There are a lot of things Tony DiNozzo will never, ever say.
Things that he wants to say, but that his brash, overconfident exterior just won't allow. Take, for example, that seemingly intrinsic part of him that craves constant approval and validation from those above him (or, more specifically, his boss). That would be number four. You see, Agent DiNozzo has compiled so many of these little 'things I'll never tell anyone about" that they have formed a sort of list. Not a physical list, mind you, (Tony never was the type to do any form of unnecessary documentation) but more of a mental checklist, with each point even assigned its own number. Gibbs has his list of rules – Tony has this. Not that anyone knows about his list of course, but that's whole point, isn't it?
He thinks number four might be more obvious than he'd like, though, and he worries. Not really because of the point itself, but because number four is closely linked to number six, and he really doesn't want anyone to know about that. He likes to think of his family life as in the past and, more importantly, private. Number six is nobody's business but his – and maybe a misleadingly insecure serial killer's. Well, stressful situations often have the effect of dragging these things out of him.
All right, so come to think of it now, maybe he isn't so good at keeping everything on 'the list' to himself. After all, the Jeffrey incident isn't the first time he's made that mistake. No, he'd let another point slip long before that. One of the more minor points, he supposes, but one of them nonetheless. He'd mentioned number fifteen to Kate. She hadn't exactly responded in the way he'd hoped she would.
"Like when you were tonguing that he/she a few weeks ago? Lots of complex things under that surface"
To say he'd been 'conflicted' had been an understatement. His sudden inability to stay in the room had been a testimony to that. But the worst part, he thinks, is that number fifteen is only the tip of the iceberg as far as things he wants to tell Kate are concerned. And given her reaction to that, he cringes to think what would happen if she ever found out about the others.
Take number eleven, for instance. Number eleven (although if you ask him he will deny that such a thought has ever crossed his mind) is that, in his opinion, Kate Todd is beautiful. Now, upon first inspection, it might appear that he has in fact already told her this. But what such a conclusion is not considering is that, in the world of Tony DiNozzo, the words 'attractive' and 'beautiful' have two entirely different meanings. You see, to Tony, 'attractive' is a term that refers purely to physical attributes. 'Beautiful', on the other hand, is a sort of combination of both the physical attributes and personality – that is, a beautiful woman will most likely also be his definition of attractive, but their personality will be what causes him to view them as set apart from the others. So, while when he had first met her he had certainly found her attractive (or 'hot', if he remembers the internal dialogue correctly), now, after almost two years of learning all the nuances and idiosyncrasies that make Kate Todd, well, Kate Todd, he has come to think of her as beautiful, beyond a doubt. He's sure if he tried to explain that to her he would either be met with a disbelieving roll of the eyes, or suddenly have to help Gibbs look for a replacement profiler. So number eleven stays on the list.
Lately the numbers have been piling up though, and he's getting tired of pretending they don't exist.
There are days when he feels like he wants to yell - maybe not even in a coherent language -just yell, expressing everything that's weighing him down in his own way, so it won't even matter that nobody else understands.
Certain things give him that feeling more than others, and number eight is undoubtedly one of them. It's one of those things that he wishes he never noticed, and that he still prays he's wrong about. But, being the instinctive investigator he is, he can never bring himself to ignore the evidence right in front of him. So every time she smiles like that at their boss, he notices. When she goes into a jealous rant after seeing him flirt with another redhead, he notices. Even when she snatches her sketchbook from him at a time that's just a little too coincidental, he notices. And he doesn't even want to think about how he knew about the tattoo. But, of course, none of this should matter to him, and so he simply pretends, just like with everything else, that he really doesn't care about it at all.
So, at this very moment, while he's running through all these things in his mind – four, six, fifteen, eleven, eight – and a thousand others, he can practically feel the weight of them pressing down on him. What scares him the most, though, is how close he's feeling to breaking his resolve for the third time. Because as she stands there, arguing with him over something neither of them will care about tomorrow, he can't help but wonder what she'd do if he was to tell her number twenty seven right now. And he's thinking that maybe, just maybe, he's wrong about number eight, and maybe she's got a number twenty seven of her own to tell him. It's a nice thought, and one that convinces him – despite his better judgment – to stop her mid sentence with a gesture of his hand. He stalls for a few moments, and she's looking at him, wanting to know why her tirade was cut short. Trying for nonchalance, he gives her a lopsided grin and rubs his jaw line absently with his hand. And he's about to open his mouth – the faster it's over the better, he tells himself – when a voice startles them from behind, and their boss pushes his way past, telling them there's a new lead on their case, and they'll need to consult Abby once the evidence comes in, and why are they both still standing there?
Stepping back into his desk, he offers some kind of agreeable statement along the lines of 'I'm on it,' before glancing back at Kate, just for a moment. He decides that letting her know about number twenty-seven was a bad idea anyway, and he should try to be subtler from now on, or she just might work it out for herself. It's when she looks up and gives him a small, almost knowing smile, that a sudden thought occurs to him. Maybe she already has.
:Fin: