Chapter 16 . . .Getting Back on the Horse.
Gibbs was skilled in many things, watching people without them even being aware of it was just one of those skills, but he utilised it to full effect for a full ten minutes before slipping his hand into his pocket and hitting the send button on his cell.
The first test was of Tony's reaction to the crime scene photographs. It had been a messy bust, suspected terrorists trying to infiltrate a naval stockyard. Tony had taken two of them out; Ducky had confirmed that the kill shots had been his, and pictures of the dead men were the first thing Tony saw when he opened the file.
Tony stared at the photographs; his normal reaction was a slight twinge of guilt at taking the life of others, before he reminded himself that he'd had no choice. It had been a kill or be killed situation. They had fired back, they could have killed Gibbs or Kate or McGee or some innocent bystander. Emotion wasn't something he could afford to dwell on, wasn't something he did dwell on. At least he hadn't before, hadn't until Jeffrey's death had robbed him of any perspective, of any way of dealing with the emotional void.
He stared at the blood, and now? How did he feel now? Looking back at what he had done before. He drew in a deep breath and thumbed quickly through the rest of the photographs, looking for the report. Maybe reading the report would be easier, wouldn't force his mind to confront questions that he wasn't ready to answer.
Gibbs took note of the slight increase in breath rate, the momentary indecision and panic, the classic avoidance tactic of moving past the photographs to something that was easier to face, the regain of control by increments as he began to read. He was ready. It was now or never.
Gibbs flipped open his cell on the second ring. "Gibbs," he answered gruffly, listening for a moment before his second reply, equally abrupt. "Where?" There was another pause, then Gibbs flipped the cell phone shut without another word and tossed it across to a startled Tony.
Tony had been watching him since the first ring, a welcome distraction from the case report, so he managed to catch the cell, despite the abruptness of the throw, but not without sacrificing the file which slid from his knee to the floor. He had no chance to retrieve it before Gibbs snapped a "Hold on?" and threw the SUV into a sharp U-turn, to a blaze of horns and screech of brakes from other traffic.
Tony grabbed for the door and the dash, his hold restricted as he attempted to keep his grip on the cell at the same time. He braced himself as well as he could, as the rear end of the big vehicle fishtailed wildly, before straightening. He just about had time to draw in a few deep breaths against the uncomfortable nausea of being thrown about, before Gibbs slewed the vehicle wildly again, passing between slower moving traffic with barely more than a few inches of air between vehicles.
Tony took another deep breath in an attempt to compose himself. "Gee I'd forgotten how much fun it was to let you drive," he stated sarcastically.
Gibbs ignored the comment, as he'd known he would. "Call Kate, tell her I have the location of Petty Officer Michaels. He's holed up in a warehouse on the corner of East and 17th. I need her and McGee to meet me there- now."
Tony didn't protest, didn't make any comment about the fact that Gibbs was treating him like he'd never left, following Gibbs orders was as natural to him as breathing. "Kate?- Yeah it's Tony," he interrupted her quickly before the fact that he was calling on Gibbs' cell had chance to pull out the stream of questions he knew she would have. "Look no questions I have a message from Gibbs. He's just got a call on the location of Petty Officer Michaels, a warehouse on the corner of East and 17th. He needs you and McGee to meet him there."
"Where is Gibbs?" Kate asked.
So much for no questions. "He's driving. We're on our way there now."
"So he's taking you with him?" Kate sounded a little uncomfortable at the idea.
Tony hadn't really thought about it. "Yeah, I was in the SUV when he got the call, so yeah, I guess I'm going too."
"But. ."
"Just tell her to stop asking questions and get her butt over there." Gibbs snapped abruptly. "I've lost this guy twice I'm not about to lose him again."
Tony gave a slight swallow, the tone Gibbs was using wasn't one you argued with. "Gibbs says. . ."
"It's OK I heard," Kate interrupted. "Tell him we're on our way." There was a slight pause before the click, as though there was something else that she wanted to say, but whatever it was she decided against it.
Tony pulled the cell from his ear and stared at it for a moment, trying to get a handle on his own emotional state. Adrenaline was certainly pumping through his system, colours seemed brighter, sounds sharper. The SUV slewed again, breaking the moment as he was forced to move his hands and brace himself once more against the movement. "She said they're on their way." He repeated the reply to Gibbs as he analysed Kate's reaction. She was concerned that he was there? Of course she was concerned, he was broken, out of the game, only good for reading files. Why wouldn't she be concerned that Gibbs was taking him along to pick up a suspect, with the sort of urgency reserved for terrorists and killers?
Gibbs seemed to sense his unease. "Sorry about dragging you along for the ride but I don't have time to drop you off. No telling how long this guy will be in there for."
Tony gave a slight shake of his head. "Not a problem," he stated, as his mind split in two. There was the half that reacted instinctively to the adrenaline that was coursing through his system, the promise of action and danger. It was a situation that was familiar, he'd been trained for it, had experience. That part of him was ready for action, ready to get back in the game, and then there was the half that was damaged. The part that tensed muscles that shouldn't be tensed, that coiled his intestines painfully, that forced beads of sweat to form on his forehead, that panicked his thoughts, and kicked up his breathing rate, and took him back to that cusp between life and death that he'd been in the wrong emotional state to face. There was a brief battle as the two sides vied for control, but ultimately it was the panic that was stronger as it dragged him back into a world of flashbacks of gunshots and blood and. . .
"Tony!"
It was only the familiar tones calling his name that pulled him back to reality, that made him realise just how lost he'd been. The SUV was parked across from the entrance to the warehouse. Gibbs was standing next to him, checking the clip in his gun.
"OK I'm going in," Gibbs stated calmly. "When Kate and McGee get here send them in after me."
"Shouldn't you wait for backup, boss?" Tony asked not even noticing the subconscious slip this time. "I mean you have no idea. . ."
Gibbs looked up from his weapon, met his gaze with those sharp blue eyes, that uncompromising expression that dared anyone to challenge it.
Tony's protest died on his lips. Gibbs knew what he was doing. Gibbs always knew what he was doing.
Gibbs shoved the clip back into his gun without looking at it again. Instead he held Tony's gaze. "You stay here. Send Kate in when she gets here."
Tony nodded; he could do that. Gibbs slipped his gun into his holster and without looking back ran across to the warehouse. Tony watched him until he moved out of sight around the corner, and then he was alone.
A few weeks ago and Gibbs would have been trusting him to watch his back, not leaving him behind, cowering in the front of the SUV like some child who needed to be protected from the danger. For the first time Tony's own impotence hit him. It struck hard and painfully like a slap across the face, or an ice cold drink poured over his head. It wasn't the physical pain, it was the humiliation, the knowledge that he couldn't protect himself, couldn't back anyone up, couldn't back Gibbs up. The one thing that gave him some pride about himself, that he allowed his own worth in, and he couldn't do it any more. He opened the door to the SUV and swung his legs round, leaning out as he attempted to control the almost overwhelming nausea.
"Tony I need help now," Gibbs usually tightly controlled tones sounded panicked over the tinny radio that sat behind Tony between the seats.
Slightly startled, Tony didn't think to question why the radio was there or why it was switched to receive. He looked not at it but across to the building where Gibbs had disappeared. That was when the gunshots rang out loud and clear. Tony stared, a low grunt of pain echoed across the airwaves, and finally Tony turned and scrabbled for the radio behind him. "Gibbs," he yelled into it. "Are you there?" Only static greeted him. He swore softly and threw the radio down, yanking open the glove box he pulled out the gun and checked the clip. Then he ran toward the building, without a second thought. Instinct and experience and training took over, running roughshod over any protests from his subconscious mind. There was nothing now but reaction.
He moved more cautiously as he hit the side wall. He could see the open entrance only a few feet from the corner and he flattened himself against the wall as he sidestepped along. The entrance was a gaping eight-foot hole, where the sliding door had been pushed out of the way. There was no cover anywhere, no way of checking on the insides without going in.
Tony tried his best to slow his breathing to gather his concentration. The next split second could mean life or death. He drew in one last full deep breath and threw himself through the door, his gun held out in front of him as he swept the interior. He almost froze as he saw Gibbs. He was being held from behind, a knife at his throat, but the man holding him appeared to have no other weapon and so Tony continued his sweep of the room, reacting just before the muzzle flash from the gun held by the second man. Tony dropped into a dive, rolling forwards, towards the second suspect. He heard the bullet whiz over his head as his shoulder hit the ground, and then he was rolling, coming up on one knee and firing two shots simultaneously. The second man staggered back and dropped, but Tony had already switched attention away from him and swept the rest of the room. It was empty.
Slowly he turned his gun back to the extremely nervous looking young man who held Gibbs.
"D.drop the weapon or I will kill him," Petty Officer Michaels, tried to sound confident threatening. He failed.
"Hey Tony, what took you so long?" Gibbs asked casually, as though he'd just gone to get coffee.
"Well you know, three weeks off- doesn't take long to get out of shape," Tony's reply sounded equally casual, but he drew aim on Michaels' head, ready to pull the trigger at the slightest sign that Michaels was going to use the knife.
"I s. . said, drop the weapon," Michaels said, shifting to pull Gibbs back, closer against him. "Or I will hurt him."
Tony shifted very slightly as well. "Not gonna happen," he stated. "Only thing that is going to happen is that you are going to drop that knife and let my boss there go, or you are going to die."
Michaels looked nervously from Gibbs to Tony and back to Gibbs again. There was something entirely too calm about the man he held. A man with a knife at their throat ought to have some sort of reaction. He switched his gaze back to Tony. "This guy's your boss?"
"Yes," Tony replied, without hesitation, something in his world had shifted, had clicked back into place, and he was sure that he'd have time to analyse it later but for the here and now he could just accept it. "And holding him like that is liable to make him tetchy, and trust me you don't want to see him when he's tetchy." Tony paused for a breath, he was sure he'd seen a brief smile cross Gibbs' face. "So," Tony took a small step forwards, "what you are going to do is drop the knife, take a step back and lace your fingers behind the back of your head."
"I'd do what he says," Gibbs stated. "I am his boss and I can tell you two things about him. First, he's an expert marksman- your buddy over there already found that out. Secondly, he gets bored very easily, if you wait too long, he just might shoot you anyway."
On cue Tony raised his weapon and overtly drew a bead between Michaels' eyes. "Drop the knife, now!"
The knife clattered to the floor and Michaels stepped back. Gibbs turned and quickly cuffed him, before pushing him ahead of him as he moved across to Tony. His eyes had never really strayed from the younger agent's face. Tony just lowered the gun, not moving until Gibbs got close, and then he fell into step beside him.
Kate and McGee arrived as they emerged from the warehouse into the afternoon sunshine. They both stared pointedly at Tony, their eyes drawn to the gun which still dangled from one hand.
"Gibbs what. . .?" Kate began.
"McGee take Petty Officer Michaels in for me." Gibbs pushed the prisoner across to him, before turning his attention to Kate. "There's another body in there it looks like we interrupted Michaels in the middle of one of his drug deals. You'll need to call Ducky and get another team out here."
"But Tony. . .I. . ." Kate was having trouble processing what she wanted to ask
Gibbs just carried on as though she hadn't spoken "Tony took him out, it was a clean shoot but I want this to go by the book." The quiet intensity of the statement, somehow seemed to quell all of Kate's protests. Gibbs needed her to sort this out. He needed to finish whatever it was that he had started with Tony.
"OK, I'll take care of it."
He met her gaze briefly; it was enough to convey his silent gratitude
Tony didn't look up, didn't stop, he carried on walking towards the SUV, only stopping when he reached it. He placed the gun carefully on the hood, staring at it. Just that morning he couldn't have picked it up without throwing up. Now it felt right, almost comfortable in his hand. Everything he had just done felt right.
"What just happened?" he asked quietly, without turning.
Gibbs stood next to him. "You just got back on the horse Tony."
"As simply as that?" Surely it couldn't be that easy. Not after. . .how could he. .
"You want it to be more complicated."
Tony thought about that for a moment. He shook his head. "It just feels like it should be."
Gibbs head dipped for a moment as memories of his own living nightmares briefly broke through the defences. "I know." There was a pause whilst he re-boxed the images and emotions, and carefully filed them again. "but often it isn't- you just need the right incentive to climb back in the saddle."
Tony turned to lean his back against the vehicle, leaving the gun behind him. "There could be complications, since I'm not an agent anymore and I just. ."
"There'll only be complications if I remembered to file the paperwork on your resignation, and we've been really busy since you left us short staffed."
Tony turned to see a rare grin on Gibbs face and returned it. "Thanks," he said quietly, turning to stare at the police vehicles arriving at the warehouse.
"That's OK, I'd better get back and help process the crime scene." He began to walk away. He had only taken a few steps when he turned. "Oh and Tony."
"Yeah boss."
"You can get out of that car now."
Tony looked around a little confused. He knew he'd been disoriented but he was pretty sure he wasn't. . . "But I'm not. . ." and then the real meaning hit him. "Yeah," he replied thoughtfully, "Yeah, I guess I can."