AN- Final part on Sunday, along with the next part of Safe Harbor.
When Tony finally arrived, wearing an expensive designer grey suit, new crisp blue shirt and dark sober tie Gibbs knew they were in trouble. The younger man only dressed like that when he was feeling especially insecure, needing the comfort of his designer labels to bolster his 'very special Agent' status. His cast iron, work related excuse, only served to highlight how he had gone out of his way to avoid obeying Gibbs order to be at his desk by 0800. The ex-marine had always preferred straight talking, it was probably one of the reasons he had never risen past Gunnery Sergeant. Tony made insubordination look like an art form.
Still he knew that the worse punishment he could hand out was to pretend he didn't notice DiNozzo was late. And he was just enough of a bastard not to react when his senior field Agent rattled off his excuse. If seven years of watching each other's six hadn't taught DiNozzo where he stood, then Gibbs wasn't sure how he was going to fix this in a way that his second would understand. Ducky might think the truth was the answer, but Gibbs could show him three ex-wives who would say otherwise.
Things had been different with Shannon.
As he worked with Ziva and McGee to analysis the MP3 files Langer had given him Gibbs covertly observed his senior field agent. Tony looked on silently, his face impassive as the others dealt with the audio files. Gibbs could only guess at the thoughts and emotions churning behind that mask. When he didn't contribute so much as a single word, not even a stray movie reference, or risqué aside to the discussion, Gibbs knew he couldn't put this off a moment longer.
"DiNozzo. With me."
For once, he bypassed the elevator and led the younger man to the conference room. He had already had three memos this week about tying up NCIS resources and judging from the stubborn expression on DiNozzo's face this might take a while. Closing the door behind them he turned around. Tony had moved across to the window, pointedly turning his back on any attempt to break through his defences. Looking at his stiff and defensive body language Gibbs could only sigh. It was his job to watch Tony's six and he had screwed that up one too many times recently. It was as good a place to start as any.
"I'm sorry." He spoke quietly. "You've had a hard enough time of things lately."
Gibbs blamed himself. He had been too busy trying to respect the younger man's status as a fully-fledged Field Agent, able to run his own operation, to watch that his partner wasn't being screwed over. It had been a damned rookie mistake on his part and one that he wouldn't easily forgive himself for. He knew just how easily DiNozzo's loyalty and need to be needed could be used against him.
"What exactly are you sorry for Gibbs?" Tony wasn't giving any ground.
"I'm still you're partner," Gibbs reminded him. "You know how that's supposed to work."
That got him a sideways look, DiNozzo's eye narrowing to calculating slips as he surveyed the senior agent. They both knew that in the world according to Gibbs if anything went wrong with your partner you shared the blame. Still, it hadn't occurred to Tony that his Boss might feel responsible for the way everything had gone to hell in a hand basket or for the professional and emotional fallout suffered by his senior field agent.
"Didn't realise you still felt that way," Tony was direct. "These days I seem to spend most of my time with Ziva or McGee. I figured it was your way of telling me it was time to stand on my own two feet."
"So, now you're all grown up, I just wash my hands of you?" Gibbs demanded.
Even as he said the words, the realisation hit him like a shower of ice water. What kind of an investigator was he not to have seen this coming? Ever since he had returned from Mexico his relationship with DiNozzo had been off kilter, only coming together under the duress of a case or when one of them had a need great enough to force them back into old familiar patterns. He had thought that the younger man was trying to asset his independence. Show that he was his own man. He should have known better. He did know better.
"That's the way it usually works." Tony's tone was hollow.
The soft declaration only served to fuel Gibbs' anger and frustration. He didn't need to wonder what kind of childhood DiNozzo had had that would lead him to believe that. He knew. David DiNozzo had effectively washed his hands of his son when he was twelve years old, turning his back on him entirely when he chose Phys Ed at Ohio Sate over Harvard Business School. The painful details behind those bald facts teased out of the younger man over weeks and years and months. How could Gibbs have been so short-sighted? Nothing in his life had prepared Tony for the fact that Gibbs was in this for the long haul.
"The hell it is."
Tony blinked once at his words, before he tipped his head on one side, his forehead crinkling as he considered his lead, blue eyes meeting green in silence conversation. Gibbs held his breath as he waited for his gamble to pay off. He knew it had worked when Tony pointed his finger at him, his expression becoming quizzical and a small smile hovering on his lips as he recognised Gibbs' version of an olive branch.
"John Wayne. You know, I've been waiting seven years for you to actually say that."
"I know." Gibbs conceded, with a small smile of his own.
Tony shook his head slightly, his attitude somewhat softened by the ex-marine's conciliatory approach. It made him start to wonder if he had over reacted. Gibbs had always been a pretty straight talking kind of guy. If he had meant to rub DiNozzo's face in something he wouldn't have left him in any doubt. But that didn't alter the fact that Gibbs had done what he had done and Tony wasn't sure he could get past that.
"Anything you don't know, Boss?" He raised the stakes a little.
"Don't have the first clue why you would be so interested in Brent Langer." Gibbs admitted blandly.
"Langer?" Tony cocked his head. He hadn't expected Gibbs to go straight for the jugular. He wasn't at all sure he was willing to raise the stakes this high. Nervousness made him babble. "Why would I be interested in Langer? He was nothing more than a probie when he worked with you. He only graduated tenth in his class. His fit reps said he was inexperienced in interrogation. And he didn't even last that long on your team before he scuttled off to the FBI with his tail between his legs. Why would I even care about him?"
"You tell me. You're the one who went to the trouble of checking out his jacket." Gibbs observed without heat.
Tony sucked in a deep breath. He knew he had walked straight into that one and part of him was even willing to accept that he had wanted to sabotage himself so that Gibbs would understand where he was coming from. Still, that didn't mean he was ready to have this conversation. He almost smiled as Gibbs simply waited him out, a calm, expectant, look, on his face. If the ex-gunny had started shouting, it would have given him something to push back, something to hide behind, it would probably have ended in a reprimand or even his suspension and neither of them would have got the answers they wanted.
Damn Gibbs for knowing him that well.
"You gave him a nick name," Tony burst out, when he could bear it no longer. "You never gave me a nickname."