Thanks once again to everyone who has taken the time to read/review/message; your encouragement and constructive criticism is much appreciated.
I hope you all had a nice time over the holidays, and a Happy New Year to you all!
Had hoped to get this out before Christmas (managed to have half of it done), but I am far from being one of those organised few that seem to have everything sorted before the calendar even hits December and things got pretty manic pretty quickly, as I'm sure many of you will understand. Things have calmed down now (slightly) so hopefully the next one won't take as long.
Without further ado, on with the story…
Tony was sitting and his desk reviewing files on the DC branch of the Diablos in an attempt to uncover any possible link between the criminal organisation and Staff Sergeant Henson; so far he had not found anything tangible.
It probably didn't help that he spent half of his time glancing towards the elevators.
Fornell might have helped him, Sam and Agent Gibbs to take down Lamb and her human trafficking ring, but the FBI Agent still had a long way to go towards making up for his past mistakes in Philadelphia.
Tony had no doubt that the man was good at his job; his own gut told him that much and he had more than enough trust in Gibbs' judgement. The Senior Agent appeared to have an almost antagonistic relationship with Fornell, but it was clearly one that involved mutual respect; despite the sniping that frequently occurred between the two of them, both agents had worked well alongside each other in Baltimore.
The ding of the elevator caught Tony's attention for the eighth time in the space of ten minutes; Fornell stepped out with two more agents that clearly belonged to the FBI, dressed in the stereotypical trench coats and dark suits.
"Gibbs," Fornell greeted his NCIS counterpart as he arrived in the bullpen; he noticed the way DiNozzo was looking at him and his agents with careful, assessing eyes as he passed his judgment. Fornell wasn't concerned with what the younger man thought; he had offered him a job once and certainly respected DiNozzo's abilities, but he wasn't about to let one man's mistrust stop him from doing his job the way he had been doing so for going on twenty years.
"Agents Best and Richardson," he gestured to the two men who were quietly looking around the bullpen with obvious curiosity. "They both work with the Organised Crime Unit over in the Hoover Building; they can tell you more about the DC branch of the Diablos than I can."
Gibbs' eyes narrowed.
Fornell fought hard not to roll his eyes. On the one hand, he felt quite privileged that Gibbs only ever seemed to want to work with one man from within the FBI's hundreds of agents; on the other hand, Fornell found being that one man came with all sorts of problems.
He knew that he was good at his job and his seniority had meant that he had many years of experience from within many different departments; that did not make him an expert in all of them. He knew that Gibbs would be opposed to working with the unknown, but for all their flaws, Best and Richardson were good agents who knew their targets well.
"I understand you're looking into the Diablos," Richardson asked and without waiting for an answer slapped down a series of thick folders on the empty desk opposite Tony's. "We've brought along some of the more important files to guide you through, but they've got a pretty extensive network of foot soldiers; some of them barely rate a mention in these," he gestured towards the paperwork.
"We would, however, like a guarantee that you're not going to step all over any of our current investigations unless your case has a direct link to one of them. We've got a few high-profile targets who are close to indicting themselves; we're hoping that when they're faced with a number of serious charges they'll cut a deal and give us info on the bosses and maybe even confirm the rumours that they're involved with the Sinaloa Cartel.
"We would also like to be included in this investigation. We'll try not to step on any toes but if there is a provable link between the Diablos and the Sinaloa Cartel, then we want access to that evidence; that is a link that, if it exists, needs to be shut down hard and fast."
Gibbs started scowling the moment he heard the restrictions; he had never liked taking orders and normally only tolerated them when they had come directly from his CO. His time in the military might be over but he was still a Senior Agent in a Federal Agency and the guy telling him what to do looked like he'd bought his badge from a toy store.
On the other hand, they needed access to any and all information that would either get Henson to turn on his friends within the trafficking ring or evidence that would point to other suspects, and, loath as he was to admit it, he could perfectly understand not wanting another Agency to ruin months if not years of case work.
"No guarantees," Gibbs warned. "But we'll try not to trample all over your on-going investigations."
Fornell immediately nodded his agreement, all too aware that Gibbs had just made all the concessions he would ever agree to make.
"Tony ?" came a voice from the side, an interruption of his paperwork that he was more than happy about. "I told you I'd be seeing you around."
Tony looked up into the eyes of "Paula Cassidy, right?"
"You remembered," the female agent replied with evident amusement. "So, did you manage to find your way to the lecture hall ok, or did you end up as someone's punch-bag?"
"I got there fine, thanks," Tony offered a smile as he remembered their first meeting.
"And now you know who you work for," Paula stated. "You must," she said as she gestured to the desk. "You found your way to a desk at NCIS, after all."
"Didn't even need someone to hold my hand," Tony grinned. He was enjoying the banter and clearly, so was Paula Cassidy.
"Well it was nice to see you again, Tony, but I've got work to be doing; I guess I'll be seeing you around," she gave a little wave as she continued her way through the bullpen towards the stairs, giving Gibbs a respectful nod as she went.
"Bad idea, DiNozzo," Gibbs advised from his desk.
"Huh?" Tony questioned, a little confused as to what the Senior Agent was referring.
"Dating a co-worker; it's a bad idea," Gibbs repeated, his gaze fixed on Tony.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Tony denied with feigned indifference.
He did.
He had seen Paula, thought her attractive and already enjoyed her playful banter; his mind had taken him to the exact scenario Gibbs was clearly warning him away from.
"Sure," Gibbs muttered sceptically. "Rule Number Twelve, DiNozzo…"
"Seriously?" Tony interrupted. "You have a rule for this? Is there anything you don't have a rule for?"
"Rule Number Twelve, DiNozzo: never date a co-worker!" the Senior Agent continued, sending a glare towards the younger man for the interruption. "It never leads to anything other than disaster."
"I guess it's a good thing I'm not then, isn't it," Tony offered with a smug grin before turning back to the stack of files on his desk.
Gibbs sighed and returned to his own work. There had been an obvious chemistry between the two agents and the idea of a relationship might look good on paper but he knew all too well the dangers of dating a co-worker; it looked as though DiNozzo was going to have to learn the hard way just why it was a bad idea.
The two NCIS Agents and the three FBI Agents had been going over their collective data for over four hours, trying to find the weak link in the trafficking ring.
Henson still looked like their best bet for the witness stand but he had lawyered up, looking to the clearly seedy Brian Parks for his instructions; that the SSgt was scared was evident, but exactly who he was scared of was still unclear.
Through their contacts, Best and Richardson had managed to find more evidence to support the rumours that the Diablo organisation had increased their ties to the Sinaloa Cartel over the past three years by way of arms dealing, strengthening their own local power and their income; they were still unable to tie any of Henson's known acquaintances to the trafficking ring, the Diablos or the Cartel.
"We're still missing something," Tony sighed as he threw yet another heavy folder down on his desk with evident frustration.
Gibbs looked up from his own reading but did not interrupt; he, too, felt as though they were missing a vital link but that link seemed to be just beyond his grasp.
"We know Henson was involved and we know that he must have had some help from his friends, even if we can't prove exactly who those friends are," Tony started.
"Yet," Gibbs promised. "We can't prove who those friends are yet."
"Yet," Tony agreed. "But all this digging is taking us nowhere other than in circles; his friends have a few disciplinary issues but nothing major and nothing that points towards gun-smuggling. Not one of them has even the vaguest ties to the DC Diablos and the one Marine who is originally from DC is more white bread than Martha Stewart.
"The Diablos seem to be the likely suspects in inviting the Cartel into this little shindig because I can't see a Marine without any ties to the Sinaloa organisation just proposing a business deal like that out of the blue, but how the hell did the Diablos get involved in the first place? Henson doesn't exactly scream 'arms-dealer extraordinaire' to me, so how did he go from being your average Joe Friday Marine to Sam Cummings?"
"That would be our missing link, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied as he tiredly scrubbed a hand over his face.
"So we need to cross-reference names," Tony stated. "We use the men and women employed at Norfolk, not just Henson and co., and check them against the names that Best and Richardson have given us," he nodded towards the FBI Agents. "Have you got the names of everyone you suspect of being involved in the Diablos on computer somewhere?"
"We do," Agent Richardson asked. "I'm sure our supervisor will permit access to the data."
"Do you think Abby could do it for us? It'll take a while," Tony pointed out as he turned back to Gibbs. He knew that he wasn't the best with computers and he was well aware that the Senior Agent was even worse.
Gibbs nodded.
"I can go and get her started on it, give her a hand?" Fornell asked; he knew about the case but only as much as he had been able to read since arriving at NCIS. He'd spent his time reading through many thick folders where very few of the names or circumstances had meant much of anything to him; sometimes, being the only FBI Agent in town that Special Agent Gibbs would play nice with could be a tiring and tedious affair.
Gibbs nodded and picked up his phone to let the Forensic Specialist know that Fornell was coming down to see her; Abby was never going to follow the FBI Agent's instructions without knowing that they had already been Gibbs approved.
There would likely be a lot of names and no doubt there would be all sorts of links, from former high-school classmates to childhood neighbours; it would take a long time to narrow down the list to something even halfway useful.
"When you were a Marine," Tony started once Gibbs had finished on the phone, "who on base knew the most about what was going on behind the scenes?"
"It depends what you're asking about," Gibbs shrugged. "The guys who worked in the mess hall were usually pretty well-versed in the latest scuttlebutt before anyone else because people would talk in line and forget they were there.
"Some CO's knew that all sorts of things were happening on base that shouldn't have been and chose to ignore it all anyway; some CO's spent their entire time behind a desk and were completely oblivious to just about everything, while other CO's got more involved than any Non-Com was comfortable with.
"The Quartermaster always knew what…" Gibbs trailed off.
"Knew what?" Tony asked when it became clear the Senior Agent was not going to continue.
"The Quartermaster," Gibbs almost slapped his head at his stupidity. "No one knows what's coming into a base and what's leaving it better than a Quartermaster does; if there was something going on, either he's unbelievably stupid, or…"
"…Or he's in on it," Tony finished. "There wasn't a Quartermaster listed in any of those files we were given; I've been over them so many times I could probably recite them backwards and there is no Quartermaster mentioned."
"Tony, who gave you all the information on Henson and his friends?" Gibbs asked as his infamous gut pushed him towards a theory. He started rummaging through a box looking for something he had seen earlier.
"His immediate CO, Gunnery Sergeant Michael Aikers. Why?" Tony asked.
"Look at this," Gibbs handed over a picture. "You recognise anyone in this other than Henson?"
"No," Tony shook his head, nonplussed. "Should I?"
"If you've been combing through the files of his so-called friends on base, then yes, you should. We pulled this from Henson's apartment," Gibbs looked back at the photo; the men were all relaxed and smiling happily at the barrack-house antics of two men, one of them Henson. "That not one of these men were in the files you were given leads me to believe that either Aikers doesn't know his men all that well, or…"
"…Or he was lying to us," Tony completed the Senior Agent's sentence once again. "He wasn't in the photo either," he commented offhand. "Maybe he's the missing link; maybe he's the one who brought the heavy hitters in and he's been trying to lead us off course."
"DiNozzo, you and Best go and see what you can find out about Aikers; see if you can find any reason that would explain why he lied to us," Gibbs told the younger man, not even looking at the FBI Agent as he issued his orders. "Richardson and I will look into the Quartermaster, see if we can find any links there."
"GySgt Aikers took his mother's maiden name. Michael Aikers' birth certificate says his real name is Miguel Esposito," Tony supplied as he put his finds down on Gibbs' desk. "His father is Manuel Esposito; that is the same Manuel Esposito that's on the DEA's watch-list suspected of being a vital link in the Sinaloa network between their home-base in Culiacán and their operations North of the Mexican Border. Manuel Esposito has apparently been a real asset in their on-going war with the Tijuana Cartel in securing the major drug routes across the Border."
"The real question is whether Aikers is secretly working in Daddy Dearest's name, or is he simply trying to strike out on his own?" Best asked, more to himself than to anyone else. "If he's trying to make a name for himself then he should be much easier to take down because he'll be lacking the major support network that his father could secure, but if his father is involved then the Cartel have infiltrated the US with far more efficiency than we could ever have suspected."
"Well the Quartermaster has more money in his account than he should, but not all that much which leads me to believe he is either a big spender or, more likely, he is lower down on the totem pole than we thought. It could be that the move to deal with the Cartel has pushed down his earnings; might give him reason to be pissed enough at them so maybe he'll be looking to co-operate," Gibbs informed them.
"If he isn't too terrified," Tony mumbled to himself. The major Mexican Cartels all had fearsome reputations, especially when it came to dealing with suspected rats.
"We need to get any and all information that links the Quartermaster, Henson and Aikers," Gibbs told them. "We can't afford to go after a Cartel like the Sinaloa with only half the intel."
"Come on DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he got up and slipped on his jacket. "We're going home." Normally he would do everything he could to avoid leaving a case in the middle of a major breakthrough like the one they had found earlier, but he knew that DiNozzo was still not up to handling more than one full day of work without consequences on his still healing body.
He also knew that there was nothing they could do that couldn't wait until morning; Abby was still sifting through names, happily chugging down Caff-Pows and banging her head to her music, and Aikers was still on base in Norfolk with the FBI posting cars outside the main entrances, keeping an eye out in case the GySgt decided to rabbit.
Everyone needed to get some shut-eye if they were going to be on top form the next day; taking down the DC branch of a major criminal network could be exhausting work to even the most bright-eyed of agents.
The FBI Agents had returned to the Hoover building to see if they could find anything else on the Esposito family and any connections that they might have with Norfolk in an effort to avoid any nasty surprises; Gibbs had no doubt that Fornell would take care of his own, just as he planned to do.
DiNozzo might have found himself an apartment, but he still had no furniture and hadn't even had the time to look for any; Gibbs wasn't going to let the recuperating young man kip in a sleeping-bag until their workload died down enough to afford him some free time to go shopping for a bed.
"Now, DiNozzo," he huffed with impatience as the younger man was still bent over a file; for a guy who liked to present a frat-boy image, he was really quite the workaholic.
As soon as Tony got out of a wonderfully hot shower, he picked up his phone and made a long overdue call.
"Hey Kid," Sam warmly greeted his former partner. "How's everything going in DC? You're not overdoing things, are you?"
The response was a sigh, and Sam could perfectly envision the eye-roll that undoubtedly accompanied it; some things would never change.
"No, Sam," Tony answered. "I have not been over-doing things."
Sam didn't believe him for one moment; not only did he know the younger man all too well to ever trust that he'd take a step back and rest, but he had also spoken to Special Agent Gibbs.
The former Marine Scout Sniper had phoned Sam on a couple of occasions, asking for advice on how to handle his stubborn new recruit; the man had been worried that Tony was over-doing things and that he remained unconvinced about his new job.
Sam couldn't imagine Gibbs ever willingly asking someone for their assistance, but he was certain that the man laying aside his pride, even if momentarily, was a sign that Agent Gibbs knew exactly what he had acquired with Tony and was determined to do everything in his power to keep him.
Tony had phoned frequently, checking in and doing his own clucking over Sam's injuries; the man could whip up an impressive lecture if he ever thought that Sam was not following the doctor's orders to the very letter, but when the situation was reversed, nothing could convince Tony about the merits of painkillers and bed-rest.
Tony always failed to see the hypocrisy of the situation.
Despite the fact that Tony had phoned and phoned often, he had yet to really talk about anything beyond healthcare and superficial topics; he always seemed to skirt around any issues that were even remotely close to revealing how he was really feeling.
He had learnt early on in their partnership that if he ever tried to get Tony to talk about something that he would really rather avoid, then he was either led on a merry little conversation and an artful lesson about deviation, or he was given a quick searching look before being faced with nothing more than Tony's back as the man walked away to find less intrusive company.
Tony was so used to being able to flash one of his many masks at people who got too close who then thought he was either an idiot, an asshole, or both, that or they had just been given more information about the man than they could ever have asked for or ever have wanted to hear.
Their assumptions were almost always wrong.
Tony could be an idiot about all sorts of things and he could certainly be an asshole without ever really trying if the mood struck him, and despite Tony's tacit nature where all things personal were concerned, the man was always happy to share far too much information about his latest meaningless conquest that left you wondering what aspects of his playboy living were fact or fiction.
But those traits were only ever one or two layers of the complex young man.
To get the truth from Tony, you had to wait until he was ready to share; Sam had grown used to that over their two year partnership, and he hoped that Gibbs understood that vital aspect of his rookie agent's personality.
"Of course not," Sam finally muttered in a tone that let Tony know exactly how much faith he had in his former partner's answer.
"What about you?" Tony challenged. "Are you over-doing things?"
The conversation had become routine; neither one accepting the other's answer on their state of health. Sam was not always honest with others or with himself when he was hurting or ill, often adamantly denying that there was anything wrong with him, but he was nowhere near as bad as DiNozzo; the kid was a master at diverting attention away from himself and his potentially hospital-worthy injuries.
"I'm fine, my leg is fine and there has been no over-doing of anything," Sam insisted, even as he glared across the room at his discarded stick.
The doctors had insisted that he use the stick for a while longer yet, helping to support his bodyweight as his knee healed itself from both the shooting and the surgery. But the stick was a symbol of everything he had come to despise since his shooting: dependency and debilitation and a demotion to riding a desk. The thought that he might need that stick for the rest of his days was enough to make him want to ignore it altogether.
"Sure you are," Tony snorted disbelievingly.
"Is everything at NCIS going ok?" Sam asked, changing the topic. He knew that he had to be patient with Tony, but that didn't mean he wasn't prepared to nudge the younger man in the right direction.
"I don't know," Tony sighed, all too aware what Sam was really asking. He also knew that the older man not only deserved to know, but that his knowing would provide Tony with a sensible sounding board for all his fears and frustrations.
"The Director has been asking the instructors to keep an eye on me so that they can report back to him," Tony pointed out with a hint of disgust at being watched so closely. "It feels like they're always watching my every step and no one else; it's worse than an IAB investigation."
Sam frowned, despite the light-hearted grumblings, he knew that the idea of being watched so carefully bothered Tony as it would have bothered anyone; being singled out was bad enough but being singled out for no other reason than simply being hired…that was never likely to sit well with the young man.
Tony had many, often crippling insecurities, but the pride he had for his job and the confidence he had in himself when it came to work was something he had held onto through everyone else's criticism and hazing and downright suspicion. To hear the doubt in the usually self-assured younger man was more than worrisome, it was bordering on disturbing.
"I'm sure that has more to do with Agent Gibbs than with you Tony," Sam tried to assure his former partner. While it would undoubtedly have something to do with the unorthodox way in which Tony came to join NCIS, the Director would undoubtedly be nervous about what kind of people Agent Gibbs would look to hire after being given a carte blanche to form his own team.
"Yes, I know," Tony confessed. "But it doesn't say a lot about the way I must come over on paper, does it? I mean, the Director gives Gibbs the go-ahead on forming his own team, but then I come along, and all of a sudden the Director thinks that maybe he made a mistake."
"You don't come across well on paper," Sam agreed truthfully. "You've got as many reprimands in your file as you do commendations, and you've pretty much earned them all, the good and the bad." DiNozzo was a damn good cop, but sometimes he let his passion overrule his sense and that had undoubtedly led him into the path of unavoidable trouble from time to time.
"You made Detective early with no mention of why," Sam pointed out, and quickly continued so as not to offend Tony. "You earned it, definitely, but Philadelphia PD wanted to keep things quiet, so your jump to Detective was always likely to raise a few eyebrows for those who didn't know the facts, Tony."
"Yeah," Tony sighed. He knew that Sam was being completely honest, and he needed that, but he hated that it was the truth; tainted by the corruption that he had helped to uncover but had never been a part of, being penalised for doing his job and doing it well.
"It's not just the Director, though," Tony confessed. "There are a lot of people who aren't all that fond of me over here."
"Did you really expect everyone to greet you with open arms?" Sam asked, half bemused and half concerned. Tony had taken a lot of crap from people throughout his career, partly because of his name and his wealthy Long Island background, partly because of the way he chose to keep everyone at arm's length and a whole host of other completely inconsequential reasons.
In Baltimore, people had been suspicious about the mystery that surrounded his leap to Detective status; Sam had been one of them right up until he actually got to know the younger man.
All in all, Tony had been forced to deal with a lot of animosity and Sam had thought that perhaps he might be immune to it by now; he had momentarily forgotten that despite the mask of apathy that Tony showed to the masses, it really did bother the man.
"No, but it would have been nice," Tony finally spoke; the world-weary tone told Sam that the doubts of those fellow agents had begun to seep over into Tony. Once again, Sam heard the evidence that Tony was starting to start doubt himself in regards to the job, hinting that the criticism he had faced through so much of his law enforcement career was wearing on him far more than usual.
"Give them time, Tony. To them, you're new and inexperienced; they'll come around once they know that you're not only serious about the job, but more that competent at it, too," Sam tried to encourage him.
"Yeah, because that worked so well in Baltimore," Tony stated wryly, although Sam could still hear the doubt there.
"It did for those that mattered," Sam said firmly. There had still been many doubters, even after Tony had proven himself to be more than proficient at the job, but Tony had still managed to earn the respect of some truly good people. From the men and women in Patrol, like Blackburn, to talented and popular Detectives, like Wells, right up to the Chief of Police himself.
He had not been oblivious to the facts that all of Tony's doubts surrounding his potential career at NCIS had not been based upon Gibbs; he had been concerned at the hits that Gibbs might be taking on his behalf but there had been no concerns with the man himself.
Sam was pretty sure that it was a sign that even if he hadn't admitted it out loud or even internally, Tony was going to give NCIS a chance. It was nothing to do with proving himself to the Director, or to the multitude of agents who were not yet savvy to Tony's true aptitude, but Sam knew, right from the early days of working alongside Gibbs in Baltimore to the current days of doubt and confusion DiNozzo was suffering through in DC, that Tony wanted to prove himself to Gibbs, wanted to prove himself worthy of Gibbs faith in him and his abilities.
Sam knew that Tony had nothing left to prove to Gibbs; all that remained was for Tony to prove to himself that he belonged in DC and on Special Agent Gibbs' team.
"You're on to a good thing going here, Tony," Sam assured the younger man. "Don't give up on it just yet. If Gibbs manages to hold on to you beyond your customary two years, then I think that you've got the makings of one hell of a team."
"Yeah, I know," and he did; Tony knew that he and Gibbs worked well together, but he just wasn't sure whether or not it would last. Tony wasn't a lot like the rest of the people working their way through FLETC courses; people with academic degrees and computer wizardry were fast becoming the poster children for Federal Agencies across the US.
"Just think, ten years down the line you two could be the elite crime-fighting duo in DC," Sam smiled as his mind instantly took him to a mental image of a tough as nails Gunnery Sergeant wearing tights and a batman mask, with Tony's grin bright and wide despite the ridiculous costume he was wearing.
Tony had a similar mental picture and instantly recoiled from the absurdity and the rather disturbing imagery it conjured; Gibbs was just as likely to get into a pair of tights as Tony was to commit to a life of celibacy. "Yeah, right, like that would ever happen!"
Finally managed to get another chapter out; thanks for your patience. Let me know if you spot any errors.
White Bread – slang term meaning boringly suburban and middle-class.
Sam Cummings – a former CIA Agent turned arms dealer who, with the full backing of his government (in the 1950's - 1960's) supplied a vast array of weaponry to people and organisations the world over. Though normally falling into the hands of US approved foreign governments, they sometimes ended up in the hands of the enemy.
Non-Com – Non Commissioned Officer.
Quartermaster – on land it is a soldier (or unit) who is responsible for distributing supplies to the troops, although at sea, the Quartermaster works on the ship's navigation.
DEA – Drug Enforcement Agency.
IAB – Internal Affairs Bureau. They police the police.
Next up – they move in on the Diablos, but with the Sinaloa Cartel hiding in the shadows will the problem really be solved?