Guys.
I love you guys.
I have been so thrilled and touched by the support this story has gotten. Thank you all SO MUCH. Sometimes I've had trouble writing this story, but the fact that people are enjoying it makes it worthwhile. I really hope the rest of the story lives up to your expectations!
Just wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude. Here's the chapter! Leave a review, if you are so inclined!
As one boring Discovery Channel documentary ends and another begins, Tony receives a call from Gibbs, instructing him to come to the cafeteria. He makes sure McGee doesn't need anything, then pops his head into Ziva's room to find her sleeping soundly before he goes in search of a staircase- he will not take the elevator.
It has been less than twenty-four hours since he last stood in the cafeteria, but it feels like a lifetime ago. There are more people milling around than he remembers from yesterday, but his mind hadn't exactly been unoccupied as he stood at the coffee station, willing himself to pick up the pot.
He turns his head in that direction and, sure enough, there is Gibbs, just turning around with a coffee in each hand. The older man catches his eye and nods at an empty table in the corner. Tony goes to join him, and his hand does not shake at all when he reaches for one of the coffees. "Thanks, Boss."
Gibbs sinks into a chair without a word; Tony does the same. The room around them is noisy with voices and clattering silverware, but they sip their drinks silently until Gibbs says, "Dearing is baiting us."
"He's been baiting us, Boss. The phone calls, the-"
"No. He claims to be turning himself in. Gave us a location to find him at."
Tony sets his coffee down on the table. "You know that's a trap."
"Yeah, I know, DiNozzo," he snaps. "But he likes to watch his handiwork pay off, so we know he'll be there. We're going in this afternoon with a bomb squad."
Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, he asks the question that is expected of him as senior field agent: "You need me?"
His boss takes a long gulp of coffee, and when he lowers his cup, Tony is faced with the fierce, withering stare of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The only instinct he hears is the one telling him to look away, but he refuses to back down and tries to understand why the hell he's being glared at.
Finally, Gibbs says, "Depends."
"On what?" He has absolutely no idea what's happening.
"Whether you're willing to leave her bedside."
Tony's heart stops as if he has been caught doing something wrong- except that he hasn't. "What?"
"You spent all night with Ziva," Gibbs hisses, leaning forward and using his finger to punctuate every couple words. "You didn't go see McGee until this morning. If I had asked you two hours ago how he was, you wouldn't have known what to tell me."
How the hell does he know that? he wonders, but it's a stupid question. It's Gibbs; he always knows. Maybe he talked to Abby or a nurse; maybe it's just obvious. In the end, it doesn't actually matter. But what does? Tony isn't sure of that, either. "Boss-"
"I'm not blind, DiNozzo. Okay? I see it. I can even understand it. Doesn't change the fact that I gave you an order. If I leave you here, I need your focus on the team. And if I take you in the field, I need you to not be distracted by thinking about Ziva."
Tony's mind is in so many places at once. He is angry, and he is ashamed, and he wants to prove his loyalty to his team, and he wants to tell Gibbs to go fuck himself.
I have never been so distracted by Ziva that I couldn't do my job, he starts to say, then realizes that is a lie, as is his subsequent thought: You don't know what this is like.
Gibbs does know. He's been down that road twice, first with Shannon and then with Jenny. It occurs to Tony for the first time that in a way, nobody understands his plight better than his boss does.
That is what gives him the strength to push down all the emotions that have risen to the surface and become the level-headed, rational agent who is not in love with his partner. Looking directly into Gibbs' eyes in order to communicate his commitment to the good of the team, of the agency, he says, "Tell me where you want me."
0000000000
The bomb squad has entered the warehouse. They should be treading carefully around the perimeter of the interior, but he is not sure, because his earwig is silent. He stands on surveillance along the outskirts of the property, twenty feet from the next agent, holds his gun steady in front of him.
This is Tony's job for now, and he is intent on taking down Harper Dearing if and when he appears. In the back of his mind, however, he is aware of the fact that Gibbs is also inside as part of the unit actively looking for Dearing, and he is not. Usually, Tony would be right on Gibbs' six- that's where he should be. The fact that he's not is indicative of a greater issue, one that will continue far beyond this op, this day. He has been demoted in a way that he hasn't been before, and he isn't entirely sure how to get back in his boss's good graces. No matter how long you work with Gibbs, the processes of his mind never become completely clear.
After this, Tony has a lot of thinking to do.
A voice in his ear alerts him of activity inside, and he rests his finger on the gun's trigger, prepared to fire. His eyes dart from one end of the building to the other, even though this is the northeast side and the action is said to be on the west.
The crack of a gun echoes through his skull, but for once, it isn't right next to him. "We got him!" shouts Gibbs, and then there is a shuffling noise he cannot identify- it feels strange not to be able to see it. "All clear."
Tony lowers his gun and takes a deep breath, and then decides to go assist whether Gibbs wants him there or not.
0000000000
Ducky's cheerful, entertaining brand of talkativeness has not been properly appreciated by Tony until a substitute medical examiner shows up for Harper Dearing's body. He gives his assistant instructions and the assistant complies; most of their interactions involve the words "hand me that". It is actually somewhat hard to listen to. As Tony helps Gibbs process the scene, he wonders if it is his boss who shot the terrorist. Probably was.
Whoever did it, seeing the killer become the victim is both satisfying and disappointing. Dearing got what he deserved, but in a way, perhaps the United States justice system would have been more of a punishment.
Too late for that, though. It's time to focus on the destruction he left behind.
Once the body has been transported to the morgue and all of the evidence bags are in the crime scene van, they get in the Charger and head out of the parking lot. Tony figures they are going to NCIS. Gibbs surprises him, though: "I'm dropping you off at the hospital."
"Huh?"
"Dearing's gone. We know he was working alone; there's no more damage to be done. That means that while I tie up loose ends, your job is the team again. Got it?"
The team. Heavily emphasized. "Yeah."
Tony can tell that Gibbs still isn't terribly happy with him, but they say nothing else until twenty minutes later when they pull up to the entrance of the hospital. Before Tony climbs out of the car, he manages to calmly ask, "Have you heard anything else about Ducky?"
"He's gonna have to stay in the hospital for about a week, and then we'll see. Not sure if he'll be able to come back to work."
He nods and turns to go. His boss calls to his back, "Keep your cell on, DiNozzo. I might need you."
A good sign, he thinks- but he still closes the door a little too hard behind him.