Notes: I like the way the first one ends, and it has a nice structure, but I couldn't help wanting to write all this other stuff too... So I split it up so the first part could be self-contained, and this could just be an addendum, a reaaally long clarification.
(-)
A few minutes after that, Gibbs parks the car in a space that most motorcycle riders would probably have dismissed as a bit small. There is a necessary delay as Kate realizes that there is no way she can open her door more than about an inch, and thus is forced to clamber into the backseat while describing to Tony in explicit detail exactly what will happen to him if she finds him looking at her ass- and she will find him. She falls into the seat beside him and takes a moment to catch her breath. She then turns to glare at him, ready for battle.
But Tony isn't looking at her. He's looking out the window. And either it's the most clever act she's ever seen him put on (and one she decides, upon reflection, he couldn't possibly be capable of), or he actually wasn't paying attention to her. She realizes he seems abnormally remote; usually he's always underfoot, itching to provoke a fight. But not today, and maybe she should have expected that of him.
"What is it?" she asks.
"I just- I can't help thinking. If maybe it had turned out the other way. It came pretty close, you know. Don't know how close. I mean- you know what would have happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"What would have happened. You know, when you got there."
"I haven't thought about it," she says. If it's a lie, it's only because it's an incredible understatement; for the entire drive here, she has been dedicating a fairly stunning amount of mental force to loudly not thinking about it. Despite that, however, she knows that in the back of her mind, she has.
"I have," he says. "I didn't want to, but Gibbs- the way he's been acting this whole trip, I couldn't help it, it just kinda- came into my head, and it wouldn't go away, you know what I'm saying?"
She nods.
"He would've come up, he would've looked in the car, and he would've said 'Dammit!' and kicked the tires. I guess you'd probably call 911 or something, and he'd be standing around yelling about how damn stupid I am. Then the cops'd come up, and he'd yell at them for a while. Then someone'd catch the guy, and you'd go home, and you'd tell him to go get some sleep, and he would. Then it'd be awkward for a few days. Maybe, like, a couple days after the funeral, he'd bring in some new guy to torture and he'd act exactly the same as he always had."
"No he wouldn't."
"Oh, come on! You think it would really break him up? Maybe for a couple days or so, but then he'd move on! He hates me!"
"He does not hate you!"
"He doesn't like me all that much!"
"I think he likes you."
"Really."
She squirms a little. "Kinda."
"You can't seriously think he'd be all that distraught."
"Of course he would be. He, uh, he would've lost an agent."
"Seriously," he says. "Think it through."
Against her will, she does. Realizes the scenario she'd half-formed in her mind is a little melodramatic. Thinks he'd at least cry or something, but not in front of her. Would be edgy at work for a while- but, that would be unprofessional. She realizes she hasn't even considered that he might take off work, because he wouldn't. She still thinks he's wrong about the degree of his detachment, but has a hard time denying that he is, in the essentials, probably right.
"It wouldn't be that bad," she says, and to her it sounds unforgivably feeble.
"Maybe," he says. "But it's still really, uh..."
"Depressing?" she suggests. "Demoralizing?"
"Yeah," he says. "If it's any comfort, I think he cares a little more about you."
"Yeah," she says sarcastically, "that helps a whole lot."
"It kinda makes me wonder what the hell I'm doing here," he says. "If he puts us though all this shit and he doesn't even care about us that much. Makes me wonder why the hell I think it's worth it."
"Like you're suddenly looking at your life as if you don't live it," Kate says. "I've had moments like that."
He's silent for a moment. "Ah, I'll probably get over it," he says, and opens his door.
Kate slides out after him and they walk together to the office, full aware that Gibbs will probably ask them what the hell they've been doing.
"It was really nice of you not to stare at my ass today," she says, a moment after the elevator starts to go up. "Very civilized, very decent. I could get used to it."
He grins lopsidedly. "Yeah, I'll get over that one real quick."
The elevator dings, and he goes out. Rolling her eyes, she follows him.
"What the hell took you so long?" Gibbs demands. "Some sort of hanky-panky? Kate. I thought you had better taste."
She tries to think of her normal reply, because she knows she'd usually find a way to agree and insult Tony further in the process. For some reason, she can't; she searches briefly for something and comes up completely empty.
Gibbs notices she's just standing there, lost for a reply. "Kate?" he questions.
She figures Tony will bail her out by saying something stupid and/or macho, but he's obviously not up to it today.
"...Sure," she says finally; smiles a brief, insincere (but still beguiling) smile and seeks shelter from Gibbs' confusion at her desk.
(-)
Even later, after Gibbs goes home, Tony is sitting at his desk and staring at nothing. McGee walks by; after a second, he waves his hand in front of Tony's face.
"Hey," Tony says by way of greeting, after jerking his head up like it had been a gun instead of a hand.
"Hi," McGee says. "I hear you had an exciting day."
"Yeah," Tony says, and stretches. "I hear you did too."
"Yeah." McGee smiles. "I, uh, was horrendously impertinent to a Secretary and spent the rest of the time trying to do something impossible."
"Yeah, I heard about the VW thing," Tony says. "Kinda ridiculous of him to expect you to find the person who called in that ad. I mean, it could have been anywhere. And even if you found the ad, it would be almost impossible to figure out who put it there."
"Yeah," McGee agrees. "It was terrible. I was scared to death that I wouldn't figure out what it was, and then he'd kill me."
"I don't think he'd actually kill you," Tony says. "Maybe cut off an arm, maybe a leg..."
"Maim me a little? I, uh, wouldn't be surprised. That's why it was such a relief when I found out what happened."
"You, uh, found the ad?"
"No, uh, not really. But I know who did it."
"Really? Wow, McGee, that- how did you do it?"
"I almost didn't. But then it occured to me."
"What occured to you?"
"Maybe it wasn't a coincidence. Maybe it was an evil scheme."
"Evil?"
"Well, maybe not so much evil. After that, it was fairly easy."
"Hmm." Tony nods.
"It was kind of hard to figure out who would have done that, though."
"Couldn't find a motive?"
"No," McGee says, "it was more an elimination thing. There were so many people with motive that I was almost worse off than when I started."
"Right." Tony nods. "So who did you check first?"
"Uh, never tell anyone this, but Abby was so amused by the thing that I thought she might have done it. But she didn't."
"I know. What I mean is, when did you check my cell phone?"
"After, uh, Ducky, those guys from the FBI, those two guys in Jacksonville, those Army recruiters, that Air Force colonel, and the ex-wives. One of them was selling some furniture, so, that threw me off for a while."
"That many?" Tony says, impressed. "This worked even better than I thought."
"It was my fault for not remembering that almost none of those people would've known his current cell phone number," McGee admits. "But still, I was sure it couldn't possibly be you. Even when I found the number you'd called, I thought it must have been something else. But I was wrong."
"Huh," Tony says. "Are you going to tell him?"
McGee shrugs. "I'm not sure. I know he's going to ask me, and I don't know if my terror and respect for him are going to outweigh my, uh... my sympathy."
"Sympathy?"
"...It was- well- it was a very good joke."
"Right."
"Maybe he won't ask me. If he doesn't, I probably won't tell him. But I can't make you any promises."
"I wouldn't want any," Tony says. "Thanks, Probey."
"Yeah." McGee smiles, hesitantly, halfheartedly, because he does not like at all what Tony has been doing to him. But he can also see that it's a chain, and they're not the ones who started it. They're just doing what Gibbs has done, like some sort of abusive, dysfunctional family, and it honestly freaks the hell out of him. But no one else sees anything wrong with it, and so he keeps his peace. Probably there's nothing really wrong with it. It's probably just him.
"You should probably go home and get some rest," he says.
"Yeah," Tony says, "I think I will. Night, Probey."
"Goodnight," McGee says. And wonders, as he watches him leave, if he can, in the end, do a thing.
(-)