Disclaimer : I own nothing, but the typos. Oh and the OCs.
Warnings : Rated T for language.
Author's Note : Thanks to everyone who favorited and followed so far. And extra thanks to everyone who's left a review.
I'll be doing my best to keep up with the updates going forward. As some of you know, I've expecting my first baby in a few weeks. So updates will be touch and go while I'm getting settled. I do have something new coming in a few months as part of the LJ Big Bang, but going forward, this will be only writing project until it's finished. But we still have a bit more to go..
Enjoy the newest chapter.
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Monday, August 10, 2015 – 7:10am – Kim's Place – Washington, DC – Naval Yard –
The diner responsible for fueling Jethro Gibbs' caffeine habit looks exactly how Tony always pictured it. Pristine white, linoleum tabletops with cherry red vinyl booth seats and chrome everything. Huge windows treat Tony to an unadulterated view of the world outside.
When he steps inside, the bell on the door behind him jingles.
The woman behind the counter glances up at him, flashing him a grin of fake white plastic. Maybe in a past life, she might have been pretty—or dare he say, even beautiful—but the years robbed her of every trace of attractiveness. Now, she tries to keep up the charade by stuffing her fleshy body into a too-tight waitress uniform and styling her hair into something that hasn't been fashionable in half a century.
"What can I do ya for, Sugar?" Cigarette tar and ash drips from her voice.
Tony smiles. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone."
She shoots a sideways glance around the nearly empty diner. Two loners sit at the counter, mindlessly working through plates of pancakes. Halfway towards an antique jukebox lit up like a sunrise, a grey-haired man sits unaccompanied at a table.
Gibbs.
Tony can't breathe. Using his head, he gestures towards his former boss.
"Good luck, Sugar. That one's in a fine mood this morning. Care for anything to eat while you're here?" The waitress laughs, shakes her head. "Or should I assume you won't be here long?"
Tony shrugs. "Coffee, eggs, toast."
"That I can do." She turns towards the partition between the kitchen. "You got the kid's order, Mack?"
Based on the colorful retort, Tony is pretty sure that Mack got the order and whatever the hell else shit she lobs his way day in and day out.
After a nod of the waitress' head—a blessing of sorts—Tony heads towards Gibbs' table.
For some reason, the long walk feels strangely like a recurring dream Tony used to have. It was the one where he and Gibbs met for coffee after a long day at work. The one where Gibbs finally broke down his carefully constructed walls to tell Tony how much he appreciated his time on the team, his time as right-hand man, his time put in, his job well done. The dream would crop up in Tony's darkest hours, fuel his spirit when things become too heavy to bear. When he had it, he didn't need Gibbs to tell him what he already knew. He hasn't had that dream since Gibbs caught that bullet in Iraq.
Tony pauses right behind his former boss. He tries to pinpoint when everything between them went south, when everything went so fucking wrong.
Was it because Tony didn't hustle enough for Gibbs' liking? Or did all of those movie references finally made Gibbs crack? Or was it because Tony kept pushing to keep his morals intact while Gibbs only cared about the endgame and not how the team got there? Was any of it even Tony's fault?
"You gonna sit down?" Gibbs growls.
I always forget Boss has eyes in the back of his head.
Tony snaps out of his stupor to take the seat across from Gibbs, who continues to stare out the window without really looking at anything. His eyes are haunted and haggard like he hasn't seen a decent nights' sleep in years, like the cases he works actually affect him. A plate of half-finished eggs and bacon along with an empty coffee cup and carafe spans the gap between them.
Before Tony can speak, the waitress comes over to deposit his food. She gives him a wink and mouths, good luck. And for the first time in his life, Tony thinks he might just need it.
Once he and Gibbs are alone again, Tony sips his coffee. It tastes like burning tires and asphalt. Gagging, he reaches for the sugar container and pours half of it into his drink. He takes another sip and deems it finally ingestible while he waits for Gibbs to break the silence.
Eventually, Tony sighs. "I need your help, Agent Gibbs."
Gibbs doesn't move. "You said that on the phone."
So Tony cuts right to the chase. "Tim McGee was abducted last night. And I think it has something to do with the Jackson Mulroney case."
The only crack in Gibbs' façade is a deep, anxious breath. "What makes you say that?"
Without a second thought, Tony rattles off the evidence that he and Sparr tried so hard to keep secret. If Gibbs even listens, he doesn't show it. He just expressionlessly studies the homeless man sleeping on a pile of trash bags outside.
"…and Tim got something off that jump drive that you brought him."
Gibbs' eyes flick over. "I didn't bring him anything."
"Well, that's not what Tim thought when he copied your jump drive."
"I never should've expected anything less from McGee." Gibbs' smile is fleeting, amused and proud. "Now, you're here to tell me he cracked it before we did."
Tony shakes his head. "No, I want to share with you what we found because I thought you could help. If there's anyone who will do whatever it takes to bring someone home, it's you." When Gibbs' brow furrows, Tony clarifies: "Former Marine, right? Never leave a man behind."
Even in his chair, Gibbs' already rigid stance straightens. "Whaddya got?"
Reaching into his pocket, Tony pulls out the stapled list of names. They're crumpled and dotted with bits of drool from Tony sleeping on them. As soon as it lands on the table, Gibbs is half out of his seat. He grabs the papers, but Tony snatches them back.
"I don't think you understand, Agent Gibbs. I'm not transferring the investigation."
"Then why are you here, Detective?"
"Because like I said, I want your help."
Gibbs' eyes darken, but Tony stands his ground. The deadlock stretches on for what feels like forever until Gibbs releases the papers. Tony fumbles back into his seat, watching helplessly as Gibbs heads out of the diner. Panic rises with the toxic coffee to touch back the back of Tony's throat as he struggles to figure out how Gibbs would let his arrogance get in the way of helping a former grunt.
Tony makes a face as he tucks the paper back into pocket.
Since he has time today, he'll run down as many names as he can. Because he—can't—won't sit idle on the sidelines while Tim is out there somewhere.
When Gibbs pulls open the door, the bell jingles happily. Tony glares at his former boss' back, ready for this to be the last time he ever sits in the shadow of the man he admired for so long.
Gibbs glances back. "Are you coming or what?"
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7:42am – Somewhere Near the Naval Yard –
No matter how hard Tony tries to keep up, Gibbs always manages to stay a full step ahead. If Tony didn't know better, he might think Gibbs was going out of his way to avoid walking with him. But then again, Tony doesn't really know anything about the man Gibbs became without him.
Pulling at his collar, Tony decides not to beg for Gibbs to slow down.
The early morning sun already beats down on them. It reawakens the latent heat still locked in the concrete, kicks up the burn in the surrounding asphalt. The promise of another scorcher hangs as heavy as the humidity in the air. Tony bets by mid-afternoon he'll be able to fry an egg on the sidewalk.
By the time they head through the double doors at NCIS, Tony has already sweated through his shirt. Nonplussed, Gibbs sips his coffee as he ducks through security.
When Tony starts to follow, the blank-faced guards come alive like their morning caffeine finally kicked in. Of course, out of everyone it could be, the two on duty are Walter Walker and Terrence, second rate guardian dumbass. Tony curses under his breath.
After he rises on shaky knees, Walter puts a cautious hand on his gun. He funnels his eighty-plus years into a nasty glare, but he just looks like a little old man about to tell some kids to stay off his lawn.
"You again?" he bellows. "Didn't we tell you not to come back? Whaddawe need to do? Call the police?"
Tony produces his badge. "I am the police. And I'm working with – " he points at Gibbs "—him on a case."
Walter's eyebrows rise. "That true, Agent Gibbs?"
Gibbs sips his coffee, lets Tony twist for a moment until he says: "Yeah."
"Oh, I apologize for interfering, Agent Gibbs," Walter says, shoulders slumping. "We'll fill out the paperwork for…" He glances at Tony expectantly.
"Ag…Detective DiNozzo."
Before Walter has a chance to grab the paperwork, Terrence beats him to the punch. The guardian dumbass scrambles out from behind the desk to Tony's side. He pushes a worn clipboard into Tony's hands. For all the times Tony watched someone else fill it out, he knows all of the questions by heart. He absently scrawls his information—or what he thinks his information should be.
Terrence leans in close.
"What are you doing here?" he hisses through clenched teeth.
"Working a case," Tony snaps.
"With Agent Gibbs?"
Tony narrows his eyes. "I'm living my life like I'm supposed to."
"It looks a lot like you're trying to sneak back into your old one." Terrence huffs like Tony's an idiot. "Is this really the only path that you think you can lead? Very Special Agent Anthony D. DiNozzo. Second banana forever to a man like Gibbs?"
Tony murderously stabs his pen as he dots an i.
"It's been almost a week," Terrence continues, "and you've learned nothing. I expected more from you."
Tony grits his teeth. "My friend, Tim…you know about Tim McGee, right?" When Terrence doesn't reply, Tony goes on: "He's missing because of some case that I'm working. Because of me trying to do whatever it the fuck it is that I think you need me to do. So if you know something that can help, tell me or back the fuck off."
"Watch your tone, Agent DiNozzo. It would be a shame for you to be asked to leave again." Then Terrence's features soften. "Please know I am sorry to hear about what's happened. Please – "
"Apologies are a sign of weakness," Tony growls on reflex.
Terrence plasters a tight, annoyed smile on his face. "Please know that whatever is taking place in your glimpse is necessary for your growth. For you to learn something about yourself."
Tony nearly drops the clipboard. "So that's it? My best friend gets abducted and it's supposed to get me in touch with my feelings."
"Not quite."
"Then tell me what the hell is going on." Even though Tony wants to wring Terrence's neck, he knows several pairs of eyes keep careful watch on him. And he can't help Tim from the NCIS holding cell.
"You know that I can't do that, Agent DiNozzo. I know as much as you do. I'm merely here to facilitate your return when the time comes." After he takes Tony's half-done questionnaire and hands him a laminated visitor's badge, Terrence adds his two cents: "Seek your answers elsewhere."
"What does that even mean?"
Without another word, Terrence slinks back to the guard's station.
Tony is just about to follow him when Gibbs growls: "Let's go."
"On your six," Tony blurts out.
Tony stares at Terrence as though he might just get some answers until the elevator doors close. But the guardian dumbass never bothers to look up from his post.
As the elevator takes its familiar trek to the fourth floor, Tony wonders whether he should take Terrence's words as advice or a warning. While he thought he was supposed to throw himself into his life—learn how to be a good detective and an even better father—he now wonders whether he is supposed to do something completely different.
But it doesn't matter right now. The only thing on his mind is bringing Tim back home, alive and safe. Tony will have days—weeks? months? years?—to contemplate his existence afterwards.
When the elevator doors open, Gibbs is off like a shot with Tony right on his heels. They stride into the bullpen like nothing ever changed, but Tony stops dead inches from his occupied desk. Everything looks appears to be the same from the carpet to the computer monitors to the migraine-inducing orange walls, but everything is so bizarre. The energy is so different. Instead of feeling energized and excited, Tony feels heavy and weighted down and stressed.
And I don't even work here.
The seating arrangement is what he expected. Gibbs at his commander-style desk with a view of the action, Kate Todd working out of Tony's desk while Paula Cassidy sits at Tim's. In the far corner where Ziva used to be, Zeke Ross patiently reads a case file. Not one recognizable scrap of Tony's old life is here.
He hugs his arms to his chest to ward off the chill that traipses down his spine. He had no idea how it could feel to walk into his old life, only to find out that every trace of him was erased. Like he never even existed. And maybe, he never really did.
"Got a new case," Gibbs barks.
And suddenly, all eyes are on Tony. Paula and Zeke share a questioning glance as though they don't know what to do with the intruder.
Kate's expression sours. "What about Petty Officer Mulroney?"
"Tim McGee was abducted last night," Gibbs replies. "That takes priority."
As Kate blinks slowly, her face relaxes. "Really, McGee? What happened?"
With the wave of his hand, Gibbs gives Tony the floor. So the former agent prattles on about the case, the time in the park with their kids, and the men with ski masks. He holds out the pages from their jump drive like it's the only thing he has of value to offer.
Paula rises to take the papers. "So McGee managed to hack a jump drive that Abby couldn't?"
Tony nods. "It seems that way."
"I always heard McGee was a computer whiz, but damn." She flicks through the pages. "I have no idea what any of this could even mean."
"Then figure it out," Gibbs barks.
Paula, Kate, and Zeke stare at Gibbs, clearly awaiting orders.
He lets out a low growl. "Todd, cross reference the names with the Mulroney case. Cassidy, find what those numbers mean. And Ross, look into the addresses. See if anyone has used any of those properties lately. I'll be in Abby's lab." When none of them move, he yells: "Find McGee, now!"
When he stalks out of the bullpen, Tony speaks up. "What should I do?"
Gibbs crooks a thumb to the empty desk—the one usually reserved for the TAD—behind the cubicle wall. "Have a seat, detective."
Without giving Tony a chance to reply, he stalks towards the elevator. Dumbfounded, Tony stands in the middle of the bullpen and watches the team work. They work side-by-side, three people searching for answers without even looking at each other. None of them speak.
Tim's safety is in the best hands, he tells himself. Gibbs and his team are the best of the best because, well, Tony had so many years to watch them work firsthand. And if there was anyone that Tony ever trusted with his own life, it would always have been the team. His team.
If they don't find Tim, no one ever will.
But as he takes in the tired and drained faces of Kate, Paula, and Zeke, despair bubbles up in Tony. These people aren't his team. They're three strangers working a case to prevent Gibbs' wrath from raining down on them like hellfire.
The silence threatens to deafen him.
How do they get anything done if they don't interact?
Tony broaches the silence. "Does anybody need any help?"
But they pretend not to hear him. He tries again and again, to no avail.
They are still his team, just in a different form. Gibbs trusts them and by extension, Tony will too.
Pissed and frustrated, Tony stalks to the TAD desk. He flumps into the uncomfortable seat, stares at the blank orange walls. Deciding he might as well try to do his own work, he fumbles with the computer. Thankfully, the last agent who used it was too distracted to bother signing out.
While he searches for inspiration—should he access Abby's files? or pull up the Mulroney autopsy report that he already read? or look into the team's reports on the Mulroney case? —he searches his former teammates' personnel files. They contain the same information that he already knew from snooping back home. Except Gibbs has less civilian medals and more reprimands. Kate is still alive, well-decorated and well-respected within the agency. Tim only spent a year and half as a field agent. And Paula hasn't done much of note other than joining Gibbs' team as junior agent as soon as Tim jumped ship.
Pressing his lips together, Tony stares at the home screen for a long moment. Against his better judgement, he types his own name into the search bar. What pops up next doesn't surprise him, but it still feels like a knife to the gut.
No results found.