Chapter 14

"McGoo, did you miss me?"

Ziva saw the debate on McGee's face, saw which side won, and knew the answer that was coming.

"Yeah…amazingly enough, I really did, Tony."

Tony turned towards Ziva, and Ziva got the distinct feeling that, despite his expectant expression, what he was really expecting some sort blow to his ego.

Ziva appraised him for a long moment. He was wearing the turtle-neck McGee had given him, the coat from Ducky, as well as the scarf Ziva had made for him, and a good guess was that he was wearing the watch from Gibbs, too.

Tony followed her gaze. "Oh. Yeah. I'm kinda…bundled to the max. Who knew the Boss was such a worry-wart that way? I would've worn the slippers Abby got me, but…" he shrugged, "Guess I'll save that for Casual Friday. I'll bring the Mad Libs, too."

There were days when a blow to his ego was exactly what Tony needed. Today, however, Ziva smiled, keeping him in suspense for only a few seconds longer, before saying, "It is good to have you back, Tony. We did miss you."

A classic DiNozzo I-knew-it grin split Tony's face, as he settled in to his desk. More than that, however, he didn't seem to feel the need push his luck by trying to get them to admit to anything more. He seemed content with that—almost shy to hear it, the way he averted further eye-contact by ducking his head to pour over the accumulation of papers on his desk.

It was not right. Ziva exchanged a glance with McGee; he found it strange, as well.

Gibbs entered a few minutes later, into an unusual atmosphere where all was quiet study. He gave his team an once-over before announcing, "We've got a kidnapping—medical personnel off the U.S.S. Sentinel." Tony's head came up in surprise, and Gibbs spared him a wry glance. "Medical Officer James Savoy was on his first deployment. It's confirmed he made it off the ship when the Sentinel pulled into port two days ago. No one's seen or heard from him since then. His mother visited his apartment and found signs of a struggle. DiNozzo—"

"—The life story of one James Savoy. Complete biography on your desk when you get back, Boss."

"McGee, you're with me, interviewing the parents. Ziva—potential enemies, new or old."

Ziva nodded, watching enviously as McGee grabbed his gear and followed Gibbs into the elevator. "It is good to have an active case again."

Tony paused in his furious typing to cough, ending the short bout by clearing his throat. He felt Ziva watching him. "What? That's nothing."

"Here." Ziva pulled open her drawer, tossing him a bag of cough drops. "You sound a little hoarse."

Tony examined the package. "The honey-filled kind. My favorite."

No need for Tony to know that they hadn't just been lying around at the bottom of her drawer, or that the specific brand had, in fact, come Abby-recommended as the kind Tony liked.

Tony unwrapped one, studying the package. "Huh. This is the kind Abby got me when I came back after I had the plague." He looked over the top of the package at Ziva.

Ziva shrugged, innocently resuming typing. "I was not here, then. Coincidence."

"We're on Gibbs' team. We don't believe in coincidence."

"Suit yourself." Ziva typed for another minute under the weight of his scrutiny, before decided it didn't matter. "Very well. I asked Abby."

"About…cough drops?" Tony asked in bemusement.

"The scarf is not that good. Consider it an addition to my gift."

"The scarf is too good."

Ziva looked up. Tony looked embarrassed.

"Well," Tony struggled, "it's soft. And not too crooked."

"Thank you." Ziva accepted the compliment. After all, it was a little narrower on the end where she'd finished, from having dropped a stitch two-thirds of the way through.

"Yeah… Welcome."

It was amusing, this new polite and more easily flustered version of Tony. But it was also strange. Strained. Not Tony.

When Gibbs and McGee returned, over an hour later, Ziva welcomed the break in the monotony. Tony hadn't said a word since their opening conversation, and hadn't stopped typing other than to place a few calls, or to jot down notes.

Tony made his report without a single aberration from the pertinent facts. And he'd found a lot of facts about Savoy, going back to his childhood, including a list of all the places he'd lived (five, in all, including D.C.). He had a record of almost suspiciously good grades that lasted all the way through high school, but a matching reputation for strict self-discipline showing through in teachers' reports, as well as from his employers (he'd worked plenty of odd job through his teens, mowing lawns, raking yards, and cleaning windows, among other things).

In talking with the parents Gibbs and McGee had found them predictably biased ("James is such a good boy…"), but as far DiNozzo's research went, as well as Ziva's, their information bore them out. What the evidence collected from the apartment would tell them, Abby's tests had yet to reveal.

"He does not seem to have a single flaw in his character, as far as his friends and relatives are concerned," Ziva exclaimed in frustration. "He has glowing reports from the Naval Hospital he interned at. No one has a clue why anyone would wish him harm."

"Maybe he's a little too flawless," McGee hazarded.

"I think you're on to something, there, Probie," Tony agreed. "No one likes a goody-two-shoes."

"Still, he does not seem to have any enemies from his past that I can find." Ziva shook her head. "It would seem more likely he made some fast enemies on his first deployment. I am still trying to contact more of his shipmates, but there was one—an Ensign Alice Fellows, who served under him as nurse—reported to have had several small disagreements with Savoy, on a professional level."

"Define 'disagreement,'" Gibbs demanded.

"Apparently, she thought he was a bit too by-the-book—unable to make exceptions in any instance. She challenged his authority publicly on one occasion, and a note was made in her file. However, it would appear this is not Fellows' first reprimand. Several other notes to her file would indicate a pattern of taking issue with authority. She owns a house a few minutes outside of D.C."

Gibbs nodded. "Take McGee, see what she has to say."

"Boss, McGee just got back, I could—" Tony began, before finishing meekly, "I could…keep on writing that biography."

Ziva watched Tony out of the corner of her eye as she and McGee headed for the elevator. Tony was already back to typing, looking focused.

She heard Gibbs say, "Lunch, DiNozzo."

"No thanks, Boss," Tony dismissed the idea.

"Wasn't a question."

"I've got to try calling this guy again. He was neighbors with Savoy through the end of high school, and it sounds like they were pretty tight, staying in contact and everything, and—"

"—Lunch."

"Right."

The elevator opened, and Ziva stepped inside with McGee.

"How long do you suppose Tony'll stay chained to his desk?" McGee asked, after they'd descended several levels in silence.

"As long as Gibbs says so."

Ziva sighed as she said it—but she knew it was for the best. Gibbs knew where Tony was at better than either of them. This was about more than whether or not Tony was physically fit to be out in the field again. There were factors neither she nor McGee could accurately assess.

She only hoped Tony would eventually return to being himself.

"Tony!"

Tony had been anticipating the full-throttle hug. Thankfully, of late Abby had taken to using a modified full-throttle hug, which didn't involve squeezing all the air from his body. She let his shoulders take the pressure, instead.

"Thanks…Abbs." Tony was hard put not to drop the Caff-Pow as he accepted the hug. "You do know I won't feel ignored if you don't…ya know…"

"If I don't, ya know, what?"

"Do the whole dropping-everything-to-greet me thing. Not that I don't appreciate the extra attention, but you can't be surprised to see me, with Gibbs sending me down here every day. Besides, it's not like I'm even leaving the building the rest of the time, these days."

"So I can't be glad to see you, if I'm not surprised to see you?" Abby puzzled over his reasoning.

"I didn't say…that." Tony knew he was traversing dangerous, mine-riddled ground, here. Risking offending Abby was in no case a good idea and, really, what point had he been trying to make, anyway? "Never mind. Here." He held out the Caff-Pow like an olive branch.

Although it obviously took all her self-control to resist snatching it up immediately, resist the pull Abby did.

Tony studied his still-extended olive branch, confused. "Something wrong with it?"

"Oh, no. Nothing's wrong with it." Her eyes were glued to the promise of caffeine, held out to her. "But you have to promise to make a swap."

"A swap?"

"Yup. It's easy. You just have to let me give you something in exchange. But, you have to promise you won't take it just to humor me, and then throw it away, or just turn around and forget it somewhere 'accidentally'…"

"Abby, I think you'd better tell me what you're talking about, before I make any promises."

"Right—right." Abby tore her gaze away from the Caff-Pow, and turned briefly to the freezer, pulling out her lunchbox and presenting Tony with a sandwich. "It's for eating," she explained patiently to his nonplussed expression.

"I would've gotten that, in a minute. But, while you're helping me with this investigation, Miss Sciuto, why don't you shed a little illumination on why you're trying to give me your lunch?"

"I'm not. It's not. My lunch, that is. It's yours. Good ol' PB and J," she illuminated further, helpfully.

"PB and J?" Tony's arm was getting tired from holding out the Caff-Pow.

"Good source of protein. C'mon, take it. I made two of 'em: one for me, and one for you."

It was either obey the woman, or stand there forever, the two of them like strangely posed statues, extending their respective food and beverage offerings.

Tony reached out to take the sandwich—Abby pulled it just out of reach.

"Ab-by."

"Only take it if you're going to be a man of your word."

"I'm always a man of my word. I'll eat it down to the crumbs. Happy?"

They made the exchange.

Abby took a slurp. "Deliriously." Not removing her lips from the straw, she rolled out her office chair, and indicated it with an imperious finger, stopping drinking long enough to say, "Sit."

"Sorry, Gibbs is still working on that one with me. I'm doing better at not straining on the leash, though. And barking. You wouldn't believe the progress…" Tony stopped himself, noticing Abby's suddenly stricken expression.

"God, I'm sorry, Tony. I didn't think."

"Abby—"

"—I just blurted it, without thinking, like…like it was an order. And it was an order, just not that kind of order. I didn't mean to make it sound like you were some kind of trained animal, like you have no choice, or like you shouldn't have a choice, or anything—"

"—Abby." Tony finally succeeded in getting her attention. "It was a joke."

"A joke?" Abby flung the word back, now angry and distraught. "It's not a joke, Tony, the way Carlin treated you; it was terrible. The last thing I wanted to do was make you feel like—"

"—I was joking," Tony amended. "You could never—would never—make me feel like…that."

Abby's flow of words ceased, as she seemed to read the truth of it in his eyes.

She still wasn't entirely reassured, however, demanding, "You'll totally slap me silly if I ever do make you feel like that, right?"

"You're the last person on earth who could ever…"

"And if I catch anyone else trying it, I'll slap them silly."

Heaven forbid Tony laugh. She was obviously in earnest, a state very common for Abby. "I pity the next person who tries getting me to shake paws." Tony examined his sandwich. "As much as I hate to grab lunch and run…"

"It's okay, the Bossman called."

"It is—he did?"

"Yup. He called to say you were on the loose, and fair game if I could lasso you." She stuck her tongue out at his incredulous expression. "Fine, not in so many words. But I caught ya, and red-handed, too."

"How do you figure that?"

"Well, you weren't sent down here by Gibbs, or he wouldn't have called. And you wouldn't be threatening to run out on me without even asking if I'd found anything."

"Red-handed, as charged," Tony conceded. "But is it so criminal to come down here for your company alone?"

"Flatterer." Abby took a pointed intake of Caff-Pow. "You don't get off the hook so easy, Buster."

"What about the Caff-Pow? I dare you to take another sip, and tell me without guilt that you would put in jail the bringer of such nectar."

"Who said anything about jail, o lunch-break-fibber?" Abby nudged the office chair forward with her knee with a sheepish "please?" on her face.

Tony sat. "'Lunch-break-fibber'?"

Abby set her Caff-Pow aside, leaning against the counter. "You told Gibbs you were going to lunch." She nodded with a look of justified satisfaction in faith confirmed. "The Gut never lies."

"So…I took a little detour." Tony took out half the sandwich and bit in. He chewed and swallowed it quickly. Abby's very parental eye on him was not entirely convinced. "Hey, I went straight to lunch the first day back, and almost straight on day two. This is my first major diversion from the mostly straight and narrow—one out of three days ain't bad."

"Well, I have to forgive you," Abby said tolerantly, taking her own sandwich out of the lunchbox. "After all, I've been eating two sandwiches by myself two days now, waiting for you to pay me a visit during lunch. Gibbs said you didn't need to be coddled, but I told him no one could say no to PB and J, and eventually you'd try and make a break from the lunch-break—and that I'd be all ready and waiting."

Tony gave her a rebellious look as he took another bite, muttering, "Manipulator."

"None of that, or I'll make Gibbs make you eat two lunches."

"What is it with everyone and the force-feeding? Even the Probie's waving donuts under my nose." It was like Oliver Twist in reverse, and it had Tony ready to plead: "I don't want any more, please, please…"

"Well," Abby began, sounding unusually awkward and hesitant, "you've still kinda got that half-starved look." She shrugged a little, studying the floor. "What we all really want to do is bash Carlin's brains in for hunting you down like some fugitive for all that time, and for hurting you and everything, but…well," another small shrug, "I guess there's not much we can do to fix any of that, and we're just trying to, I dunno…fix what we can, and get you so you don't look like you're still being hurt."

Well, that made Tony feel like an utter jerk. Not that that was what Abby had intended. He just hadn't really thought about the "why" behind all the food and gifts, apart from a certain compulsory need to fulfill the etiquette of welcoming a fellow coworker back. Not that he didn't think they liked him at all on a personal level. Of course they liked him. He was a likable guy. Still, he hadn't read too much into it all.

Tony sighed inwardly. For being a trained investigator, he could sure be a blundering idiot when it came to the whole interpersonal relationship thing.

And now he really didn't know what to say to Abby—and he was annoyed with himself, because Abby didn't deserve to be hurting so deeply over him, and he didn't know how to make her stop. But, then, an Abby who stopped feeling other people's pain wouldn't exactly be Abby, he supposed.

In the intervening silence, Abby had gone back to the subject of Carlin, and her imagined fate for him, looking more than a little blood-thirsty in the telling. "…and then dangle him in shark-infested waters, until…" She paused, frowning. "No, that would still be too quick. Piranhas," she pounced upon the idea with renewed inspiration, "that's more like it. Or, maybe, we could just threaten him with piranhas, and let him get good and scared, while we think up something worse. I'm thinking something to do with hot tar."

"Gruesome, Abby."

"Sorry."

"Do go on."

She grinned, and complied, painting a few progressively bloody ends for Carlin. Halfway through her Spanish Inquisition-inspired scenario, she pulled out a mini bag of Lays from her lunchbox, and opened it. "Chip?"

Tony didn't particularly feel like finishing the other half of the sandwich, much less taking on more food. It had less to do with Abby's subject, and more to do with taste buds that continued to refuse to do their job. Turning up the taste dial didn't help, either; it just made things taste bad more sharply.

Abby gave him a sympathetic look. "I hate how colds make everything go all hinky. Pneumonia must be lots worse."

"Yeah, remind me never to get it again."

Abby withdrew the bag of chips apologetically. "I'm coddling again, aren't I?"

"I'll live."

"That's kinda the point with eating, you know."

"Huh. Thanks for the tip." Tony mumbled through another bite: "S'good sandwich. Crunchy peanut butter." Which meant even if he couldn't taste accurately, the texture was something familiar.

Abby beamed extra happily, which, for her, meant she was close to bursting into spontaneous hugging.

Seeing how pleased she was to see him pleased with the sandwich struck home to Tony just how easy it was to make her happy—and suddenly he knew exactly what to say to make amends, in a small way, for the hurt she felt for him.

"Maybe I will have one of those chips."

Abby looked at him in suspicion. "You're not stuffing your face just to humor me, now, are you?"

"Hand over the salt and no one gets hurt." The word "salt" said, Tony found his taste buds stirring into genuine craving, as if they'd been waiting for the cue. The chip Abby allowed him didn't taste quite normal, but it tasted enough. "You wouldn't happen to have any guilt-defying facts about the health benefits of potato chips, would ya, Abbs?"

"Are you kidding me? Hello: potato chips? They're a vegetable."

"Almost as healthy as popcorn?"

"Right up there. Here—take the bag."

Tony only hesitated a second before accepting. It was definitely the right choice. Abby looked ready to float away, and he was pretty sure the Caff-Pow she'd already downed half of was only partly responsible. So he stuffed his face—yeah, humoring her a little, but thoroughly enjoying his vegetables with salt—and listened to her launch out into a whole new category of stories wherein Carlin got his just deserts.

Being coddled wasn't all bad.

To be Continued...

A/N: Thanks so much for all the feedback! I know, I sound like a broken record. XD But you're all just the best, feeding my review addiction so generously. Hope you enjoy the update.