Disclaimer : I own nothing, but the typos. Oh and the OCs.
Warnings : Rated T for language.
Author's Note : Thank you to everyone who's read, favorited and followed. Extra thanks for the reviews. To everyone concerned about Terrence, he is actually not evil. And he'll redeem himself before the end of the story. Also, to those concerned as to why Tony didn't go back home last chapter, it's because he still hasn't learned what he was supposed to here.
The aftermath was supposed to be one chapter, but it ended up being too long. I dug in a little too deep with Tony as a family man. I hope to have the other chapter up last this week.
Please enjoy, regardless.
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8:56am - Metro Police Station – Washington, DC – Judiciary Square Neighborhood –
With his head held high and ready to answer for his indiscretions, Tony walks straight into the police station. He doesn't even make it to his desk before an older officer in dress blues with a greying buzz cut stops him. The officer's ice blue eyes are no-nonsense and hyperfocused.
Tony flinches.
"Hartigan, IA," the officer says.
Tony half-nods. "Should I bring my gun and my badge?"
"At the present time, that won't be necessary."
Even though Tony lags behind Hartigan, there is no missing how the other officers pop up from their desks like curious prairie dogs. Rapt interest mixed with regret commands their faces. After working with Gibbs for so long, Tony is more accustomed to the IA walk of shame than he would like to be.
The IA interrogation room—actually, what Hartigan refers to it as the 'conversational office'—is a lot like the one at NCIS. It's a comfortable room with a big wooden desk, two plush leather armchairs, and pictures of forces past. There's just enough authority to make a guilty cop sweat and put an innocent one at ease.
Hartiagn settles into one of the armchairs, gestures for Tony to take the other. After a sigh of relief, Tony joins him. If Hartigan had sat down behind the desk, Tony would know that he and Sparr were toast.
After notifying Tony that conversation will be taped, Hartigan hits a button on a recording device. As soon as it starts up, Hartigan's gaze thaws into one of concern. The questions flow effortlessly, straightforwardly and for once, Tony falls into what turns out to be an easy conversation with an IA officer. Hartigan asks him about Tim and the jump drives and NCIS' involvement with the whole mess. And for once, Tony doesn't feel the need to omit anything.
When they're done, Hartigan offers Tony a firm handshake.
Feeling like he just dodged a bullet, Tony starts to leave.
"Detective? Just one more thing," Hartigan calls.
Tony turns back. "Yes, sir?"
Hartigan's brow furrows. "Who had the idea to go rogue?"
Without a hint of hesitation, Tony says: "I did, sir."
"Ah." He makes a note on his pad. "Please stay outside, Detective. I'm going to speak with your partner next, then make my recommendations to the Chief. He wants to meet with you after I'm done."
Tony nods. "Yes sir."
As soon as he opens the door t, he finds Sparr in the hallway. Her hair is pulled up in a haphazard ponytail with fly-aways everywhere. She wears a tight-fitting T-shirt and what might be her only pair of jeans. Her apprehensive eyes meet his. He shakes his head.
"Don't worry, Sparr. It wasn't bad," he whispers.
With an unconvinced nod, she ducks into the room and closes the door.
Tony spends her interview leaned up against the wall, playing on his phone, watching the rookies walk past on their way to the squad room. When none of them glance at him, he feels a lot like that kid who spent way too much time in the principal's office.
Not quite thirty minutes later, Sparr returns to the hallway. Her face is drawn, nervous. It draws a pit to his stomach, terrifies him more than he ever expected. Tony wants to ask her what the hell happened in there, what he told Hartigan that he didn't, but he doesn't dare breathe a word.
They stand in the hallway, side by side. Deadly silent.
When he slips out of the interrogation room, Hartigan doesn't look at either of them. He walks purposefully to the chief's office and then, disappears.
Moments later, the chief's secretary comes for them. On auto-pilot, Tony follows the secretary while Sparr moves robotically forward like she's the only one on the chopping block. Once they're inside the office, the secretary wishes them luck.
Chief Ira Blumenthal is a large man with hulking shoulders and a gleaming bald head. Sitting behind his desk, he looks as though it took a shoehorn and way too much time to squeeze himself into his too-small suit. When he stretches for some papers, Tony expects his jacket to shred like the Incredible Hulk's clothes.
Blumenthal gestures to his open chairs, but neither Sparr nor Tony move. If they're facing the firing squad, they'll stand shoulder to shoulder as partners, as equals.
Chief Blumenthal looks them over. "I have to go on the record by saying that I am disappointed in you both for not following proper protocol and interagency cooperation guidelines." He points to Sparr. "You for bullying those rookies into working your case on their off-time." His accusing finger gravitates towards Tony. "And you for handing the case over to the NSA without at least notifying me."
Tony grits his teeth. "You've got to be kid – "
"Let me finish, Detective." Blumenthal holds his finger up. "That's on the record. Off the record, I will say I am impressed by your work and determination to rescue Tim McGee. Your dedication and valor are duly noted. I appreciate you putting not just your careers, but your lives on the line for one of our own. The force needs more cops like you."
Puffing her chest out, Sparr stands up a bit straighter. "Thank you, sir."
He smiles to reveal teeth ground almost to nubs. "Don't thank me yet, Detective. I'm suspending you both for eight weeks for misappropriation of resources. Effectively immediately."
Her face falls.
"But it is a good thing you both put in for eight weeks of vacation last week, huh?" His smile turns almost conspiratorial as he glances at the papers in his hands. "You both have more than enough unused vacation to cover it. DiNozzo, you've got 12 weeks. Sparr, you've got 20. What the heck?"
She fiddles with the engagement ring on the chain around her neck. "I haven't taken one since Mark…"
Nodding, Blumenthal decides it best to move on. "DiNozzo, go spend some time with that family of yours. Sparr…" he makes a face "…whatever you're going to do, keep me updated. Don't go rogue again, okay?" She nods. "Good. I'll see you both back here in October. Not a day before."
"Yes, sir," they unison.
Before Blumenthal has a chance to change his mind and fire them, Tony and Sparr get out of his office. They race to the parking garage to get the hell out of the building.
Tony has his key in the van's lock when Sparr calls: "DiNozzo?"
He turns back. "Yeah?"
"I'm sorry that you got suspended." She presses her lips together. "I told that bastard from IA that it was my idea to go to the meeting. And you tagged along to have my back."
He chuckles. "I told him the same thing."
"Of course, you would." Rolling her eyes, she runs her hand over her ponytail. "What are you going to do with your -" she uses air quotes " –'vacation'?"
"Spend some time with the family. Maybe take a real vacation." He studies her for a long beat. "You're going to work with the NSA on the Borres case, aren't you?"
"Now, I won't have to worry about trying to keep up with our regular cases." She laughs. "I was already there all night and Bishop texted me twice since I left two hours ago. That woman is G-damned slave driver." Her smile says that she likes everything about it.
Grinning, Tony thinks that sounds nothing like Ellie. "Keep me in the loop?"
"Damn straight. See you in eight weeks, partner."
When she holds out her hand for a shake, Tony gives her a quick one-armed—and quite manly, for both of them—hug. Because, after Tim, she is one of the best partners that he has ever had. Because well, just in case.
She pulls away first. "See you around, Big D."
Tony half-smiles. "I'll see you later, Sparr."
He slips into the van to head home. He should be upset, embarrassed, slinking home to lick his wounds.
Instead, his heart is full, almost bursting with excitement and enthusiasm. Even though he is technically suspended, the case was nearly a success—and of course, Sparr will see it through the bitter end. Not to mention, they impressed their higher-ups. On the record, they fucked up. Big time. Off the record, they were hailed as heroes.
He is more than halfway home before he realizes he can't remember the last time he felt like this.
Like his boss and his agency was watching out for him.
Like someone other than his partner truly had his six.
Without having to worry about his job and cases, Tony falls into an easy routine with his family. For the first time since he got here, he lets himself go, lets himself become the man he was pretending to be. Instead of playing a husband and father, he tries to be one. None of it, he quickly learns, is easy.
In the dog days of summer, he spends his suspension taking Riley to the community park while Phoebe and Zoe and Goliath hide at home in the air conditioning. Nearly every day, the walls Riley built around herself and her heart fall a little bit more.
She seems to notice that Tony is trying and so, she does too. Just a little bit.
And for Tony, that's all he can ask.
Tony gets up early to head to the park and spread clues all over the soccer fields and the playground and the parking lot. After breakfast, they work the imaginary cases together. Sometimes, Matty tags along—Tim has a hard time leaving the house with Borres still at large—and he plays Robin to Riley's Batman while Tony trails behind them, continually reminding them about protocol. Riley just rolls her eyes and grins, saying, "I know, Dad." She works doggedly in the summer sun, dragging a sweaty and exhausted-looking Matty around by the arm, until they close the case. Then Tony takes them out for ice cream.
That day, she looks over her chocolate-marshmallow-banana ice cream cone at him. She hazards a glance at Matty, who's far too interested in his vanilla sundae to even notice them.
Turning towards him, Riley earnestly holds his gaze. "My dad always said he was going to teach me how to run my own investigations, but he was usually busy. I bet he would do exactly what you did. As soon as he didn't have a case."
"I'm sure your dad would too," Tony says.
When she grins, the ice cream spreads all over her face. "Thanks for teaching me."
He nods. "And you're welcome."
In that moment, he vows to be the best father he can with what time he has here.
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Suspension Week 3, Day 2 – 10:32am –
Rain beats against the windows, its staccato echoing through the house. Since the weather is too miserable to hunt dirt bags in the park, Tony calls for a quiet day at home. At first, Riley pouts, but eventually, she settles onto the couch and zones out to catch up on her favorite cartoon. They've spent so much time working in the park, she grouses with a little smile, that she missed all the new episodes.
Zoe is the back of the house, doing laundry or cleaning or something domestic. When he asked if she needed help, she shook her head and said, "Go spend time with the girls."
And so he does.
He lays on the floor, watching Phoebe try to shove her whole foot into her mouth. She rolls this way and that while failing miserably. Laughing, he rubs his hand over her hair, traces his way down her cheek.
Suddenly, she abandons her foot and latches onto his finger for dear life. Their eyes meet, her widening with that big, baby smile takes over her face. Tony has never seen such unbridled joy before.
"Da…da," she babbles.
Tony rolls to his side. "Oh yeah, Probie? Do you have something to say to me?"
"Da! Da! Da!" Her grin broadens, showing off that lone tooth breaking through her gums as she reaches for him. "Dadadadadada! Dada!"
He sits up, then scoops her off the floor. Once she's in his arms, she presses a soft hand to his face and looks deeply into his eyes.
"Dada," she murmurs like it means everything to her.
And for the first time, he feels the same elation that is rampant on Phoebe's face.
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Sometime near the crack of dawn on a day of Week 4, Tony gets a text: We finally nailed that bastard, Big D. Elijah Borres is in NSA custody with Metro getting the assist. If it weren't for Tim's ID, we probably never would've found him. Tell him we said thanks. By the way, Bishop says you owe her a pizza.
He asks, just because he has to: Should I notify NCIS about the arrest? And tell Bishop, I'll send her some Skittles. Green ones.
Sparr's reply comes quickly: In case you're wondering about that Navy bastard, he was there. Bishop let him take the collar on Boress for Jackson Mulroney's murder. But the NSA gets first crack at him for everything else, including Tim's case. Bish'll be upset about the candy. Alright, Big D, gotta go. There's still more work to do. See you…eventually.
Since he knows she's already gone, he doesn't bother to text her back.
Sparr is too far engrossed in her case to come up for air these days. Every text he sends her goes unanswered or he gets a short reply. He knows that she throws herself into her work to forget, as a way to move on. When he gets back to the station, he knows she'll be giving their partnership her all.
He gives her the space she needs.
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Suspension Week 4, Day 3 – 11:10am –
Even though the local news station predicted that hell would be cooler than DC today, Tony still gets ready to take Riley to the park like he promised. He was already there earlier, carefully hiding candy wrappers and a chocolate bar and a bunch of Barbie shoes amongst the blades of grass in the baseball field. Their case today involves a chocolatier with a shoe fetish.
Riley stands in the driveway, grinning like a madwoman. She hops from one foot to the other, somehow keeping up her normal energy despite the blistering heat.
"Do you think I'll solve this one?" she asks brightly.
"You always do," Tony says, smiling.
They're just at the edge of the driveway when Tony glances towards the McGee's house. Tim's Audi has been parked in the same place since Tony brought it back from the station.
Ever since his rescue, Tim just hasn't been himself. The DiNozzos and the McGees still meet for dinner a few times a week, but his friend is always drawn and tired and quiet. Every time Tony asks how he is, Tim just forces a brave smile and says, Fine, Tony, everything is fine. Even Delilah tries to pretend like everything isn't unraveling before her very eyes, but she is as good a liar as Tim.
"Hey Rookie, do you think we should bring Matty?" Tony asks.
She nods enthusiastically. "I could use someone with his expertise."
He tilts his head. "Oh yeah. What's that?"
"Candy," she says simply.
When she tears off towards the porch, his brow furrows. He glances down, finds a bit of chocolate smeared on the front of his T-shirt from setting up his case. Laughing to himself, he tries to wipe it away, but it only smears deeper into his shirt.
Eventually, he gives up and joins Riley on the McGee's porch. The front door is already open and Matty is sitting on the floor, fighting with his sneakers. Looking up at Riley, he listens to her tell him about their newest case. Excitement takes over his face. At the sight of Tony, Matty snaps out of his stupor.
"Heya Mr. D," he says, grinning gap-toothedly. "Riley said we've got another case."
"You bet." Tony nods. "Say, Matty, where's your dad?"
Flinching, Matty's eyes skirt away from Tony. For some reason, the little boy's cheeks flush.
"In the living room," Matty whispers as his face falls. "But it's best to leave him be. Mom says he needs to think so he can feel better."
"I'll just be a minute."
When Tony steps into the house, Matty darts right in the way. He holds his arms out, trying to block Tony's path.
Taken aback, Tony has no idea how to respond. Thankfully, he doesn't have to. Riley grabs Matty's arm, promises to show him Goliath's newest trick—eating treats out of the dirt. Then, she drags him outside. Over her shoulder, she throws Tony a meaningful stare and he nods his thanks.
Since the layout of Tim's house is identical to his own, Tony takes a hard left into the living room. The décor is not what he pictured. At all. The living room looks one part museum, two parts antique store with a dash of vintage charm for good measure. Worn dark leather sofas with mahogany accessories take up most of the available space. Against the far wall, there is a writing desk with the same old typewriter Tim used to write those stupid novels—I am so not Agent Tommy—back home.
Tim, with his back to Tony, sits at the desk. His shoulders are tense, his back rigid. There is an empty page in the typewriter, but he makes no motion to use it. Suddenly, he howls and rips out the page. He balls it up in his fists and adds it to the pile beside his feet.
"What happened? Didn't like what you didn't write?" Tony asks, reaching for humor.
Nearly jumping out of his skin, Tim whirls around. His red-rimmed eyes are wide, his hair mussed like he just rolled out of bed. And based on what look like pajamas, Tony surmises he just might have.
Shit, McGee, you're falling apart. Why didn't you tell me?
But at the sight of Tony, Tim relaxes considerably.
Tony gives a little wave. "Hey."
"Hi," Tim says flatly.
For some reason, Tony loses his voice. He stands stock-still, staring at the tired and exasperated shell of his friend. Tim studies the floor, absently drumming his fingers on his desk.
"Boress was arrested last night. Sparr texted me earlier," Tony says. "She said you were a big help. That the NSA couldn't have done it without you."
"Good. Great. That's just great." Tim looks up, then nods mechanically. "I'm glad to hear it."
Tony moves closer. "How are you holding up, Tim?"
Licking his lips, Tim rubs the back of his neck. He leans forward to press his elbows against his knees as he presses his hands to his face. It is still hidden when he shakes his head. Tony crosses the room, to put his hand on Tim's shoulder. Under Tony's touch, Tim pulls a hitched breath.
"Have you gone to counseling yet?" he asks.
Tim shakes his head again. "I should be able to…" His body quakes again.
When Tony crouches down, Tim peers from behind his hands.
"There is no shame in asking for help, Tim," Tony says carefully.
"I've done it on my own before, Tony. I should be to get through this on my own." Tim's eyes go wide. "Why can't I get through it on my own?"
Tony tilts his head to hold his friend's gaze. "Didn't you freak out and transfer departments last time?"
"Yeah. Field agent to Cybercrimes." Tim half-smiles. "Then you persuaded me to interview for the opening in the forensics department at Metro."
"Yeah, I guess I did," Tony says, chuckling. "You run the computer department now. Are you really up for another career change?"
Pressing his lips together, Tim shakes his head. "Not really."
"Then I guess it's time to get your head shrunk, huh?"
When Tim doesn't reply, Tony struggles to keep his face as impassive. Something about his friend's reaction makes him uneasy. Maybe it's the way Tim wrings his hands. Or the way his left leg bounces at an insane rhythm. Tim seems ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Forcing him into the car to take him to therapy might just send him straight over the edge.
Maybe it's time to try a different tactic.
"If you don't want to try counseling, Tim," Tony says, "then pack your bags. We need to get you the hell out of this house."
Confused, Tim blinks. "What?"
"Remember I promised you a vacation to Disney World. Go get Matty and Delilah, Tim!" Barely able to contain himself, Tony grins. "The McGees and the DiNozzos are going on their first official road trip!"
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The following day, Tony manages to cram the McGees, the DiNozzos, everyone's bags, and Delilah's wheelchair into the van…even if it takes one of those car storage containers on his roof to make it happen. It takes two full days of driving to get there, but in the end, it is worth it.
They are at the park every day from the time it opens to when it closes. Zoe and Delilah enjoy their time by wandering around the countries in Epcot. Phoebe screams every time she sees Mickey Mouse. Somehow, Matty learns the intricate details about the magnetic system that powers the MonoRail and tells everyone about how it works every freaking time they ride it.
Whenever they see a princess, Riley announces she needs to use to the bathroom. Then she makes Tony take her to get the princess' autograph. Every time, he smiles and pinky-swears that he won't tell Matty about Riley's secret wish to meet Cinderella and Snow White.
Tim goes through the motions for a while. Then sometime on their last day, while they're waiting in line for Space Mountain and Matty is rambling about some type of star—a red dwarf or a yellow star or the Death Star—Tim finally lets himself go. He wraps his arm around his son and grins the brightest one Tony's ever seen.
At that moment, Tony knows Tim will be just fine.
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Author's Note 2.0:Up next, Tony heads home. But is he ready?