Chapter 5
ooo
"I swear, I was really careful." Abby's eyes flickered uncertainly between Gibbs and Tony. "Well, maybe I talked a bit too much. I wasn't planning to, but asking them to help and all, I kind of felt obligated to show them at least a little trust. I didn't give him your last name, though, Tony, and there've got to be a lot of Tonys working at NCIS—and he might not even remember I mentioned NCIS at all."
"You did good, Abbs," Gibbs assured.
"Caff-Pow good?" Her insecurities not entirely dissolved, she smiled archly nonetheless.
"At least two," Tony promised. "On Gibbs' tab."
Gibbs serenely unconcerned glance indicated whose hide the cost was going to be exacted from.
Tony gave a short, nervous laugh, his fingers drumming on the round, white linen-covered table.
It was an upscale restaurant, but the dress code standards were comfortably casual enough. They'd asked to be seated in an out-of-the-way corner, and were now waiting for the rest of their "friends" to arrive.
Abby, Gibbs noted, seemed determined to voice enough anxieties for all three of them, since he and Tony were less inclined to conversation. Not that he was actually anxious—apprehensive, certainly.
"You know, if you'd asked, Ziva, and McGee, and Ducky, and everyone, they would've come…" Abby told Tony, with unshakable confidence in their co-workers' concern for Tony.
Tony looked like he was trying to imagine such an entourage. "Yeah, well, no reason to tie up everyone's evening."
"Honestly, Anthony DiNozzo, sometimes…" Abby gave Tony a pursed-lipped shame-on-you expression. "I'd say we all consider more than one tied-up evening worth figuring this out, right Bossman?"
"'Course," Gibbs replied easily.
It was amusing the way Tony ducked his head in embarrassment at that, and shifted the subject. "You suppose Ziva would've held my hand for this?"
"You just have to push your luck," Abby disapproved with a contradictory grin, happy to see his roguish self making a brief reappearance.
"Abby Sciuto?"
Gibbs noticed the newcomers out of the corner of his eye. Somehow, he hadn't been prepared for their current one-and-only hope to look quite so young. There was another man behind him, but from Abby's expression Gibbs was guessing this was the owner of the voice belonging to the Sandburg she'd talked to.
Abby had no qualms whatsoever. "Yup, that's me," she owned cheerfully. "But just Abby, remember."
To his considerable credit, the younger man, though surprised, didn't seem at all taken aback by her inescapably Goth theme. It earned him a grudging notch up in Gibbs' opinion.
"And I'm Blair Sandburg—just Blair, though, please," Sandburg introduced himself to the table at large. He gestured to his companion, and Gibbs heard a definite edge of pride to his voice as he introduced, "This is Detective James Ellison."
"Jim," the other man amended with an amused glance at his friend.
"Oh, please, sit down first—and I'll finish introductions," Abby said, polite, but carrying out etiquette by her own rules as usual. "Blair, Jim, this is Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs." She was even more blatant in her pride at using his full title, but at a look from Gibbs added, "You could probably just use Gibbs. And this is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo…Our very own Tony."
It was a little comical, Gibbs thought, the way the only two non-ranked people present were treating this like it was some kind of epithet duel. Thank God they didn't have any other government agents along or they'd have been making introductions all evening. "Thank you, Abby…"
"Welcome, Gibbs."
There'd already been nods of acknowledgement all around, and things might have become even more socially awkward if the waitress hadn't filled the gap with a well-timed appearance. Her tip was rising.
They ordered, and she left them to their conversation, which so far… wasn't. Abby and Blair made small talk, affording Gibbs the opportunity to observe the anthropologist. He was short, nearer average height, really, but seeming more so in contrast to his friend, wiry, and, as it turned out, had an outgoing manner of engaging in conversation that was perfectly compatible with Abby's. And he looked like he belonged in the seventies. Sure, Gibbs never let prejudices get in the way of his job, but he also never ignored his impressions of people. Sometimes that involved prejudices, because prejudices often had valid reasons backing them up, no matter how looked-down upon or un-politically-correct they might have become. In any case, he was entitled to his own opinions. The kid looked like a hippy.
Ellison didn't look like he belonged on the same page. Ex-military, almost certainly. He was athletically built and reserved.
So, Abby had mentioned the possibility of meeting a Guide and a Sentinel. If Sandburg was the Guide, that meant Ellison… Gibbs looked more closely at the detective, wondering if he'd missed something. Not that he was expecting some blatant outward manifestation. After all, Tony didn't actually look any different, aside from a certain pessimistic expression lately, and the washed-out hue of his skin. Yeah, Gibbs had his work cut out for him, there. But the point was, Ellison was calm, and to all appearances sane, occasionally smiling at the animated conversation between Sandburg and Abby. He looked…in control.
Gibbs looked back at Tony. Worn and tired, his fear was covered by a brittle cheerfulness that couldn't fool anyone who knew him. Uncertainty, and exhaustion. If Ellison really was a Sentinel—if all this stuff Abby was going on about was real, and it was what Tony was—then this Sandburg just might also have the key. Maybe we'll get to the bottom of this in one evening after all, DiNozzo. At least two Caff-Pows, Abbs.
ooo
While he talked, Blair kept a casual eye on "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo". He looked tense. Even more tense than Jim was. Oh, both of them behaved civilly, but Blair had a feeling neither of them were in any way comfortable with the meeting. They certainly had their excuses. Jim had enough bad experiences, ranging from Alex Barnes to Lee Bracket to Blair's thesis, that provided him with adequate justification to never want to reveal his abilities to anyone ever again. Those had been accidental revelations. This was, insanely enough, intentional. Blair wasn't too keen on that side of this, either.
But then there was Anthony DiNozzo, who looked on edge for another reason. He didn't know what was going on with himself: why his senses suddenly seemed determined to overwhelm him with input. And he couldn't control any of it. He was scared, lost, and clueless, and likely almost as reluctant to admit to it as Jim had been. In other words, he was at the same place Jim had been when he and Blair had first crossed paths. Blair knew that was probably the only thing keeping Jim here. But Blair also knew there was something they were going to have to get absolutely, one-hundred-percent clear before either of them explicitly admitted anything about Jim being a Sentinel. Blair was eager to hear the details of Tony's experience, both from a scientific mindset as well as out of more compassionate motives. However, he was more determined to follow Jim's lead on this one.
Looking back and forth between them, Blair was on the watch for yet another likely cause of tension. His data might be somewhat limited, but both research and personal experience pointed to the results of a meeting between Sentinels being… not pretty. With Alex, Jim had been crazy just being in the same city with her, a tug-of-war between instinctive attraction and mating urges and the instinctive territorial need to get the other—hostile—Sentinel away from his "tribe" and his Guide. Fortunately, the whole mating urges thing seemed to be… quite obviously not an issue here. The whole territorial dispute thing, however, could prove even more frightening.
So far, the level of such tension was proving surprisingly low—which would fit with theories Blair had considered before, regarding the occasional need for Sentinels to work together in the course of protecting tribes, or even as part of the training of younger Sentinels. In this case, Tony was younger mainly in the sense of inexperience. His abilities might not even have come fully "on-line" yet, and he apparently didn't have an established Guide to protect, all things that might help to defuse hostilities. Temporarily, at least. Definitely something to keep an eye on.
After their meals had arrived, and small talk began to dwindle, Jim finally began.
"Let's just get something straight from the beginning, here," he said in a low, not-quite-hostile, but warning, voice. "You guys seem like professionals. I don't have any way of knowing for sure yet whether you actually need our help in the way you claim. You might, or you might not. But I want to make it clear: if this is some kind joke, or an attempt to get information or use us for your own purposes, drop it now. Sandburg's not going to be forced to endure any more ridicule from anyone over his thesis."
"Understood," Gibbs answered evenly.
Jim and Gibbs locked eyes, and it ended with Jim nodding in at least partial concession.
"You'll understand, then, if I have to promise to kill you if you're using him," Jim gestured towards Blair with a small jerk of chin, "in any way to further some hidden agenda."
Blair certainly hadn't expected Jim to take this slant. Jim was the one in actual danger if things went south, here. A corner of his mind was simultaneously fascinated by the fact that it was not the two Sentinels who were facing off at the outset. Could it be just because of the different alpha-male dynamics of this group?
Gibbs again met Jim's gaze squarely. He looked vaguely amused, but not in a condescending way. Actually, he looked rather… approving? "Yeah, I can understand that."
ooo
It was like converting Jim to the idea of being a Sentinel all over again.
This afternoon, they—the same ensemble from the previous night—were using a park as neutral territory for a test run. Only, Tony wasn't so keen on actually doing tests, as Blair was discovering. Not that Blair had been so undiplomatic as to call this a "test" or an "experiment." He wasn't waving cameras around, or trying to get Tony to perform incredible feats, or explaining to him how cool it was that he was a "behavioral throwback to a pre-civilized breed of man." Nope, Blair liked to think he was a whole lot more experienced this time around. And his new pupil was still turning out to be just as stubborn as his first.
Tony was more polite about it then Jim had been. After all, he hadn't grabbed him by the front of the shirt and called him a "neo-hippy witch-doctor punk." Although, that could be yet to come. In all fairness, though, he had kind of deserved it at the time. His initial approach to Jim had been… less than tactful. In any case, Tony's look had said, plain as day, "You're crazy," when Blair suggested he try extending his sense of smell voluntarily.
"Why?" Tony said aloud, when Blair insisted.
Blair glanced at Gibbs, who was striding patiently on Tony's other side, listening, but so far not speaking.
"Because, Tony, you need to practice this if you're going to control it."
"Not to be rude, but, actually, I was thinking more along the lines of getting rid of this."
Blair sighed. Here we go again. He didn't bother looking to Jim for input, since he could hear he was busy behind them being talked at by Abby. "Look, if I come up with a way to get rid of a Sentinel's abilities, I'll let you know, but in the meantime…"
"Ellison's a Sentinel," Gibbs interrupted, his statement sounding part question.
"Yeah, and he has got to be…" Tony began adding to Gibbs question, than hesitated.
"Cured?" Blair was sure to give the word a proper amount of distaste. "No. He's not repressing his abilities, either. As far as he's concerned, it doesn't need a 'cure'—he doesn't have some kind of disease." He looked at DiNozzo. "And neither do you."
Tony clenched his jaw, clearly not liking the idea of "it" being a disease, but still not persuaded to Blair's view. "I can't do my job like this. Every time I…" He shook his head. "It's just not working."
"That's because you don't know how to control it," Blair spoke adamantly, hoping to God the guy wasn't as touchy as Jim had been, once upon a time. When the reaction he got was simply a dubious one, he repeated, "You need to practice this."
"Give him a chance, DiNozzo."
Gibbs didn't sound happy about it, and he didn't say it like an order, but Blair was surprised at they way Tony almost instantly deferred, though not sounding any happier about it than his boss.
"Yeah, sorry… I guess I do owe you some cooperation. You are doing us a big favor here," Tony said wryly, looking mildly apologetic. "What do I do?"
The first time he'd done this whole Sentinel thing, for a while it had been almost completely composed of one-sided begging on Blair's part, and grudging allowances from Jim. So it was a little bit of pleasant surprise to realize that, in this case, he might have the upper hand. This guy needed his help, and he was gradually beginning to acknowledge the fact—along with the fact that Blair wasn't getting anything out of this beyond satisfying a desire to help. Although Blair already had "his" Sentinel, getting the chance to help another certainly wasn't at the bottom of his list of things he'd like to do. Far from it. But there was no reason for them to know that.
"I'm pretty sure there's a hotdog stand just a little ways further on," Blair began, slipping into Guide-mode like a second skin. By now, it was sometimes more natural. "Just stand still for a minute." He gestured to Jim and Abby, who also stopped. "Close your eyes—"
He was interrupted by a small cry of pain from Tony, simultaneously echoed by Jim. Instinctively, Blair turned to his Sentinel. Jim was grimacing, and a concerned Abby was hovering.
"Jim, what…"
"Dog whistle," Jim gritted out. He shook his head, as if to dispel the irritating noise, and waved in Tony's general direction. "I'm fine. It just caught me off guard—help him out, Chief."
Tony was curled slightly forward with a hand to his temple. Gibbs had a supportive hand on his shoulder, but looked uncertain as to how to proceed.
"Tony?" Thankfully, there weren't any strangers nearby to observe. Blair still might have hesitated under normal circumstances, but a Sentinel needed help, and since Jim was doing all right that was all his instincts needed as incentive. "Tony, I need you to focus on my voice."
Dog whistles weren't dangerous to Sentinels, not like zones could be, or as overpowering as being caught without warning by an ambulance siren with your hearing on full blast. Nonetheless, from past experiences with Jim, Blair knew they could be painful. Blair wasn't sure why, exactly, but even when his hearing wasn't turned up high, it appeared Jim's Sentinel radar could still pick up the noise. So, apparently, could Tony's.
Tony seemed to follow the sound of his voice all right, and his shoulders were just relaxing when he jerked away again, cringing. Someone had a disobedient dog—or was just having fun with the whistle. C'mon, lay off it already…
"Tony, keep focusing, here. It's gotta hurt, I know, but you just need to keep turning that volume down. Think of it like a mental dial – like on a radio," Blair murmured, keeping his voice extra quiet. "You can do it, man, you just have to keep turning it lower until it stops hurting." Blair could feel the older agent's eyes on him, both concerned for Tony and curious about his methods, but he was in his own "Guide's zone" and didn't pay Gibbs any attention. Only when Tony shuddered and relaxed did Blair relax as well. "You with us now?"
Tony took a deep breath, massaging his temples. "What was that? Man…" On second thought, he glanced sheepishly from Blair to Gibbs. "I didn't flip out, or…zone, or something, did I?"
Blair made a smooth retrieval of his hand from Tony's shoulder with a reassuring cuff. "Nah, you just heard a dog whistle for the first time, you're entitled to a reaction. But you did good."
"Oh…" Tony sounded dazed. "A dog whistle?"
Gibbs was scowling, scanning the park.
Blair cleared his throat. "Hey, um, look…as tempting as I know it is to take out those whistle-blowers after something like this, it's not like they were trying to hurt anyone, and they are legal for calling dogs, man."
Gibbs gave him a glance that was supremely not amused, and continued to look, but didn't appear to have spotted anyone in particular.
"Tony, are you okay?" Abby finally ventured forward, looking timid about actually touching Tony—an event which Blair guessed to be abnormal, given her generally demonstrative tendencies.
"Peachy." Tony's grin was precarious, but gaining strength through will-power.
"It gets better, DiNozzo," Jim offered gruffly. "Trust me."
Tony seemed anxious to be rid of their overt concern. "Uh, Sandburg, you said something about practice and a…hotdog stand?"
"You sure you're up for that right now?"
"Someone blows a dog whistle, and now I need a nap?" Tony brushed the idea off with a snort of derision. "Yeah, right. It'd take something closer to a fog horn to do that."
Well, Blair had to admire that. It was a superficially macho and flippant way of covering up an obvious drive to get this, and get this well and learn quickly, if he was going to do it. Maybe DiNozzo wouldn't be such a tough case to convert after all. Of course, if he started pursuing all suggested courses of action like this he might not last too long... But there was something about this group—Abby, reigning in the urge to mother, and Gibbs, observing him critically—that made Blair think he'd have more than a little help in making sure he took care of himself.
ooo
TBC
A/N: You all know how to keep an authoress veeery happy with reviews. It's like…writer's caffeine! *cue happy, hyper bouncing* Every time I get one of your lovely reviews, it gives me even more energy to write. So thank you for the steady supply! And particular thanks to Jes, g, phoenix414, Richefic, and Dani, whose anonymous reviews I couldn't respond to, but which I found incredibly encouraging.
Ta da: (almost) everyone's met. There's more interaction to come. And more with the team as a whole—McGee and Ziva are not forgotten. ;) So, lemme know your thoughts, folks; as ever, I'm dying to hear them.
