Title: Facing Forward
Author: CSIGeekFan
Rating: T (mild language)
Disclaimer: I would LOVE to own the show. Not liable to happen, though, which kind of sucks. So instead, I borrow the characters and hope no one gets too ticked off. :)
Author's Note: Reviews are appreciated. I hope you enjoy.

X X X

Tony estimated he'd gotten less than three minutes shuteye before his cell phone chirped at him. With a groan he sat up and his blurry eyes took in the caller ID. In a shot, he was standing and barking, "Whaddya got?"

Abby, from her position in front of the computers, turned to watch the middle-aged police chief stride into the lab and begin to pace. If she looked like she wasn't doing anything but spying, well… she wasn't. Actually, her babies were processing, so she was in wait mode. Instead, she watched Tony groggily sway in place.

The haziness in Tony's brain wouldn't process Ian's words at the moment. He was too damn old for this crap. Eventually, he muttered, "Hold on."

With an apologetic glance at Abby, he grabbed the Caf Pow! out of her hands, and sucked in a massive gulp of the highly caffeinated drink. And grimaced.

"This is nasty," he groaned, trying not to gag at the strong, over-sweet taste.

Grabbing it back, she sipped herself, and grinned wide. After shrugging, she replied, "Why do you think I never worry about people stealing it?"

It had done the trick, though. The jolt had made his brain spin and plop back into place, removing the fuzzy quality, and he once again asked his deputy, "Whaddya got?"

"Three boats haven't reported in yet, Chief," Ian said, his usual jovial tone dimmed. Those who lived and worked among the fishermen of the world understood the implications. More than once in the past, the bells at the Catholic church had rung out across the night sky, paying homage to those buried at sea – lost to its tragic and beautiful depths.

Tony hated this part of his job the most.

"Call Bert. See if the Coast Guard has any last positions or if they can try to trace them through GPS tracking systems," the chief said. If he knew his USCG counterpart (and he did), then the man would already be trying to trace the location devices. "Then call The Washout. Tell Bob he's in charge of handling the drunks."

"Then what?" Ian asked.

It took Tony a moment to realize his deputy's voice held a hint of panic. Drawing in a deep breath, he adopted the same calm tone he used on Emily when he said, "The best thing you can do is listen. No one expects answers."

Hanging up, Tony rubbed his eyes and wondered how much worse things could get.

"Problems?" Gibbs asked, sauntering past Tony after giving the chief a pointed look. Just as quickly, the NCIS agent said, "Abs. Got anything?"

"The equipment in the field may not have been able to the process the prints, but I could," she preened. "Just got an ID."

Tapping a couple of keys, she pulled up the picture of a Marine in dress blues, along with his corresponding data. "Gibbs. Tony. Meet Sergeant Gary Breen."

Glancing over her shoulder at the men, she gave an apologetic shrug and said, "The other prints were too degraded. Not enough ridge points."

X X X

"Gibbs wouldn't let you into interrogation, huh?" McGee asked a couple hours later. The man had never really mastered handling awkward silences.

"Gee, McGoo, this man might be responsible for something very bad happening to my oldest kid. Think I should be in there?" Tony asked, annoyed. Of course, he'd tried to wheedle his way into the room. What self-respecting man wouldn't want to beat a confession out of a drug-dealing scumbag… and his gut just screamed that Breen dealt in the sale of illegal narcotics. He'd been shut out, though, and Gibbs had made it sound like a gift he was even allowed in the damn interrogation room.

"Sorry," McGee muttered under his breath.

At least he's not stuttering, Tony thought as he focused on the man standing beside him in the darkened room. God knew he'd be better off shifting his attention or he'd end up slamming the smug bastard in the other room through the glass.

"I just want to get through this," he said and then sighed loudly. Tony turned his back to the window, not able to stomach staring at the large, young man sitting out of reach. Forcing a big grin, Tony asked the younger man, "So. Timmy. How's life been treating you?"

"Good. I've been good," McGee replied with a shrug.

"Dating anyone?" Tony ask, and then clarified, "I mean anyone that's doesn't require wires or an air pump?"

"Ha. Ha," McGee muttered, rolling his eyes. In the two seconds of ensuing silence, he fidgeted and then grudgingly added, "Yeah. She's real."

Tony watched as McGee's looked down shyly, and he couldn't help but smile as the younger man's cheeks tinged pink.

Some things don't change, he mused.

Even now, Tony took up his position behind the one-way mirror. Once again he stood in the observation room, waiting on Gibbs to perform magic. The team leader could pull a confession from a rock. Turning to look through window, Tony watched the clean-cut Marine shift in his seat. It was the smirk, though, that had his blood boiling. Yeah, Gibbs could perform miracles, and he had no doubt at all that the Sergeant Breen would be squirming soon enough, but he was tired of waiting on Gibbs. The asshole looked a little too… comfortable.

And his thought's turned to Curt. His boy, who could be hurt or worse. His chest ached with the worry, and Tony'd had enough. McGee stopped him at the door, as he growled low in his throat and tried to leave the observation room.

"Gibbs said to wait here," McGee said, holding onto Tony's bicep.

"I don't report to Gibbs," Tony ground out, and then jerked his arm away.

"Oh trust me. I know," McGee retorted. "I'm very well aware of the fact you don't work here."

And there it was – the resentment or anger or whatever it was Tim McGee hid below the surface. The baby-faced agent might look mellow, but Tony had been around when the younger man blew before. He'd just never quite seen this look on his face. McGee looked one step beyond pissed.

Backing up and turning to once again look at Sergeant Breen on the other side of the glass, Tony rubbed his eyes and blew out a long, silent breath.

"Why?" McGee asked from where he'd leaned against the door. "You never really said."

The younger agent didn't voice the real question, though. Tony could hear it in the other man's voice, though. Why did you leave us?

"You are probably one of the best cops out there," Tony said without turning around. "God knows you're a hell of a lot better than I ever was… or ever will be."

"I don't understand," McGee muttered.

The smile on Tony's face held a tinge of bitterness when he replied, "No, you wouldn't. You're a writer. A geek that people come to when they need help. You're a great agent. In fact, you keep growing and getting better and better."

When Tony glanced back at McGee, he took in the confused look on the other man's face and added, "I could never be that good." Spreading his arms wide, he humorously said, "What you see is what you get. Not gonna get smarter. Not gonna get tougher. Wasn't really needed."

Dumbfounded, McGee asked, "You left because you aren't a good cop? 'Cause that's crap and you know it."

"No," Tony quietly replied. "I left for a lot of reasons. The fact is that I was fast becoming a dinosaur in a world becoming more and more reliant on technology. It's just a piece of it all. One more chink in my rusty armor."

It hurt a little more for him to add, "I'll never be like Gibbs. Or you. Or Ziva. You have something special that makes you unique. I don't."

Incredulity infused McGee's voice when he said, "Let me get this straight. You thought you weren't needed here. Is that right?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Do you understand the mess you left behind?" McGee asked. "Gibbs and Abby didn't talk to anyone for weeks. It took months before the boss actually accepted you weren't coming back."

After a few seconds, Tony turned to face McGee directly and said, "I never intended to leave a mess behind. Hell, part of me figured everyone would be… relieved, maybe."

Angry again, McGee rasped, "Relieved? Are you kidding? We all walked around like zombies until the director took us off rotation for a month."

"I… I didn't know," Tony replied, stunned. Ducky hadn't told him about that. Not that the medical examiner said much, though. Tony had made it clear early on in their continuing relationship that he couldn't take knowing what was going on with the people he'd left behind. Eventually, he added, "I wish it could've been easier, but believe me when I say that I would have never left if I hadn't thought you could do the job."

He paused before added, "Probie."

Smirking, McGee walked up to stand looking into the interrogation room where the Marine didn't look quite so comfortable anymore. Apparently, cooling his heels didn't set well with the young man, and the agent said, "In case I never said it… thanks. I wouldn't be doing this job if you hadn't pushed me."

"I pushed you hard," Tony concurred.

"And I'm a better agent for it."

"Yes, because I'm just that good," Tony said, grinning as he, too, turned to face the interrogation room. "Be glad I didn't shove you off a cliff, McGeek. Was tempted to more than once."

"Doubt you coulda taken me," McGee replied, enjoying the banter.

"Any day, any time, I can take you, McCocky," Tony responded. "Just tend to think of you as the little brother I never wanted."

The snorting laughter made Tony smile. His lips quirked up a little more and he felt more than a little chagrined when he realized precisely what his former 'Probie' had just accomplished, and he wryly asked, "So… when did you perfect the art of distraction?"

McGee gave him in an innocent look, making Tony bark a laugh. The agent had quite successfully turned his attention away from the man in the interrogation room, and stopped a potential fight.

"I learned from the best," McGee eventually said, and Tony couldn't help but feel a good amount of pride.

He controlled the welling of overwhelming emotion by saying, "Well, I'd say let's hug, but I'd just as soon not turn this into a movie of the week."

McGee didn't have time to reply, because on the other side of the glass, the door opened, and Gibbs walked in.

Falling back into old patterns, Tony kept his eyes on the men when he said, "Twenty bucks, Gibbs does his 'bad guy, bad guy' routine."

"I think he'll do his 'Patience is a virtue' move," McGee countered.

With Tony's patience running thin, the two men in the dark room watched the interview begin.

X X X

It was like watching The Ballet of Hammers. Gibbs started off with one good whack and continued on and on and on, until the Marine looked like he would cry any second. The entire process took time, though, and Tony had gotten frustrated enough through the first hour – enough so that Ziva escorted the police chief out of observation and guarded him in Abby's lab.

"Come on, Zee," he cajoled, "just let me go up and watch."

"No, Tony," she calmly replied, leaning against the door. She'd made it very clear up front that he would not be leaving the room until Gibbs called.

For the past fifteen minutes, he'd joked. He'd laughed. He'd smiled. All in an attempt to let the girls guarding him know he'd calmed down. Now he was done being nice.

"Get out of my way," he gruffly said. "I don't wanna hurt you."

Tony realized his error the minute the words left his mouth. Ziva could take him down in one move. So he stalked to the sound of slurping sounds coming from Abby.

When the phone rang, he sucked in a breath and waited for the lab tech to answer. He didn't exhale until she clicked on her headset, smiled, and listened. Every painful, sharp nerve ending jolted to life, though, when the goth bounced over to him and said, "Gibbs needs you."