Tuesday, 0957, Chalmers Hotel

Tony stared at Jeanne in dismay. "My father was here last night and you didn't wake me?"

Jeanne gave him a look that was half worried and half defiant. "Yes, you needed your sleep more than you needed to hear his crap."

Tony blinked at her. "I take it you spoke to him," he said.

She gave him a grim smile. "Oh yes. He owes his continued existence to the fact that I couldn't afford to go to jail right now more than anything else."

"Was he offensive to you?" Tony asked, ready to give his father an earful if he'd been too rude.

"Well, he did imply that I was a gold digger," she said. "Then that you were a gold digger when I explained that I had money of my own."

Tony gave her an anxious look. "A lot of people might think that," he said. "But it's not true, really, I –"

"I know," she said, squeezing his hand. "If you'd been after my money, you'd have pursued me when I gave you that ill-considered ultimatum."

"Oh." Tony shook his head. She had answers for everything. "So, where did you leave it with him?"

"He's supposed to come by between ten and ten-thirty this morning, or not at all," Jeanne said. "I'd prefer not at all."

"You gave him a specific time?" Tony asked, his heart sinking. She nodded. "He never misses appointments. No matter what."

"Then he should be here in –" There was a knock on the door. "Now-ish," she finished, glancing at the clock.

Tony rose and went to the door. He was dressed and ready for their morning, but he hadn't managed to get the visible bruises covered up with the stage make up he'd used for dinner last night. Might as well face it immediately, since he could hardly put his father off for the twenty minutes it would take to conceal them.

Jeanne made a move as though to intercede, but appeared to think better of it. Tony was glad. He'd just as soon get this over with quickly. He walked into the vestibule and opened the door to reveal his father looking impatient. Tony stepped back. "Good morning, Father," he said.

Leonard DiNozzo's eyes went immediately to the bruises on Tony's neck and face, and Tony felt himself flush. "Good morning. Joyce asked me to tell you good morning as well." His father glowered at him. "She'd like you to call her when you have some time." Tony nodded. His most recent stepmother actually seemed interested in his well-being, but he was never sure if she was serious or not. He shut the door behind his father and ushered him into the main room of the suite. "How long have you been seeing this one?" he asked, jutting his chin towards Jeanne.

Tony didn't know what Jeanne had told him. "We've just resumed an interrupted relationship," he said, hoping that fit the bill. "It's been a bit less than a week just now, but last year we were together for six months."

"I've been in Africa, as I told you, Mr. DiNozzo," Jeanne said. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee?" Tony recognized the tactic. She was smothering him in politeness, as if that would make it less likely for him to be unbearably rude.

"Thank you, Dr. Benoit," he said, settling down in a chair. Tony sat down nearby. "I think I must see what I can do about having that Agent Preston investigated," he said. "From everything I've been able to learn from the FBI, his representations to me were faulty to say the least."

"The FBI spoke to you on the subject?" Tony asked, wondering who he had to thank for that indiscretion.

His father nodded. "I also would like to communicate with Agent Todd. It appears I owe her an apology."

Tony's emotions hiccoughed to a stop on that statement. When he could get his brain moving again, he said, "You can't. She's . . . she's dead." His father's eyes widened. "She died about three years ago." Tony shook his head helplessly. "When did you even speak to her?"

"When you had the plague," his father replied, and Tony blinked at him in shock.

"She was shot by a sniper," Tony said. "On my second day back."

"Back?"

"Back from medical leave." He paused, still a little stunned by this turn of the conversation. "From the plague."

His father stared at him silently for a moment. "So that must be why she never called me back."

Tony snorted dryly. "Yeah, phone coverage where she is tends to be spotty at best."

"Anthony!" his father snapped sharply, and Tony found that his spine still straightened to attention at that tone. "That is not a subject for levity."

Tony stared at his father, aware that Jeanne was a hairsbreadth away from intervening. Cultivating a relaxed air, he shrugged. "You weren't standing next to her."

It took both of them a moment to register what that meant, and Jeanne covered her mouth with her hand. His father cleared his throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "Were you hurt?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "No, Dad, he was a sniper. If he'd wanted to hurt me or Gibbs at that moment, we'd have been dead. He killed Kate, then he vanished." He made a face. "For a while."

"Did you catch him?" Jeanne asked softly.

Tony nodded. "Gibbs got him," he said. "Anyway, Dad, I'm going to press charges. Nothing you can say will persuade me otherwise, not knowing that this bastard has gone after five other men in the past. I don't need the next guy on my conscience."

"It's not your responsibility," his father said. "Why didn't those other five men do something about him?"

Tony shrugged. The question had occurred to him, but he didn't really want to get into it. "I can only answer for my own actions, and I don't want some other guy's father asking that question about me," he said. That actually seemed to get through to his father a little, and Tony sighed. "So, is there anything else? I've got a full day, and I'd like to finish getting ready."

"Joyce said she'd like to meet your young lady." Tony glanced aside at Jeanne and could see that she had no idea who Joyce was.

"Is she going to be in DC anytime soon?" Tony asked. His stepmother worked as a consultant for a health care lobby group and was in Washington from time to time. They usually had lunch.

His father shrugged. "You're going to call her, right?" Tony nodded. "Well, I guess I'd better be going. It was a pleasure meeting you, Dr. Benoit."

"Likewise, Mr. DiNozzo," Jeanne said, rising to the occasion. Both of them sounded almost sincere.

Tony saw his father to the door, and as they reached it, Leonard DiNozzo said, "Oh, and the next time your car blows up, I'd like to hear about it."

Tony's jaw dropped. He brought it shut with a snap. "I couldn't have told you, Dad. It was a top secret undercover operation."

"Dr. Benoit knows," his father pointed out.

Of course. Tony should have realized. How else had he heard about it? Tony grimaced, then shrugged. "Her father was the target of the undercover operation," he said.

Leonard DiNozzo's eyes widened, but to Tony's surprise and gratitude, he didn't follow the issue up. "I'm sure Joyce will keep me up to date on your goings on, assuming that you tell her about them."

"Right." Tony pursed his lips and put out his hand. "Take care, Dad."

They shook hands and parted as amicably as they ever did. Tony shut the door and said, "That was surprisingly pleasant."

"That was pleasant?" Jeanne demanded.

"Oh yeah. He didn't yell, he didn't tell me I was a useless son, he didn't tell me I was bound to end up in the gutter. He even expressed interest in knowing about my future activities. All in all, quite pleasant. Probably Joyce's influence." At Jeanne's questioning look, he elaborated. "She's the most recent in my string of stepmothers," he said. "My favorite of the bunch, in fact, and she looks like she might last awhile. They've already been together for five years. She handles him pretty well, and she actually seems to like me."

"And she wants to meet me?" Jeanne said.

"He must have told her about you last night. You seem to have made an impression on him."

"Well, he certainly made one on me," Jeanne replied. "You okay?"

Tony considered the question. "More or less," he said. "Having my father meet my girlfriend is pretty weird. The first and last time that ever happened I was seventeen. Having it happen without my direct involvement is downright surreal."

She blinked at him. "Seventeen?"

Tony nodded. "My last high school girlfriend. She was a friend's sister, and she really only lasted for two weeks, but she's the only one my father ever met."

"You must have had girlfriends in college," Jeanne said.

"I did, but I saw my dad maybe six times during college, and all of those were at family functions hosted by my grandmother."

"And you didn't take your girlfriends?"

Tony shrugged uncomfortably. "The one or two who knew enough about the world to figure out who my father was just could not understand why I 'claimed' to be poor all the time. Somehow explaining to them that I'd been cut off from any form of allowance at age twelve did not appeal to my fragile ego at the time." He grimaced. Not that it appealed much now. "It was easier not to expose the ones who hadn't figured it out to my family gatherings."

"He cut you off at twelve?" Jeanne demanded incredulously. Tony shrugged. "But why?"

He rarely ever told anyone. Gibbs knew, but Tony hadn't told him. Gibbs' background checks were the definition of thorough. He cleared his throat, still not sure what he was going to say, but before he could speak, there was another knock at the door. Jeanne got up to answer it, and Tony made his escape to the bathroom to hide his bruises.

Female voices sounded in the living room of the suite. Jeanne had told him only that she'd asked a real estate agent friend of hers to meet with them at 10:30. Evidently the friend was a woman. He finished powdering the make-up to as unobtrusive an appearance as possible and emerged to find Jeanne talking to a woman he'd met several times at clubs. He'd even danced with her once.

"Tony DiNardo!" she exclaimed with pleasure. "Jeanne!" She gave Jeanne a mock-glare. "You didn't tell me he was the friend."

Tony thought seriously about turning right around and hiding, but if he could face his father, he should be able to face this. From Jeanne's expression, she had forgotten that her friend knew him and that she knew him by the wrong name.

He summoned up his charm with a bit of effort. "Tony DiNozzo," he said breezily. "Great to see you, Marjorie."

Marjorie blinked at him, startled. "But – I thought –"

Tony turned the charm up. Hopefully, this woman was enough of a gossip and knew enough of Jeanne's other friends that he wouldn't have to do this more than once or twice more. "Actually, I met Jeanne while I was working undercover."

Marjorie's eyes widened. "Undercover? Are you a cop?"

"Federal agent," Tony said. "NCIS."

Marjorie nodded. "Navy cop, then," she said, surprising him. She grinned at his startled expression. "My brother's serving on the USS Enterprise."

Tony blinked. "I see. I knew someone who served on that ship a couple years back."

"Jim's been on the USS Enterprise for five years, so he probably knows him."

"Oh, I'm sure he knew her," Tony said. "She was the agent afloat, not crew. Special Agent Paula Cassidy."

"I see," Marjorie said. "Well, I'd like to make use of your bathroom, and then we can get started."

Jeanne showed her where it was and then came back to Tony's side. "Knew?" she asked tentatively.

Tony looked down at her concerned expression. "Oh, yeah, she died . . . while you and I were dating, actually. Do you remember that downtown religious center that blew up twice in one week?" Jeanne nodded. Tony sighed. "She died in the second blast."

"But we talked about that," Jeanne said, her eyes widening. "And you never mentioned . . ." She trailed off uncertainly.

Tony shrugged. "They didn't even announce her gender on the news, much less her name," he pointed out. "Telling you I'd dated the victim of that explosion –"

"You dated her?" Jeanne asked, her brows going up.

"Not for long," Tony said uncomfortably. Memories of Paula were still distressing at a deep level. Much like memories of Kate. "Anyway, it would have brought up all sorts of questions I couldn't have answered as Tony DiNardo. Like the fact that I met her at Guantanamo." He cupped Jeanne's cheek. "On the other hand, it was talking to her that made it clear to me that I had to tell you how I felt."

"You told her about me?"

"More than I told anyone else," Tony said with a snort. "She wasn't someone I saw all the time, and we'd shared a pretty tempestuous relationship, to the point where the first time I was falsely accused of murder, McGee actually suggested her as a possible suspect."

Jeanne's eyes widened further. "The first time . . ."

Tony hadn't considered how that sounded. "Yeah, um . . ." Marjorie was emerging. "Tell you about it later." Jeanne blinked at him anxiously. He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "So, Marjorie, what's on the program?"

"Let's go down to my car first," she said, leading the way out of the suite. Tony and Jeanne followed her into the elevator. "All right, we want two apartments, preferably fairly close together. Jeanne, we discussed your requirements and what you thought Tony's requirements would be." Tony glanced at Jeanne, raising a bemused eyebrow, and Marjorie nodded. "So, Mr. DiNozzo, Jeanne said you'd need a space to work out in and a large area where your movie collection could be displayed and shown."

Tony blinked. "Yeah, um . . . about that. I'm a federal agent, with a federal agent's salary. I don't need an actual separate room for movie storage and viewing, just a good-sized living room." She nodded. "And I'll need good internet access, and there has to be excellent cell service." Or Gibbs would let him know about it.

He could almost see Marjorie adding these requirements to some sort of mental list. "And you need to be near the Navy Yard, and you need to be near George Washington University Hospital?"

Jeanne nodded, and Tony felt constrained to add, "Reasonably close is good enough. I don't want any coworkers offering to bunk at my place when we've got a hot case."

Marjorie laughed. "All right, then," she said. "I think I've got some great places to show you."

There followed several hours of going from apartment to loft to condominium. Nothing seemed quite right. If he found a place he thought he could stand, Jeanne would find something wrong with it that he hadn't noticed, and Jeanne wasn't satisfied with anything. He kept finding himself holding hands with her at odd moments, and he kept seeing spots where he could pull her aside to kiss her, but he never took the opportunity. He wasn't sure if it was cowardice or discretion, and he wasn't sure he wanted to look closely enough to find out.

Finally, they stopped for an early dinner at Morton's, and over steak they discussed the possibilities they'd seen. Tony put forth reasonable arguments for a couple of the places he'd liked well enough, but Jeanne shot them down firmly.

Over dessert, Jeanne said, "So, are you free tomorrow, Margie?"

Marjorie tilted her head. "Not sure. Let's try once more for each of you tonight," she said. "I think I may have just the thing."

Jeanne turned to him. "Are you up to it?" she asked.

Tony shrugged. "Two more places? Sure. No more than that."

Marjorie nodded. "Let me make a quick phone call." She stepped out into the lobby of the restaurant, and Jeanne leaned closer.

"If you're too tired, just say so."

"I will," he said, on the verge of exasperation. She'd been mother-henning him all day. "If we could settle this today, it would be great, don't you think?"

"Why in such a rush?"

"Because then we could just enjoy each other's company," he said, and a smile spread slowly across her face, brightening her eyes.

"I like that idea," she said.

Tony drew her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Good, because it's the first idea I've liked this much in a while."

Marjorie came back, and they talked of commonplaces while they finished the last of their desserts. Tony enjoyed every last bite of his rich chocolate raspberry torte, ignoring the voice of Ducky in the back of his head, giving him advice about cholesterol. Soon enough, he'd have Jeanne looking out for that. The thought gave him pause as he realized that he was really looking at this sudden resumption of their relationship as permanent. His fingers must have tightened, because she glanced over at him. A warmth kindled in her eyes, her fingers squeezed his, and Tony had to stop himself from leaning over and kissing her.

A moment later, he realized that Marjorie was paying the bill. "No," he said. "I can get it."

Marjorie shook her head. "I can write it off," she said. "Neither of you can." As if that covered a three hundred dollar meal.

Jeanne just nodded, and they all returned to Marjorie's car. Their path took them past George Washington University Hospital and straight into Georgetown. She appeared to be taking him seriously about not being too close to work. He wondered how far beyond Georgetown they were going, but then she pulled into an alley and then into a driveway behind a house.

"Where are we?" Jeanne asked.

"Come inside, and see," Marjorie said.

Giving each other dubious looks in the twilight, Jeanne and Tony followed her up the path, holding hands. As they passed through the backyard, Marjorie enumerated the opportunities offered by the large back lot. "It was once landscaped, I believe, according to some of the photographs I've seen from the twenties, but the man who owned it in the fifties preferred a flat lawn and had it all torn out." Jeanne made a distressed noise, looking around at the wall to wall carpet of green. "Most of the bricks from the paths were saved in the garage."

"It has a garage?" Tony said, glancing over and seeing the building, largely concealed by a row of green bushes.

"Large enough for two cars, in fact," Marjorie said. "And the stairway where they shot parts of the Exorcist movie is just down a few blocks."

Tony glanced in the direction she was pointing. "Really?" She smiled and guided them onward.

The house was classic Georgian, of red brick with evenly spaced white framed windows. Four steps led up to a small, square porch and a pair of tall, narrow doors. Unlocking one, she took them inside into a broad hallway. There were doors to either side, one of them in a niche under the stairs. She immediately opened the door to the left and flipped on the light. They followed her into the room. "As you can see, the kitchen is fully modernized, but retains the original fireplace with both bread and warming ovens intact." She gestured towards the hearth. "In fact, all the original fireplaces are still present."

"Marjorie, this is a little big, don't you think?" Jeanne asked. "Are we just looking at the first floor here?"

"No, the whole house," Marjorie said airily. "Through here is the dining room." Tony followed Jeanne and Marjorie, then wandered out into the main hall of the building. It was beautiful. Historical Georgetown at its finest. Tony figured Jeanne could afford it, but he agreed that it was a little big for one person. Heck, it was a little big for two people. They emerged from the dining room, Marjorie still describing its amenities. The rest of the ground floor was duly looked at, but Tony figured they'd have to leave his place for another night as the tour went on. He was losing steam.

By the time they reached the second floor, he'd started zoning, so the words, "Tony will find this a great room for his exercise equipment," came as a complete surprise. He stopped dead and looked around. It would be a good room for a workout. South facing, so it wouldn't have constant sunlight, but it had a nice view of the backyard that could include a weeding girlfriend's upturned butt. He turned to Marjorie, who had fallen silent and was awaiting their reactions, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I asked for two places," Jeanne said.

"And made it clear by constant references all day that you really wanted one," Marjorie replied. "Then there's the fact that you held hands more often than not all afternoon." She eyed their hands meaningfully, and Tony realized that he'd taken Jeanne's hand upon reaching the upper floor without thinking about it. Mildly embarrassed, he resisted his initial impulse to drop her hand and squeezed tighter instead.

"It was the next step we were contemplating before things . . . changed," he said softly, looking down at Jeanne.

"But are you ready?" Jeanne asked, her brilliant eyes filled with concern.

He pulled her into his arms without a word, kissing her on the forehead briefly before engulfing her in a warm embrace. "Yeah, I think I am. But I can't afford to rent half this place."

"It's not for rent," Marjorie said.

Jeanne pulled away far enough to say, "It's a little soon to buy."

"It's not for sale." The real estate agent still looked so pleased with herself that Tony started searching his mind for a third alternative.

"Then why did you bring us here?" Jeanne asked, beginning to sound slightly annoyed.

"Because it's for lease. The owner wants to sell it, but he can't because of probate issues. He's offered it for a year's lease with an option to buy. I thought that might suit you two perfectly."

Jeanne looked up at Tony, a question easy to read on her face. "I still can't afford half of it," he said.

"That will be a problem forever, Tony," Jeanne replied. "Does it make that much of a difference?"

Tony blinked at her. "It might make a difference to the owner," he said.

"I can work all that out," Marjorie said quickly. "If you two can work it out between you, I can make it right with the owner."

"We can work out the financial details later," Jeanne said, and her voice held all the longing he'd felt over the last year.

He smiled down at her. "Okay. Let's do it."

"All right, I've already called the owner, so he won't be talking to anyone else." Marjorie smiled at their startled expressions. "I could have canceled it just as easily, so don't look at me like that. We can have a meeting tomorrow if that suits you. Around two o'clock?"

"Sure," Jeanne said, and Tony thought she sounded as stunned as he felt.

"Tony?"

Tony nodded. "I can't wait." And the scary thing was, it was the truth.

Marjorie took them back to the hotel, had them fill out the credit applications, and left them alone. Jeanne got up and started puttering around, but there wasn't really anything to pick up or clean because the maid had been in. Tony watched her, then got up and took her by both hands. "If you're not sure about this, we can back out. That place off Connecticut would be just –"

"I'm sure," she said. "If you're sure. I don't want you to do this just because you're on an emotional roller coaster."

Tony shrugged. "I've wanted you back since the moment you left," he said simply.

"After the second time I left?"

Snorting, Tony shrugged again. "It took a little longer, but yeah. I . . ." He swallowed. "I love you. I never stopped."

"You're a romantic," she said.

"Don't tell anyone. They all think I'm a playboy adventurer."

Jeanne laughed. "They'll stop when you settle down."

"With a rich chick?" Tony shook his head. "They'll just say what my dad said. I'm marrying money since I don't have it myself anymore."

She shrugged. "Not when you start wearing suits from Sears," she said.

Tony stared at her. "Nothing on earth would induce me to . . ." He caught the twinkle in her eye and trailed off, drawing his brows together.

"I'm terribly strict about money," she said, and then laughed at his expression. "You don't even buy from the upscale department stores, do you? You're strictly a designer boutique kind of guy."

"Which is why I'm not very trendy in my suits," Tony replied. "I can make a suit last years because I keep trendiness for accessories."

"Very practical."

"My clothing is paid for by the allowance from a trust my grandmother set up for me," Tony said. "I don't have a lot, not even compared to Gibbs, but what I have is very good."

"Not even compared to Gibbs?"

"Gibbs is not a big fashion guy," Tony said. "He's the one who wouldn't mind being dressed by Sears. Ziva has a very European sense of style, but Gibbs wears what he finds comfortable that he can get away with."

"McGee wears Armani," Jeanne observed.

"Ah, yes, but that's just because McProbie splurged after getting his first royalty check," Tony said with a snarky grin.

"Royalty check?" Jeanne asked.

"Yes. McGee has a little secret."

Jeanne blinked at him innocently. "Like the rest of you have little secrets?" she asked.

Tony shook his head. "No, McGee's is more like a big honking secret," he replied.

"Like dating the daughter of the arms merchant you're investigating isn't a big honking secret?" she asked.

A horrifying image came into his mind. "No, and thank God we weren't doing that when he was writing the novel!" Tony breathed in sincere relief.

"Novel?" she repeated, her eyes going wide.

"Yes, McProbie decided to write a novel. His main character was Special Agent McGregor, flanked by Special Agent Tommy and Officer Lisa, of the Mossad, no less."

Jeanne's eyes widened further. "They weren't based on you guys, were they?"

"And all commanded by Special Agent L.J. Tibbs," Tony said with a flourish. "Aided by forensic scientist Amy. It was less than subtle."

"Yeah, I'm glad we weren't dating then. Being Tommy's girlfriend Jane would not suit me at all." She gave him a narrow look. "Is Tim writing now?"

"I don't know. He sort of stopped for a while after someone started stealing the ribbons from his typewriter and then began killing people off from his next novel, but he could have started up again. I don't think it's something you give up easily."

Jeanne nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I've had a very full day, and I'm ready for sleep. What about you?"

A large yawn answered for him, and they trundled quietly off to bed.