A/N: This story has been a work in progress for a long, long time! It is NOT Ziva friendly, so sorry to any Ziva or Tiva fans out there.

Warning: Adult themes. This will be a Tibbs fic, but I'm not sure how explicit this will get. You've been warned just in case.

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters or places. I receive no money for this work of fiction and no copyright infringement is intended.

"These Dreams"

It wasn't a pristine, crystalline beach in Turks and Caicos, Grand Cayman, or Jamaica, but lounging by his swimming pool was close enough to a tropical paradise for Tony's immediate needs. Eighty-five degrees and sunny with a light breeze made for a perfect July afternoon to catch some rays and relax for the first time in weeks. The blended aroma of coconut and shea butter hung in the air. All that was missing was a fruity, tropical cocktail adorned with a little paper umbrella. Instead, Tony opted for a tall glass of brewed iced tea with a twist of lemon.

The rooftop pool was one of the reasons Tony had plunked down nearly his entire savings account balance as a down payment on his Georgetown condo. Well-maintained potted palms, ferns, and tall grasses gave the otherwise sterile concrete and tile patio surround a tropical feel. Deck chairs and seating areas with raised fire pits made it perfect for large gatherings. A full wet bar was available but it was not stocked. If you wanted beer, wine, or cocktails, you had to bring your own booze and ice. Strategically placed landscape lighting created an ambient glow around the lighted pool for evening enjoyment.

Tony pushed his sunglasses down on his nose and sighed as a pretty young woman sashayed past him like a model on the runway in Milan, a teasing, saccharin-laced "Hey, Tony" dripping from her lips. Having long ago put his serial skirt chasing days behind him, Tony ignored the blatant performance being put on for his benefit and smiled politely as she made a production of unbelting her short silky cover and letting it slide down her arms to reveal flawless golden skin and the tiniest bikini he had ever seen.

He was grateful that she chose a lounge chair at the far end of the long pool instead of the one next to him. She had been anything but shy in the past when it came to trying to entice him into partaking in a little afternoon delight, but he simply wasn't interested in anything she had to offer. Becky? Brittany? Her name escaped him, not that it really mattered. She was just like all the rest. Besides, rumors abound that she had a sugar daddy in a position of great power up on the Hill.

Tony's upscale neighborhood spanned four city blocks and was close enough to DuPont Circle that it had become a haven for successful professionals looking for a vibrant nightlife. Trendy five-star restaurants, small bistros, corner pubs, and swanky nightclubs lined the streets. There was something for everyone. Tony was an occasional patron of some of the more elite establishments that catered to his varied tastes. Men or women, it didn't matter; he never bothered to get names or phone numbers, and if a sliver of paper or folded cocktail napkin found its way into his pocket it was discarded immediately upon discovery. No strings, no regrets.

He wanted and needed more than random hookups, and by God he deserved more than settling for one-night stands. More and more those meaningless encounters left him feeling empty, but apparently a lasting meaningful relationship was not in the cards. Every woman who crossed his path had an agenda and the games were always the same, games he no longer wanted to play. The few men thrown in the mix were nothing more than time wasted and served as a distraction.

Pushing his shades back up on his nose and inserting his ear buds, Tony closed his eyes and let his mind drift as Anne Wilson's sultry voice crooned in his ears. Though it was his favorite Heart song, "These Dreams" struck a chord and hit too close to home for comfort. The lyrics made Tony's heart ache with a profound longing for something and someone unattainable.

There's something out there

I can't resist

I need to hide away from the pain

There's something out there

I can't resist

The sweetest song is silence

That I've ever heard

Funny how your feet

In dreams never touch the earth

In a wood full of princes

Freedom is a kiss

But the prince hides his face

From dreams in the mist

These dreams go on when I close my eyes

Every second of the night I live another life

These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside

Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away

For longer than he was willing to admit, Tony had been haunted by a recurring dream of a 'prince in the mist', and in his dreams the prince was always a shadowy vision of Gibbs. Abby, the oracle of all things mystical, would know exactly what the dreams meant, but Tony didn't dare ask her. She saw too much, felt too much, and knew too much. Inviting her to delve into his fantasy world and dreamscapes would bring with it a host of questions he wasn't willing or able to answer.

It didn't help that Gibbs had been sending mixed signals for years. More than once Tony had found himself on the receiving end of Gibbs' penetrating stare. It was unnerving and an effective weapon. Tony had seen it used to secure rambling confessions from a number of dirt bags over the years; a few of them were even brought to tears. Had Gibbs caught him staring or God forbid leering at him? Was Gibbs curious or, even better, interested? Tony didn't dare hope, but it never stopped him from blushing at the thought, which seemed to be a source of great amusement for the object of his desire. That smug smirk! Tony couldn't decide if he wanted to smack it or kiss it off the man's lips.

The man was an enigma and frustrating as hell to figure out. Even trying to gauge his mood from day to day after a decade of working closely with him was near impossible. Gibbs gave nothing away. What he was thinking or feeling at any given moment was a complete mystery.

Swallowing down a pang of sadness and regret as the next track began to play, Tony hummed along to Little River Band's "Cool Change" and let the harmonies wash over him. Never mind that he should be behind his desk writing up his final case report. Final?

"Yep, pretty likely," Tony thought to himself.

For all intents and purposes he had walked off the job just a few hours ago. There was no official announcement, no formal letter of resignation, or even a hastily scrawled Post-It note. Tony just grabbed his badge, holstered his Sig, and left without a backward glance or a word to anyone. There would be hell to pay when Gibbs realized he was gone; of that he had no doubt, but he had finally reached his breaking point. It was time to move on.

Now that my life is so prearranged,

I know that it's time for a cool change.

Tony's long fingers skimmed over the freshly healed jagged four-inch scar running down his right side just below his rib cage. He had earned a much deeper wound to his left thigh during a desperate struggle to wrestle a K-Bar knife from a Marine with easily three inches of height and at least fifty pounds on him. They were the latest in a career filled with scars, both physical and emotional.

The physical scars would heal in time like they always did, but the emotional damage was becoming more and more difficult to hide or ignore. He loved his job. Hell, he was all about the job, but he was tired of being sacrificed by his partner who was supposed to have his six. Ziva's latest attempt to show him up had disastrous results but once again Vance let her slide without holding her in any way accountable. As long as the job got done Vance didn't seem to care to what extent protocols or orders were ignored.

An old, abandoned warehouse across the river in Anacostia had been teeming for weeks with nefarious characters coming and going at all hours of the day and night. The rundown waterfront was a rough, high crime area known for drug dealing and prostitution. A recent uptick in the amount of suspicious activity had caught the attention of local law enforcement, but they were ill-equipped to handle it out of the local precinct.

Based on information from a reliable informant, large quantities of guns and drugs were being sold and traded. Since the transactions involved interstate transportation of illegal contraband it became federal jurisdiction and the FBI was called in.

It wasn't long before the feds were able to arrest a low-level local dealer during an undercover sting. Hoping to avoid a long sentence on federal drug and illegal gun possession charges, the suspect gave up the name of the ring-leader - Marine Staff Sergeant Joseph "Joey Pats" Pantangelo, who just happened to be the grandson of Anthony "Tony Boy" Pantangelo, a Capo in Newark, New Jersey's small but infamous Martelli gang.

Having Marine Corps. involvement gave NCIS concurrent jurisdiction. Knowing it would be a massive operation, Vance called the Director of the FBI to offer NCIS's assistance. FBI Supervisory Agent Tobias Fornell reluctantly accepted, not that he was given much of a choice, with the caveat that the FBI would be calling the shots and would get credit for the collar.

Gibbs and Vance both understood the need for the FBI to get all the good press they could get. They had been taking a beating in the press due to some high-profile cases where sloppy investigations failed to garner convictions. Gibbs and Vance were more than happy to let Fornell deal with the reporters, cameras, and having multiple microphones shoved in his face.

"Whatever you say, Tobias," Gibbs said with a chuckle as he shook the hand of his would-be nemesis.

As Fornell turned to leave, Vance decided to knock him down a peg or two.

"Just so you know, Agent Fornell, if this all goes to hell it's on you. NCIS is happy to assist in any way we can, but win or lose this is all on the FBI."

It started out as a simple observe and report assignment, but things went south in a hurry. Tony had been partnered with Ziva on the 2300 to 0500 shift. Never one to possess the patience required for a surveillance-only, no-action stakeout, Ziva quickly grew bored sitting in the nondescript van for hours on end watching a bank of monitors. Tony manned the camera and got clear pictures of all the major players using a long zoom lens. Ziva was tasked with running license plates on any vehicles arriving at or leaving the warehouse.

Three days into the stakeout, the informant had gotten word to the FBI that a big shipment of drugs was due to arrive around midnight, and that a large stolen truck was en-route to deliver hundreds of guns and grenade launchers that had been tagged for destruction. Unbeknownst to the dealers, each weapon carried a tiny tracker on it as insurance.

A team of FBI agents were holed up across the street on the top floor of a rundown 5-story building to provide additional surveillance and backup. Their location was perfect and afforded Fornell and his tactical team a clear view of the entire waterfront area surrounding the warehouse. All points of ingress and egress to the warehouse were covered as agents waited for the signal to advance on the warehouse.

The FBI Director joined Vance in MTAC to watch as final preparations for a raid on the warehouse were being made in the field. All communications were routed through NCIS and broadcast in MTAC so that the two Directors could monitor everything in real time.

It should have been an easy knock and enter mission, but suddenly all hell broke loose.

"DiNutzo, what the hell are you doing?" Fornell yelled into the mic of his headset. "Where's David going?"

There was no response from Tony. He had unholstered his gun and jumped out of the back of the surveillance van in pursuit of Ziva, who had taken off on foot after seeing Sgt. Pantangelo and an unidentified associate arrive with the truck.

"Ziva, wait!" Tony called out, but his plea was ignored.

Moments later he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head. He collapsed in a heap on the wet asphalt ten yards from the warehouse loading bay door.

Ziva didn't react to Tony calling out or him being ambushed by Sgt. Pantagelo. She stopped just long enough to see Tony fall to the ground and have his Sig kicked from his hand. She did nothing as the second man came over and delivered a series of kicks to Tony's side. Instead of turning her weapon on his assailants, Tony watched through a fog of pain and confusion as Ziva took cover behind an old rusted car as she continued to advance on the warehouse. Was she smiling or sneering at him as he he was dragged away?

The last thing Tony heard before losing consciousness was Fornell barking to his team, "Move, move, move! Agent down! Shit! We're gonna need more backup."

Being blindsided, pistol whipped, beaten, disarmed and held hostage had not only been a huge blow to Tony's ego it had shaken his confidence. Further, it put his ability to trust his partner into question - again.

Thank God the Cavalry, in the form of a very concerned and pissed off Leroy Jethro Gibbs, showed up when he did! After a brief skirmish employing fists and guns, a double-tap to the chest brought the ordeal to a brutal end.

When Gibbs got to him, with McGee and Fornell providing cover, Tony was a mess. There was sticky coagulating blood in his hair from scalp lacerations. His jaw was bruised and his lower lip was bleeding profusely. Tony was cuffed to an old radiator in the corner of the room. He was wheezing and struggling for breath. His shirt had been ripped from his body and angry purple bruises were beginning to stand out where he had been kicked. His left eye was bruised and nearly swollen shut.

Blood poured through Tony's fingers as he tried to keep pressure on a long cut on his right side. Gibbs grabbed and balled up Tony's tattered shirt and used it to apply additional pressure. McGee rushed over and applied pressure to a stab wound on Tony's left thigh. Blood was pouring out through his fingers and McGee worried that an artery had been nicked or severed. Fornell was on the comm yelling for an ambulance.

"It's okay, Tony. We're here. We got 'ya," McGee muttered.

"Ziva. Where's Ziva?" Tony mumbled in response.

Gibbs was livid but managed to keep his anger in check.

"Don't you worry about Ziva. Let's just get you out of here. You let me worry about Ziva," Gibbs growled.

What concerned Gibbs more than his physical injuries was that Tony refused to look at him. He kept jerking his head away during Gibbs' cursory examination to tally his wounds as they waited for the EMTs to arrive. Using what little strength he could muster, Tony pushed Gibbs away.

"Leave me alone! I'm fine," Tony protested.

Shocked by the outburst, Gibbs held his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, Tony, okay. Just relax. The EMTs are on the way."

Tony had been beaten and threatened with various means of torture after being dragged into an old dirty-windowed office in the warehouse. The com link affixed to the cuff of Tony's jacket was an open channel and broadcast the graphic details of his crazed captor's plans for him.

Gibbs heard it all, how Tony was "a pretty boy", how Pantangelo thought they "could have a little fun" while they waited, and "just wait until the rest of the boys get a look at you". Unfortunately, so did a dozen or so FBI and NCIS agents, including Fornell and McGee.

In the end, the whole mission was a bust. Ziva going off script yielded nothing but a low-level runner who they might be able to book on a minor drug possession charge. He was holding only a small baggie of marijuana, a misdemeanor offense. The truck that was supposed to deliver the big shipment of drugs was empty, and the other truck suspected of being full of weapons had been seized at the gate and never left the base. To no one's surprise, the informant had apparently fled town the day before and was laying low somewhere. Pantangelo managed to escape just as Gibbs burst through the door, leaving his apparent lieutenant to suffer his fate. The feds were left with very little evidence, if anything, to build a case against Pantangelo, his "boys", and associates. Without the informant's testimony, there was no case.

Ziva appeared from where she had taken cover. As the saying goes, if looks could kill Ziva David would be dead. Gibbs could see no signs of contrition or remorse, only smug self-satisfaction. He left McGee to deal with her; he had nothing to say and he didn't want to hear anything she had to say. Gibbs' only concern was Tony.

As embarrassing and humiliating as the whole episode was, Ziva's spiteful comments that Tony "loved the attention" he got hurt worse and cut deeper than the knife wounds inflicted upon him.

Reading Ziva's preliminary report was an even harder pill to swallow. By disobeying orders, she had set off a whole chain of events culminating in the death of a Metro Detective working undercover, and landing him and two FBI agents in the hospital. In her version of the story, Tony was to blame - for all of it.

"Going for coffee," Gibbs announced to no one in particular as he pulled open the desk drawer to retrieve his Sig. He checked his watch and noted the time. 1230. He had thirty minutes until his dreaded but long-overdue meeting with Vance and he needed time to think and clear his head. It was likely to get contentious, which seemed par for the course these days, so a large cup of his beloved dark-roast Jamaican blend was definitely in order.

Sitting on a bench in the welcome shade of a massive leafy pin oak tree on the vast grounds, Gibbs took a healthy swig of the hot, rich brew and contemplated what he needed to say to Vance and more importantly how to say it. He needed to proceed judiciously. Gibbs may not play the politics game well but he could be diplomatic when necessary, especially when the stakes were high. He could also be a hot-headed one-man wrecking crew when necessary to protect his team.

His once cohesive team was coming apart at the seams, and a major change was in order to keep it from unraveling beyond repair. Over the course of the last two weeks, Gibbs had noticed building tension in the bullpen. The whole team dynamic was off. Ziva strutted around, unrelenting in her quest for attention and admiration while Tony remained dangerously quiet. McGee seemed lost and as unsure of himself as he had been from his first day on the team.

Gibbs wanted to kick himself for letting things go so far. Healthy competition between his agents had always brought out the best in each of them, at least with someone level headed like Kate in the mix. The intent had always been for them to push each other to become better, well-rounded investigators but the end result had become a dangerous game pitting Tony and Ziva against each other with McGee stuck in the middle. It needed to end, and it needed to end now.

Ziva had made no secret of her distrust and disrespect for Tony. It had first manifest itself during Tony's brief tenure as team leader and was further brought to the fore after the Rivkin fiasco. Her misplaced sense of betrayal fueled a need to assert herself as Gibbs' heir-apparent despite Tony's seniority and vastly superior skills. As far as Gibbs was concerned, Tony was far and away the best agent he had ever had the privilege to work with.

Tony had done an admirable job of hiding the hurt and betrayal he felt after risking his life, yet again, to bring Ziva back from Somalia. She remained cold and distant for months, but with the passage of time and an abundance of patience the team managed to get back on track, at least for a short while. It was now all coming undone.

Gibbs sighed as he looked down at the stack of case reports sitting on the bench next to him. He had read them enough times that he could probably recite them verbatim if called upon to do so. All were well-written and concise as he had come to expect, but one stood out - Ziva's.

Righteous anger bubbled to the surface as Gibbs recalled the events of the ill-fated raid that had left a Metro cop dead and two FBI agents fighting for their lives. It was only by the grace of God that Tony escaped the fray with relatively minor injuries. If only he had arrived on the scene five minutes earlier.

Gibbs' watch read 1250. Ten minutes. In ten short minutes, everything would change. He gathered up the pile of folders, and with them tucked securely under his arm he strode with a sense of purpose across the Navy Yard commons. He tossed back the last of his coffee and threw the empty cup into the trash. Inside the main lobby, Gibbs passed through the security checkpoint before ducking into the nearest stairwell.

Throwing the door open and breezing into Vance's office without awaiting formal announcement, Gibbs allowed the door to slam shut before approaching Vance's desk. He stared down at his boss, who was busy worrying a toothpick, and dropped a pile of files in front of him.

"I want her gone," Gibbs announced without preamble.

Vance slowly eased back into his oversized leather chair and steepled his fingers. In his deadpan monotone, he replied, "By all means, come on in Agent Gibbs. And I take it you are referring to Agent David?"

Gibbs grabbed the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white as he fought to control his emotions.

"You know damn well who I'm talking about," he growled with clenched teeth, leaning over to loom over Vance.

"She disobeyed my direct order to observe and report, and damn near got DiNozzo killed. Tony had no choice but to go in after her and ended up in the ER with two stab wounds. He's going to live. Two of Fornell's men ended up in the hospital, and an undercover Metro detective, with a wife and a kid, is dead because she couldn't wait five damn minutes for me and McGee to get there with the warrant!"

Vance rubbed his temples in the hopes of staving off a migraine. It wasn't working. He stood and came around the desk to confront Gibbs face to face.

"You're putting me in a tough position, Gibbs. Our relationship with the Israelis, especially Mossad, is already shaky. I don't want to give Eli David any reason to stop cooperating or sharing intel with us. We're close to busting up a cell outside of Beirut, and we're going to need Mossad's help."

Gibbs stepped dangerously close and pinned Vance with a glare.

"I don't give a damn about Mossad or Beirut! The only thing I do give a damn about right now is my team."

Vance took a couple of steps in an attempt to retreat back behind his desk.

"I need time, Gibbs. I need solid evidence before I can do anything about Ziva. I can suspend her, pending an internal investigation, but that's all I can do right now."

It was the last straw as far as Gibbs was concerned, but Vance was adamant that a proper case for dereliction of duty and insubordination be built against Ziva before he would act to remove her. Gibbs knew that Vance was in some odd way beholden to Eli David and Mossad, but he'd damned if his team would be put at risk because of misplaced loyalty.

"Then do it! Start an investigation! Did you even read the reports? Ziva puts all the blame for her screw up on DiNozzo!"

Gibbs picked up the files containing the incident reports from the desk and waved them at Vance before tossing them back down. "Read 'em, Leon!" he barked.

He knew he was bordering on insubordination, but to hell with it. His team and Tony were worth fighting for. When Vance didn't respond and refused to meet his accusatory gaze, Gibbs cocked his head.

"Or are you hoping you can pin this all on DiNozzo? Get rid of him once and for all? Dammit, Leon, he's the best damn agent you've got, but I know you'd rather have McGee in his chair. McGee's good, but he lacks a cop's intuition not to mention the experience Tony has. I don't have a clue where Ziva fits in with your plans, but I'm not sacrificing my best man for her, or McGee - or you!"

Vance turned the tables and advanced on Gibbs. "That's enough, Agent Gibbs! You are way out of line. In case you forgot, I make the decisions around here, and until I say otherwise Agent David stays right where she is. DiNozzo can deal with it or not, I really don't care. You do what you have to do, but don't you forget who you're talking to. I will do what I think is best. You're dismissed," Vance shouted.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and shook his head in disgust. After a brief stare down he left, throwing the door open with enough force to put a dent the wall.

McGee arrived in the bullpen just as Tony, head down and slumping against the wall, disappeared from view behind the elevator's shiny metal doors. "Where's Tony going? We get a lead on a new case or something?" he asked as he approached his desk.

Ziva shrugged but failed to completely erase the lingering smirk on her lips.

"I do not know, McGee. We were talking and he just got up and left. He did not say where he was going."

A feeling of dread settled in McGee's stomach. It was no secret that Ziva took great delight in pushing Tony's buttons. Quick, biting jabs had become her weapon of choice, especially when Tony was at his most vulnerable. The good-natured teasing that took place during Kate's tenure had been replaced with remarks dripping with venom that intended to inflict as much emotional pain as possible. Kate may have been snarky and borderline cruel at times, but unlike Ziva she never intentionally meant to hurt him.

McGee scowled and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Talking about what?" he asked. He pushed his chair back under his desk and slowly crossed the bullpen to stand in front of her.

Ziva leaned back in her chair and replied, "The case, McGee. I merely pointed out that Tony seemed to enjoy all of the attention he got. That is all."

"That's all?" McGee shouted.

A group of colleagues walking past the bullpen stopped in their tracks at McGee's sudden outburst. He muttered an apology, and when they were safely out of earshot he leaned over Ziva's desk and pinned her in place with his best attempt at a death glare.

Lowering his voice to a menacing whisper he growled, "How dare you! Tony could have been killed, Ziva! You screwed up, and if Gibbs and I hadn't gotten to Tony when we did...," he trailed off not wanting to give voice to the horrific consequences of what could have happened.

Her eyes flashing, Ziva leaned forward and shot back, "I will not apologize for doing my job. I saw an opportunity and I took it. It is not my fault that Tony hesitated to follow my lead. If he had been paying attention, like a good agent, he would not have ended up being captured. You cannot blame me for that."

McGee slowly stood and gaped down at the stranger sitting behind Ziva's desk. Her cold dark eyes held no remorse or concern. It seemed incredible that after disobeying direct orders she could sit there unrepentant and defend her reckless actions without any regard whatsoever for Tony. McGee just shook his head and returned to his desk. He had nothing more to say.

Gibbs skipped down the stairs cursing under his breath. Rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs, he stopped when he saw the confrontation taking place between the two junior agents. With customary stealth, he crept close enough to overhear the final part of the exchange. Tony was nowhere to be seen, and Gibbs' gut began to churn.

He was not surprised by Ziva's defiance, it had been her modus operandi from day one, nor was he surprised by McGee's defense of Tony. Despite years of relentless hazing and teasing, McGee respected Tony. He may have followed Ziva's lead and challenged Tony during his short tenure as team leader in his absence, but he was more like a petulant teenager pushing the boundaries with a parent than being part of a concerted effort to bring him down.

Once the undercover double-life Tony had been living came to light, McGee was the first to apologize and offer his friendship and support. His remorse was genuine. It had taken a dressing down by a half-drunk Jimmy Palmer, the only person who had stood by Tony during that difficult time, to make him see the error of his ways. It ended up being the catalyst that forged the close brotherly relationship Tony and McGee shared today.

Gibbs set his jaw as he stood and watched Ziva turn her attention to her computer while McGee returned to his desk shaking his head. Schooling his features into a no-nonsense scowl, Gibbs stormed into the bullpen catching his agents unaware.

"Where the hell is DiNozzo?" Gibbs barked.

"Uh, not sure, Boss," McGee stammered.

"He left," Ziva announced.

Gibbs dropped into his chair and made a brief and characteristically terse phone call. He slammed down the receiver and glared at Ziva.

"Well, where did he go, Officer David?"

Ziva's smug grin disappeared at being called by her former title. Squaring her shoulders in response to the slight, she stated calmly, "He did not say where he was going."

Narrowing his eyes in silent challenge, Gibbs was saved from instigating a confrontation in the middle of the bullpen when his phone rang. A flashing red light signaled that the call was from Vance. Across the room McGee released the breath he had been holding.

Picking up the receiver, Gibbs continued to glare at Ziva.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

After a couple of minutes, Gibbs announced, "I'll send her right up, Director."

"It seems Director Vance would like a word with you," he announced as he hung up the phone, trying not to let a smug grin soften his gruff tone.

Ziva rolled her chair back and stood. She slowly came around her desk until she stood at attention in front of Gibbs.

"May I ask why the Director wishes to see me?" Ziva asked, unable to hide the slight nervous quiver in her voice.

"You'll have to ask him," Gibbs replied. Pointing his pen in the direction of the stairs, he stated, "He really doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Ziva hesitated for a brief moment before turning and storming out of the bullpen. Gibbs smirked as she disappeared behind the partition wall. He schooled his features again when she appeared on the first landing of the stairs.

McGee began to fidget. When Ziva was gone, he looked up to find Gibbs looking at him. Bending under the piercing gaze, McGee swallowed and pushed away from his desk.

"Boss, I know this is none of my business, but...," McGee muttered, cautiously approaching Gibbs.

"But what, McGee?"

"Ziva. I don't know what her problem is lately, but I - honestly, Boss, I don't trust her. I think she's out to bring Tony down, and I can't figure out why," McGee stated, finishing with a shrug.

Gibbs leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and sighed. He knew why.

"Yeah, McGee, I know. I think Vance knows now too."

McGee hazarded a glance around the squad room to make sure no one was listening in. He cleared his throat to get Gibbs' attention. When he had it, he leaned in and spoke just above a whisper.

"Boss, I caught a glimpse of Tony in the elevator when he left. He looked really upset. I tried to call him, but he's not answering his cell. Um I think, you know, maybe you should go talk to him."

The statement was left hanging as a question.

Gibbs sighed as he sat forward until he was almost nose to nose with McGee.

"What did she say to him?"

McGee swallowed hard and braced himself for Gibbs' reaction.

"I didn't hear it, obviously, but she said she told him he seemed to, um, enjoy the attention he got from - Staff Sergeant Pantangelo."

Gibbs' eyes flashed with unbridled fury causing McGee to jump back. It was a reflex action that had historically served him well. When it came to the team's safety, especially where Tony was concerned, there was no telling what Gibbs would do. Abby may have been declared Gibbs' favorite, but McGee wasn't so sure anymore.

Taking a deep breath to once again tamp down his rising anger, Gibbs jumped from his seat sending his chair crashing into the credenza behind his desk. McGee's eyes went wide when he found a very pissed off Gibbs standing toe to toe with him in the middle of the bullpen. There must have been 100 eyes trained on the two of them.

"Go home, McGee. I'm going to go find DiNozzo. Back here at 0700 Monday," Gibbs said, his voice dangerously calm.

McGee glanced at his watch and furrowed his brow. It was only 1430 on a Friday afternoon.

"But, but, but, Boss, what do you want me to tell Ziva?" McGee asked.

"Don't tell her a damn thing. Look, McGee, looks like we're gonna be one short for a while. Ziva is suspended pending an investigation. She's not going to be too happy about being escorted out, so I suggest you high-tail it out of here," Gibbs stated, patting McGee on the shoulder.

"Suspended? Wow! Did she, did she really blame Tony in her report?"

At Gibbs' peeved expression, McGee held up a placating hand.

"C'mon Boss, you know Tony. He takes the blame for everything, even when it's not his fault. He's taking one for the team again, isn't he? It's her word against his, again, right?"

When Gibbs didn't answer, McGee stepped back and shook his head.

"No. No way. I'm not going to let him. Not again. He's not just a colleague. He's my partner and my friend, probably my best friend. Tell me what I can do, Boss. How can I help?"

Gibbs caught sight of Ziva being led down the stairs by two guards out of the corner of his eye. Vance nodded at him as he followed the trio into the bullpen. No words were exchanged, but Ziva shot daggers at Gibbs and McGee as she gathered her things.

Stepping closer to McGee, Gibbs said softly, "Just keep standing by him, Tim. Let Tony know you have his six. That's about all you can do right now."

McGee nodded. Together he and Gibbs stood and watched as one of the guards secured Ziva's Sig and credentials from her desk and handed them to Vance. She wasn't in cuffs, but by her expression it was clear that she had already been relieved of the various weapons concealed on her body. Ziva grabbed her purse then paused to glare at her boss and teammate one last time before one guard grabbed her upper arm to escort her to the elevator.

Watching Ziva shoot an ominous look at them, McGee asked, "You think she'll do anything? You know, to get back at you – or Tony?"

Rounding his desk, Gibbs grabbed his badge and holstered his Sig.

"I don't know, McGee. Right now she just needs to calm down, but do me a favor and go let Ducky and Abby and I guess Palmer know what's going on. Tell them to watch their backs, just in case. Hey, but first can you track DiNozzo's phone?"

McGee grinned. "You got it, Boss!"

Vance spoke up. "No need to alert Miss Scuito or Dr. Mallard. There will be security details assigned to all of you, and don't argue with me Gibbs. David is a loose cannon. If she gets Eli or Mossad to back her, she could do anything. Gibbs, I'll leave it to you to set up details for you and DiNozzo. I'll make sure the others are taken care of."

A few keystrokes later, McGee stood and announced, "Tony didn't get far, Boss. Actually, he's at home."

Gibbs didn't bother with his usual "that's good work" praise. Instead he rolled his eyes and huffed out a hint of a laugh. He turned to walk away, but only made it two steps before McGee called him back.

"Hey Boss?"

"What, McGee?" Gibbs barked.

McGee crumbled under the impatient glare. It was now or never. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he stood tall in front of Gibbs.

"Just do me a favor and take care of him, Tony I mean. Boss, Gibbs, I think you're the only one who can."

At Gibbs' confused expression, McGee sighed. Vance picked up on the awkward tension and used the opportunity to place calls for security details from Tony's desk phone.

McGee lowered his voice. "You're the only one he trusts. I know you and Tony are close. How close, I don't know and I don't care. I mean, you know, I care, but if you and Tony are more than friends, I …."

His mouth wisely snapped shut before he said something that would cross an arbitrary line. McGee took a sudden interest in the tops of his shoes as he waited for some reaction. He did not expect what came next.

Gibbs dropped his head and shook it ruefully.

"Just between you and me, yeah, Tony and me, we are close. It's not what you're thinking or what Abby is probably hoping, but I do care about him – probably more than I should. I'll make sure he's okay and let him know what's going on with Ziva. Don't worry I'll take care of him. See you Monday, McGee, and – thanks."

After an exchange of understanding nods, Gibbs turned and strode purposefully to the elevator. McGee smiled as he watched him step onto the elevator. "Go get him, Boss," he muttered under his breath.