Chapter Six

Sleepover

Gibbs once again drove as if the hounds of hell were after them on their return to Baltimore. The candy bar that Tony had grabbed from the break room was churning uncomfortably in his stomach, and it was all he could do not to upchuck all over Gibbs' car. He didn't think the Navy cop would find that amusing. He wasn't entirely sure the man wouldn't shoot him for it.

Gibbs had noticed DiNozzo's chatter had petered out the closer they got to Baltimore, and he wondered what was running through the younger man's mind. It wasn't until he stopped in front of the apartment that he became aware of the green tinge to DiNozzo's skin.

As the car rolled to a stop, Tony, keeping his eyes clenched, blindly grasped for the door handle. He stumbled out and finally lost the battle he'd been waging to keep the candy bar down. Ironically, he threw up all over the spot where his own beloved car had rested only that morning, and that made his stomach churn ever worse. He felt like crap.

Concerned, Gibbs turned off the engine and stepped outside the vehicle. Although his driving often resulted in queasy passengers, that didn't usually bother him, but he knew the young detective had been grazed by a bullet to the head that morning. He reckoned he ought to be certain DiNozzo actually made it inside unscathed.

"You done?" he asked.

Tony dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and straightened his hunched position.

"Yeah," he mumbled, embarrassed and refusing to meet Gibbs' eyes. Why couldn't his stomach had waited a few lousy minutes for the man to leave before betraying his weakness to the gruff former Marine? "Thanks for the lift."

"Not like you had any other way home," Gibbs said, then a thought occurred to him. "How are you getting in tomorrow?"

"I'll figure something out. Going to have to get a rental, I suppose," Tony said, frowning. The day had been so busy, he really hadn't thought about it.

"Got a sofa?" Gibbs asked.

Tony stared at him, puzzled. "Ah… yeah."

"Good. I'll rack there," Gibbs said, leading the way towards the pizza shop.

DiNozzo stared after him, dumfounded. Gibbs smirked as he walked – amused that he'd finally managed to shut him up.

The detective stood stock still, gaping after Gibbs. Did he seriously just invite himself to stay in Tony's apartment? Tony had longed all day to have some time to himself and get his head on straight. He hadn't really even processed all that happened to him that day – between the shooting, testifying against Macaluso, and finally getting an ally on the tail of a serial killer – Tony felt as if his head could explode. He really didn't want company. He really didn't want Gibbs' company. He worried that the too-observant eyes of the other man would see more than Tony was willing to share. He was definitely off his game.

Apparently, he'd stalled too long because Gibbs impatiently snapped, "You coming?"

"You really don't have to do this," he muttered, knowing it was futile. "I'll get to work on time on my own."

Gibbs didn't even bother to respond.

Tony opened the door to what he thought was an empty pizza shop, only to find his landlady, Mrs. Chelotti, wiping down the counters. He suspected she'd been waiting for him. He supposed she wanted some answers after the drive-by shooting right outside her shop that morning.

Mrs. Chelotti was an older woman, but her mind was still sharp as a tac. She kept the many employees of her business on their toes with her stinging words, but she also frequently left Tony pizza or leftovers from the day's special when he worked late.

"Antonio," she shouted, using the name she'd called him since he'd rented his apartment no matter how many times he'd told her that he went by Anthony. She ran across the shop, placing her hands on either side of his face and pinched his cheeks inward so he puckered like a fish. "Mio Dio. Sono stato cosi preoccupato. Stai bene?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Chelotti," he said, gently removing her hands from his face. She'd been very good to him, but sometimes her fussing was unreal. He'd never managed to find a way to make her stop aside from avoiding her.

Gibbs stood to the side, watching the scene unfold with amusement. DiNozzo seemed incredibly uncomfortable with the display, and the woman either didn't realize or didn't care. He'd put money on the latter.

"Cosa e successo stamattina? Mi e stato detto che ti hanno sparato. Ho avuto la polizia fuori tutto il giorno che spaventava I miei client. E las tua povera auto, Antonio?" Mrs. Chelotti said in rapid fire Italian, grabbing Tony's arm and dragging him further inside the shop. She pushed him into one of the booths in the restaurant and stood over him, wringing her hands.

"Mi dispiace per questo. Si e trattato di un caso su cui ho lavorato," DiNozzo said, surprising Gibbs when he, too, switched to Italian.

Gibbs thought he should've assumed that DiNozzo could speak the language if he'd been so far undercover with an Italian mafia family. It was another piece of the enigmatic puzzle that was DiNozzo.

"E ti hanno sparato?" Mrs. Chelotti asked, hands in the air and her eyes roaming over Tony's entire body.

"Si, ma indossavo un gilet, cosi come puoi vedere. Io sto bene," Tony said, wishing she'd stop – and also wishing Gibbs wasn't there to witness the whole display. It seemed the universe was determined to embarrass him today.

Mrs. Chelotti reached for the buttons on his shirt as if she were going to inspect the damage, and Tony finally had to swat her hands away. He stood up, and she seemed to realize she'd pushed him as far as he'd allow.

"Questo e stato tutto troppo per una donna anziani," she said plaintively.

Tony patted her on the shoulder. "It's all right. Please let me introduce you to someone I'm working a case with. This is Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and he works for the Navy," he said, indicating Gibbs who was still standing next to the door, grinning more than Tony had seen him do since he'd met the stoic man. "Gibbs, this is my landlady and owner of the best pizza shop in Baltimore, Mrs. Chelotti."

Mrs. Chelotti seemed to collect herself almost instantly. "Probably the best pizza shop in the state, you mean, Antonio," she said, her voice heavily accented.

"Nice to meet you," Gibbs said, nodding his head.

"Aren't you a handsome one?" Mrs. Chelotti said, smiling as she gave Gibbs a once-over. She took him by the arm, leading him toward the kitchen. "Have you both eaten? I know Antonio tends to skip meals when he's working hard. I have some leftover chicken parmesan from today's special. I left it wrapped up on your stairway, Antonio. There should be enough there for two."

Tony's still upset stomach roiled at the thought of food, but he politely thanked his landlady for her thoughtfulness. He led Gibbs up the stairs to his apartment, eager to get-away from the hovering woman.

"She seems nice," Gibbs said, still clearly amused.

"Fuck off," Tony replied, feeling nettled.

This only seemed to amuse Gibbs more. "I suppose she was worried about the shooting," he said.

"Yeah," Tony replied, unlocking his door. "She said the police were here all day scaring away her customers."

"She was obviously worried about you," Gibbs said, following DiNozzo inside.

"She's Italian. We're dramatic," he said.

"When we first walked in, I thought she was your mother," Gibbs said, perplexed by DiNozzo's obvious discomfort with the concern.

DiNozzo stared at him blankly. "What?"

"She's acting like any mother would, right? Does your mother even know what happened this morning?" Gibbs asked.

"My mother's dead," Tony said, turning away, annoyed that he'd let that slip. This is why he wanted to be alone. He was rattled, and he'd reached the end of his rope trying to cover it. He never talked about his mother to anyone, and he wasn't about to start now. In the scattered memories he did have of her, he'd didn't recall her ever being so overly concerned about his well-being as Mrs. Chelotti.

Gibbs knew he'd get no further details on the subject from the way DiNozzo shut down, so he merely stowed the information, taking his first good look around the apartment. He was surprised by what he saw. It was small, but comfortable – classy, even. There wasn't a lot of furniture, and not much in the way of decoration, either, but the pieces he did have were quality, and well-cared for. The main feature was a mini-grand piano that took up most of the living space. A comfortable-looking leather couch and a large TV on a stand were the only other furnishings. A shelf ran along one wall, displaying a large number of DVDs.

Tony walked over to the kitchenette and dropped the food on the counter, still feeling queasy. "I've got some extra linens in the bathroom," he said, eager to get away from the searching, ice-blue eyes of the older man.

After a few steadying deep breaths and rinsing his mouth with some water from the tap, Tony returned with a pillow and blanket that he dropped onto the couch, Gibbs was running his hand along the piano.

"Can you play?" he asked.

Tony tilted his head and gave Gibbs a look that read 'duh' and answered, "No, it's just here to impress the babes. Are you hungry? Do you want to eat some of this food Mrs. Chelotti sent up? She really is an amazing cook."

Gibbs frowned, following DiNozzo to the tiny kitchen. He really couldn't tell from the glib answer if he played the piano or not. He supposed it would only make sense if he had one taking up all the space in his apartment, but from what he knew of the young detective, impressing woman seemed to be one of his highest priorities.

Tony took a couple plates and cutlery from the sparse cabinets and pulled a few beers from the fridge before unwrapping the food. His stomach had settled somewhat, and his hunger had returned with a vengeance. The two men sat at the countertop, devouring the delicious meal. When they'd finished, Gibbs decided to broach the subject he'd been wondering about all day – and surprisingly it wasn't about their own case.

"Do you think your testimony was enough to send Macaluso away for good?" he asked, cracking a second beer.

Tony paused, halting the last bite of chicken parmesan before it reached his mouth. He slowly lowered his fork, pressing his lips together. He'd been contemplating that very thought all day. He took a long draught of his own beer, as he absently raised his hand to rub his bruised chest, completely unaware what he was doing. Images of his time undercover and the mobster's face at the trial that morning flickering like an old black and white film in his mind.

"I think so," he said slowly. "I had a lot on him and how the organization was run. He let me get too close."

"How'd you manage that?" Gibbs asked. Unlike DiNozzo, he was very aware that the younger man continued to unconsciously rub his wounded chest.

Tony shrugged. "I'm pretty good at undercover work, if I do say so myself," he said, his voice lacking its usual swagger.

"Does that mean you're a good liar?" Gibbs asked bluntly.

Tony met his gaze unflinchingly. "If I have to be."

"This wasn't the first undercover assignment you've had, then," Gibbs said, staring intently. It wasn't phrased as a question.

"No," Tony replied without explanation. He wasn't certain what Gibbs was digging for, but he wasn't about to help him out in any way. He knew how the game was played. If Gibbs wanted an answer, he'd have to ask the question outright, and then Tony could decide how truthful to be.

Gibbs frowned. The kid was young, really young to be so seasoned at undercover work, and his gut was churning. How the hell had he mastered that skill so early in his career? He again had the uncomfortable feeling that no one had been watching DiNozzo's six in a very long time.

"Is working undercover how you made detective?" Gibbs asked.

Tony stood up from the counter, pushing his stool back angrily. So, this is where he was coming from. He'd heard it all before. There was no reason he should be surprised, and he furiously tamped down on the unreasonable swell of disappointment. For some reason, he'd expected – hoped – for better from Gibbs.

"Ah, I see you've been listening to the rumor mill. Wondering if my old man bought and paid for my badge, are you, Gibbs? At least you had the decency to come right out and ask," he said bitterly, slamming his beer can on the counter. "I'm going to bed."

"So, did he?" Gibbs asked, knowing the already angry DiNozzo might take a swing, but not really caring if he did. It was in his nature to push.

"No. I earned my badge the hard way," Tony hissed through clenched teeth. There was no way in hell he was going to share that mess in Philadelphia that had ended with his partner bleeding out in his arms with anyone – and most certainly not a Fed. Let him try and look it up if he was so curious. The FBI had covered it all up, anyway.

Tony stalked away, slamming his bedroom door like a teenager throwing a tantrum.

Gibbs sat at the counter, contemplating. That could've gone better. DiNozzo wasn't about to share anything he didn't want to share, so what was he hiding? Gibbs didn't think it had anything to do with their current case, but he wanted to know everything there was to know about who he was working with. It was only for the good of the case.

At least that's what he kept trying to tell himself as he sat at the kitchen counter, finishing off the last of his beer.

/* /* /* /*

Gibbs and DiNozzo were the first of the team to arrive at the station the next morning, coffee in hand. It had been a subdued breakfast and ride over from the apartment. Tony had his walls firmly back in place. The solitude of his bedroom and a good night's sleep had allowed him to calm his tattered nerves, although he was still somewhat annoyed at Gibbs for prying. Still, he knew holding a grudge took up far too much time and energy, so he'd be able to let it go. He'd certainly let go of worse.

For his part, Gibbs was unfazed by DiNozzo's prickliness, fully intending to get to the bottom of what he needed to know. He was ignoring the fact that he couldn't quite name the reason he was so concerned about the young detective. He made a mental note to keep DiNozzo away from Ducky. He was sure his old friend wouldn't have the least bit of trouble putting a name to it. Ducky enjoyed words.

It wasn't ten minutes later when Ruckert and Greene joined them in the squad room. Both pulled up short, looking surprised to find the other men already there.

"Did you find out anything new?" Ruckert asked, recovering first. Gibbs had called to say that he'd meet them here this morning, but nothing about where he'd been or what he'd been doing.

"Isn't that my line? What did you learn in Norfolk?" Gibbs asked.

Ruckert frowned, but knew better than delay her answer. "We checked Meyers latest drug tests at the Infirmary, and he came up clean."

"His CO also said there'd been no sign of drug usage," Greene said, pleased to report his negative findings on DiNozzo's theory. He couldn't stop himself from glancing over to gage his reaction, but the detective gave away nothing.

"His bunkmate however, said he'd been getting a lot of calls recently, and he was unwilling to offer any explanations. He also said he didn't leave the base alone," Ruckert said.

Tony's brow furrowed. "Girlfriend?" he asked.

Belinda shook her head. "No. His bunkmate didn't recognize the man, but I had him give a description to a sketch artist. This is what he came up with," she said, handing them a pencil drawing of a man with deep-set eyes and a scraggily beard.

"Did you put out a BOLO?" Gibbs asked.

"Didn't have to – his name came right up off the database – a Joey Keats. Apparently, the Narcotics division right here in Baltimore has arrested him several times," Ruckert said, glancing at DiNozzo. Unlike Greene, she was impressed that the young detective had made the drug connection.

"Let me go downstairs to Narcotics and see if any of the guys have seen him recently," DiNozzo said.

"He hasn't been arrested during the last six months," Greene said stiffly. He'd been so annoyed when Ruckert actually had found a drug connection. He'd been dreading having to see DiNozzo's smug face all night.

"Well, Green Pea, just because he hasn't been busted, doesn't mean he hasn't been up to any naughty no-no's," DiNozzo said.

"And that your department has failed to catch him," Greene said snidely.

"Not my department," DiNozzo said, grinning infuriatingly.

Tony stood, ready to head down to Narcotics when Dunny entered the room, a grave expression on his lined face. Tony held his breath, waiting to see how this was going to go. He'd learned from experience that his partner could be vindictive.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, as well, watching Tony's partner drop his belongings on his desk. It had apparently only been a one-day suspension. Not nearly good enough in Gibbs' opinion.

"Fill me in," Dunny said without preamble. "I'll have to be the one to go down to Narcotics, DiNozzo. Cap wants you to complete a Psych Eval after yesterday's shooting before you go anywhere else."

Tony groaned. He hated the stupid Psych Evals, and anything to do with the whole woolly field of Psychiatry. It was all a bunch of crap, and he knew Dunny had dropped that little bomb publicly in retribution for his suspension. His face warmed with embarrassment. He'd never had a problem talking his way out of them before – simply tell them what they wanted to hear – but everyone didn't need to know about it.

"Seriously? I don't have time for this. Psych Evals are so colossally stupid."

"Psych Evals are a waste of time."

Tony and Gibbs had spoken simultaneously, and they both stared at one another in surprise.

"Yeah, well, Cap says you have to have one – and it's a dude this time, so they'll be no sleeping with the doc to pass it," Dunny said, smirking. "Unless you don't mind that sort of thing."

Tony grimaced and went in search of Captain Losordo without looking back at any of the others.

"So, are you going to get me up to speed?" Dunny asked, looking to Gibbs. He was beyond pissed that he'd been sent home like an errant schoolboy. DiNozzo was more trouble than he was worth, and he'd only felt a small measure of vindication in embarrassing him.

Gibbs looked as if he didn't approve of Dunny's methods, however and Dunny felt a thrill of unease under the other man's glare.

"We have a sketch and ID of someone who met Ensign Meyers on the day he left the base. Apparently, your Narcotics Division has had some dealing with him. DiNozzo and I took all the evidence to NCIS to have my Forensics Expert take a look. She should call us today with the tox results on all victims," Gibbs said.

"You brought DiNozzo back to the Navy yard?" Greene asked, shocked and more than a little aggravated. He wanted to get rid of the interfering detective that had somehow managed to earn the approval from the boss that Greene had been desperately trying to achieve. Now, to learn that Gibbs and brought the man back to Green's own place of employment was crushing.

"Yeah. Is there a problem?" Gibbs asked, pinning Greene with his stare.

"Er, no. No problem, Boss. I would've driven back to DC with you if you'd wanted company," he said, backpedaling.

"I didn't want company. DiNozzo needed to keep the chain of custody until we handed the evidence over to Abby," Gibbs said, glowering.

Greene heard a 'dumbass' at the end of that statement, even if Gibbs hadn't vocalized it, and he silently cursed DiNozzo again.

"Why don't I head down to Narcotics and see what they can tell me," Dunny said, eager to get back to work. The sooner this whole mess was solved, the sooner these arrogant Feds could go back to their Navy yard.

"Ruckert, go with him. On my team, Detective Donovan, we work as a unit, and we always – always – have our partner's back," he said, his eyes boring into the man to be sure he understood the underlying threat. Screw over DiNozzo again, and you'll have to deal with me.

Dunny scowled, but nodded before jerking his head at Ruckert to follow him.

Gibbs was pissed. He'd seen the stain of pink cross DiNozzo's face when Dunny had informed him of the psych eval, and he knew the older detective had done it to purposefully cause embarrassment. Gibbs could understand DiNozzo's frustration. He had no patience for shrinks and their endless probing questions, either. Realistically, he knew there were probably some shrinks who were good at what they did, but he'd never met one. The majority of the professionals in the field seemed a few rocks short of a full load themselves.

While a lot of military personnel and law enforcement needed professional help in getting over some of the things they saw and experienced, it didn't work for everyone. There was no way a shrink was going to get someone to open up and talk about their innermost demons if that person didn't want to talk. Period. Some people – Gibbs included – didn't even want to share emotional stuff with his closest friends, never mind a complete stranger. Something instinctively told him that DiNozzo was the same. Stupid bureaucratic waste of time as far as he was concerned.

Greene was pleased when the others all left, hoping he'd get the chance to impress his boss one-on-one. It galled him that Gibbs was so willing to listen to the LEOs when he'd been nothing but condescending to his own agents.

"I wonder," he said, broaching a conversation, "if it's true that this is all drug-related, why strangulation? There are easier ways to kill someone."

"I don't know, but I hope the tox reports will tell us something," Gibbs said, without looking up from the papers on his desk.

"Like what?" Greene asked, not following.

"Why aren't there any defensive wounds?" Gibbs asked sharply.

"What?"

"Think about it," Gibbs snapped, frustrated his Probie wouldn't take the logical leap.

"You think they're being given something to subdue them?" Greene asked, his eyes widening.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "I'm going for coffee. Try and keep up."

/* /* /* /*

Author's Note:

Thanks so very much for the reviews and comments – they always make me want to write more. I had a guest reviewer ask about the name of Tony's partner. This is an AU version of how they met, so Mike 'Dunny' Donovan is his partner, not Danny Price. Danny won't be making an appearance in this one.

Mio Dio. Sono stato cosi preoccupato. Stai bene?

My God. I've been so worried. Are you all right?

Cosa e successo stamattina? Mi e stato detto che ti hanno sparato. Ho avuto la polizia fuori tutto il giorno che spaventava I miei client. E las tua povera auto?

What happened this morning? I was told you were shot. I've had the police outside all day scaring away my customers. And what about your poor car?

Mi dispiace per questo. Si e trattato di un caso su cui ho lavorato

I'm sorry about that. It involved a case I've been working on.

E ti hanno sparato?

And were you shot?

Si, ma indossavo un gilet, cosi come puoi vedere. Io sto bene.

Yes, but I was wearing a vest, so as you can see. I'm fine.

Questo e stato tutto troppo per una donna anziana

This has all been too much for an old woman.