asked, Gibbs spoke softly.
"There was always gonna be bumps in the road, Tony. This is the first bump. We get through this and get back on the road, and maybe, the next bump won't be so rocky."
Nodding slowly, the younger man steeled himself.
"I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry for it. I'm really sorry."
Far from being irritated by the kid's flouting of the apology rule, Gibbs felt a brick wall of relief crash over his head. In a rare and sober bout of affection, he took a chance and reached out to ruffle the sandy brown mop of hair. His balloon of relief grew when the SFA didn't break his arm off.
"Thanks, Tony."
….
TBC
…