AN: Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - life's been so crazy I haven't had time to reply to them, but I'm hoping it will settle down soon. This is my last week working six days at my FT job, at least for a while, so I might finally be able to get a bit ahead. Kyrie's ready to kill me for not finishing chapters until the day before I post. :)
Chapter 37
Friday, April 9, 2010
Tony stuck his phone back in his pocket, then rejoined Dwayne where the young agent was talking to one of the sailors on Sanderson's team.
"Thanks, Petty Officer Bashiri," Dwayne said. "We appreciate your willingness to talk."
"Yes, sir." The petty officer left, and Dwayne turned to face Tony. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Boss wants us back," Tony said. "That was Ziva. McGee had the piece we were missing, got it from his dad."
"I think Bashiri gave me some of it, too," Dwayne said. "It's not pretty."
Tony nodded. "Wait until we're in the car."
They talked about Dwayne's kids until they made their way off base, the agent entertaining Tony with Kevin's latest escapades now that he was crawling.
"I'll bet Kerry won't leave her dolls on the floor anymore," Tony said.
Dwayne shook his head. "Not after that."
Once they were outside base, Tony changed the subject. "We're pretty sure — at least Sean is — that Sanderson is gay." He sighed. "And the XO on the Bainbridge isn't the sort to encourage an open-minded environment."
"That fits with what the petty officer said." Dwayne's voice was grim. "He'd seen Sanderson moving stiffly several times. One of those afternoons, he saw Sanderson on the treadmill at the gym and sweat had soaked his shirt. He could see bruises underneath."
"Beatings he couldn't report," Tony said.
"That happened to a guy in my unit when I first joined up," Dwayne said. "The gunny wasn't a real tolerant person, thought DADT was the military caving to political correctness. At first he'd just single Simmons out for extra 'training' because he said he wasn't meeting standards. So Simmons turned himself into a super-Marine, determined that the gunny couldn't find fault."
"Then what happened?" Tony had a feeling he knew; had seen the same thing in Peoria and Philly — especially Philly — but he had to ask.
"I was coming back from a 24 one day, had gone to see Maggie back when we still were dating," Dwayne said. "Outside the base, Simmons was lying in the bushes. His face and lower arms were fine, but somebody had pinned him down at the shoulders and pummeled any place it wouldn't show." He sighed. "I got him in the gate, took him to the infirmarary. He said he'd gotten in a fight in town."
"A civilian beat a trained Marine that badly?" Tony snorted. "Yeah. And my partner in Philly ended up on the streets without backup while I was undercover because the other unit got tied up with a break-in."
"Were they punishing you or him?" Dwayne asked.
"Him," Tony said. "I was always careful to keep that side of my life hidden." He paused. "Well, up until Tim."
"I can't even imagine," Dwayne said.
"Don't," Tony said. He forced a grin on his face. "Besides, you'll get to see it in action. Gibbs is bringing us back to have me and McGee tag-team Sanderson, see if we can get him to tell us about those incidents and give us names so we can nail them to the wall. If there's one thing Gibbs hates, it's seeing a victim — any victim — not get justice."
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Sarah finished classes for the morning and headed back to Ziva's apartment. Their apartment, she corrected herself. She'd stopped by to see her math professor between classes that morning, and she'd been thrilled to find out she had gotten an A on the quiz the previous day. Between Tim's help on weekends and the tutoring sessions at the campus help center, she was feeling a bit more confident about passing the class.
She let herself in and dropped her books on the desk, which was in one corner of the living room. It was Ziva's, but she had told Sarah to use it, at least until they could get Sarah's from her parents' house. Sarah still needed to call and tell them she wanted to come pick it up. Ziva said Gibbs would be happy to bring it over in his truck, but Sarah knew she also needed to tell her parents why she was moving in with Ziva early.
She looked through the kitchen, debating what to have for lunch. There was leftover ravioli with vegetables in the fridge from dinner last night, but Sarah decided she didn't feel like all the garlic. It hadn't agreed with her last night, and she didn't think that would change today. Instead, she grabbed a pre-made pizza shell from a package in the pantry and pulled out the makings of her favorite snack. The others all thought she was crazy, but to her pickles, peanut butter, and hot sauce sounded perfect.
She assembled the pizza and flopped down on the couch. Just being out of the dorms the past few days had been great — she was sleeping a lot better, though she hadn't caught up on all her rest yet. Sarah pulled out her cell and set her alarm so if she fell asleep, she wouldn't be late for work.
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Tim decided to channel Gibbs during training that morning and took the agents through the material quickly, then set a Gibbsian deadline for them to complete the final practical assignment of the two-week training.
"McGee, you've been working for the Boss too long," Burley said. "This is going to take twice that long."
"And if you tried that on Gibbs?" Tim smiled, so Burley would know he was just giving him a hard time.
"Yeah, yeah, he'd cut the time even more," Burley said. "It's a good thing none of you guys are going anywhere, because nobody could take your spot on the team and stay sane."
"Wait, McGee's sane?" Agent Rosaria kept his straight face for less than 10 seconds before snickering at his own comment.
"I'm not the one wasting time complaining about the deadline instead of trying to meet it," Tim retorted. "Learn the speed now while it's just practice, before somebody's life depends on how quickly you can trace these records." With that, everybody settled down, and the only noises were clicking keys and muttered curses.
The class ended a full hour early. Tim checked his watch and knew Tony would be back by now.
"What's going on, McGee?" Burley hung back after everybody else left. "Is everything OK with Sarah?"
Tim nodded. "Unless something's happened that nobody's told me about."
Burley shook his head. "I drove her home last night, and she was fine then. Josh came in for a while with his new girlfriend, but Sarah seemed to handle it OK. She was pretty tired though. She's working almost full time at the coffee shop, plus classes, plus this. Something's gotta give."
Tim sighed. "Plus the extra tutoring to make sure she passes math so she can graduate on time." He frowned as he finished packing up his stuff. "She can't drop any classes, but I wish she would cut back her hours at the coffee shop, just until graduation. If she doesn't pass that class, she'll have to wait until August to walk, and I'm more worried about how that will affect her than anything else."
Burley nodded. "From some of the stories Brad was telling me the other day, once we were sure Josh wasn't coming in, it sounds like she's a firecracker, but I haven't seen it."
"She is, and she hasn't been. You're not the only one who's worried." He thought for a second. "Stan, can you float the idea by her of cutting her hours at work, just until she graduates? Tony and I could help her out if she needs the money, especially now that she's living with Ziva and not in the dorms. But if one of us were to suggest it, I'm not sure she'd even consider it."
Burley nodded. "Sure. She can get mad at me; I'll be gone in another week anyway."
"Thanks." Tim clapped him on the shoulder. "Now, I've got to get back to the bullpen so Tony and I can tag-team this guy."
"Dirtbag?"
"Victim." Tim pressed his lips together. "At least we think so. He's not telling — insists he beat his rack mate and we should just turn him over to the MPs."
"Good luck," Burley said. "I'll let you know how things go with Sarah."
"Thanks," Tim said.
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Tony headed directly the bullpen when they arrived at the Navy Yard, Dwayne right behind him.
"McProf done with his class yet?" Tony asked Gibbs, who was working at his desk.
The team leader shook his head. "Last day. He had to give them their final test. Thought he'd be done early, but it'll probably be another 30 minutes or so."
Dwayne sank into his chair. "Sanderson isn't going to get in trouble, is he? From what we learned, he got beaten at least as bad as he beat Justice, and more than once." Tony watched as Dwayne's fingers unconsciously reached out to trace the framed family photo on his desk. "Doesn't sound like anybody had his back."
"Too dangerous," Tony said. "In an environment like that? Anybody who tried to stand up for him would have been tagged the same way." He felt his shoulders sag and knew it wasn't just because he'd been up since 0100. "Boss, we are going to take these guys down, right? I mean, yeah, Sanderson might have to take some heat; he did beat up Justice. But Justice and Andrews and anybody else who was involved, even the XO — they need to face the consequences of what they did, too."
Gibbs nodded, and Tony noticed it was one of the few times he'd ever seen the boss appear, well, old. Or maybe "weary" was a better description. The energy that usually made them forget he was past 50 was gone at the moment.
"Boss? Everything OK?"
"We've got two guys, and the one who looks like the victim now seems like he's at least as guilty as the other one. I'm sending you and McGee in to get a man to break a Navy reg and tell us he's gay so we can stop his shipmates from beating on him, and somehow I have to get Vance to take on the political nightmare of making sure the Navy deals with the idiot XO who thought condoning harassment was a source of entertainment." Gibbs never raised his voice, never looked up from the paper in front of him. "I hate making Sanderson tell, I hate that we have to investigate this because some officer somewhere was too afraid of bad publicity to make the tough choices he should have made, and most of all I hate asking you and McGee to use your relationship to encourage Sanderson into giving us the information we need to get justice." He stopped, and only then did he look up at Tony. "No, everything is not OK."
Tony held up his hand as Dwayne started to speak then moved over to stand in front of Gibbs' desk. Crouching down, he looked up at Gibbs from across the desktop. "Boss, you're not making Tim or me do anything we aren't willing to do. Believe me when I say that anything I can do on this case is only half as much as I should have done in Philly."
He waited for Gibbs to demand details, but either the boss had already known or he'd decided not to push. "Tim and I never worried about people finding out about us — once we knew you weren't going to kick one of us off the team for breaking Rule 12 — because we knew you were on our six. Not just you either — Ziva, Abby, Ducky, Jimmy, and now Dwayne. Even Vance. Sanderson doesn't have anybody on his six. And if the only thing I get done today is persuading him that he's now got us on his six, it's a good day."
Suddenly uncomfortable with how much he'd said, Tony scrambled in his brain to find a joke, something to lighten the mood. A film reference that wasn't Brokeback Mountain. Before he could open his mouth, he heard a voice next to him.
"This is why you're the right team for this case," Vance said.
Tony looked up to see the director standing in front of Ziva's desk. Ziva was standing behind him carrying a tray of drinks from the coffee shop.
"Not because of DiNozzo, not because of McGee," Vance said. "But because none of you will stop until you get justice. It's why you're the best team at NCIS, even if you do pull enough stunts that SecNav has a regular time on his schedule for me to brief him on your... unorthodox... methods of solving that week's cases."
Tony straightened up, wincing as both his knees and his back cracked. "Wow, thanks Director," he said.
"Yes, thank you, Director Vance," Ziva said, her voice quiet.
"You come down for a reason, Leon? Or are you just trying to inflate their egos?" Gibbs' words were harsh, but his tone wasn't. Tony knew that, for Gibbs, Vance's praise was just another commendation he didn't expect and didn't need - just something to get stuffed in the lockbox at the bottom of Tony's desk drawer.
"SecNav is ready to start a full investigation of the Bainbridge, including all the officers who served back when the videos were first being aired," he said. "I called Commander McGee, and he gave me enough information about who to talk to at the Academy that we were able to confirm that part of the story. Don't Ask, Don't Tell might still be the law, but harassment of any kind is out of bounds." Vance's face was grim. "Get as many details as you can — names, dates, times — anything. And SecNav has authorized a new posting for Sanderson if he doesn't want to return to the Bainbridge — if he cooperates."
"We'll get everything we can." McGee spoke from behind Vance, and they all turned to face him. "Director, I'll have my assessments of the agents from the class on your desk by Monday."
Vance nodded and walked away. Ziva handed a coffee to McGee before joining the others by Gibbs' desk to hand out drinks. "Gibbs, do you want us in Observation with you or working on our reports?"
"Reports," Gibbs said. "Wilson, you heard Vance. Any times, dates, or other details you and DiNozzo gathered, put them down."
Dwayne nodded and headed back to his desk.
"Guess that means we're up," Tony said. "Come on, McGood Cop."
He was rewarded with a snort from Tim and a little life in Gibbs' eyes, so he grinned and led the way to the elevator.
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Gibbs watched from Observation as McGee ushered Sanderson into the interrogation room. Tony was already there, leaning against the wall in the corner.
"Hey, Sanderson," Tony said. "You've met Tim, I see. Agent McGee, I mean."
The lieutenant nodded. "Why am I here?" He sat down, folded his hands on the tabletop and stared down at them. "It's like I told the other agent... I did it. I'm pleading guilty."
"It's not that easy," Tim said, his voice quiet. "This isn't just about one fight."
"Yes, it is." Sanderson straightened up and stared at Tim, who had sat down across from him. "I was mad, and I took it out on Justice. I don't even need JAG to plead guilty."
"We know why you were mad," Tony said. "We know what was happening."
"No, you don't," Sanderson said. He compulsively squeezed and released his folded hands.
"When you were at the Academy, you had Commander McGee for leadership classes, right?" Tony asked.
Sanderson's brow furrowed, and he looked over at Tony, confusion evident on his face. "Yeah. What does that have to do with any-" He paused and looked at McGee. "Wait, McGee?"
He nodded. "He's my father. And he's very observant."
"I don't know what you mean." Sanderson looked away.
Gibbs didn't catch whatever signal McGee sent, but DiNozzo walked over, pulling out the other chair and flipping it around so he faced the door as he sat at the table. "If you couldn't tell from the haircuts, we're not Navy here," he said. "Tim here can't even get near a boat without getting seasick."
"Thanks, Tony," Tim said. He stretched his left hand out on the table, the light reflecting on the band on his ring finger. "Tony's right, though," he said. "We're not."
"Good thing, too," Tony said, placing his left hand on the table next to McGee's. "Law enforcement can be tough enough without being harassed, and we're not even under DADT."
Sanderson looked down at the table, and Gibbs hoped he was registering the meaning of the identical wedding bands on the men's hands, the two-toned double helix inset in the metal were too unique to be considered coincidental by anyone.
"Like I said, my dad's observant," Tim said. "He sees a lot more than he tells."
Sanderson looked up at Tim, then turned and looked at Tony, before looking back at Tim. "He didn't say anything?"
Tim shook his head. "It doesn't matter to him. All he cares about is turning midshipmen into good officers. He said he's had students in every class he was pretty sure weren't telling, and he's never thought any less of any of them. But he didn't have much good to say about the officer who thought those videos were a good idea, or the higher-ups who let him get away with it."
"Some of your shipmates told us you didn't dish out anything worse than you'd received over the past few years," Tony said. "We want to help, but you have to let us."
Sanderson shook his head.
Tony got up and walked away, then came back to the table. "Look, I know what you're feeling."
"Do you?" Sanderson looked up at him. "Your boss sent you in here for a reason. Doesn't seem like it's an issue here."
"Not here." Tony huffed out a breath. "But this is my fourth department. Before I came to NCIS, I was a cop. Started in Peoria, made detective in Philly, then I went to Baltimore. Know why?"
When Sanderson didn't say anything, Tim spoke. "I don't even know why."
"They didn't know," Tony said. "When you're an equal-opportunity dater like I was, it's easy for people to see only what you want them to see." He straddled the chair again. "My partner in Philly wasn't so lucky. He was smart and tough. The best investigator I ever worked with, before Agent Gibbs."
When he didn't continue, Sanderson spoke. "What happened?"
"I was undercover," Tony said. "He was my liaison, but since it was a deep cover, we didn't contact each other more than once a week unless I had new information to pass along. He had a lot of time on his hands, so our lieutenant put him to work on other cases. I didn't know it at the time, but they sent him out alone, without any backup."
"OK?" Sanderson looked at him.
"That's a cardinal sin in law enforcement," Tim said. "Unless you're undercover and it's not possible, you always, always have somebody on your six. If you go all lone wolf, all it's likely to get you is dead."
"Even Batman needed Robin," Tony said, glancing back at the two-way mirror. Gibbs winced a bit as the comment hit home.
"So what happened?" Sanderson asked.
"He was investigating, ran across something," Tony said. "Mike called for backup, and dispatch assured him it was on the way — there were a couple of black-and-whites just three blocks away."
"And?" Sanderson prompted him.
When Tony spoke, his voice was thick, and he looked down at his hands. "The dirtbags caught him 15 minutes later, while his 'backup' was still sitting three blocks away. The whole department showed up for his funeral, but not one of them had backed him up when he needed it." Tony looked up at Sanderson. "I knew he'd gotten grief from others in the department before. I didn't say anything, didn't stand up for him, because the only thing I would have accomplished is putting myself in the same boat. Even Mike didn't know about my personal life, though sometimes I think he suspected." Tony pushed away from the table and stood up. "It was easier for me to hide, to only date women, because I didn't want to risk dealing with the fallout. I wonder sometimes if I'd had more courage back then, would saying something have saved Mike?"
"Or would it have just gotten you killed?" Sanderson looked at him. "Look, I know what you're saying, but that's a risk I don't want to take."
"And if you don't take it?" It was Tim's turn to speak. "It's not going to stop just because you keep silent. It never does. Bullies are never satisfied. They'll keep taking things out on you and anybody else until someone stands up to them. So far it's just been beatings, but how do you know they won't go too far someday? With you or somebody else?"
"SecNav has promised our director that if you want a different posting, it's yours. You just have to give us names of the sailors doing this, as well as the times and places where you've been attacked," Tony said. "I don't know what happens with your assault charge, but it doesn't sound like he's planning on throwing the book at you."
Sanderson looked up at him. "SecNav?"
"He's the one who brought us in to investigate, at your captain's request," Tim said. "In this case, he seems to be more concerned about addressing the climate of harassment on board the Bainbridge than the letter of the law." He paused. "I'd take him up on his offer."
Gibbs watched as the guys gently nudged Sanderson toward giving them the information they needed. It took another hour of coaxing, but before too long they had it all. Gibbs had called information up to Ziva for follow-up throughout the discussion when Tony finally nodded that he was satisfied.
"Thanks," he said. "We'll get an agent to take you back to holding, but I don't think you'll have to stay here too much longer."
"And Justice?" Sanderson sounded apprehensive.
"Don't know," Tony said. "Your captain's going to have to investigate first. But I don't think you'll have to worry about it."
Sanderson nodded. "Thanks."
"No, thank you," Tim said. "You didn't have to cooperate, and you did."
Sanderson shook his head. "I did," he said. "I don't want to find out Justice or any of the others takes it too far someday and really hurts somebody because I wasn't brave enough to speak up."
Gibbs smiled and left observation. As he headed downstairs, he called Vance. "We've got everything on tape, Director," he said. "It's your mess now." It felt good to hang up on the man. He stopped down to see Ducky, brief him, then returned to the bullpen.
"Now what, Boss?" McGee asked. "More financial cases?"
"Anything but that," Tony whined, sinking into his chair.
"Go home," Gibbs said. "You started early; you're ending early." He bit back a smile as Tony cheered. "Back on financial cases Monday, DiNozzo."
Gibbs thought he might rupture something from holding back a laugh at the way Tony's face went from cheerful to depressed in two seconds.
He wasn't far behind them and thought he might stop over and see Sean and Eileen when he got home.
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Sean changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt, then headed out for a walk. Eileen had gone down to the rec center to see if there was a spring basketball league she could join, so he took the inhaler Brad had prescribed him and started off slowly. The first few blocks were comfortable, and Sean picked up the pace a bit. He'd been taking it easy since the other day, and it was bothering him.
It was a nice day, sunny with just the edge of chill in the air that marked early spring days. Some of the neighbors had cherry trees, and the pink blossoms were blown out, most of them fallen to the ground, or about to fall. Lawns were starting to turn green, and early flowers bloomed around the edges.
As he increased his pace to a powerwalk, he could feel the dreaded tightness start in his lungs. He tried to hold the pace, before finally admitting defeat and slowing down. When the tightness didn't ease, he pulled out his inhaler and used it, letting the medication coat his lungs.
He slowed down again, and then slowed some more. He tried to ignore the fact that his pace was closer to that of an elderly man than somebody well below retirement age. The inhaler hadn't loosened his chest at all, and he tried to focus on slow, simple breaths. Gradually he was able to increase the amount of air he could take into his lungs, but he still couldn't manage a deep breath.
As Sean turned and slowly walked home, he reminded himself that with all the pollen in the air, he should have walked inside. He knew better than that. Eileen would read him the riot act for walking outside at this time of year. He was better off not telling her. He'd just have to remember to walk inside tomorrow, no matter how nice the weather outside was.
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Tim grabbed his gear and headed for the elevator, Tony at his heels.
"How ready are you to go home?" his husband asked as they took the elevator down.
"What did you have in mind?" Tim asked.
"Mind detouring by Judiciary Square on the way home?"
Tim shook his head. "You going to tell me why?"
Tony didn't respond, and Tim glanced over to see Tony was lost in thought. He let it drop as they put their gear in the backseat of the car and Tim pulled out of the parking lot. He hadn't been to Judiciary Square in a while — not since the last time he'd had to testify in court — but it wasn't that far out of their way.
He navigated his way to the area, then found a parking space on the street near the Armed Forces Court of Appeals. After parking and setting the alarm, he followed Tony, who was headed for the square itself, not one of the courthouses.
The sides of the square were lined with stone walls, just a few feet high. He'd been here when Kate's name was memorialized along with other law enforcement officers killed in the line of duty. But even after Paula Cassidy, Rick Hall, and Jim Nelson died, he hadn't visited the memorial again, preferring to remember his friends and coworkers in other ways.
But Tony had obviously been here several times. The panels each looked alike, the names boldly engraved in all capital letters. But Tony didn't hesitate as he went to pay his respect at each name. Caitlin Marie Todd was four or five lines from the bottom, on a panel about halfway down the side of the memorial, and Tony made the sign of the cross and murmured a prayer as he stood there. Tim closed his eyes and thought about Kate, how she would offer him advice one minute, then gang up on him with Tony the next.
Down near the end, across the street from the National Building Museum, Tony knelt to run his fingers across the three names engraved there. Tim swallowed hard, remembering that weekend. First Rick and Jim — Jim had been his first friend at NCIS — then Paula the next day, Tony pounding on the brick wall after it slammed shut behind her and the bomb went off. Their names were just a couple of lines up, their deaths more recent than Kate's.
When Tony went to stand, his knees cracked, and Tim reached out a hand to pull him to his feet. His husband still didn't say anything, though. He just turned and walked across the square to the other side of the memorial. He crouched down to find another name, then let his fingertips rest on the stone under a name that had been there long enough to show some softening around the edges from years of weather.
"Michael James O'Hanlon," Tim said. "Your partner in Philly?"
Tony only nodded, and Tim dropped to the ground next to him, putting an arm around Tony's shoulders. "You couldn't have been there that night," he said.
"No, but I could have stood up for him before that," Tony said. "If I had, he might be alive."
"Or you might be dead," Tim replied. "Or you'd still be in Philly, and I'd be down in Norfolk, and Gibbs would be running off new agents every few weeks."
"It wasn't right," Tony said. "It's isn't right."
"No, it's not." Tim pulled him closer and tipped his head so it rested against Tony's. "You did something about it today." He paused. "We can't save the world, Tony. Not even Gibbs can do that. We just have to go out there every day and take care of our part of it. And then go back the next day, even when we want to run off to Mexico and margaritas instead of coming back to blood and bad guys."
"It's not enough," he said. "There's not anything I can do that would be enough to make up for letting Mike down."
Tim didn't know what to say, but he knew he needed to say something, knew Tony needed words.
"You did what you could today," he finally said. "You do what you can every day, and it might not be as much as you think you need to do, but if it's everything you can do, it's enough."
AN: Yes, the memorial does exist, and it's quite moving. If you're ever in D.C., it's worth visiting, even if you don't have a name to look up. They do have a directory at one end to help you find people's names — most of us aren't like Tony and have the locations memorized.