I own nothing, and I really do love Tony. My favorites are the original cast from season 1 plus Ziva. I have learned to love her, too. Haven't written just Tony before, but this struck me tonight as I read a fabulous fic called "The Third," and I started reflecting on Tony's status as Second. Reviews are always greatly appreciated.
It's the first time in over seven years that he's kept something from Gibbs. Yeah, Tony could think of a dozen defenses for his actions, including that Gibbs left and if someone has the upperhand… break it.. But they're all excuses, and he knows it. There are over fifty rules, with ones like always work as a team and never be unreachable. He was definitely unreachable when they all thought he was dead for a few hours.
Tony is Gibbs's second. And he can't help but find the title ironic. He's spent his whole life being second. Junior. Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. AKA, Anthony DiNozzo, II. It's funny, in a way that is entirely humorless, that his father always referred to him as 'junior,' and he can't help but sympathize with Indiana Jones (Jr) on this one. He was rarely second, often much further down on his father's list of priorities.
"Second place is first loser, Junior," his father had told him this dozens of times as a kid, but when he was five and in kindergarten, it all clicked. No one had to explain to him what being the second Anthony DiNozzo meant. It meant he wasn't first. As an adult, he wonders if his father ever made that connection. Ever knew what those seemingly character building words did.
Tony knows that he could quit this job in a heartbeat and making a killing doing just about anything he wants. He has all the DiNozzo charm, and he could (easily) have followed in Senior's footsteps. Once upon a time, it was all he imagined. He had won the cool kids over at every boarding school, and he quickly wormed his way into the good graces of the seniors at Ohio State. Armed with a talent for sneaking forbidden things onto campus in the form of liquid refreshment and feminine companionship, he was nearly exempt from hazing and the unspoken rule that the upperclassmen must make the freshman's life miserable.
It was a charmed life indeed, but he quickly found out that he was better at police work. It tapped into a part of his brain that, frankly, he wasn't sure how that part had survived the years of hard tackles and occasional concussions. Not that his tackles and concussions ended in college ball.
Through the years, he's always been hand picked. Recruited for Ohio State, plucked from vice to settle into homicide, and recruited for NCIS by none other than the Boss himself. The boss he lied to, really flat-out lied by omission for months now. The only one who's ever really cared to put him into place when he needs it, occasionally with a little head-slap for emphasis. Discipline and frustration are Gibbs's twisted version of milk and cookies, and he's feasted on it for years. It straightened him out enough to finally get a clue, to finally take something seriously. Too bad he choose La Grenouille's daughter as the focus of commitment.
Before him is the page of marks, which seems to grow by a name or two each time he glances at it, even if the list is exactly the same as it was when Gibbs first assigned it. Grunt work. Better yet, Probie work. Somehow, he skipped out on a lot of that Probie business, and again he chalks it up to DiNozzo charm and good luck. Sure he did his share of crawling in, around, and under God only knows over the years. He schlepped and did paperwork and all that other stuff he'd learned to tolerate and to give just the right balance of attention and procrastination back in Baltimore. But the other agents never stayed long on Team Gibbs, transferring within a few months at most to one team or another. And somehow he found himself Senior Field Agent after less than two years.
When the boss… 'retired,' he found himself with a team overnight. Less than that, within minutes. Sure Tony knew he was ready, knew he could do it. The Director herself had told him he did it well, too. But it wasn't the same, and as self destructive as it might be to his career, he had been lying a little when he said he wanted to be hang around to be sure Gibbs could handle coming back. Rota was over-rated anyway. Something about D.C. clicks with him, and this team is more than mere co-workers. Maybe being second isn't so bad. Maybe it all comes down to who, exactly, he's second to.
The picture catches his attention, and he knows there is something going on. It's more than two people with champagne, and in a second those tingling spidey-senses will put it together. Oh yeah, his instincts are kicking back in, and he's onto something here. Pushing to his feet, he turns on the nearest Probie, the original. Declaring the superiority of Good-Old-Fashioned-Police-Work, Tony is on his game again.
He might be second, but he's sure not third or fourth. He's Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. The Senior Field Agent. And while he might be running extra laps around the field, he's never out of this game. Giving McGee a smirk, he dismisses Ziva's attempt to shut down his come back.
They might be more like a Junior and a Sophomore, but he's still Senior here. And in Gibbs time, they're practically freshmen anyway. Oh yeah, this is his victory lap, and victory hasn't been this sweet in a good, long time. Besides, he knows he'll share the championship with them in the end.