Keep in mind that this is AU - (with plotlines lifted and altered from the show). I've given Gibbs a more generous leeway in his behavior, mostly because I never felt there was a good reason to make him a continually worse bastard every season after season 2 for the sake of the schtick factor. Audiences may have found it entertaining - I found it a huge turn off, especially by season 15. I couldn't abide him, and Mark Harmon was the reason I'd originally started watching.
This story is complete now. I have marked my last few stories as complete, but it won't show on the site. I went back and re-marked them, but they still show incomplete.
The gingersnaps had been an inspired treat, taking some of the edge off the day's harshness. Gibbs had eaten a half dozen, after saying he only wanted a couple, and they'd retired to the couch with tea and coffee. The TV was off, nothing inspiring them to turn it back on. Life had thrown both of them a huge curve ball the past few months, and today it had seemingly smacked them in the head with it. They didn't talk. Neither of them could come with anything useful to say that would make things any better. It wasn't that either one of them was a stranger to change, and abrupt change, at that. But they'd both gotten settled into what finally felt like some sort of comfort zone. Gibbs had at last found a team who was as dedicated as he was at solving tough criminal cases, and Tony had found a surrogate family of sorts, or at least a handful of people who finally had his back no matter what. With Kate gone, and a new, unpredictable member brought in to fill her spot, their newfound stability had crumbled beneath them. And neither could think of a way to rebuild that foundation. They could only move forward now, and make the best of it.
"I'm gonna grab a shower and hit the sack. Guest bed is made up, or you can rack on the couch. Up to you."
"Yup. Gonna get my bag outta the car. See you in the morning."
But Gibbs had been gone, along with the rest of the gingersnaps, before Tony had gotten out of bed the next morning, his internal alarm clock waking him up before six a.m. The weight of everything that had happened yesterday crashed down on the young agent, and he'd foregone breakfast in lieu of a morning run. The cool air in his lungs made him cough at first, but not like he used to do. He knew that the more he ran and exercised, the more his still slightly fragile lungs would improve. He set a goal for himself, now that he wasn't under the constrictions of unpredictable work hours, and felt something easing in his psyche.
It had been years since he'd not kept a grueling schedule - out of the police academy, he'd had no seniority and pulled whatever days and hours he was given. Then he'd really gotten into the crime solving part of it, which had led to undercover work and big busts, and he'd rarely been home.
After joining Gibbs, he found out his schedule wasn't going to change all that much - the man was driven, and Tony had raced right along with him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a vacation, and being "mostly dead" with pneumonic plague certainly hadn't counted. Like so many other times in his life, Tony chose to find the upside of this downturn, and made a list in his head of things he wanted to do before he went back to work, wherever that ended up being. He could take as much time as he wanted, though he knew that long lapse in his employment might raise some red flags. He wasn't too worried about it. Like he'd told his ex-director, he had options, more than she suspected, and they knew his history. He could work anywhere he wanted in this city.
When he got back to his apartment, he found that the messages on his answering machine were full, so he showered off the sweat of his impromptu run and settled in his home office alcove, a large armoire that Gibbs had helped him convert into a workstation.
Some of the calls had been surprising - word had certainly gotten around quick-time regarding his new employment status. Many were intriguing. Most eye-opening had been the one from Ziva. She'd never called his homeline, and he'd never given out the number. Damn her. It looked like a change in number was in order, or maybe he'd just yank the damned thing out of the wall like Gibbs had done one night when Stephanie had called after their acrimonious divorce.
" Tony, I do not understand what has happened, I have been told that the Director terminated your job. Call me, we can meet for coffee."
When hell freezes over!!! What was she up to? He had half a mind to do just that and read her the riot act. But he knew it was just another piece of the puzzle on her gameboard. Calculating, manipulating, always searching for information that was none of her business…he knew her m.o. Tony knew he was nosy when it came to his colleagues - Kate had constantly been yelling to Gibbs about his snooping into her life. It always made him think of what it would have been like having a big sister ratting him out to dad. Gibbs had reigned him in most of the time, and he'd eventually let her be. He mostly did it to get her in a flap anyway; he already knew as much about her as he wanted before she'd started on the team. Ziva's recon was in a totally different category, one that Tony sensed could be very dangerous. He didn't want to be on that woman's bad side.
Neither did he feel it was on him to sit back and let her toy with him without consequence. Part of her blind side was to believe that she alone called all of the plays, that her targets were much less skilled in the arts of subterfuge, networking, and deviousness. Tony knew she'd bought into most of his act - hell, he bought into it himself sometimes, he was just that good. But he could do cloak and dagger and duplicity like nobody's business. He'd been practicing since he was a kid. Taking out his little black book, he looked up some numbers and wrote them down on a tablet, and got to work.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Back in the bullpen, McGee was attempting to make some sort of headway into the box of cold cases his boss had left on his desk with an attached note of two simple words.
"Find something!!!"
McGee didn't have to guess what the next two invisible words were that followed.
Or else loomed large in his head.
It would have been easier had Ziva not been nagging him about the whereabouts of Gibbs, and why was Tony fired, and for what reason were they not informed of the situation?
"Ziva, stop!" He finally barked, his nerves nearly shot. He was confused, angry, and completely out of sorts with Tony leaving the team, though he was doubtful he had been fired, as Ziva continued to want him to believe. And now Gibbs was M.I.A, and one of them gone was never a good thing. Both of them out of the picture was catastrophic in McGee's mind. He'd tried to get answers from the Director herself, but she had politely and professionally told him all was well, and Agent Gibbs would be back as team lead shortly. Even green McGee could see she was being less than above board, but he wasn't Tony or the boss - he had no network of those in the know from whom he could weasel information, and more importantly, he wasn't going to go up against the director if she found out he'd been checking up on her. And she would. He didn't have any leverage with her, even with his Admiral father. He'd thought Gibbs had enough influence all over the map to keep Tony on his team, but he either hadn't wanted to use it, or Tony just didn't want to come back. Either option was not good.
Ziva froze, unused to loud outbursts from Timothy McGee. Perhaps she needed to tone down her supposed "righteous indignation" a notch. Her teammate seemed a bit on edge.
"Are you not happy that DiNozzo is gone? I thought he was incredibly demeaning to you. Now perhaps we can have a Senior Field Agent who's not quite so childish and self-absorbed."
"No, I'm not happy that he's gone, why would I be? He knew how to manage Gibbs, and now we don't have that buffer anymore!"
"McGee, surely the next SFA will be able to handle Gibbs. Tony made too much of a - a thing regarding Gibbs' style. It is child's play, honestly."
McGee stared up at her incredulously, mouth slightly agape, then sagged back into his task. What the hell was the point of arguing with her? If Tony couldn't win, he certainly couldn't. He spread some papers across his desk and examined them, then made some quick notes and kept going. He was so engrossed in his work, he didn't notice anyone enter the bullpen, until he heard Ziva ask a question, her voice clipped and bordering on hostile.
"May I help you, Miss?"
Oh, she knows just how to get a jab in, doesn't she? the former Marine turned SFA mused to herself. This could actually be fun!
"Special Agent Alexandra Bolding," she announced brusquely. "I'll be taking Agent DiNozzo's spot as SFA within the week. I see that Agent McGee is making some good use of his time. What exactly is your assignment today, Miss David?"
Oh, of all the nerve! Calling me Miss! Ziva sputtered to herself, completely disregarding that she had just set herself up for it.
"I'm Officer Ziva David, liaison to the MCRT."
"Yes, I know who you are. I want to know what your assignment is today. What are your tasks, what is NCIS paying you to do, exactly? At this moment in time, in particular."
Ziva bit her tongue; now was not the time to spar with this woman. She needed more intel.
Special Agent Bolding waited, reading every nuance and thought that ran across the Mossad officer's face. Anger, suspicion, irritation, and most significantly, a lightning flash of ruthlessness flitted across her young countenance. She masked it all with innocent indifference, calculating eyes sizing up her opponent.
"I have not been given an assignment. Agent Gibbs is out of the office, and Jenny -" She quickly corrected herself "Director Shepard has been in meetings all morning. I was not certain what to do."
"I see." Agent Bolding said agreeably. "Has it not occurred to you that you could use that supposedly sharp Mossad brain of yours to read through some of the cold cases in that box and see if you can find anything that was missed? That is, if it's something you think is worth your time. Special Agent DiNozzo could crack a cold case wide open in just a few hours. The man was legendary. Sure gonna miss him for running things past him. Guess I'll have to make do with you two."
She looked them both up and down sharply and then let out a snide, bubbling laugh that sent a wave of near nausea through McGee. What the hell?
"Get to work, Miss David. The boss may not be here, but I'm everywhere, and I plan on watching his back starting now."
"You cannot tell us what to do, only Gibbs gives us orders! I will speak to Jenny - to the Director about this! "
Fire blazed through Agent Bolding's eyes as she stormed into Ziva's space in a matter of seconds.
"You just do that, Miss David. But let's get one thing straight right now! I'm not afraid of the Director, or your father, and especially not of you. Your Mossad tactics may work on McGee and a few others around here, but I've. Got. Your. Number. And I've got a few things up my sleeve if you don't believe me. Go ahead and do your "dossier" on me, sister. My Black Ops history is buried so deep that even NSA couldn't find it in Hell. I didn't get to be a Marine colonel by backing down to the likes of you. I don't know why or how you drove a perfectly good SFA off this team, but don't expect me to be the next one to go. I'll be here long after your sorry ass gets sent back to Israel."
And with that, she stepped back, and snapped back into pleasant agent mode, turning to McGee and rapping her knuckles on his desk.
"I look forward to working with you, Special Agent McGee. I've heard good things about you, for the most part. DiNozzo always spoke highly of you. We'll see if what he's said holds water."
McGee blinked several times while trying to stuff his heart back down his throat.
"Uhb…yes, Agent Bolding. I'll do my best, I guarantee it."
"I know you will." she smiled genuinely at him. Because otherwise, we're going to have some problems.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
"Thanks for the info, Moe, you're a god among men." Tony smiled, though a bit sourly, as he hung up the phone. He'd put his cell on speaker mode to record any details he could find out without having to juggle the phone around. Amazing things, Smart phones.
Well, that had been enlightening. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure just what to do with what he'd found out. Divulging it to anyone but Gibbs would probably get him off'd by the CIA, or quite possibly Jen Shepard herself. He truly wasn't sure of the woman's sanity at this point. From what he'd just been told, the fiery Director wasn't going to let much stand in the way of her mission, sanctioned or otherwise. It seems that she had found a prime suspect in the death of her beloved father. Although ruled a suicide, she was determined that the man had done no such thing. He would have never resorted to that, she was certain of it, and more determined than ever now to clear his name and prove he'd been murdered.
Well, lots of people died under really murky circumstances, Tony could certainly attest to that in his years of law enforcement. But this…according to what any reputable source he had talked to told him, this was suicide. No one had been able to prove any differently, and as an Army Colonel, Jasper Shepard's death investigation had been taken very seriously and with the utmost care. Still, things could be hidden…
It didn't matter. Tony honestly didn't care what the circumstances were surrounding Colonel Shepard's demise. And when he'd been told the man the Director blamed for orchestrating her father's "not suicide" was slimey arms dealer Rene Benoit well, Tony was tempted to let her have at it. The problem was that the younger man knew all too well how people as rabid as Jen Shepard had no remorse at the carnage they caused. Ruined lives, broken bodies, dead civilians…collateral damage. The means equaled the extremes in their eyes; no one was safe until the target had been acquired and eliminated.
He rubbed his face hard with both hands. So he'd tell Gibbs what he'd found, and then what? Nothing. Gibbs could do nothing, like he'd said, until Jen stepped out of line grievously enough to warrant being taken down. And where the hell did Ziva fit into all of this? Because just like his ex-boss, Tony had come to not believe in coincidences. Ari may have not been part of the Director's initial plans, but she was sure as hell smart enough to know a good opportunity when she saw one. Eli David certainly knew the illegal arms trade, even if he supposedly steered clear of it, which Tony had his doubts. Again, irrelevant. But the Mossad Director's contacts and allies weren't. It didn't take a brain surgeon to come up with the quid pro quo of the situation. So Ziva snagged and passed on a few state secrets off her computer when no one was around. Who was to know? In the meantime, Eli David supplied vital information to the Director regarding Benoit, information that the CIA and other alphabet agencies were unwilling to share with her, not just because she was new and unproven as a Director, but because they were all trying to take him down as well.
Tony didn't understand it. So why not just let the CIA or NSA or all of them take him out? She was jeopardizing everything she'd worked for, just to toss it away for an unsanctioned revenge mission? He thought back to his old partner Vivian Blackadder, who'd left the FBI to join NCIS for the sole reason of avenging her brother, and had gotten unceremoniously sent back to the Fibbies on the toe of Gibbs' Sears work boot. Revenge was a harsh master. Which made him go back to thinking about Gibbs' white hot, knee-jerk anger at Tony telling him he knew about Shannon and Kelly, had known for almost four years. What was the big problem with anyone knowing that they'd existed, and then been murdered?
Well, holy shit.
Tony rifled through his drawers for the locked box of thumb drives that contained one he'd uploaded his deep background check on Gibbs. He'd color-coded them with small circle stickers. Popping it in his computer, he booted it up and reread it, realizing something he'd chosen to ignore the first time around. It had meant nothing to him at the time; details of a man visiting his old boss and friend in Mexico while grieving the deaths of his precious family.
Well, shit.
If he had this information, Ziva certainly did, too. In spite of his shock and anger at Gibbs, he really wanted to go drop that surly, blackmailing Mossad agent to the pavement and tell her to get on the next plane, boat or raft to Israel and never dare set foot again in the U.S. Worse, Director Shepard knew what secrets the "liaison" was keeping, and was happy to use them against Gibbs. And he knew, that Gibbs knew, that they knew. It wasn't just that his hands were tied until one of them broke the law through terrorism or espionage, which was true - for Gibbs, it was like having a loaded gun to his head, twenty-four seven. No wonder the man was so distraught.
But what to do now? He remembered his boss's incandescent fury at Tony telling him he knew about his dead girls. How to tell the man he knew that Gibbs had traveled to Mexico and done away with the bastard that had killed them, and Ziva and the Director were lording it over him - Tony would be the next guy on the end of Gibbs' sniper rifle. Shit.
He jumped up and started pacing the bedroom office like a caged animal. He wanted Gibbs to know that he had his six, no matter what. That he'd protect Gibbs from his horrible secret, and take it to the grave with him. People were murdered in Mexico all day, every day, the lucrative drug trade and competing drug lords creating a neverending stream of bodies, from all manners of death. Another souless, murdering drug dealer bit the dust, so what? Tony had seen the absolute worst of what the illegal drug trade did to people both at NCIS and most especially his years as a cop and detective. He takes his hands through his hair, spinning around to pace some more.
Shit. If Abby, or even McGee found out Gibbs' criminal history, well, he didn't think Gibbs, or them could handle it. Pure as the driven snow McGee, who looked to Gibbs as the man who could make him the next NCIS director - sweet Abby, who's hero-worship of their team leader surpassed even Tony's. This would break them. Wouldn't it? Tony himself was having a difficult time wrapping his brain around it. He understood completely why Gibbs had done it - but the consequences for the man would be life-altering if it ever was brought to the American justice system. He wouldn't survive even a U.S. prison, and did Gibbs have enough influence in D.C. to keep him from getting extradited to Mexico?
It was too much. Tony ran to the bathroom across the hall and puked up his guts.
Flushing the toilet and rinsing off his face, he told himself to get it the hell together. Emotions were not going to fix things here. He didn't know what would, but hurling was definitely not helpful. He went back to the computer and closed out the file, then deleted it from the thumb drive. No one, and he meant no one, was going to find out even by accident what had been on that drive. As an extra precaution, he went back to the half-bath he'd just used and flushed it down, watching it disappear.
Going to the living room, he poured a couple of fingers of what was left of his MaCallan 18 and collapsed onto the couch. Jesus, talk about a clusterfuck.
The alcohol burned, but took the nasty taste of vomit out of his mouth. Shit. He couldn't think of what he should do, what he could do. At this point nothing. Letting himself get lost in the liquor, he barely registered the knocks on his door.
Son of a…please not right now. Just go away, whoever you are.
"DiNozzo, open up! I brought dinner!
Fuck. He repeated under his breath a few dozen times before he got to the door. Opening it, because what the hell, you couldn't hold back the tide….Gibbs pushed in with bags of take out.
"It's not homemade, but it's your favorite. "
He plopped it on the counter and saw Tony trying to hide his tumbler of bourbon.
"What the hell, Tony? Drinking liquor at two in the afternoon? That's not like you." He studied the man in front of him."You alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Tony let out a bark of hysterical laughter - he seemed to be doing that fairly often lately.
"I'm…I just puked, boss, something I ate didn't settle right."
Gibbs kept studying him, and Tony subconsciously cringed.
"What's got ya so unsettled, Tony? You might as well tell me, I'm gonna find out eventually anyway, you know that."
"Boss, please." Tony squeezed his eyes shut, trying to quell growing nausea. "I can't handle your interrogation right now, and I've got nothing left in my stomach but bourbon. Please don't make me puke that back up. "
"Ok." Gibbs agreed quietly. Whatever was tearing at his second was more than just bad food. Something had jarred him, and badly. He'd wait it out. DiNozzo eventually told him the heavy-duty stuff if he was patient. Gibbs downed what was left of the bourbon to keep Tony from finishing it.
"Got a report from Alex Bolding a couple hours ago. Seems she stopped by the bullpen to introduce herself. McGee was working on cold cases. David was harassing him. Guess they had a little confrontation."
"Bitch fight. Abby was right." Tony murmured, trying like hell to get his bearings. The thought of SFA Bolding taking on Ziva would have been worth all he owned. "I take it that Officer David assumed she could out balls her and make her back down."
"You ever known a Marine to back down, DiNozzo?"
"Would've loved to have been there. I bet McGee was peeing his pants."
"Just about. Got right into her face and told her how things were going to be. I think Alex will put Officer David in her place, and keep her there. And I'm not disrespecting you, Tony. We both know now that Ziva has an agenda, and you wouldn't play her game. You can be a hard case with suspects, but you're usually able to do it in a subtle, non-threatening way. It gets great results, but doesn't work on the likes of Ziva."
Tony sighed, and looked blearily over at the older man. Might as well put it out there and get it over with
"What?" Gibbs read Tony's cue that he was about to spill.
"I found out what the Director is up to today. Called a bunch of my contacts."
"And…she's trying to bring down an international arms dealer."
"Jesus, who? And why so fast out of the gate, she's only been here for what, five, six months!"
Ever heard of Rene Benoit?"
"Christ, everybody's heard of him. La Grenouille. The Frog. She's actually going a fter him ? You're sure about that?"
"You know my sources are solid, Boss."
"But why? The CIA, FBI, hell, every federal agency has him on the top of their wanted list. She should let them bring him in!"
Gibbs was fuming, and Tony thanked the angels of federal agents for letting him have a legit cover for his near-breakdown.
"She thinks he has something to do with her father's death. Every investigation and report points to suicide after having been found accepting bribes. She refuses to believe it. Thinks Benoit set it all up to look like a suicide. I'm really not sure why Benoit would want him dead. Maybe he had some sort of evidence to get him brought down. Frankly, I don't give a damn. The man's been dead for what, more than a decade? Killing Benoit - bringing him to an international court - won't bring him back. She'll end up going down with him and taking the agency along with her. Jen, she gets what she deserves. But the agency shouldn't have to be dragged through the crap just because she was the Director."
Now it was Gibbs' turn to sigh, and he did, deeply.
"Well, shit. What do you think Ziva's hand is in this?"
"Actually, I think it's more her father's hand. Can't prove it,but he's probably supplying her with constant intel of where Benoit is and what he's doing."
"And what does he get out of it? 'Cause he's sure as hell not doing it for Ziva to play cops and robbers in America."
"No, no, probably not, Boss. But she's got clearance to some pretty sensitive information. I imagine courtesy of the Director."
"Fuck! Jen, what the hell are you thinking?" he jumped to his feet and slammed his hand on the back of the couch.
"Easy, Boss. None of this is provable fact. This is conjecture, intel from sources that I can't use as witnesses. You and I both know that all the pieces fit together perfectly. It gives us something to work with, bm not enough to put together a solid case to take to Sec Nav."
"Oh, I'll put one together, you damned well better believe it. No one comes into our agency and uses it for their own personal vendetta, I don't care who the hell they are. I thought she'd learned that after Ari. She's going down, along with Ms. David."
"I'll do what I can to help, Gibbs, but promise me you won't go off the rails again like you did with Ari. Let's do this piece by piece, behind the scenes, and not let them know we're onto them. We've sacrificed enough to the David dynasty. No more. We do this, we do it my way. You've got a team to run, and a McGeekl to make into an SFA, and believe you me, that's gonna take some big time effort. Let Officer David play at being an NCIS agent. I'll get Abby to block her clearance as often as seems legit. Then see what she's looking at in between."
"And McGee?"
"No. Plausible deniability. And mostly because he doesn't have the spine yet to stand up to her manipulations. He might someday, but we can't wait til then. This has gotta be started now, before somebody gets hurt or killed. There's nothing saying the Director won't suck some agents up into her orbit either by bribery or blackmail. I won't have it. They need to be taken down, and hard."
Gibbs sat back down on the couch, rubbing his face hard with both hands
"Just for the record, I'm really tired of all of this. We should be working for the sailors and Marines, not going after the top dogs and lunatics."
Tony said nothing, looking out into nothingness, and Gibbs saw the exhaustion and sadness etched clearly on his young friend's face.
"We'll get through it, DiNozzo. It's not really about us, anyway, is it? It's about protecting the agency, the country…no one ever said we wouldn't get hurt and stumble around sometimes."
"Yeah. I know, Boss. But they could spread it out a little, don't you think?"
Gibbs gave him his trademark smirk and sank back into the couch.
"You'd think, wouldn't you?"
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Epilogue: three months later.
As it turned out, Tony had decided to take a sabbatical, claiming exhaustion from the after-effects of the plague, and the drama surrounding Kate's death and his leaving the team. It was all somewhat true - but the bigger truth was that he could travel where and when he felt like going, and work from the privacy of his apartment. Some of that travel involved tracking down leads and information, but he didn't want his life to be consumed by his mission. He'd seen that happen to Gibbs, and nothing good had come from it. He'd never divulged to the older man what he knew about the sniper-death in Mexico. The man has been satisfied that Tony's upset that afternoon had stemmed from having to tell Gibbs about his former probie's unhealthy obsession with Rene Benoit, which truly had been the case, but then so much more beyond that. Sometimes the irony was not lost on Tony, of how angry his former boss was about Jen Shepard going vigilante over the death of a close family member when Tony secretly knew what Gibbs had done in that desert heat so many years ago.
Tony tended to justify it as well as he could by knowing how concerned the lead agent was about national security and the agency's reputation. But there really was no grey area. What Gibbs had done in a moment of blind rage was no better than what the Director was attempting to do, and somehow Tony had to learn to live with that fact. Nothing really made it any more palatable. And if worse came to worse and someone did make an issue about it - well, Tony had enough money still to help Gibbs fight the charges. He tried not to think about it, to get on with his life, and help Gibbs get the director out of that chair that she never really deserved.
Ziva could be seen pounding on her computer keyboard and screaming uselessly at McGee to fix whatever was happening, but McGee was inclined to ignore her without getting the go ahead from Gibbs or Special Agent Bolding.There had been no truce declared between the SFA and Mossad officer, and neither had any intention of declaring one. Bolding could, and did make Ziva's life a misery, and though she'd complained loudly and often to the Director, Jen Shepard had more important things to worry about than whether Ziva was being treated unfairly, and had gotten so she stopped letting the liaison into her office altogether unless it was for a team meeting. Some CIA agent named Trent Kort had sussed out her undercover agent, and the terrified and angry SFA had screamed at her for duping him into such a dangerous op without backup and promptly reported her to his lead agent, who'd reported it to, well, he'd had to go over her head to the Sec Nav, and that had started a landslide of questions and subsequent accusations of running an unsanctioned undercover operation.
Gibbs had gotten wind of it through Tony, of all people, who had a couple of contacts in the CIA. Eli David had come close to getting burned by his connection to the Director, an anonymous caller who'd accused his daughter of being a spy, a caller whose location pinged fifty different places around the globe. Jen and/or his daughter were getting sloppy, and he broke off the liaison position with no warning, demanding she come home to Israel immediately. She was met at her desk by three rather severe looking agents - two of them Homeland Security, the other an Israeli embassy employee. She left without a word to anyone, not even Jen Shepard, her body language stiff and face unrelenting anger. In the back of the embassy limo, she'd been quietly, but firmly informed that her American Visa had been revoked and she'd not be allowed back into the country again. Any personal belongings would be shipped to Israel at her expense. When she began a heated protest, the embassy employee put up a firm palm in the air to stop her.
"Officer David. It has come to the attention of Homeland Security that you may have what would be considered highly sensitive documents on your laptop. There would be no reason whatsoever for a liaison officer such as you to have these documents on her computer, especially her private one. Because of your father's status, we've managed to construct a deal that keeps Israel from the embarrassment of an international incident, and you out of the personal hell that is Gitmo. Your protests are useless. I suggest you discuss it with Director David when you get home "
That was the last they saw, or heard from her. Gibbs seemed completely detached from it all, showing no surprise or remorse, but no one spent much time worrying about it.
Not long after, a group of suits made their way up to the Director's office, followed by a grim Secretary of the Navy. Jen Shepard was escorted to the elevator, not in handcuffs, but the look on her face spoke to her shock and mortification. Gibbs was elsewhere when they came for her. He didn't have it in him to watch yet another piece of his history disintegrate into darkness.
McGee watched from his desk, shell-shocked, and wishing for the thousandth time that Tony was there to crack a bad joke and lend some levity to the gloom. Special Agent Bolding merely shook her head in disgust, wondering how such a smart, dynamic woman could allow herself to throw away what most people would have given anything for. She plodded through the morass of paperwork on her desk, but truth be told, she was totally loving the absolute silence coming from the desks across from her. No sarcastic remarks, no faked respect, no grumbles, no swearing in six different languages under her breath, several of them which the Marine knew, at least the vulgar words. It was heavenly. The next agent assigned to the desk was going to be an actual agent, a transfer from Quantico and just finishing up his courses at FLETC. Smart, a little brash, but a good team player, he reminded her of the man whose desk she now occupied.
That man had accepted an offer from Tom Morrow as an intelligence analyst in the D.C. branch, and no one was surprised to find that he excelled at it. Not only that, Tony was appreciating the more sane hours, and the fact that the pay was higher. Less work, more pay. He hadn't considered that that was an option before. The commute wasn't much further than what he was used to, and he actually enjoyed not having to dumpster dive and try to preserve crucial evidence in the pouring rain. He was finding that his lungs appreciated less stress, and the home office had a top of the line gym and workout rooms. He still missed working with Gibbs, immensely, mostly because the man kept him on his toes mentally, and laughed at his sometimes inappropriate jokes. He'd had to tone himself down quite a bit for the new job. Go figure!
Gibbs had invited him over that afternoon for dinner, wanting an excuse to not be at the office when they hauled Jen Shepard out of the building. No one had heard a word as to why she'd left, and few had dared to ask. The agency line was that she had been asked to go on a special undercover operation, which most of them knew was a load of crap. Yes, she'd been a great Black Ops agent, but pulling a fairly new director from her job was a bit much to swallow. Ducky had intimated that perhaps all was not well with her health, hoping to tamp down the rude gossip without really revealing anything.
He'd told Gibbs a couple of weeks earlier about the blood tests she'd asked him to run. Not breaking any patient confidentiality, he'd hinted that perhaps she'd had different motivations than what Gibbs and Tony had first thought. Gibbs stormed across the floor of Autopsy angrier than ever.
"I don't care, Ducky! It's no excuse for jeopardizing this agency and its agents! She was prepared to take this place down with her, and that's inexcusable. If she wants to go off on a tear by herself, more power to her." He turned and leaned against one of the tables and looked at Ducky full on. "Honestly, that's not how I'd choose to spend my last months."
"Well, you're not her, Jethro, and be thankful for it."
Back at Gibbs' house, he'd gotten the grill going in the backyard and had steaks marinated to slap on as soon as Tony showed up. He missed working with the kid, but was grateful that he'd not been shut out of Tony's life after the rash things he said while in a place. They were rebuilding what they'd had before the loss of Kate, before the drama of Jen Shepard and Ziva David. It was good, or at least better now. They both still mourned Kate, and Gibbs still fretted over Tony's health, although the younger man had seemed to improve quite decently since leaving NCIS and joining Homeland. He didn't tell Tony that he and Tom Morrow chatted at least once a week, but he was pretty sure Tony knew anyway. He didn't tell Tony about Jen's illness, figuring that Tony wouldn't consider it a valid excuse for her actions anymore than he did. Mostly, he just wanted the past to stay in the past. All they had was today; he was determined to not let it all define him, and knew Tony felt the same way. If ever a person could suck it up and drive on, it was Anthony DiNozzo, and he thought maybe he could learn something from the kid; Tony wasn't the goofy jokester anymore that he'd been before Kate's death. It seemed that a part of that side of him had died with her, and that made Gibbs a little sad. He knew that everyone had to mature with life's harsh times, and Tony was no exception. Still…he hoped the young man could find some of the joy that seemed to have been such a part of him before Ari Haswari and his sister had stolen it away from him. If he had to, Gibbs himself would help him find it, even if it was a simple backyard barbeque or a game of one on one basketball on the driveway. They'd get back there eventually.
