McGee found himself being regarded skeptically from the furthermost desk. However fuzzy Tony's vision was, it wasn't fuzzy enough to let him get away with such obtrusive surveillance.
"You have got to work on your technique, McGee."
Trying to look innocently nonplussed, McGee demurred, "Don't know what you're talking about, Tony."
Crossing his hands behind his neck, Tony leaned back a little against the seat. "Abby put you up to it, didn't she?" He added with a little laugh, "You are so caught, my man."
"Still don't know what you're talking about."
"She's got you twisted so far around her little finger—"
"She said you couldn't see," explained McGee defensively. Then he frowned, watching as Tony's hands dropped to scrabble self-consciously in search of the abandoned headset. "You can't see."
"Can't is such a big word," Tony deflected, wrapping his fingers around the headset and proceeding to settle it back on his spikily mussed hair. "I'm not blind, McGee, I'm just a little fuzzy."
He frowned up at the McGee-shaped shadow that was suddenly haunting the front of his desk.
"Tony?"
"McGee?" he returned in a pointedly less concerned tone.
"Did Gibbs know—"
"Don't go there," Tony waved a finger in warning.
"It's just he's not here."
"He had something to do, McGee."
"Yeah, okay, you're right. None of my business." The McGee-shape shuffled its feet. "Um … it's just if, you know, you want to go get lunch or something I'll be right over there."
Tony waved an open-faced palm. "Bye, McGee."
"I thought perhaps—" The ME let whatever he thought lapse quietly unsaid as Tony sighed deeply.
"Not you, too, Duck."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Abby make up a volunteer list or something?"
"I thought perhaps," Ducky repeated, his cultured accent a bit clipped, "you could assist me in tracking down a bit of information."
"Oh …" Tony straightened in the seat. "Sorry, Duck. Abby sicced McGee on me and I thought—"
"You thought she'd sent me to do he same," deduced Ducky.
"Yeah, well," Tony ducked his head a little, "guess I'm a little paranoid. What do you need?"
"There was once a restaurant in Baltimore named Haussner's …"
"On Eastern Avenue," acknowledged Tony.
"Delightful place. I remember there was a painting in the bar … she was quite nude…"
Tony grinned. "The wood nymph?"
"That was it … the nude wood nymph. I thought sure you'd know. You know, Orpheus' wife was a wood nymph. A dryad actually. Her name was Eurydice. She died trying to escape the amorous advances of Aristaeus."
Tony could still only make out approximate shapes and fuzzy colors but he heard the ME cross his arms, the brush of the fabric of his jacket audible.
"Haussner's. Rather puts one in the mood for German. Perhaps a sandwich from Old Dusseldorf is in order. If you have nothing pressing, my dear boy, perhaps you would care to accompany me."
The answer was a soft but pointed groan. "You should give McGee lessons."
"Jethro wanted to make sure you ate," conceded Ducky.
"Hey … McGee …"
Tony was grinning but Ducky noted that he didn't bother facing in McGee's direction. It was bad today, something the younger man had apparently managed to keep from his normally hyper-observant partner. Of course, given where Gibbs had planned to spend the morning, a little distraction was to be expected.
"… want to knock back a knackwurst?"
"Duck?" This time, Tony's voice was pitched low enough that McGee wouldn't hear it across the few feet of carpet where he stood shrugging into his jacket. "I might need you to—"
Before he could finish, though, the ME clasped Tony's arm above the elbow as he had seen Gibbs quietly do on occasion.
"I've got you," said Ducky softly, ballasting the younger man as he bent to snag Rufus' harness. He waited a moment while Tony steadied himself, then he nudged him gently away from the sharp corner of the desk and into a hard left-hand turn.
"What ya waiting for McGee?" grinned Tony his voice recovering its volume as they passed beside Tony's old desk.
Ducky smiled encouragement at their youngest coworker as he frowned slightly at the hand Ducky had locked on Tony's arm.
"Coming," he said finally, taking a final glance at Gibbs' empty desk and falling in slightly behind them on the same side as Rufus.
Ducky was well aware of McGee guarding Tony's other side as they made their way to the car, his hands making little guiding motions in the air that Tony was unaware of -- motions that made the young man look like a protective-Gibbs-in-training and Ducky grinned to himself as he slid behind the steering wheel.
The deli was packed with its usual shifting mass of DC business and government workers but the man behind the counter, balding and rotund in a limply wrinkled white butcher's apron, looked up from his order pad and greeted Ducky with a decidedly un-Germanic "Yo, Doc!" This caused the front half of the line to swivel their heads towards the door that Tony and Rufus were now struggling through. Unaware of the audience he'd attracted, Tony managed to maneuver his recalcitrant legs over the slightly raised lip of the doorway, Rufus professionally ignoring the meaty feast he'd just trotted into.
Abruptly abandoning the orders to what looked to be one of his equally plump sons, the deli owner waded through the crowd, his head scoping the deli's small and thoroughly occupied seating.
Ducky held out a hand that was engulfed enthusiastically in a strong, plastic-gloved handshake.
"Come, come," he insisted. "We'll go into the back."
Motioning McGee in the direction of a curtained doorway besides a refrigerated case of dark slices of black forest cake and Bienenstich, Ducky took a firmer hold of Tony's arm, weaving them through the maze of tables and impatient, hungry patrons who shuffled out of their way only reluctantly, their stares at the trio a kind of blank disbelieving gaze.
"We rate such lunchtime perks because Jack," Ducky confided leaning closer to Tony, "was once a recipient of our services. One of Jethro's first cases."
For his part, Tony was wrestling with the feeling of being buffeted and lost in the pressing blur of bodies and he latched onto this bit of information as a distraction to the chaos that he found himself in – would, he regretted, have to find his way back out of.
He allowed himself to be led towards a chair, allowed Ducky to loosen the unusually tight grip he had on Rufus' harness and move his hand to plant it firmly on the cool vinyl of the low-backed seat.
Then, finally, Tony carefully levered himself down into it, a grin making its way across his previously thinned lips. "You knew Gibbs when he was a rookie?"
Gibbs heard the unlocked front door snick open, familiar voices bantering pleasantly, and he took his freshly-poured mug of coffee and leaned against the doorframe. A brief exchange of glances with Ducky expressed his thanks at the same time that a few sharp lines of worry creased his forehead as he took in the hold Ducky had on Tony's arm, the quiet acceptance of the guidance his normally fiercely independent partner usually shook off.
"Gibbs? You here?"
Ducky watched the lines deepen as Tony blinked toward the dim recesses of the living room, obviously unaware he was being studied with concern from the completely opposite direction.
"Here, Tony," Gibbs corrected.
Tony swiveled toward the kitchen, grinning at the shadow backlit in the frame of the doorway.
The glance Gibbs shot Ducky this time was almost …accusing, as if Tony had somehow coerced the ME into tricking Gibbs into leaving when Tony was clearly in no shape to be on his own. In response, Ducky patted Tony on the arm and took his leave, abandoning the younger man to fend for himself.
Bending as much as he could while still keep a grip on the crutch, Tony released the harness and began fumbling the vest off Rufus one-handed. He smiled when Gibbs knelt, joining him.
"How was my father?"
Freed from the vest, Rufus shook himself happily. Gibbs patted a warm flank as he rose. He brought his hands to Tony's shoulders, steadying his slight swaying.
"Come on," he said, tugging Tony gently in the direction of the hallway, finally settling him on the couch in the den.
"My father?" inquired Tony for a second time.
Gibbs took his hand, brushing a thumb along his knuckles contemplatively. "He was … fairly polite actually."
Tony sighed and Gibbs didn't think it was in appreciation of his caress. "That's a very bad sign," he confided, slumping further into the cushions of the sofa. "It means he thinks he can get away with letting the lawyers play bad cop and he doesn't have to dirty his hands."
"Your day?" asked Gibbs, hoping to deflect Tony's normal abundant curiosity.
"Met a man named Jack."
"Jack?" Gibbs, too, like most of his world today, was an almost colorless blur but Tony could easily hear the … suspiciousness in his voice.
"Makes a great corned beef on rye." Then he added with a sly smile, "Tells a really good story."
(tbc)
Apologies for the wait. Apologies if I haven't answered your feedback. Apologies for wasting time having Tony have a one-night stand with Alan Shore. Blush.Well, heck, just apologies all around. Thanks to C for beta'ing services! All mistakes remain mine.