A/N: Why hello there, how's it going? Thanks for all the lovely reviews (which I will get to in a moment), follows and favorites.

So, I saw the preview for the first episode with Jeanne, I heard that it should be a multi-episode arc. Assuming that you all have seen it as well, I'm gonna reiterate that this fic will not be much like the actual episodes. Hopefully though, you'll continue reading even when this story far outlasts Jeanne's appearances on the show.

Now to respond to a few reviews: Scat210: I do agree that Tony had some of his best moments with Jeanne (darn Jenny and her need for revenge). Well, you're predictions may or may not be true for my story.

Darkwirter69: Thanks so much, writing established characters is always so stressful. Tim; however, will not spend the entire story distressed but that doesn't mean I won't have a bit of fun with him. I think part of animosity that you've mentioned stems from a fondness for Ziva. For the purposes of this fic, Ziva is no longer, for lack of a better word, option.

Guest from chapter two: I was not by any means trying to bash Tony. I believe that Tim will always have a slightly less tolerant of Tony's behavior, no matter the reason for it. Since I was telling Jeanne and Tony's history through Tim, it sounded a bit harsher than say if Abby told Bishop. I was referring to other characters when I mentioned carpet calling, although that probably will happen to Tony some too. I feel as though Bishop is a somewhat neutral character since she hasn't seen Tony at his absolute worst or in his more immature days. I've tried to write her as someone who respects Tony and also sees his positive traits without it being clouded by his past.

Thanks again, hope you like this chapter!

P.S. I ran out of Casablanca references for this chapter, I'm sure you are all quite heartbroken.

Lock Your Horns

Tim made a concerted effort to talk to Tony over the next few days. He really did but with the other agent deflecting his questions with sometimes bizarre and occasionally brilliant theories, Gibbs being far too close for them to discuss such a sensitive topic and the dead SEAL, which turned out to be a more intricate then originally assumed, it never quite happened.

So it was with a slightly guilty conscience that McGee filled out his report Tuesday morning, detailing exactly why Sergeant Daniel Caedon had felt the need to smuggle 300 pounds of smoked Gouda aboard his ship and how it had led to his death. Tony sat right beside him, undoubtedly filling out a similar report although with perhaps a little more flare since the man had discovered the cheese in his own very unique way and because, he was Tony after all.

Tim supposed he could just walk over there and say 'Hey Tony, how's it going, I really liked how you found that cheese. By the way, what happened with Jeanne last week?' He could do that, but then again Tony did seem rather busy and Gibbs might come at any moment and Ellie was just across the room. He probably shouldn't chance it. With a slight nod and a mental congratulatory pat on the back, McGee decided that he would ask Tony to get lunch with him and under that carefully crafted guise would spring the question.

"Be back in a bit." It took a moment for Tony's words to filter through Tim's brain and by then the other agent had already crossed to Gibbs' desk and dropped his presumably completed report in the overloaded in-box. McGee noted that Tony had grabbed his gun and badge and had his suit jacket draped over one arm.

"Where are you going?" Tim blurted out before he could stop himself. Tony turned slowly, his eyebrows raised.

"Coffee, McMother." He responded lightly. "Did you want something, can't promise they have sprinkles."

"I'll come with you." Tim said, thinking that it would be the perfect opportunity to speak to Tony without any prying ears. He began reaching for his own gun but Tony waved his hand nonchalantly.

"I can manage, McGee. Besides, you know how Gibbs gets when more than one of us leaves." He didn't give Tim a chance to reply, already heading for the elevator as he called, "Last chance, Probie, Bishop." Neither agent answered so he shrugged and stepped through the elevator doors.

"Did he seem weird to you?" McGee demanded the second the doors closed. He turned towards Bishop who had not looked up through the entire conversation, keeping her attention on her computer screen. Even now she barely glanced up at Tim.

"Tony? No, he didn't seem weird to me at all. Now you on the other hand…" Tim narrowed his eyes at Bishop's downturned head.

"Ellie, this isn't funny." He insisted, frustrated by Bishop's continued lack of concern. "Something's going on, I know it. He's been acting…different ever since–" Tim paused and cast a wary glance around the room and lowered his voice. "Jeanne showed up." Bishop sighed and pushed back from her desk.

"He doesn't seem any different to me, McGee."

"When was the last time he played a prank on me?" Tim asked with the air of one presenting evidence to a jury.

"Not that I really keep track of it, but I'd say at least two months."

"Exactly!" Time exclaimed as though he'd proven his point extraordinarily well. "If he was behaving normally then Tony would've superglued something to my desk way before this."

"Tim, she came here less than a week ago. I highly doubt that it's related to Tony's mature behavior or that we need to be worried about him."

"Oh you just wait, he'll start being all responsible all the time, stop making jokes." Bishop frowned at McGee's prediction and swung herself up on to her desk, sitting in a cross-legged position.

"So, you want him to be immature and drive you crazy?" McGee slapped his hand down on her desk in a movement that was perhaps meant to be Gibbs-esque but simply made Tim look slightly manic.

"Yes. I mean no, of course not! But this is Tony, it's not natural for him to be serious all the time."

"I hate to disagree with you, but he's made at least three different jokes and movie references today alone."

"And then he'll start getting distracted and then Gibbs will notice and then it will be up to you and me to fix it." Bishop waited until Tim's tirade had ended, watching as paced the room, gesticulating wildly as spoke.

"Tim, his performance at work has been fine, I mean he did find the cheese. We both were sure it was a lover's spat." Tim sighed, yet again, and slowed his pacing, coming to a stop near Tony's desk.

"Maybe you're right, I mean if something was wrong Gibbs would've caught on before now." Absently he began fiddling with the notes on Tony's desk, slowly shredding a yellow post-it.

"You know if Tony notices you messed with his stuff, and he will notice, you won't stop hearing about it for at least a week." McGee instantly jumped back and dropped the sticky note, his eyes roving over the mess of papers to make sure nothing was out of place. He startled when a sudden beeping noise filled the room and after a moment grappled for his phone.

"Oh man, I totally forgot I was supposed to go pick up those test results for Abby. Ellie, you have to go instead. Please? She'll know something's up as soon as she sees me and then it'll only be a matter of time she gets it out of me and then Tony and Gibbs will both kill me." Bishop refrained from rolling her eyes only because she knew McGee's predictions were all too likely. Abby would take one look at him, make a mention of dissolving chemicals and half an hour later the entire Navy yard would know about Tony and Jeanne.

"Fine, but I still think you're overreacting." Bishop said, grabbing her jacket from over the back of her chair and hoping that she had a better poker face than McGee.

Once Jeanne had left the café and headed for her car, it dawned on her that she had absolutely no way of contacting Tony and hadn't confirmed where they'd be meeting. She was almost certain that he wouldn't have the same number as when they were dating and it seemed unlikely that calling him at work would get her anywhere.

So it was with a slight amount of apprehension that she lurked on the street across from the Navy yard, hoping that Tony would show up at the time they'd agreed upon. It was a quarter after ten and she noticed a few besuited men eyeing her suspiciously and she gave them a weak smile before they turned their attention back to their phones. She glanced at her watch again, wondering if perhaps she should push her luck and hope that Officer Simms was on duty.

"Jeanne." She spun around, the tails of her coat twirling slightly as she turned to face Tony. She studied him for a moment, noting that his expression was only a little less closed off than the last time they spoke. He looked good. His hair was neatly styled and he wore a black dress shirt beneath a dark suit jacket and pants that clung to his broad frame and accentuated his tan skin. Tony DiNardo had certainly never dressed this way.

"I wasn't sure you'd come." Jeanne said eventually. Tony shrugged, hunching his shoulders against a bitter blast of wind.

"I said I would." He offered as though that closed the matter.

"So where are we going?" Jeanne asked after they began walking, Tony leading the way. They'd been walking for a few minutes in silence, her question going unanswered, when Tony abruptly stopped and turned to face Jeanne.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, and believe me I am, Jeanne, can we just get on with whatever it is you have to say or want?" Tony said, his voice painfully bitter.

"I told you I just want–" Jeanne began in a soft voice, stunned by Tony's sudden outburst. It honestly scared her a little. It reminded her of how different he was from Tony DiNardo and of the times when she unknowingly saw a glimpse of Tony DiNozzo.

"I know, you want to talk. About what though, the great times we used to have?" Tony interrupted, his voice rising in volume as he spoke. "Or how I lied to you and broke your heart, does that sound like something you'd like to talk about?" Jeanne felt her fingers tighten into a fist of their own accord and had to forcibly loosen each one and press them flat against her thighs. Tony was baiting her, she knew it but couldn't stop the pain his words caused.

"Let's discuss how we talked about moving in together and told each other we–"

"Tony, do you really want to do this here." Jeanne whispered quietly, forcing herself to maintain control despite her pounding heart and the moisture threatening to coat her lashes. Tony's eyes tightened and he let out a mirthless laugh.

"You're the one who wanted to talk, I'm just trying to make you happy."

"Tony, stop." He closed his eyes at her quiet plea, the cruelty and hardness melting from his features just as suddenly as they'd appeared. She saw his chest heave and he sucked in an unsteady breath.

"I don't think," He began slowly. "This isn't what you need, it won't fix anything." Jeanne studied him for a moment, downtrodden expression and hunched shoulders. He looked neither the playboy nor the controlled federal agent now, but rather a man who was waiting for the next punch to be thrown.

"Tony, I'm not here to exact retribution or make either of us relive…the past." Tony stiffened when she paused. "I just need to–" The ringing of Tony's phone blithely cut her off and Jeanne felt thoroughly frustrated even though she had no idea how she planned to finish that sentence.

"DiNozzo." Tony barked into the mouthpiece and Jeanne felt sorry for whomever was on the other end. He listened for a few moments, running his fingers through his wind-blown hair but not looking entirely surprised by whatever was being said. "Uh-uh. Yeah Bishop, I've got it. Tell McWorrywart to take a couple of antacids, I'll be there in ten minutes." With that he jabbed the disconnect button and shoved his phone back in his pants pocket.

"Well, it looks like we'll have to cut this little shin ding short." Tony said, a bit of sarcasm reemerging as he gestured in the direction they'd come from. At this rate it would be Christmas before they got around to having a real discussion she thought as Tony set an impressive pace for their walk back.

They were just rounding the corner of the street across from Navy yard when Tony paused again and dug something from his coat pocket. After a moment Jeanne realized it was a pen and scrap of paper. He scrawled something across it in bold strokes and then shoved it unceremoniously into her open palm.

"This is my work cell so if you call more than three times a day they'll start asking questions. If you need something, text. And unless you want to spend some quality time with Leroy Jethro Gibbs and the CIA's finest I suggest you keep your presence at NCIS to a minimum.

With that Tony marched off, leaving a slightly gaping Jeanne with one Special Agent's cell number and the beginnings of a pounding headache.

A/N: So this chapter was a little difficult to write. I knew what I wanted to say but couldn't seem to get the words down on paper,