Chapter Three
Monday
Tony took his time and dressed with extreme care when Monday morning rolled around. He'd bought a new, ridiculously expensive Salvatore Ferragamo suit that he'd been saving for a special occasion. He'd had visions of running into his father with a stunningly attractive super model on his arm and sweeping past him into the Capital Grill while the old man couldn't get a table, but he supposed wearing the suit would be more useful – and realistic – to shore up his spirits on his first day back to work without Kate.
Technically, he'd already worked since she'd died. They'd all nearly lived in the Navy Yard while they tracked her killer, but that wasn't the same. This was back to normal – back to the day-to-day grind – back to moving forward, awaiting the next call with an empty desk spotlighted in their midst. Life went on.
Tony slipped on his Berluti leather shoes and a blue Armani tie. Kate had always looked nice in blue, and he was going to need all the help he could get today. As Billy Crystal would say, 'It's not how you feel, dahling, it's how you look,' and he looked good. He needed to because he felt like crap.
He hadn't left his apartment since he'd arrived back Friday evening after his confrontation with Gibbs at the airport. He was still pissed at his boss, and he knew the older man was hiding something. Whether it was something that related to Kate, or something that had happened when he'd killed Ari, Tony still didn't know. Gibbs hadn't appeared injured, but he was just as good as Tony at hiding in plain sight. He always stressed the need for backup with his team – particularly since the time Tony had run into trouble with a psycho waitress in the sewers, so it was hypocritical of him to go off on his own. Not that that had ever stopped him in the past. Hell, he'd done it just the day before Kate was killed when he met Ari downtown.
Still, he'd insinuated that he'd had backup when he'd killed the terrorist. Who would he have taken? Had Pacchi still been alive, he could see that, but Gibbs tended to butt heads with the other team leaders. Tony might suspect the new Director if she hadn't been with them on the early flight. There was definitely more of a history between those two that remained unknown. Fornell was always a possibility, they'd grudgingly worked together on occasion, but the FBI had insisted that Ari wasn't the sniper they all knew he was.
So, who did Gibbs use as back up, or was he simply misdirecting Tony's questions?
Tony was both concerned and pissed that his boss didn't trust him enough to keep him in the loop on something like this. What else did he have to do to prove himself? He'd thought they were past this. Gibbs had really stepped up when Tony was ill and had even seemed to care. Was that all just part of Tony's hallucinations, or had losing Kate set them all back to square one? If it had been him instead of Kate who'd had his brains splattered on that rooftop – as it should've been – would Gibbs now be blocking Kate out? Which Gibbs would be in the office when he got there? He hated that it mattered so much to him, but he'd grown to depend on Gibbs. To someone who typically kept people from getting too close, that was a big step for him, and he didn't want it to be in vain.
What fault in his own character made him so desperate to trust someone when he'd been burned so many times already? His own nature really sucked sometimes.
In addition to his irritation with his boss, Abby's words kept floating to the surface when he tried to clear his head. She was right – he had lost weight. He knew it was true from the way his new suit wasn't fitting as impeccably as it had when he'd first picked it up. Still, the loss was easier to hide in a suit than if he was wearing his jeans. He definitely wasn't feeling one hundred percent. He'd been instructed to take extra care with his recovery, or he could risk a relapse. Dr. Pitt had told him that it was possible for the plague symptoms to reassert themselves months, or even years later without proper vigilance, but he'd honestly thought Brad was just trying to scare him into following instructions.
He knew he didn't have the plague. Once in a lifetime was more than enough for that, but he also knew his weakened immune system was fighting off something. He felt frail and lethargic, constantly chilled, and the heavy pressure on his chest hadn't abated. Added to that, the tickle in the back of his throat had progressed to a hacking cough whenever he tried to lay flat. He'd compensated by sleeping – or trying to sleep – in an upright position on the couch last night. That hadn't gone very well, so now, in addition to feeling ill, he had dark circles beneath his eyes that showed up starkly against his too-pale skin.
He couldn't win.
He'd barely moved from his couch except to refill his water glass. He knew enough to keep hydrated, for all the good it had done. He'd tried to eat some of the soup – soup that Kate had made for him – that was leftover in his refrigerator, but his appetite was non-existent. After using up all his energy with his restless pacing on Friday evening, he'd spent the next two days sprawled on the couch watching a marathon of sad movies.
He'd discovered the trick as a child after the loss of his mother. It had been such a dark and confusing time in his life that to this day, he still didn't have a clear memory of all of it, but he'd been basically left on his own to deal with his grief. Devastated by her death and feeling lost and bewildered by his father's cold distance, he'd stumbled across Bambi on television. He'd found it so much easier to release the turmoil of emotions building inside him by watching the film rather than having to express himself with words. He'd sat motionless in front of the television, sobbing like a baby for hours, although, in his defense, he'd only been eight at the time, so really not much more than a baby.
Bambi had held a special place in his movie collection since then. When he'd looked into it later in life, he'd learned the child voice actor that voiced Bambi, Donnie Roan Dunagan, later served in the Marines in 'Nam and received both a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart. He'd kept his acting career a complete secret from his squad mates. Tony always thought that was a neat bit of trivia, and he felt an even deeper connection to the man since Tony kept most of his private life secret from his team, as well. He only let them see what he wanted them to see.
There'd been a few other low points in his life where he'd used the same method of watching films to deal with his emotions. It helped to get him through.
Losing Kate hurt, and he'd needed to get the pent-up sorrow and loss out somehow. He'd started by watching one of his old favorites – The Champ with Jon Voight, Faye Dunaway and then child star Ricky Schroder. It was a fantastic film, and the ending was just gut wrenching enough to start his release. He'd followed that with showings of Dead Poet's Society, Terms of Endearment, and the Pianist. Sad movies that didn't sink to the level of chick flicks was just what he'd needed. The combination of all the other characters' hurt acted as somewhat of a catharsis for his own.
He'd turned off the tv, washed his face and attempted to sleep, knowing he'd have to face Kate's empty desk in the morning.
When he'd finally given up the idea of sleep, he'd decided he needed fortification for the day. That was why he was dressed to the nines in his now too-big suit, ready for work even though he held more than a small concern that he'd be going in only to be asked to hand over his badge and gun for insubordination to a superior officer.
He could see the new Director sidling down the stairs in one of the tight skirts and low-cut blouses she was prone to wear, huskily asking Gibbs if he'd taken care of the problem.
Most of his life he'd been someone's problem. But it had never been Gibbs' – at least not until now.
There was nothing to be done for it except to face it head-on. It was showtime.
/* /* /* /*
Gibbs was surprised to see Abby's hearse already in the parking lot when he arrived at work. He expected to see her sitting at his desk awaiting his arrival, but the bull pen was silent and empty when he emerged from the elevator. He faltered slightly as he passed Kate's empty desk on the way to his own. Images from his recent nightmare flashed across his mind in rapid succession. In the dream, he'd heard the whoosh of the bullet as it sped past him, saw Ari grinning from his sniper's nest, heard Kat's startled gasp of surprise, only to turn and see that ring of blood spreading behind her head as if she were already an angel. He saw the spatter across a shocked DiNozzo's face, and that one neat hole dead center on Kate's otherwise flawless forehead.
In reality, there had been no sound, no warning, no expectation. It had happened in an instant, and there was nothing any one of them could've done to stop it. He knew that in his conscious mind, it was his unconscious one that was having trouble reconciling events. He had to take a moment and stare at Kate's vacant spot, knowing that even though the rest of the team would be back at work today, this desk would remain empty and forlorn.
He supposed he'd have to fill it eventually, but that was a decision for a later date. He didn't know which would be more disconcerting – the desk remaining empty or filled with someone new.
"Jethro," Jenny's voice purred, pulling him from his thoughts as she strolled by the empty bull pen, a smile teasing her lips. "I was surprised I didn't hear from you all weekend begging me to allow you to return to work."
"You know I don't beg," he replied flatly.
She looked as if she'd been slapped, but she recovered quickly. "That's true. It's one of the things I've always admired about you. Why don't you come up, and we can discuss the MCRT going forward. I have some of the coffee I know you like," she said, already climbing the stairs to her office.
Although phrased pleasantly enough, he knew it wasn't a request. She was trying to re-establish her seniority. "I've already got my coffee," he said, raising his still-steaming cup as he stood to follow her.
He didn't see her expression, but he saw her spine stiffen slightly as she climbed, and it made him smirk internally. She might be his new boss, but he wasn't about to let her mess up the MCRT. It was the most successful team she'd inherited when she took over the running of NCIS, so he wasn't certain what it was she wanted to discuss, but he wanted to let her know first and foremost that he wasn't going to be manipulated because of their shared past.
He followed her into her office and took a seat at the conference table before being asked while she stowed her purse into a desk drawer. She could either sit beside him at the conference table, or shout across the office from her desk. She pursed her lips, recognizing what he'd done, but calmly started her coffee maker before joining him at the table.
"The time off did you well. You look rested, which is what I'd hoped to achieve, but you weren't banished to solitary confinement, Jethro," she said, smiling demurely.
"Never said I was alone," Gibbs replied, wondering what she was after. She was the one who'd banned the whole team from working. Did she honestly think he was going to call her to chat? That had never been his style.
She pressed her lips together. "I see. And now you're ready to get back to work?"
Gibbs nodded. "I'm always ready to do my job. What's going on, Jen? Why do you want to know what the team did while we were off duty?" he asked, knowing perfectly well she hadn't mentioned any of the rest of the team. "We lost an important member, so those who knew her wanted to share memories. Don't think it's all that unusual."
He'd used Abby's reasonings for wanting to gather, but Jenny wouldn't know that, and he wanted to see what she was after.
"Oh, so the team was together, then?" she asked.
"Not all together, no, but we've talked," he replied. This also wasn't untrue. Abby had said she'd also spoken to McGee. He was growing weary of the interrogation. "What is it you want to know, Director?"
She stiffened slightly at his resumed use of her title. "You asked me when we were in the elevator whose side I was going to take in your insistence that Ari Haswari was the sniper–"
"He was the sniper," Gibbs bit out angrily.
"I know that, Jethro. Everyone knows that, now, but at the time I assured you that you didn't need to ask. I'm hoping I can count on the same loyalty," she said, staring at him through lowered lashes.
Gibbs frowned. "You know I'll always help you if you need it."
"I don't doubt you'd come to my aid if I was in physical danger, but what I'm trying to discern is if you'll be on my side when it comes to the politics of this business. I'm the first woman Director at NCIS, and a lot of the good old boys won't take me seriously. It would improve my standing if I had your unwavering loyalty," she said, a curious half smile forming.
"You have it as long as you don't do anything to hurt the people we serve," Gibbs replied, his gut uncomfortable, but he wasn't yet certain for the reason.
Jenny raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. "As long as I don't do anything that goes against what you want at any given moment, is that it?"
"Look, you know I trust you. You also know how I work. I don't see a problem, so I'm not sure why you're trying to create one," he said.
Her jaw twitched, and he knew he wasn't giving her the exact answer she wanted. "I'm not. Just confirming where my cards lay. Did you tell your team what happened when Ari came after you?" she asked.
Gibbs shrugged. "Didn't have to. You already did."
"And you told me everything that happened in that basement?" she asked, watching him closely.
Gibbs stared at her blankly, his well-practiced poker face not giving anything away. Did she know about Ziva? Did she want to see if he would confide the truth to her, or was she just seeing if there were any holes in his story? She had said that she'd worked closely with the Israeli before, but he didn't see why the Mossad handler would've wanted to share those details with the leader of a foreign agency. It didn't make sense.
"I told you what happened. There's nothing more to tell," he replied.
Jenny nodded, but she still didn't look completely satisfied. "Very well. I've taken the liberty of writing up an Incident Report from the notes I took on the plane. If this looks complete, please sign it. There are copies there for Agents DiNozzo and McGee."
Gibbs took the proffered document and read it over. It was concise, repeating the words he'd told her about Ari breaking into his house, and Gibbs, hearing him in the basement, shooting him before Ari could fire a kill shot. Credible. Succinct. And a complete lie.
Gibbs signed and pushed it back toward her.
She was silent for a moment, waiting for him to speak, but he'd waited out hardened criminals, he wasn't going to give in to her. At last, she sighed and said, "The weekend was rather slow, so I have nothing pending when your team arrives. You'll have to busy yourselves with cold cases."
"Understood. They've probably arrived by now," he said before standing, taking his copies of the Incident Report, and walking out of her office without another word. He could feel her eyes burning into the back of his neck as he walked away.
Her assistant, Cynthia, was at her desk, and she looked up, startled to find him emerging from the Director's office. He nodded but didn't comment as he walked out onto the balcony above the bull pen. He rested his arms on the railing, silently observing as he gathered his thoughts. Jenny had an agenda – he just had to work out what it was. Below in the bull pen, McGee was already at his desk booting up his computer, and he didn't notice DiNozzo emerging from the elevator.
Unnoticed from his position above them, Gibbs watched as Tony's steps also faltered in front of Kate's desk in much the same way Gibbs had done. He stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the empty desk. He raised his hand and unconsciously rubbed at his face.
Gibbs knew exactly where the younger man's thoughts had gone as his own mind reverberated with the sound of a gunshot and Kate's blood spattering across DiNozzo's face. Gibbs had attempted to wipe it from his shell-shocked agent, who had stood there unmoving and allowing the contact – something very unlike his usual bravado.
"Tony! I didn't see you come in. How are you?" McGee asked, finally noticing the other man's presence.
"More alert than you, McOblivious," DiNozzo said, pulling himself out of his stupor. "Where's Gibbs? Do we have a case?"
"Not that I know of. Gibbs is here though. I think he's up with the Director," McGee replied.
Tony stiffened slightly as he tossed his bag behind his desk and sank into his chair. "Brilliant," he muttered.
Gibbs smirked, correctly guessing that DiNozzo would be worried about the consequences of their argument at the airport. Usually, Gibbs wouldn't let something like that go, but that day was anything but usual. Not that he was going to let DiNozzo know it, however. It would do him good to squirm.
Recalling his promise to Abby, he took a good, hard look at his Senior Field Agent. He was paler than normal, and even from his height above the bull pen, Gibbs could detect dark circles beneath DiNozzo's eyes. Still, if Abby hadn't shown up at his own place when she had, he'd probably have turned up the same way. He was wearing a suit – one that Gibbs hadn't seen before – and looked immaculate. He'd known DiNozzo long enough to realize that meant his agent was overcompensating for something. He had just watched his partner die in front him however, so that wasn't unexpected.
"What's brilliant about it? What do you think is going on? What do you think of the new Director, anyway?" McGee asked. He didn't stutter, but Gibbs could hear the nervousness in his voice.
"How am I supposed to know? I just got here," DiNozzo said.
That was Gibbs cue. Quickly descending the stairs, he said, "Is that so, DiNozzo? Something wrong with your watch?"
"Not that I know of, Gibbs. I'm not late," DiNozzo said stiffly.
It was still Gibbs, not Boss. Gibbs felt oddly let down.
"Do we have a case, Boss?" McGee asked.
"No, we're working cold cases for now. Take a stack and get to work. Also, this is a copy of the debriefing I gave the Director on Ari's death," Gibbs said, dropping a copy on each of the other two desks before moving towards his own.
Both men immediately grabbed the reports and began to read. Neither asked any questions, but Gibbs saw DiNozzo's jaw clench.
As the morning went on, and no call came in about a case, Gibbs kept his eye on DiNozzo. The man sat hunched studiously over his stack of files, but Gibbs noted his eyes would frequently glaze over, and he kept absently rubbing his chest. Gibbs could chalk the eyes up to boredom, but the chest was concerning. The bull pen felt strained and awkward. Even Gibbs, who usually appreciated a silent workplace, felt on edge and ready to explode. What wasn't being said was echoing louder than any practical joke ever could.
When lunch rolled around, he sent McGee out to grab sandwiches to bring back. Tony only picked at his, and when he thought his actions had gone unnoticed, he wrapped it back up to throw away. Gibbs had seen enough.
"DiNozzo! Go see Ducky, now," he barked.
"What?" DiNozzo asked, bewildered.
"I don't want to hear another word. If you want a job tomorrow, you get down and have Ducky clear you today," Gibbs said.
A fire ignited in DiNozzo's eyes, and Gibbs expected another round of insubordination, and he wouldn't be able to let this one slide.
Tony took a deep breath, gearing up for an argument but was foiled by a deep, barking cough that erupted so violently, he had to grasp his desk to remain upright.
Memories of blue lips and bloody phlegm raced through Gibbs' mind as he jumped up and hurried to DiNozzo's desk. He whacked his agent on the back directly in the center with a well-practiced hand. They'd been through this rodeo before. Tony grabbed a tissue from his desk and spat into it, gradually working to regain his breath. Gibbs continued to support him, remembering how these coughing fits had drained the strength from the younger man.
Once he was certain DiNozzo was all right, he said, "Now do you see why I want Ducky to look you over?"
"Despite popular opinion, I am capable of taking care of myself," Tony said grumbling.
"That sounds like something Kate would disagree with you over," McGee said, chuckling.
They all froze. The elephant in the room had finally been acknowledged. Three pairs of eyes shot up, all looking at each other warily. The silence stretched before, naturally, DiNozzo could take it no more.
"Kate liked to disagree with me over most things," he said, his voice shaking slightly.
McGee smiled sadly. "Yeah, she did."
"It just means you made a good team," Gibbs said gruffly.
DiNozzo looked up sharply, and Gibbs stared back, trying to communicate his concern without having to speak.
Now will you see Ducky? I'm worried.
And DiNozzo respond in kind.
Thanks, Boss. I'm worried, too.
Gibbs released a sigh of tension he hadn't even been aware he'd been holding. "Let's go," he said.
When DiNozzo stood, he swayed slightly. McGee jumped to his feet and grabbed DiNozzo on the other side. DiNozzo nodded but pulled away, indicating he was all right. All three team members walked to the elevator, two standing ready to catch the third if he faltered.
/* /* /* /*
Abby showed up at work at oh five hundred Monday morning. She wanted to be sure to be there when all the members of the MCRT arrived. She might not have a 'Gibbs-gut' or even a 'Tony-gut,' but she knew when something was hinky. There was definitely hinkiness in the air that morning.
She'd ended up staying for dinner with Gibbs the night before – cowboy steaks, which he always did well – even if lighting the fireplace in June had made his house unbearably warm and uncomfortable. Gibbs didn't appear to notice, but Abby felt dizzy from the heat and had to flee shortly after they'd cleared the dishes away.
Maybe he'd planned it that way.
Still, overall, she knew she'd knocked the ridiculous idea of pushing them all away out of his head. The ones left behind needed to pull tighter now, circle the wagons, so to speak, not drift apart. Abby was determined she wouldn't let that happen.
Feeling pleased with her efforts, she was determined to check on Tony and if necessary, knock some sense into his stubborn head, as well. She also wanted to make sure Gibbs didn't revert back into his sullen moodiness before he had the chance to speak to Tony. When both of them were being obstinate, it was usually hell to pay for all around them.
Unfortunately for Abby, fate interceded and was working against her. Agent Balboa's team, who was on-call over the weekend, caught a case the night before and all the evidence was piled high in her lab. She got to work immediately, but she knew there was little chance of hovering in the bull pen. She'd have to wait to see – or at least hear – what was going on with the MCRT. She knew McGee would wander down around lunchtime, at least, but that seemed like eons of waiting time to Abby.
She'd never been known as a patient person.
As it happened, the case kept her working steadily through lunch, and McGee hadn't shown up. Abby was getting frantic, and her concern was beginning to make her sloppy. She was worried she would miss things, so she had to take a deep breath and force all thoughts of the MCRT from her mind.
She was just finishing up the very last of her tests when McGee finally appeared in the lab.
"McGee! I have been going crazy down here, and I've been too busy to get away. What is happening? Did you get a call? Where have you been? Are Tony and Gibbs talking? Is Tony okay? How does he look? Gibbs is with him, isn't he?" she asked, unable to decide which question she wanted answered first.
McGee took a step back and raised his hands in the air. "Whoa! Abby, calm down," he said.
There were few things in the world that Abby hated more than being told to calm down when she was upset. Why did people insist on believing that ever made a person calmer? If they were anything like her, it only made them angry on top of being anxious.
"I told you when we spoke last night how worried I was about everything. You should've called me and kept me in the loop. Kate would've called me. I miss Kate," Abby said, and promptly burst into tears.
Naturally, McGee panicked. He hurried over to her and drew her into his arms. "Don't cry, Abby. I'm ah… I'm sorry I ah… didn't come down sooner. Gibbs was ah… sitting at his desk all morning, and I couldn't get away. I miss her, too," he said softly.
"I know you do," she said, sniffling and patting him on the shoulder while she pulled herself together. "It's so strange to think she's never coming back. You're going to have to spar with Tony, now."
"Ha, that'll go well. I don't have Kate's quick wit, and Tony'll eat me alive," McGee said, eyes round.
Abby snorted. "Oh, Tim, you need to catch on faster. Tony's just waiting for you to fight back."
"And if I do, he'll stop with the pranks?" McGee asked.
"No, of course not. Tony likes pranks. He's just a big little kid really, but he'll enjoy sparring with you more like he did with Kate," Abby said, smiling perkily.
Tim sighed. "If you say so."
"I do. So, what's going on?" she asked, her smile dimming.
McGee's eyes widened again. "Oh! That's what I came to tell you. You were right – Tony's not well. He nearly coughed up a lung upstairs, and Gibbs made him go down to see Ducky."
"I knew it," Abby said, beginning to pace.
"Yeah. He kept insisting he was fine, but Ducky checked his O2 levels, and they came in at ninety-three. Ducky says that's low but not low enough to require hospitalization. Still, he said that Tony should be better by now, so it needed watching. Gibbs took Tony home," McGee said.
Abby nodded. "That's good. Gibbs will take care of him, and that way they can talk. Both of them will be in better moods if they talk."
"What are you talking about? Gibbs is liable to kill him. Tony drives him nuts, and they're both already on a short fuse," McGee said, waving his arms in the air.
Abby rolled her eyes. "Oh, Tim, I love you, but you can be so naïve."
Tim looked affronted. "What d'you mean?"
"It makes Tony uncomfortable when Gibbs is too nice, so Gibbs plays up his second B with him. It's all in good fun, though, and they both know it," Abby said, rolling her eyes dramatically.
Tim furrowed his brow. "I don't know, Abs."
"Trust me. The fact that Tony's still sick will send Gibbs into Papa Gibbs mode. He cares a lot about Tony. Do you really think he'd have kept him around so long if he couldn't stand him? Does that honestly sound like Gibbs to you?" Abby asked incredulously.
McGee frowned. "No… I guess it doesn't."
Abby nodded. "Those two are as thick as thieves – they just enjoy sparring with each other like thieves, too."
McGee wasn't certain if Abby was just imagining what she wanted to see, but it gave him something to think about.
Author's Note:
Special thanks to Gryffindor Healer for the most excellent Bambi trivia.
