Finally! *happy dance* Many, many thanks to everyone who messaged me and was so supportive during that horrible post-Alfred week here in southern New England. I lost power for a full week… from Saturday night of the storm until the following Saturday late afternoon. After being so stressed and so cold for the whole week (and it's amazing how cold 50 degrees F feels when it's in your house) I got sick. Of course I wasn't smart enough to take time off from work, so I've only just started feeling like myself again.

Thanks again for your patience and support. Here's a nice, longish chapter for you… Seattle's getting closer. This one's unbetaed, as most of them are, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. And of course I don't own Gibbs, Tony, Ducky, or any of the other characters from the show. I just love them and am inspired to write my own little universe with them in it.

21: Scenes from a Case

Thursday

Mid-morning

Everyone was frustrated with the state of their current case. The rape victim, Petty Officer Rachelle Lockwood, couldn't remember enough about her attacker to be very helpful, despite having told the nurses at the hospital that she could give a description. Male, white, ski-mask, maybe average height… no particular identifying marks that she could recall. The one thing she'd been able to offer was that his voice sounded familiar, and that had the team focusing on her co-workers and anyone else she came in contact with on a regular basis since being assigned to the Navy Yard.

As Tony had pointed out, at least they didn't have to travel far.

Tony had just come upstairs from going over the physical evidence with Abby, and he and Gibbs were standing in front of the plasma screen near Gibbs' desk, reviewing all the conflicting statements they'd accumulated since the case began. They stopped and watched when McGee, Ziva and Segel all walked into the bullpen, stowing their gear and continuing what was obviously an ongoing discussion.

"I think we should focus on that petty officer, the one with the shifty eyes," Ziva was saying as she closed a desk drawer on her gun and badge.

"Travers?" McGee asked. At her nod, he shook his head. "His alibi is sound. Lots of witnesses to that poker game."

"What if they were accomplices, and there was no poker game?"

Segel looked up at that. "Lockwood said there was only one attacker."

Ziva nodded. "Yes, but there could have been more she did not see. And the rapist ran off when those witnesses saw the attack and shouted. There could have been others waiting."

"Maybe," McGee said, "but we've got nothing to support that." He glanced over at Tony for confirmation; the team's new co-leader shook his head.

Gibbs sighed. "Do we have anything other than speculation?"

They were all quiet, and then Segel hesitantly raised his hand. Gibbs' eyebrows shot up, and he pointed at the probie. "Well? Speak."

Segel looked at the floor, then cleared his throat. "I think Lockwood's CO is hiding something."

Gibbs and Tony glanced at the others, who looked surprised. "What do you mean?" Tony asked.

Segel wet his lips and took a deep breath. "I don't have anything concrete, but I just didn't believe her when she said she had no idea who could have done this. She seemed more concerned with denying any of her people could be involved than she was about Lockwood. It just seemed – I don't know, off, somehow."

Gibbs stared at the rookie, making him fidget a bit. "Be helpful if you had something more specific to offer."

"I know," Segel responded, flushing slightly. "It's just that she didn't react the way I'd expect a commanding officer to react when one of her people's been hurt."

Gibbs and Tony exchanged glances. "I'll go talk to her again," Tony offered.

Gibbs moved back to his desk and flipped through some of the papers scattered on its surface. "Let's hold off. I'd like to have something more definite to confront her with."

"No problem," Tony said easily. He turned to Segel. "Go back through your notes, see if you can pin down what's giving you that impression." Segel nodded and turned to his desk. "McGee, Ziva… recheck all those alibis. Try some new angles."

Ziva frowned. "We have already –"

"Wasn't a suggestion, my former Mossad darling."

Shaking her head, but smiling slightly, Ziva shrugged and turned back to her desk.

Tony looked at Gibbs. "I'll go through the CO's file, see what pops up."

Gibbs nodded, and watched for a moment while all his people were hard at work. "Goin' for coffee," he announced and headed for the elevator.

Early afternoon

Segel rolled his chair backwards so he was next to McGee; they'd removed the partition between their desks for easier communication. "I don't get it."

"Get what?"

"A couple of things. First, how can Gibbs drink so much coffee and only hit the bathroom twice?"

McGee looked up at that. "You're counting how many times Gibbs goes to the bathroom?"

"Well, no, not really. It's just… if I drank that much coffee, I'd have to move my desk into the men's room."

"I think it's a Marine thing. What else don't you get?"

"Why do we have two team leaders? Far as I can tell, this is the only team set up like that. Shouldn't DiNozzo take over his own team or something?"

McGee looked to his left, where Gibbs was standing behind Tony, who was seated at his desk and pointing at something on his computer screen. Gibbs' hand was resting on Tony's shoulder, and McGee could see him absently squeezing and rubbing that shoulder. He winced slightly, then redirected his attention back to his probie. "I heard something about Tony being groomed to take over once Gibbs retires."

Segel grunted a bit. "They seem pretty tight."

"They've worked together a long time. Hey, did you go back through Travers' financials yet?"

About fifteen minutes later, with Segel embroiled in trying to decipher many pages of information, McGee got up and approached Gibbs' desk. "Uh, Boss… can I talk to you for a minute?"

Gibbs looked up. "What's on your mind, McGee?"

"Not here," McGee said, glancing in the direction of the elevator.

Gibbs considered him for a moment, then nodded, pushed back his chair, stood and set off for his private office with McGee following.

They stood quietly until the elevator arrived. Once inside, Gibbs hit the button for the next floor down, then hit the emergency stop as soon as the compartment started moving. He turned and looked at McGee, who cleared his throat and looked seriously at his boss.

"Segel's noticing how close you and Tony are. He mentioned it to me when he asked why we're the only team with co-leaders. I told him Tony's being groomed to replace you when you retire."

Gibbs tilted his head. "There's more, isn't there."

McGee nodded. "A few minutes ago, when you were standing behind Tony at his desk… well, you were, um… touching him in a way that, uh, could be easily interpreted as being more than coworkers. More than friends, even."

"I was?" Gibbs looked confused, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember.

"It was subtle, Boss, and I don't know if most people would have noticed… but Segel's paying attention to you, and he might have if he'd been watching."

"What exactly was I doing?"

McGee shifted his feet a bit, and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Uh, you had your hand on Tony's shoulder, and you were kinda rubbing it…"

Gibbs nodded abruptly and reached out to start up the elevator. "Won't happen again."

McGee sighed. "It wouldn't matter, Boss, if Segel wasn't here. We all support you guys. Ziva and I… we talked after Tony rescued you from Johnson. We've got your back."

Gibbs turned to look at McGee as the elevator doors opened. "Thanks. That's good work, Tim." He smiled at his new senior field agent, then walked out of the elevator.

Late afternoon

Ziva tossed a pen on her desk and looked challengingly at Tony. "The alibis have all been checked and they are fine. Now what?"

Tony shot her an irritated look, but McGee spoke up before he could say anything. "Uh, not so fast, Ziva… Boss, Tony-Boss… I think I have something."

Everyone moved over to McGee's desk, crowding behind it; Segel just turned around in his chair and watched. "Kevin and I have been going over all the alibis and cross-checking with all the data generated during that time period… we set up an algorithm that pulls from a variety of databases –"

"McGee."

"Right. Anyway, Petty Officer Cameron Pritchard… he claims he was working late and was in the office at the time of Lockwood's attack, but his bank records show a transaction at a store only about a block and a half from where she was raped."

Tony leaned forward. "Why didn't that show up earlier?"

McGee shrugged. "Could have been a server glitch… transactions don't always post right away."

Gibbs straightened up. "What's this Pritchard's assignment?"

Ziva moved quickly to her desk. "Petty Officer Cameron Pritchard… assigned to the same department as the victim."

"Same CO," Segel muttered. McGee glanced at him and nodded.

"Anyone confirm Pritchard's alibi?" Gibbs asked.

Ziva stepped forward with her notes. "Lieutenant Commander Angela Braydon."

Gibbs and Tony shared a look, and then Tony looked over at Segel. "Your gut may be on to something, Ultra-Probie."

Segel smiled.

Gibbs looked at Tony. "Anything in her file?"

Tony thought about that for a moment. "Fairly rapid rise through the ranks, but nothing amazingly stellar in her file. She's got a pattern of moving from post to post relatively quickly, or at least that's the impression I got." He grinned at Segel. "I agree that there's something hinky about her, just not sure exactly what."

Gibbs looked at McGee. "You three track down some of the people she's served with in the past; talk to her last CO. Tony… grab her file and let's go talk to Ducky."

Late evening – Gibbs' house

Tony stretched in his position on the couch, watching for a moment as Jethro gathered the plates and silverware from their dinners. He moved to get up, but Jethro shook his head. "I got it. You relax."

Tony smiled and settled back, taking a sip of his beer. He thought over the day, then called out to Jethro, who was in the kitchen. "Segel did good today, don't ya think?"

Jethro walked back into the living room, leaning on the wall. "He may have stumbled on the right direction, but he needs to be able to back up his gut."

"You always have a concrete reason for your gut?"

Jethro snorted. "You comparing me to a rookie who's so new he squeaks?"

"Nah. Just sayin'."

Rolling his eyes, Jethro moved forward and sat down next to Tony. "I think my years of experience entitle me to trust my gut." He plucked Tony's beer out of his hand, took a sip, then gave it back to him. "Besides, he's still relying on preconceptions. That'll only get him so far."

Tony looked at his beer, frowning. Jethro laughed. "You object to sharing a beer? We've shared much more than that."

"It's different." Tony leaned forward to set the beer down on the coffee table, then scooted back and to the side, leaning against Jethro, who put his arm around his partner's shoulders and pulled him close.

"Mmm, nice."

They sat in silence for a while, then Jethro sighed and picked up Tony's hand, which had been resting on Jethro's thigh. He intertwined their fingers, then spoke quietly. "I messed up again."

"What do you mean?"

"McGee clued me in. I was touching you inappropriately."

"You were? How'd I miss that?"

Jethro chuckled. "Apparently I was rubbing your shoulder in an intimate fashion."

Tony raised his eyebrows and squeezed Jethro's hand. "Huh. No complaints from me."

"I should hope not. But McGee said Segel's been asking a few questions. Need to be more careful."

"No way Segel's got us figured out."

"No, I don't think he does… but McGee says he's paying attention, so we need to be a bit more careful."

"What is this we of which you speak? You mess up way more than me. It might be my fault, though… Segel asked me for advice, and I told him to work on observing people more closely, gather intel, figure out what he can without making assumptions."

"Damn. Stop doing your job, will ya?"

"Jethro! I'm shocked."

"Yeah, me too." Jethro turned his head and dropped a kiss on Tony's hair. "You're a bad influence."

"Maybe, but you love it."

"Love you."

"Love you too, Jeth."

They stayed on the couch for a while longer, talking over the case and whatever else crossed their minds, until Tony started yawning, at which point Jethro dragged him upstairs to sleep.

Friday

Early morning

Gibbs' phone rang just as he and Tony arrived in the bullpen, the first ones there. "Yeah, Gibbs." Tony looked up from McGee's desk, where he was placing a coffee cup containing McGee's favorite brew, with a smiley face and a 'thanks' drawn on it in black sharpie.

Gibbs stood up and motioned for Tony to join him. "Be right there, Duck." Flipping the phone shut, he walked toward the back elevator. "Ducky got a chance to look over Braydon's file last night, wants to talk to us."

Ducky was standing near one of the autopsy tables, flipping through the pages in a file when the two agents cane through the door.

"Ah, gentlemen! Good morning to you both. I trust you are both well-rested?"

Tony grinned at him. "Fishing, Ducky?"

Ducky glanced up at him. "I was an enthusiastic participant in the sport in my youth, Anthony. There was a newspaper columnist in New York, many years ago… we shared a name in fact, Donald… anyway, he once wrote that 'fishing is a delusion surrounded by liars in old clothes.' Marquis was his surname. That line alone led me to believe he was very wise." Ducky looked over the papers spread out in front of him. "Of course, I am well aware that you were referring to 'fishing' in the investigative sense. But no, I have no need to delve into your private life… it is easy enough to see that you are both thriving in your new relationship."

Tony glanced at Gibbs, whose lips were twitching slightly. "You wanted to see us, Duck?"

"Indeed. You asked me yesterday to give you my psychological analysis of our victim's commanding officer." Ducky flipped through the pages again, then looked up at Gibbs. "I assume you are aware that without seeing her personal effects or how she lives, I am limited in making my diagnosis; you must take my deductions with a grain of salt, as it were."

Gibbs inclined his head slightly. "Got faith in you, Duck."

Ducky smiled. "I shall endeavor not to disappoint, then." He gestured toward the file. "We are looking at a woman for whom professional ambition is the first priority. Closely linked to this is a fanatical attention to image. She is protective of her professional standing, almost to a fault. All of her evaluations say much the same thing: her loyalty to the Navy and her work to uphold its principles are admirable and that has been the underlying force in her relatively rapid rise. Closer examination of her history in the Navy shows an analytical mind that has focused its efforts on targeting like-minded individuals."

Tony spoke up. "Targeting as in…"

"As in getting herself noticed, my boy. She found kindred spirits higher up in the chain, found ways to bring herself to their attention. Many of her transfers are linked to such efforts."

"Bottom line, Duck?"

Ducky sighed and looked up from the pages. "Bottom line, Jethro, is that we are looking at a borderline narcissistic personality, who will ultimately be more concerned with how her subordinates' actions reflect on her than she will be about them as people."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed slightly and he looked thoughtfully at the file on the table. Tony reached up and scratched at his own chin, then asked, "Would she go so far as to cover for a rapist?"

Ducky looked at him seriously. "I believe she is capable of such an action."

Tony and Gibbs looked at each other for a moment. "Bringing in the CO, Boss!" Tony said, and they both moved toward the door.

"Gentlemen," Ducky called out, causing them both to turn back. "There is a proverb that may well fit in this instance. Irish, I believe, but that is of no matter. 'May the holes in your net be no larger than the fish in it.' I do hope you catch those responsible for the attack on that poor girl."

Late morning

It hadn't taken long for Gibbs to break Braydon's assertion that Petty Officer Pritchard had been working with her at the time of the attack on Lockwood. Braydon's attitude disgusted him; she was resentful of Lockwood for having had an argumentative working relationship with Pritchard, acting as if it was the victim's fault that she was raped. Ducky had been right; her main concern was for her own image, and how the actions of those under her command reflected back on her.

Braydon's immediate superior had been in the observation room, and took over from Gibbs, giving Braydon a dressing down that all of the agents would have liked to hear… but they were off to arrest Pritchard. They were able to hear him telling Braydon that she'd be lucky if she wasn't given a dishonorable discharge… and she could forget ever being in a position of authority again.

The team left in two cars, heading for Pritchard's assignment in the Navy Yard. Gibbs rode with Tony in one, while McGee, Ziva and Segel took the other. They were quick to reach the offices where Pritchard was working on distributing materials to naval bases throughout the country. A helpful petty officer directed them from the offices to one of the warehouses close to the docks, telling them that Pritchard was involved in handling a final check on inventory being loaded for shipping.

They parked outside the warehouse, each of them taking a quick look at Pritchard's picture on McGee's cell before heading inside. They spotted him quickly, arguing with another petty officer and gesturing angrily at a clipboard.

"Petty Officer Cameron Pritchard?" Gibbs called out.

Pritchard turned to look at them as they approached, fanning out just slightly. His eyes widened, and he flung the clipboard down to the ground and ran.

The entire team took off after him, Tony quickly outdistancing the rest, although Segel stayed close behind. Pritchard grabbed a crowbar as he ran, then turned toward his pursuers. Tony put on the brakes, but Segel crashed into him, sending him half running, half tripping toward Pritchard, who swung the crowbar like a bat.

Tony grunted as the metal hit his chest, dropping to the ground immediately, only vaguely registering the sound of Gibbs yelling his name.

McGee and Ziva had Pritchard at gun point; he was staring at Tony, the crowbar hanging loose in his hand.

"Drop the weapon!" Ziva yelled, while McGee called out, "Put it down!"

Segel was quiet, staring at Tony, who was trying to shift up to his feet while reaching for his gun.

"DiNozzo! Stay down!" Gibbs' voice was hard, angry.

Pritchard looked in Gibbs' direction, then let the crowbar fall to the ground. Ziva and McGee moved forward, Ziva keeping her Sig trained on his face while McGee holstered his weapon and grabbed his cuffs. Gibbs ran past Segel, shoving him out of the way and dropping to his knees next to Tony. "You all right?"

Tony looked over at him, one hand pressing against the left side of his chest. His face was tight, and his voice sounded strained. "Your knees are gonna be pissed at you, Boss."

"Are you alright, Tony?" Gibbs repeated the question, his voice softer. One hand moved toward Tony's face, but he stopped it almost immediately, dropping it back to his side.

"Yeah, I think so. I avoided most of it; at least I think I did." He moved his hand away, and saw red. Both men looked at the area, and saw blood seeping slowly through Tony's shirt.

Gibbs clenched his jaw, breathing out slowly through his nose. "McGee."

"Yes, Boss."

"You and Ziva take Pritchard back, stick him in interrogation. I'm taking Tony to see Ducky." Gibbs stood, helping Tony up as well. He watched to see that Tony was steady on his feet, then he looked at Segel, who paled and stepped back.

Gibbs moved forward until he was inches away from Segel's face. The rookie swallowed nervously, but met Gibbs' stare head on. They stood like that for several seconds, with everyone else silent and motionless, even Pritchard. Gibbs' voice was a soft growl when he spoke. "You will be more careful."

Segel nodded quickly.

"You always watch where you are. You know where your teammates are and what they are doing – always!" Another inch forward. "Do you hear me?" His voice was just above a whisper.

Segel nodded again. He was trembling a little, and sweat broke out on his forehead.

Gibbs stared at him a moment longer, then focused on McGee. "Go. Take him with you."

They left, their prisoner flanked by the experienced agents, with the rookie trailing behind.

Gibbs turned back to Tony, reaching out to grab his arm. "You okay to walk back to the car?"

Tony snorted. "What would you do, carry me?"

Gibbs' lips twitched. "If I wanted to kill my back."

"Hey! I'm not that heavy."

They started back to the car, moving slowly. "Think you broke a rib?" Gibbs asked.

Tony shook his head. "Doesn't hurt to breathe. Think maybe I'm gonna have one hell of a bruise. Edge of the crowbar must've cut me."

Gibbs reached out, grasping Tony's arm and squeezing tight. "You could have been killed."

"Yeah." Tony looked over at Gibbs. "It was an accident, Jeth."

Gibbs grumbled something that Tony couldn't quite hear. "It was. He's a rookie, Boss."

"Two years as a cop should have taught him how to chase a suspect."

"Don't get the impression that he has all that much street experience." They reached the car, and Gibbs helped Tony ease into the front seat. He closed the door gently, then went around the front and got in behind the wheel. He sat there for a moment, then took a deep breath and reached out for Tony's hand. They sat there for a moment, then Tony squeezed Gibbs' hand. "I'm okay, Jethro."

Gibbs stared out the windshield. "You could have been killed."

"I wasn't."

Another deep breath, and then Gibbs looked over at Tony. "Let's get you to Ducky."

Early evening – Tony's apartment

Tony sat on his couch in front of the television, watching sports talk shows on ESPN2 and checking his watch every few minutes.

Ducky had checked him over thoroughly, given him a few stitches, and warned him he would likely experience some severe bruising and be very sore the next day. That said, he'd pronounced Tony extremely lucky, cleared him to go back to work as long as he stayed at his desk, and told Gibbs not to be foolish when the team leader had suggested Tony might not be able to go to Seattle in two days.

Tony had, of course, disregarded doctor's orders to watch Pritchard's interrogation. Gibbs had still been radiating an only slightly subdued menace, and Pritchard had folded quickly. He was shaken by his attack on Tony, asking Gibbs to tell Tony he was sorry, that he'd panicked. Gibbs reply – "So you're sorry you almost killed my agent, but you're not sorry you raped a co-worker and fellow Naval officer?" – had Pritchard stuttering and trying to explain that he'd had a huge argument with Lockwood, who'd made some very disparaging remarks, but hadn't planned to hurt her. He'd gone out to do a little shopping, saw her, was still angry, and acted on impulse. The fact that he had a ski mask with him in early summer in DC had raised some doubts, which Gibbs was quick to express.

The rest of the afternoon had been paperwork and lunch brought in for everyone by Segel, who was almost painfully solicitous in trying to make things right with Tony. Once Gibbs returned from meeting with Vance to explain why Tony had been injured, Segel had gotten up and moved to stand in front of Gibbs' desk. He'd quietly offered to request reassignment if Gibbs and Tony no longer wanted to work with him. Gibbs had looked at him for a long moment, during which Segel met his gaze without flinching. Then Gibbs looked at Tony, who simply tilted his head and looked back.

"You gonna make that mistake again?"

"No, sir."

"You comfortable continuing to work with us?"

Segel shifted, obviously not expecting that question. "Yes, sir, I'd like to stay. I admit that I came here with a lot of attitude, but you have all proved me wrong. I've got a lot to learn, and I'd like to keep learning from the best."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed a bit, then he nodded sharply once. "You're still welcome here, Segel."

Segel's shoulders slumped in relief. "Thank you, sir."

Gibbs tilted his head slightly. "You get any of my team injured again, you'll be explaining yourself in the gym… in the ring with me."

Segel made an unidentifiable noise. "Got it, sir." He turned and practically ran back to his desk, brought up short by Gibbs calling out, "Hey!"

"Sir?"

"Don't call me sir."

A little while later, after Tony dropped his report on Gibbs' desk, he'd gotten an email: Go home, your place, see you soon.

So Tony was sitting in his apartment, waiting on Gibbs, and thinking he should start packing for Seattle. He was leaving late afternoon Sunday, and they were on call, so there was no telling how much time he'd have to get organized. He heard the sound of a key in the lock, and turned to see Jethro walk in, carrying a bag of take out from a nice little pub not far from the apartment.

"Hey, Jeth."

Jethro set the bag down on the coffee table, shrugged off his jacket and laid it on the back of the couch. He sat down next to Tony and gathered him into a hug, being careful of Tony's injured side but hanging on tightly where he could.

Tony hugged back, resting his forehead on Jethro's shoulder. Jethro nuzzled into Tony's neck, breathing deeply, relaxing as Tony's scent and warmth reassured him that his partner was in fact alive and mostly well.

Tony raised a hand to the back of Jethro's head and tapped lightly.

"What was that for?" Jethro mumbled the question into Tony's neck.

"You trying to get Ducky to make me ineligible to go to Seattle."

"Huh." Jethro sighed, then sat up and laid his palm against Tony's cheek. "Was worth a try."

Tony smiled and shook his head. "You know what Vance'll do if I don't go." Jethro sighed and dropped his hand, turning toward the food. Tony grinned suddenly. "And we wouldn't want to disappoint your friend Emma."

Jethro almost choked on the French fry he'd popped into his mouth. He coughed a bit and shot Tony a mild glare. "Told you, you're wrong about her."

Tony shook his head, leaning forward to look into the bag. "I'm not. But it'll be nice to have you show up on my doorstep out west on your first free weekend."

Jethro snorted. "If you're so right, how come you're not worried?"

Tony sat up a bit, surprised. "You're kidding, right?"

Jethro looked at him, puzzled. "No."

Tony reached out, cupping his hand behind Jethro's neck, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. "I know you. I trust you. What we have… you're not going to risk it for a lonely and confused woman you used to know."

Jethro nodded, then leaned in to return the favor. "You're right," he said quietly, looking at Tony seriously.

Tony gave him a warm smile, then let go of him and reached for the food. "Besides," he added, "I'd kick your ass."

Jethro laughed and reached up to give Tony a head smack, which Tony didn't even try to dodge.

A little while later, burgers and fries eaten, Tony stretched his legs and put his feet up on the coffee table. "So… plans for the weekend?"

"You gotta pack. I'll help."

"Thanks. What about tonight?" Tony raised an eyebrow and gave Jethro a suggestive look.

"Tonight, you're going to take some pain killers and get into bed. I'm going to clean up, and then I'll join you."

Tony grinned, until Jethro added, "We're sleeping."

"Well, yeah… after."

"Nope. We're sleeping, and if you're feeling better tomorrow night, we can do more than just sleep."

"Aw, c'mon, Jeth! That's two nights in a row! You can't do that."

Jethro reached over and poked Tony lightly in the side. Tony flinched and hissed a bit. Jethro leaned forward and dropped a kiss on Tony's forehead. "It's not that I don't want to, Tony. Not gonna hurt you."

Tony sighed. "Okay, fine. But I'm calling the shots tomorrow night."

"Deal."