Chapter 9
ooo
Jen was feeling generous. Well, she was actually feeling a little amused, which inclined her to be generous. It wasn't every day Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs brought in such a motley crew as he had today. Perhaps to interrogation—but not her office.
She probably shouldn't be allowing herself to find humor in this situation, since everything that had so far been said to her, although rather laughable in the theoretical sense, was not laughable at all if Gibbs really thought it was real. It was definitely not humorous if it really was real. Usually what Jethro accepted was pretty much synonymous with reality, but at the moment she wasn't so sure.
The shorter man, a Blair Sandburg, had apparently just come to the end of his explanation of the phenomenon that he called "sentinels," and stood waiting for her reaction, his nervous energy barely held latent. Next to him, his friend, Detective James Ellison—a "Sentinel" himself, apparently—was much more self-contained.
DiNozzo was in a twitchy state, discreetly positioning himself as much in her peripheral view as possible. No wonder. You couldn't help but feel sorry for his…condition, whatever it was.
Initially, she thought they were jumping the gun a little by assuming Tony's heightened senses were what this not-entirely-reliable-looking source was claiming they were. It wasn't just a biased opinion based on first impressions, though the long hair didn't work in the man's favor, as far as she was concerned. But he was an anthropologist, not a doctor.
Gradually, though, listening, she had to take into consideration that Gibbs and his team—and probably Abby and Ducky, if she knew them—were supportive of this, as well. Gibbs didn't do sloppy research, or jump the gun, or go on feelings, even gut feelings, alone. She would have to talk to Ducky about this, though. Whether or not he already knew, she was interested in his opinion. For all any of them knew, there could be a more, comparatively, commonplace medical reason for Tony's recent problems. And that kind of negligence in looking into details is exactly what makes Gibbs my top agent… Yeah, Ducky was aware all right, and had almost certainly ruled out the more commonplace possibilities.
Gibbs himself was, of course, in full command of any emotion he was feeling. She might have been imagining it in her search for a sign to the contrary, but she thought his posture was a bit strained. She couldn't laugh at him for his concern over the situation; the loyalty of Gibbs' team to each other was admirable.
They were waiting for her reaction to their little presentation, and she didn't know exactly what to say. She needed more, and something told her they'd come prepared for her skepticism. She pulled herself up a little straighter in her seat, and with only lightly condescending attention urged, "Please, continue."
Not antagonistically, Sandburg returned, "What else do you want to know?"
"Well, I'm afraid I'm going to need more proof. Even assuming all this about Sentinels is real, I have yet to see how all the problems Agent DiNozzo has been experiencing could possibly be useful, as you seem to think." Jen eyed him steadily, impressed by his fortitude and tenacity if nothing else.
"I don't think it can be useful. I know."
Sandburg looked slightly surprised when his friend Ellison spoke up in support of the anthropologist's adamant claims.
"I thought I was going crazy," the detective said gruffly, as if being forced into a confession. But he was intensely sincere, if in an oddly contradictory direct, and at the same time grudging, way. "The doctors couldn't find anything wrong with me, and I was getting desperate. And then along comes Sandburg, with his theory. It sounded even crazier than my problem." Ellison met her gaze evenly. "He was right, though. I wouldn't have been able to keep doing my job, much less excel at it, without his help. If you need proof that I have been excelling, you've only got to look at my record since Sandburg started working with me."
Jen made a scan of the assembly, lingering once again on Sandburg. "And you think you can help Agent DiNozzo with this as well? You think you can…sort this out?"
Sandburg clenched his jaw, his voice polite, but strained. "No, I can't sort it out. This is permanent, as far as I know." He sighed, seemed to gather resolve, and began again, even more earnestly. "Look…Sentinels in the past used their abilities to protect and help their people, and Sentinels today, well…they still possess the ability to do the same thing. Right now I'm sure dealing with all this seems like a problem you'd rather just get rid of, but believe me, in the long run having a Sentinel working your cases can be a huge asset."
Under his breath, DiNozzo muttered, "The 'asset' is sitting right here…"
Jen maintained her focus on Sandburg. "I repeat, I have no proof, aside from the fact that Special Agent DiNozzo has been behaving even more oddly than usual. And I fail to see how that could possibly be a good thing."
"Okay…right." She could all but see the wheels spinning in Sandburg's head as he thought. "Uh, I know this is probably a bit unconventional—"
"She's asking for the proof, Sandburg," Gibbs interrupted. "Give it to her."
"Right," the anthropologist repeated distractedly. He gestured to Ellison. "Director, Jim is willing to undergo any tests— under the condition that anything you learn about him remains confidential, and within reason, of course—" He gave a nervous laugh. "—that will prove to you both that he possesses the abilities I've been talking about, and that he can use them effectively."
Ellison looked anything but comfortable with the idea, but he nodded.
Jen raised an eyebrow. "What do you suggest?"
"Why don't I ask you some questions—just, a few simples ones. You answer with truth or fiction. Whatever." Sandburg looked almost smug with confidence and pride in his friend's abilities. "Jim'll be able to tell whether you're lying or not."
"You didn't say anything about mind reading," Jen said doubtfully. If this was some kind of elaborate prank, to see how much idiotic nonsense she would take before throwing them all out of her office, than heaven help them. Out of the corner of her eye, she studied Gibbs suspiciously, before pulling herself incredulously back from the thought. She wouldn't put pulling pranks above Gibbs, for all his dignity, and it certainly wasn't above DiNozzo, but this was hardly of the kind that either of them would've tried. She also liked to think they wouldn't have dared attempt it on her.
Sandburg hastily defended, "No, not mind reading. Keeping track of your heartbeat, breathing…Basically, a human lie-detector."
"He can do that?" Jen looked at Jim, and amended awkwardly, "That is…you can do that?"
"Try me," Jim challenged.
She gave an inviting sweep of her hand in surrender.
Sandburg considered for a minute. "What's your favorite food?"
"Lobster," she answered without hesitation.
Jim, eyes narrowed, and head tilted slightly to one side, shook his head.
Arms crossed, Gibbs was wearing a thin, satisfied smile. "Steak Diane."
Jen restrained the urge to shoot him a look of irritation. Gibbs could have conceivably revealed that fact beforehand. Why he would have revealed that fact was impossible to guess at, and ridiculously far-fetched. But still, it wasn't impossible for Ellison to have known… Or it could've just been a lucky guess.
Sandburg cleared his throat. "Uh…Have you ever been to Europe?"
"Yes." She watched Ellison watch her, and as an afterthought added, as sincerely as she could, "A very pleasant, relaxing vacation in Paris."
Ellison smiled. "You've been to Europe, but either your 'vacation' wasn't entirely relaxing, or it didn't take place in Paris."
Gibbs thin smile became more pronounced.
Jen narrowed her eyes at Sandburg. "Impressive." But she purposefully put an expectant edge to her voice, that dared them to do more than mildly surprise her.
Sandburg had, apparently, been anticipating it. He gestured to a legal pad and pen on her desk. "Write something—don't let any of us see—and rip it, and three or four of the following pages out."
Jen hesitated a moment, but curiosity won out. It all felt annoyingly like some children's game, but she tilted the pad away from them and, after a brief consideration, jotted down her phone number. She ripped it, and the following four pages off, and handed it across to Sandburg, who in turn handed it to Ellison.
Ellison began to run his fingers over the surface of it, eyes not focused on it, but narrowed and unfocused on his surroundings, like a blind person reading brail. But, surely, he couldn't actually feel the imprint left by the pen through four pages.
Head tilted in the same manner as when he'd, supposedly, read her pulse, Ellison, murmured, "6…"
"What's that, Jim?" Sandburg reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Stay grounded, man."
"Yeah, no, I'm here, Chief. It's a number. 644-3519."
Sandburg looked expectantly at her.
Jen nodded, feeling bewildered, and determined not to show it—at least not too obviously. Jethro was, doubtless, reading her like a book.
Ellison wasn't done, either. "That's not all, though. That's only the most recent. There's a list here for groceries, probably from the previous page—it overlaps. Orange juice, taco sauce, lunchmeat, olives…" He was smiling. "And something else too, but I can barely make it out. Something about meeting with—"
"All right, all right," Jen interrupted. "You've impressed me again. I can see he has exceptional tactile abilities…" Not unlike someone blind, practiced in using their sense of touch, might possess, she supposed.
"And hearing," Sandburg pressed.
"Well…" She wanted to believe, she really did, but as the director of NCIS she couldn't afford to jump to hasty decisions just because someone appeared to be performing miracles. "Though his being able to tell when I was lying could very well have been because of his abilities, it's also possible it could be explained by the fact that he's an experienced detective, and trained to read people. I'm sorry Mr. Sandburg, if I seem hard to convince. I assure you, I do take your claims seriously." She winced inwardly at the edge of condescension she hadn't intended the words to have.
Sandburg looked more indignant at her doubt than Ellison, but quickly subdued it, putting on a professional face.
Jen noticed that Gibbs' expression was far from losing its serene confidence. He could really be infuriating sometimes. It was as if, even when one of his plans seemed to be failing, he knew beyond a doubt that eventually they'd begin to turn in his favor.
Ellison actually looked good-humored about the situation. "Hey, Chief, it's fine. She's in a position where she needs to weigh decisions carefully. We'll just have to 'impress' her further." He looked to her for permission with a respectful, but faintly amused, expression.
He was really far too confident, Jen thought. Gibbs confident. She couldn't help but nod her acquiescence. Curiosity was definitely taking over, even if she still clung to skepticism for comfort's sake. This was all too foreign and bizarre.
The detective got that distant look in his eyes, brow furrowing in concentration, but not eclipsing his generally composed manner, which seemed to grow more satisfied as he focused on whatever it was he was focusing on.
Jen didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't what she got.
"You have a watch in the top drawer of your desk—on your left. And in the bottom drawer on the same side, a candy bar—Snickers—and a bag of potato chips. Sour cream and onion."
The room was quiet. Gibbs raised an eyebrow, at the revelation of her drawer's junk food content, no doubt, as much as anything else.
"I…can't always leave for lunch." Well-stammered, Jen, she thought, disapprovingly. But she did have some excuses. After all, she knew the contents of her drawers matched up with what he'd said. It was definitely unnerving. She cleared her throat. "How did you…" They'd already said how he did all this. They were claims she was slowly beginning to believe, despite herself. She tried again, "That is, that was… That was extremely impressive."
Sandburg was beaming. "I'm sure you can see now how effective a Sentinel's abilities can be. Just imagine the uses…"
"Yes, I do begin to see." She was finally gathering herself together, at least outwardly. She aimed her full attention—and thus the room's attention—at DiNozzo. "Special Agent DiNozzo, don't think I haven't noticed how quiet you've been throughout this conversation. To say this involves you would be an understatement."
DiNozzo was cringing under the weight of the interest, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"That means I'm waiting for your input, Agent DiNozzo," Jen added not without sympathy for his situation.
"You mean…do I think this is a good idea?" DiNozzo laughed mirthlessly. "'Cause it doesn't really seem like have a choice."
"Do you want to stay with NCIS?" Jen prodded.
DiNozzo looked at Gibbs. Gibbs gave him a hard stare, which apparently was meaningful to younger agent, who gave the smallest of nods in return.
DiNozzo looked back at her. "Do I have a choice?"
"Yes." She had, apparently, made up her mind. Despite the risks, despite the gnawing uneasiness she felt, despite paranoia that always reminded her it was better to be safe than sorry…she couldn't say no. But along with her leniency, there would still have to be stipulations. "If you want to remain, you will have to go through some unofficial re-qualification procedures. And they'll be set to a more rigorous standard to ensure your…'abilities' will not be a hindrance. Even when you do resume field work, I expect a gradual re-integration, allowing time for you to acclimate yourself to being a…well, Sentinel." She sighed, her mind going into overload thinking of all the safeguards this was going to require. All off the record, of course. "You'll certainly need to be aggressive in learning how to train your abilities, and…"
"We'll take care of it, Jen."
She'd almost forgotten they were actually standing there, listening to her think out loud. She looked at Jethro as he spoke.
"We'll take care of him."
A slight change from, "it" to "him," but Jen knew its significance to Gibbs. Tony was part of his team, and Gibbs would make sure he did this whole Sentinel business the right way. "Aggressive" was probably putting Gibbs approach to this lightly.
Jen took a breath, and studied him. She was almost certain there was a "thank you" written somewhere in the softening of his expression.
ooo
"Hey Boss," Tony used his customary greeting, which, over the years, had evolved more or less into one word. There were so many combinations, too: "Gottcha-Boss," "On-it-Boss," and—Tony's true forte—"Yes-Boss." It was as if anything respectful and affirmative in Tony speak had a default end conjugation, at least where it concerned The Boss.
Gibbs was used to hearing variations of the same upon entering the bullpen, often as he came bearing a head slap with Tony's name on it. He wasn't so used to being hailed thus upon opening his own door. He decided he could definitely get used to it. DiNozzo was better than a Golden Retriever. Yeah, he was probably stretching the dog analogies a bit thin, but, hey, if the shoe—or breed—fit, why not? The loyal ol' St. Bernard that growled too much, and the attention-starved Retriever with abandonment issues. Not the kind of well adjusted personalities perfect friendships were usually founded on, but it worked just fine for Gibbs.
"Just had to get out for some fresh air and grown-up conversation, huh?" Tony, hands in pockets, leaned casually against the doorframe between hallway and living room. His smirk said he clearly wouldn't have been at all hurt if Gibbs' outing had been a temporary escape from Sentinel-watching detail. They were, after all, both adults, and Tony's current inability to, say, bar hop, shouldn't keep his self-appointed baby-sitter from living a little.
Tony obviously recognized that, and how utterly selfish it would have been to, in any way, act as if he'd been abandoned. As a matter of fact, DiNozzo, literally smirked at the pettiness of the idea.
Sure you do, kid. Gibbs might have once considered himself one of the most stand-offish people he knew when it came to developing close relationships. Then he'd met DiNozzo, and watched him go through girlfriends like breaking up was his proudest skill. Gibbs had since come to recognize Tony's brazen, laughing-in-the-face-of-long-term-attachments attitude for what it was. And Gibbs' response? Push all you want; I'm not so easy to ditch.
Gibbs rarely explained himself, however, and although his absence of several hours had to have made Tony curious, some things were better shown than told.
Doing his highly honed skills of detection proud, Tony finally noticed the bags Gibbs carried in either hand, and queried, "Shopping?"
"Get the box out of the passenger seat. And lock the car."
Tony only showed a hint of rebellion at the cryptic non-answer, and left to do his bidding.
"Gee Boss," Tony's voice preceded him, as he returned from his errant and followed Gibbs into the kitchen. "If I'd known you were going shopping I would've ditched the McGeek and had some real fun."
"Speaking of McGee…"
"Oh, he got me here like a good little underling, but apparently threat of bodily harm brought out his true loyalties. Well, actually, it might've been the threat of a Magnum marathon that actually sent him packing," Tony rambled, his usual incorrigible grin traded for an interested expression as he studied the box he held. "Uh, what is this?"
"A white noise generator. Yours."
"Ah, yeah, I can see that, but… Wait, mine?" Tony studied the box some more, as if searching for a flash of enlightenment. "It's not that I haven't always wanted a…one of these, and the thing looks expensive, but…"
"It's noise-canceling, DiNozzo. It was suggested on the list; Abby demanded it."
"Why would I need—"
Gibbs looked over his shoulder from where he was unpacking a bag to stare at Tony, and it only took the younger agent a few seconds to catch on.
"Right. For…at night, like Ellison mentioned. And you really, really don't want me to make a big deal out of this whole gift-giving thing, or how touching it is that…uh, Abby thought to get one of these, 'cause that would only make things more awkward…and, yeah, I gottcha Boss." Tony set it down on the table with a sheepish laugh, and, mercifully, no attempt at further thanks. He switched the topic hastily. "What's all this?"
"I don't know, Tony, what do you think?" Gibbs returned sarcastically, pointedly producing bananas and setting them on the counter.
Tony cast a dubious look at the fruit, and the following bag of lettuce. "Abby think of this," he waved dismissively at the non-junk food, "too?"
"Wanted to make sure I had something 'edible,' as she put it," Gibbs murmured.
"And this is it?" Tony's doubt grew.
"Thought you might go for something bland right now." Gibbs had deferred to Abby's paranoia, but he'd taken his own precautions, as Tony's hyper-acute senses, over-active taste and all, didn't seem to be holding him back when it came to food.
It was truly laugh-worthy the way Tony's fears were visibly calmed at the sight of two frozen pizzas and a bag of nacho cheese flavored Doritos.
Tony gave a satisfied sigh. "That's more like it…"
Gibbs figured now was as good a time as any to address a subject he knew needed addressing—and knew Tony was going to avoid at all costs. Gibbs wasn't exactly excited about it himself, but he wanted to take advantage of the fact that at the moment he had something to occupy himself with (as apposed to sitting or standing around looking awkward, and making a point of having an official "talk"), and he also had his back to Tony, which meant there was the faintest hope Tony wouldn't feel cornered, and might, just might, not balk. Gibbs knew he sure wanted to.
"You doing all right with this stuff, DiNozzo?" It was a general question, more a matter of taking stock of someone who worked under him than something meant to prompt an in-depth heart-to-heart. Or, at least, that's the way Gibbs tried to make it sound. Concern always had a way of creeping in when it came to "his" people, and he didn't do much to try to keep it out.
Tony sounded edgy, but covered it with a casual air. "Oh, you know how it is, Boss." Gibbs "heard" him shrug. "Freaky, mutant abilities… Everyday stuff. On Star Trek. Or if you're Wolverine…"
Gibbs overlooked the sarcasm. "Found out who your Guide is?" Amazing, a day or two ago just saying the word would've made Gibbs cringe inwardly. Well, he still did hesitate over it a little. But there was something that felt right about it, or at least, not utterly and completely weird. Next thing he knew, he'd be sending in his own Nessy sighting testimonial. He didn't think this Sentinel business would ever feel completely normal, but, oddly enough, it didn't feel unnatural.
Tony didn't seem to share his sentiments. "Guide? Uh…why would I want to know?" He snorted derisively.
"Treat it like a joke and Abby'll be on your case," Gibbs warned with deceptive indifference. He didn't think he had to add that he would be on Tony's case as well.
Tony knew it, all right. His slip-shod attempt at flippancy slipped a little more. "Ah, c'mon, Boss. I'm really happy for Ellison and Sandburg, that it's all worked out so picture-perfect for them, and all… But honestly, where d'you expect me to pick up a Guide? Ebay?"
Gibbs ran out of groceries to unpack, and turned by default to brewing a fresh pot of coffee. It was only what….seven o'clock? He decided not to respond to Tony, in the off chance he might actually fill the silence.
The façade slipped yet further, leaving Tony sounding about as vulnerable as Gibbs could remember him being since the time he'd been locked up for murder. The phrasing, though, remained supposedly casual. "Well, actually, I did think about it…for a minute or two." His laugh fell flat.
"And?"
"And what?"
Gibbs glanced at Tony. "And who is it?"
"My Guide?" Tony blinked. "Oh, I don't think I have one." He shrugged again. "It was probably supposed to be my brother, but seeing as how I was an only child, and said brother never existed... Well, that does present a rather insurmountable problem, huh?" He grinned proudly at his impeccable theory. "Such is life."
Gibbs turned back to measuring out the coffee, and growled, "'Course you have a Guide, DiNozzo."
"But my brother—"
"Sandburg's been right about everything else so far, and I'm inclined to agree with him on this, too."
"That's great, Boss, but I don't have—"
"He thinks it's me." All imaginable puttering at an end, Gibbs turned, leaning one elbow on the counter.
"You mean, he thinks you're a…Guide? My Guide?" There was an odd mixture of terror and longing in his tone. Like he wanted to believe it, maybe even it had occurred to him, but didn't quite dare take the idea seriously.
"How clear do I have to make things tonight, DiNozzo? For a lead agent, you're making me repeat myself far too many times."
"Sorry, Boss, but I just thought you said—"
"You obviously don't have anyone else in mind." Gibbs plowed on before Tony could fit in another "boss," "Besides, from all descriptions, I pretty much have the role down."
"Really? Because, to me, it sure sounded like Sandburg was laying on a whole lot of complicated mumbo-jumbo… It sounds like a lot of work."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Sounded simple enough to me. Keep you in line. Watch your back. Don't let you go and get yourself killed." He turned back to the coffee machine, which was rumbling and gurgling as a sign of its near-readiness. "Simple."
"It's not that I don't think you're capable, or trust you, or—"
"Good." Gibbs poured himself a cup full of fresh coffee. "Now, are you going to set that thing up already?" He nodded towards the abandoned white noise generator. "Abby said she'd stop by later, and I'm sure she'll set it up if you don't."
"Yeah, Boss, I'm on it…"
Gibbs took a sip of his coffee, and watched Tony's retreat. He looked dazed. Poor kid. He'd get over it, and get with it. Maybe, eventually, Gibbs would too.
ooo
TBC
A/N: I am so, so, SO sorry I've been belated in getting this chapter up. More sickness at our house (hasn't hit me…yet, but my bro's been really bad off), too many story ideas in my head (NCIS ideas, to be precise *g*), yadda yadda… But I should've posted sooner; you have my humble apologies. *pleads for mercy* Thanks so much all, and specifically to my anonymous reviewers: Gold Berry, Dani, anonymous, and diana teo!
I'm purposing to have the next chapter up more swiftly. Pokes are welcome, though. Lol.
