Monday, 2251, Chalmers Hotel

They were only halfway through the second song when Jeanne realized that Tony was actually asleep. She'd figured it wouldn't take long. Instead of disturbing him to put him to bed, she just enjoyed the closeness for a few minutes, then made him comfortable on the sofa. She left the movie going, concerned that he might wake up as a result of its absence, then she fetched a blanket to cover him with. The exhausted, frazzled look he'd worn for hours seemed to have faded somewhat when he fell asleep. She tucked the blanket in, then went to make some phone calls. Her friend Marjorie was still working real estate in DC, and she agreed to make space in her schedule to show them some apartments the next day.

Once that was done, she went and started getting Tony's luggage unpacked. A knock on the door made her drop what she was doing and hurry over, glancing quickly at Tony to reassure herself that he hadn't awakened.

She opened the door and recognized Tony's father from photographs she'd seen. Stepping outside, she shut the door behind her. "What can I do for you?" she asked.

"Is this Anthony Dinozzo's room?"

"Yes, this is Tony's room." She smiled politely. "It's interesting to finally meet you, Mr. DiNozzo. I'm Jeanne Benoit."

"Who are you?" he demanded brusquely. "And where is my son?"

"He's inside, asleep," she replied. "I'm his girlfriend." It might be a little out of pace for their current relationship level, but it was a lot easier to explain than 'his maybe fiancé if things work out on this second go round.'

"He's gay," he announced incredulously.

She shook her head. "No. At most he's bi-curious."

"He's had a homosexual relationship."

"So have a lot of straight people," she said, wondering why he thought this was appropriate conversation for the hallway. "Regardless, we're together."

"I want to speak to him."

"He's asleep."

"Then wake him up."

"No," Jeanne said flatly. When he moved towards the door to knock again, she intercepted him. "I said no. He needs his rest, you're not waking him up."

"Miss Benoit, I don't know who you think you are, but you have no business coming between me and my son."

She blinked at him. "If we're going to use titles, sir, it's Dr. Benoit," she said.

"Are you a medical doctor?"

"I am, but I'm here as Tony's girlfriend."

"So this sleep thing isn't a medical opinion," Mr. DiNozzo said. "It's just a preference?"

"It's both," she said. "He needs sleep, Mr. DiNozzo, he's had a rough few days."

"I came down from New York to specifically to speak with him, and –"

"Well, then no doubt you'll be staying the night," she said. "You can express your concern in the morning. I'm sure you don't want to disturb his rest." Footsteps down the hall made her look up. "Agent Gibbs," she said with a smile.

"How's DiNozzo?" he asked, barely giving Mr. DiNozzo a look.

"He's asleep." She glanced at Tony's father. "Have you met Mr. DiNozzo senior, yet?"

"The second," DiNozzo said, and they both looked at him.

Jeanne cleared her throat and turned back towards Gibbs. "Have you met Anthony Leonard DiNozzo II yet?" she asked, keeping her tone as neutral as possible.

"No," Gibbs said shortly.

Jeanne could feel tension rising in both men. "Mr. DiNozzo, this is Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs," she said. "Tony's boss."

"I've heard the name," Mr. DiNozzo said. "What are you doing here, Agent Gibbs?"

"I'm checking on DiNozzo," Agent Gibbs said, glowering at Mr. DiNozzo. "Do you think you could come back when he's not asleep to tell him you want him to let his rapist get away with it?"

"What?!" Jeanne exclaimed. She'd been willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt, but if that was why he was here . . .

"Shh!" Gibbs said softly, and she looked towards the door.

"Damn it," she said under her breath. "Sorry." Turning towards Mr. DiNozzo, she said, "Is that why you're here?"

"Why I'm here is none of your business," he replied stiffly, his eyes hard as he returned Gibbs' glare.

"It's very much my business," she retorted.

"You might not want to have this conversation in the hallway," Gibbs observed mildly. "Not if you want to keep DiNozzo asleep."

"No, you're right," Jeanne said, glancing at the door again.

"I want to talk to him, and I want to talk to him now," Mr. DiNozzo said, his voice rising a bit.

Jeanne pulled the door key out of her pocket. "Agent Gibbs, would you sit with him until I come back? I don't know how he'll react if he wakes up alone."

"Sure," Gibbs said, taking the key.

"You have my number in case something comes up and you have to leave."

Gibbs nodded and opened the door. Mr. DiNozzo was civilized enough not to try to push past her, nor to yell out and guarantee waking Tony, but he didn't look pleased when the door shut again with both of them on this side of it. "Mr. DiNozzo, would you care to join me for coffee in the lounge downstairs?"

"I want to talk to my son," he said irritably. "You have no right to keep me from him."

"You have no right to barge into his private space," Jeanne replied coldly. "Come with me and we can talk, or go away and come back in the morning, around ten. Your choice."

He compressed his lips and she wasn't sure which way he was going to jump. Finally, he cleared his throat. "I would be pleased to get to know you better." He didn't look like he meant it, but the effort had been made, and she could appreciate it.

They didn't speak in the elevator on the way down to the lounge, and there was no trouble finding a table. Nine-ish on a Monday didn't seem to be a busy time. She found them a booth that wasn't too close to the other patrons and a waiter appeared as if by magic. "What can I get for you?" he asked, directing his question to her.

"I'd like coffee," she said.

"Scotch and soda," Mr. DiNozzo said. "Make it a double." The waiter nodded and moved off among the tables. "Now, tell me why my son would be alarmed to wake up alone."

"What do you know about what's happened to him?" she asked. From what little she'd heard, she thought it unlikely that either Gibbs or Tony had contacted Tony's father, so she had no idea what information he had, or how badly garbled it might be.

"I know that he had a homosexual relationship with a DC cop whom he is now accusing of rape, and I learned of it thirdhand." His irritation at not being contacted directly by NCIS or Tony was clear, and Jeanne wished she knew the reasoning behind that decision. It would give her better ammunition. "The man who contacted me claims this has more to do with his boss's influence than with the actual events."

Jeanne stared at him. "Who contacted you?" she asked.

"An Agent Ashley Preston."

Jeanne rolled her eyes. "The CIA seem to be masters of misinformation," she muttered.

"CIA? What do they have to do with this?"

"Didn't Agent Preston identify his agency?" Jeanne asked.

"I assumed he was with the FBI," DiNozzo replied. "He said they were investigating."

"They are," Jeanne said with a grimace. "It just so happens that shortly after Tony was physically assaulted by Detective Harris, Agent Preston – from the CIA – showed up and asked Tony to resume his relationship with Harris."

"What do you mean 'physically assaulted'?" Tony's father asked.

"I mean the bastard put him in the hospital," Jeanne said. "Tony was unconscious for nearly an hour."

Mr. DiNozzo stared at her. "I didn't know that."

"Of course you didn't, it wouldn't further Preston's goals for you to know that." She shook her head. "I have to tell you, Mr. DiNozzo, that if you're here to tell Tony not to press charges, I can't agree with you."

"My son has insisted on a career in law enforcement, Dr. Benoit. Men in that profession are notoriously homophobic. I very much doubt his colleagues will approve of his choice, and –" He shrugged. "It's for his own protection as much as for mine."

Jeanne concealed her seething anger. "Well, you said you wanted to get to know me," she said. "What do you want to know?"

"Actually, there are a few things you should know. I assume you know who I am." She nodded. It was a safe assumption given that she'd introduced him to Agent Gibbs. "Well, if you believe that you will be marrying money, I think it only fair to tell you that I make Tony no allowance, and he has very little money of his own. A small annuity from a trust his grandmother set up for him, and his salary." He looked around at the hotel. "I don't know how he can possibly be affording all of this."

Jeanne smiled. "I have more than enough money of my own, Mr. DiNozzo. Tony's money or lack of it means nothing whatsoever to me."

"Just because you're a doctor, that doesn't mean you have the kind of money that can afford this kind of extravagance," he said, gesturing around at the environs. Jeanne's smile grew edged. The waiter delivered their order and made himself scarce. DiNozzo immediately took a deep drink of his scotch.

"The penthouse was taken," Jeanne said nonchalantly, sipping her coffee black. "Besides, we didn't need that much space."

Mr. DiNozzo's eyes sharpened on her. "Oh, so it's not Anthony's room, it's yours."

"It's our suite," Jeanne said, emphasis on the possessive pronoun. "Until one of us finds a new place."

"Now that makes sense," DiNozzo said, and Jeanne wasn't sure she liked his tone. "What sort of medicine do you practice, Dr. Benoit?"

"Trauma care, but I've been working in a more general practice for a while now." She wanted out of this conversation, and she found herself wishing she could think of a way to prevent this man from seeing Tony.

"I see. And how did you meet my son?"

That was a question with more pitfalls that Jeanne was entirely prepared to deal with. "Through his work," she said simply. "So, tell me, how is it that you've never met Agent Gibbs? Surely you came down to visit Tony when he was sick? Or on other occasions when he's been injured?"

"I rarely know when Anthony's injured, and I don't know what illness you're speaking of." Jeanne stared at him, not sure how much she was permitted to tell him about the plague if he didn't already know about it. DiNozzo tilted his head, eyeing her quizzically. "Unless you're referring to that ridiculous practical joke he had one of his coworkers pull on me a few years back." He snorted with a small headshake. "Claiming he had the plague . . . I don't know if he was trying to get me –"

"He did have the plague," Jeanne said, stunned. "Are you saying you were told and you –"

He let out a bark of laughter. "Has he hoodwinked you on that?" he asked with a knowing smirk. "And you a doctor?" Mr. DiNozzo shook his head superciliously. "You have a lot to learn about my son, young woman. For one thing, 'the plague' is not something a man contracts in Washington DC without it becoming a national news story. Besides, it's not as if it's even really out there anymore, is it? Outside of a few labs, it simply doesn't exist." Jeanne was dumbfounded. He actually believed what he was saying. "I told Agent Todd not to bother me with such nonsense, and she didn't call back."

It took her a moment to find her voice again. "Mr. DiNozzo, I've been working with Médicins Sans Frontières for more than a year now," she said. He raised a polite eyebrow. "Plague is a serious and ongoing concern in many parts of the world. There was an outbreak in Madagascar in January of this year, in fact, that killed about twenty people. It most certainly exists."

He shrugged indifferently. "My son wasn't in Madagascar or any other third world nation that still fears the plague. He was in Washington, DC, our nation's capital. If he'd –"

Jeanne leaned forward to cut him off. She pitched her voice as low as she could, but she was unable to keep her anger out of it at this point. "Since an attempt was made to inform you of his condition, I'm going to assume you're permitted to know this." Mr. DiNozzo leaned back and waited, his expression condescending and aloof. It made her want to slap some sense into him, but she forced herself to remain calm. "Your son was deliberately infected in what I understand to be a case of domestic terrorism." His eyes widened. "I gather the attack was kept quiet for some reason, though I wasn't told why."

"Has it occurred to you that you were lied to?" he asked, though she could tell he was less calm than he was trying to project.

"The reason I was told implies otherwise," she said, and his eyes narrowed. "He has serious health concerns regarding his lungs, a result of scarring left behind by the illness." She shrugged. "I gather that when his car exploded last year with someone else in it, the first indication they had that the body wasn't his was the lack of lung damage."

DiNozzo sat up straight. "His car exploded?" he exclaimed, then looked around to see if anyone had heard him. Lowering his voice, he leaned towards her. "What are you saying?"

"That his car exploded while someone else was driving it," Jeanne repeated. "And before you suggest I'm being fooled about that as well, I was there, I saw it happen." Taking advantage of his stunned silence, Jeanne waved the waiter towards them.

"No one told me," DiNozzo muttered, his eyes distant.

"I'm not surprised," Jeanne said. His eyes snapped to her face, ire growing in them. She favored him with a cold smile. "If you belittled an illness he nearly died of and didn't even bother looking into it later, I can't imagine Agent Gibbs or his team calling you again for anything short of his proven death." She looked up as the waiter arrived. "May I please have the tab?" she asked. She had cause to be grateful for his efficiency. He pulled the slip of paper out of his apron pocket immediately, freeing her from spending any more time with Tony's father. She wrote her room number on it and signed it quickly. "If Mr. DiNozzo requests anything else, please put it on my tab as well," she said. The waiter nodded and walked away. Jeanne rose, her companion still staring at her in mingled shock and anger. "If you still wish to speak to your son, we will be ready to meet with you tomorrow morning at ten, but we have things to do. We'll be leaving by ten-thirty, and I don't intend to wait for you. If you miss us tomorrow, please call prior to dropping by again."

He regained both voice and truculence and started to bluster at her. "You have no right –"

"Good night, Mr. DiNozzo," Jeanne said, ignoring his words. Turning sharply, she walked away from the table. Once she was in the elevator, she stopped and turned around. The doors shut her inside alone, and she sagged with relief that the bastard hadn't followed her. No wonder Tony identified with Gibbs as a father figure if that's what he had otherwise.

When she got to the room, she dialed her phone, hoping that Agent Gibbs would have put his on vibrate to avoid waking Tony. He didn't answer the call, but a moment later he opened the door. "Where is he?" he asked.

"I told him to come back tomorrow," she said, and her voice still hard with anger. "But I couldn't stand talking to him anymore when he told me smugly about how he'd dismissed the news that Tony had plague."

"He told you that?" Gibbs asked, preceding her into the room. Tony still lay on the sofa, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and regular.

"I asked him how he'd missed meeting you if he'd come to see his son while he was sick." Jeanne glowered at the wall. "At first I thought he just didn't know, but then he told me how he'd told Agent Todd not to bother him with nonsense and I wanted to punch his lights out."

Gibbs shrugged. "I told her not to call him, but Kate had some idealistic notions about family."

"He was quite irritated that no one had called him about this, but after that conversation, I can see why. Who'd bother with a man who hadn't even checked up on his son's health after being told something like that?"

Gibbs was silent for a moment, then he walked towards the balcony, stepping out. She followed him, not sure what was up, but certain he had more to say. When they were outside with the door mostly shut, he cleared his throat. "Actually, it's because DiNozzo made a request in his first year with NCIS that his father not be informed of anything less than death or his being missing more than seventy-two hours."

Jeanne looked at Tony through the French windows. "What was his mother like?"

"I know less about her than I know about his father," Gibbs said, "which is not much." He gave Jeanne a measuring look. "She died when he was ten, so I didn't bother having her investigated."

Jeanne blinked at him. "I see. I just found out in general who his family was. I didn't have the detective go into much depth on Tony's family, just on him."

"He know?"

Jeanne laughed helplessly. "Yes, I told him. I expected him to be angry, but he was pleased. Said more women should have their boyfriends investigated before they went anywhere alone with them."

Gibbs snorted agreement, but he didn't speak.

Jeanne opened her mouth to respond, but then she noticed Tony on his feet, heading towards his bedroom. She was about to alert Agent Gibbs to this when Tony came to a sudden halt, grabbing the door frame in a while-knuckled grip, his face losing all color. Forgetting Agent Gibbs altogether, Jeanne hurried in through the half open door to Tony's side.

Gibbs was mildly startled when Benoit whipped past him. He turned and saw DiNozzo standing in the door to his bedroom looking paralyzed. Benoit slipped up beside him, put an arm around his waist and started speaking quietly to him. DiNozzo's shoulders loosened a bit upon her arrival. Gibbs watched from outside, though he drew close enough to hear them. His immediate urge had been to go take over, but she seemed to have things under control.

When he came into range, he heard her say, "It's no big deal."

"It's stupid," DiNozzo protested. "He's never even been here."

"It's not stupid," she said reassuringly.

"It was just a phone call," DiNozzo said, and he sounded miserable.

"It was way more than that, Tony," she said, drawing him away from the bedroom door. "Look, you can use my bed."

"I don't want to put you out of your bed," Tony said.

She paused and gazed into his eyes. "Who said you would be?"

Gibbs tensed slightly, not sure how DiNozzo would respond, prepared to step in if need be. DiNozzo might not react well to such a forward suggestion at the moment. He needn't have worried.

"Really? Are you sure?" DiNozzo said, and he sounded both surprised and pleased. "I didn't want to intrude, I thought you'd gone to bed, and –"

"Tony!" she said in mild exasperation. "I would not go to bed and leave you asleep on the couch."

"Oh." Gibbs knew that tone. It was his 'astonished that someone cared' tone. Jeanne would no doubt grow as familiar with it – and dismayed by it – as Gibbs himself was, assuming things continued as they seemed to be. "I'd like that," DiNozzo said.

"Then it's settled," Jeanne replied firmly. "Do you want pajama pants or –"

"Let me grab a pair of clean boxers," DiNozzo said, and he gently extricated himself from her embrace.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Gibbs stepped inside, drew Jeanne's attention to where he'd put the door key, and left on silent feet. He was halfway home when his phone rang. He lifted it to his ear and said, "Gibbs."

"Agent Gibbs, thank you for your help."

"Call me Jethro," he said gruffly. Watching her handle Tony with kindness and understanding, yet without any sign of cosseting, appeared to have broken down the last of his barriers against her. "He asleep?"

"He is. I thought you should know what our plans were for tomorrow. I told Mr. DiNozzo to come by at ten if he was coming, so hopefully he'll think better of the visit." Gibbs nodded. "Then we have an appointment with a realtor friend of mine. We both need new apartments, and it will take Tony's mind off . . . stuff."

Gibbs nodded again. "Sounds reasonable," he said, unsurprised that she was moving back to DC.

"So, if the FBI need him for anything . . ."

"I'll let them know."

"Oh, by the way, Agent Preston led Mr. DiNozzo to believe he was with the FBI, and used the Brody version of why Tony is pressing charges. I thought you might need to know that in case Mr. DiNozzo tries making any trouble. Forewarned and all that."

"And all that," Gibbs said neutrally, agreeing with her. "Call me if you need anything," he said.

"Thank you . . . Jethro. Good night."

He hung up and drove the rest of the way home, reflecting that things sometimes worked themselves out better than he thought they would. He figured they'd be living together within the year, and the thought made him unexpectedly happy.