CHAPTER 4

There's Always Me
~Elvis song

When the evening shadows fall
And you're wondering who to call
For a little company
There's always me

If your great romance should end
And you're lonesome for a friend
Darling you need never be
There's always me

I don't seem to mind somehow
Playing second fiddle now
Someday you'll want me, dear
And when that day is here

Within my arms you'll come to know
Other loves may come and go
But my love for you will be eternally
Look around and you will see
There's always me

By the time they arrived in Vegas, the city was lit up in a million colored lights, and the sidewalks along the Strip were bustling with throngs of people out for a good time. Tony directed Gibbs to the central police station where they met Detective Ramos from the homicide division.

A petite woman with short hair and dark eyes, Ramos shook Tony's hand with a firm grip. She said that Special Agent McGee had already briefed her, and suggested they should process the crime scene immediately. "That way you folks can catch the red eye, and I can get home to my kids."

Gibbs, who didn't often shake people's hands, stuck out his hand and pumped hers once. Apparently, he was all in favor of doing what they had come for, and then getting the hell out of Dodge, and Tony couldn't agree more.

Jerome Sax's condo, which had expensive furniture and fittings, didn't take long to process. It had recently been cleaned by a service; there was no garbage, no paperwork, nothing personal at all on the premises. Detective Ramos worked with Tony lifting fingerprints and taking photos, using the Vegas police's equipment, while Gibbs tossed the bed and looked in every nook and cranny for anything that might be hidden. He found nothing.

Ramos put the gear away while Tony thanked her for loaning him the camera. She shot him a smile and made a copy of the pictures by sticking a thumb drive into a gizmo attached to the camera. "We'll share any info we find on Sax. We're sure he's responsible for several murders in the southwest, but there's no solid evidence. The guy sure knew how to cover his tracks. He has no police record, no local connections. Didn't gamble, and only took in a few shows when he was in town. We'll keep digging though; we'll find something if it's there."

They were about to leave when Tony stopped in the middle of the living room and had a last look around. "This is a nice place."

"You thinking of moving in once you get your money?" Gibbs asked from the doorway.

Tony stayed rooted to the spot. He decided not to respond to Gibbs' needling. Instead, he looked around and mused, "I wonder why he has such an old TV? An old box? Bigger than your old tube, Boss, but still, it's got to be ten years old. Why not a flat screen?" He went over to the TV and fiddled with the dials, but it didn't turn on. Gibbs walked over and watched as Tony located a screwdriver in the Vegas detective's bag of tools. Soon the back of the TV was off and, with a grin and an "Aha!" Tony pulled something out of its recesses. It was a laptop.

"Good catch!" exclaimed Ramos.

Tony was pleased by the small victory, but he shrugged. "I used to hide little things inside my record player. Without the circuit boards and wires, there's plenty of room inside this to hide stuff." It only took a few minutes for Tony to determine he couldn't access the laptop's files. "Job for Abby?"

"Bag it. We'll take it back with us," Gibbs said. They gathered their tools and box of evidence, and Ramos locked up behind them. As they headed down the hall, Gibbs' hand met the back of Tony's head. The head slap felt more like a caress than a reprimand, and together with a soft, "Good job," from Gibbs, Tony ended up feeling quite confused.

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After they parted company with Detective Ramos, the two men decided to look for somewhere to eat. The next available direct flight to DC wasn't until two in the morning, and it was barely 9 p.m.. Tony wanted to experience a taste of the wild goings-on on the streets outside the casinos by walking along the Strip, and Gibbs reluctantly agreed. "Just so long as we keep an eye out for somewhere to eat that doesn't include any kind of stage show." Tony ogled the showgirls, and stopped a few times to watch the street performers, including a troupe of five Elvises who did an acrobatic act that drew a large crowd.

Gibbs pulled him away after a short time, reminding him, "Food."

They found a small brewpub called Bottoms Up, just off the Strip, associated with a local microbrewery. Tony was pretty sure that the only reason Gibbs agreed to enter the establishment was because it was the only place that wasn't lit up like a neon sign. The prices weren't bad, and they ordered two medium-rare steaks with the works.

Their server, Maggie, showed them the long list of house beers. They chose a variety pack, samplers of several seasonal brews that had just been produced. "Let us know what you think, gentlemen. The guys in the stillroom are always trying out new combinations and tastes, and our BuzzBrew is a one-time brew. Your steaks will be right out," Maggie said with a bright smile before leaving them alone.

There were eight bottles and taster glasses for sampling. Their steak-and-potato dinners arrived, and they made their way through the beers as they ate. "God, I'm famished," Tony said, digging in. From the way Gibbs tackled his food, it was obvious that he, too, was way past hungry.

Tony pushed his empty plate away with a satisfied sigh and reached for the last bottle, the one called BuzzBrew. Just as he opened it, Gibbs rose and made his way to the men's room. Tony sipped the beer while waiting for Gibbs to return. It wasn't bad, but there was an odd under-taste. Sort of salty, but…interesting. He drank some more and peered at the label. It didn't give any clue as to what ingredient was causing the unusual taste, but there was a tag line stating that BuzzBrew was sure to "enhance your pleasure center," whatever that meant. Tony finished the bottle, and wondered what was keeping Gibbs. Motioning across the room to the server, he ordered a bucket of bottles of the BuzzBrew, and they arrived just as Gibbs returned.

Gibbs made a comment under his breath about a long line, and grabbed one of the remaining bottles cooling in the bucket. He swallowed and pulled a face, staring at the bottle. "What is this?"

"BuzzBrew," Tony said, smiling broadly.

Gibbs carefully took another sip, and another, and shrugged. "Sorta grows on you."

They sat and drank while they talked about the case, but it wasn't long before Tony had had enough of work mode. "All work and no play, makes Jack…I mean Jethro a very dull boy."

"I'm not dull."

"Of course not." Tony rolled his eyes. "You know what? I think we need to let our hair down and try our hand at blackjack, Jethro. Or go see one of the shows. Hairspray? George Carlin's God…or…I know, I know! The Tribute to Frank, Sammy & Dean! You'll love it. How about it?"

"You're not draggin' me to some fifty-dollar musical show," Gibbs groused, opening another beer and taking a swig directly from the bottle.

"Then it's blackjack?" Tony suggested, knowing full well that Gibbs' answer was going to be a firm 'No.'

"No."

Tony smiled, finding Gibbs' annoyed blue eyes entrancing, and his frowning face so damned endearing. If only there wasn't a heavy oak table between them, he'd pounce on him and lick that grumpiness right off his face, he thought as he followed Gibbs' example and drank from a fresh bottle of BuzzBeer. "Mmm, this is good. Good choice, Gibbs." Seeing they were low on brews, Tony signaled their server and she brought over another couple of bottles each before hurrying off; the place was getting busy.

It looked like Gibbs was feeling the effects of the beer from the way he was smiling. He even looked relaxed. It was good to see Gibbs happy. There was little Tony enjoyed more than being in Gibbs' company and away from work, even if the most exciting thing they'd done since they'd arrived in Vegas was to eat out.

As he saw Tony watching him closely, Gibbs groused, "What're you so happy about?"

Tony drained his beer and spread his arms along the back of the booth. He couldn't help grinning at the scowl on Gibbs' face. "Remove that frowny face, Agent Gibbs. That's an order. This is Vegas, where anything goes. And I say your frown has to go."

"Go where?" asked Gibbs. He licked his lips and drank some more beer. "This…this is…sorta addictive."

"I know, tell me about it," Tony exclaimed. He leaned forward and slapped Gibbs on the arm, knocking over a couple of empty bottles as he did so. "Oops."

Gibbs blinked at Tony. "You slapped me," he said, sounding astonished.

For some reason, Tony found that very amusing, and once he started laughing, it was hard to stop. He clutched his ribs. "Considering all the slaps you've hit me with, I think I can slap you once. Or twice." He slapped at Gibbs' arm again, but this time Gibbs blocked him.

"How many beers've you had?" asked Gibbs, looking at their empties. Their server had abandoned them, apparently, but it was a very busy establishment. Gibbs was frowning again, but every few seconds, his lips twitched and a smile appeared. Then he'd realize he was smiling and the frown would return.

"This is very…zingy," Tony commented.

"How much have you had?" Gibbs persisted, grabbing Tony's hand, which was currently wrapped around the remaining bottle of BuzzBrew.

"Ya know, they should call this ZingyBrew or HappyBrew or…"

Gibbs' hand tightened over Tony's. "DiNozzo, listen to me."

"'kay…'m list'ning."

"Are you drunk?"

Tony thought for a moment. "Dunno. Maybe. Sorta different, like…" He held up his hands and stared at his fingers. "Uh oh."

"Oh hell, don't tell me."

"Boss, my fingers are finging!"

"Shit," said Gibbs. He looked around the restaurant as if seeking the waitress, or maybe some unseen enemy, before his eyes slid back to meet Tony's. Wiping his forehead with his sleeve, Gibbs said, "We gotta get out of here. I think…the beer…"

"There something in the beer?" Tony picked up a bottle and squinted at the label but he had a hard time focusing and could only make out the larger text. "This is fuzzy," he told Gibbs. "Or fizzy. I'm confused. I don't like being confused. Are you…?"

"Something's going on here." Gibbs was looking at their fellow patrons suspiciously but, as far as Tony could tell, there was nothing amiss. Everyone was having a good time.

"You want me to grab the manager?" asked Tony, trying to rise from his seat and falling back into it with a plop. "Ooops!"

Gibbs shook his head slowly. "No, no manager. We can't risk it. They're probably in on it." He looked towards the rear of the crowded restaurant as if weighing his options. "Better go out the front." Gibbs fumbled a bit, but managed to extricate his wallet and dropped some cash on the table. "When I say so, head for the front door. Stay low."

"You want me to go low? I'm not sure I can even walk, Boss." Somehow, Tony made it out of the booth and onto his feet, although if Gibbs hadn't slipped an arm around his waist he surely would have done a face-plant. Everything was swimming and his legs felt like rubber as they made their way to the exit. It was a miracle, considering the way he was listing heavily to one side, that he didn't pull Gibbs over with him.

They made it outside and onto the sidewalk, where Tony peered at Gibbs through half-lidded eyes. "Boss?" The lights hurt Tony's eyes and everything was swimming around, making him dizzy. He felt like puking, but Gibbs got a firmer hold on him and dragged him down the crowded street.

Gibbs had a slightly panicky expression mixed with determination. "Have to get to a hotel. Up the street. Safe there."

"What's goin' on?" Tony asked, suddenly overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds. "I don't feel good."

"Hang onto me," Gibbs said. "Think they…spiked the drinks."

They were only halfway to the nearest hotel, which was lit up like a runway, with banks of flashing lights, when Tony's legs gave way under him. Gibbs half dragged him into the nearest storefront, though Tony had his eyes closed by that time, trying to stop everything from swimming. It was like being in the Hall of Mirrors in a fun house, the way everything was undulating. Then he was sitting, leaning heavily on Gibbs. Gibbs was talking to someone with a deep Southern drawl, and then Gibbs got him up and they were in a quiet, dimly lit room, with cushioned benches and soft Elvis music playing. Tony leaned on Gibbs' shoulder and sighed. "Nice."

"Feeling okay?"

"Mmmm. Stay here?" Tony asked softly. Gibbs slid his arm around Tony's shoulders, and Tony was sure he felt a kiss placed on his hair, only that was just plain silly because Gibbs slapped him, didn't kiss him, on the head.

"Whatever you want, Tony," Gibbs said, as if his voice was far away.

Someone brought him some water and he woke up enough to drink it all. It was delicious and he said so, with a smile.

"You want anything else?" Gibbs asked.

"I want you," Tony said breathlessly, smiling up at Gibbs.

Gibbs smiled back, his teeth, his eyes, and even his hair sparkling as if lit from within. "You want me?"

Overcome by the extraordinary sight, Tony said, "I want you…" He started singing along to the song playing in the background. "…to never leave me alone, 'cause I die every time we're apart, I want you, I need you, I love you with all my heart."

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