Chapter 2: Statement

I forgot the disclaimer before the 1st chapter:- I own nothing but a piano. I wish I owned an AC Cobra. And NCIS.

The ride home was almost silent. Josh felt almost ashamed of his need for the tall man's presence, and silently dubbed him Special Agent Tony, underlined and with quotation marks. DiNozzo, his boss had called him. So, Italian. The man who thinks he's a Ferrari. Unfair, he admitted, the guy was being as helpful as he could, in an understated way: but he was high, wide and handsome, more like a TV cop, and if it hadn't been for that first strong, understanding look, Josh knew he'd have not taken him seriously. After asking Josh for his address, he'd put it into his SatNav, and settled down to driving in a calm and unhurried manner.

Josh thought about that, and supposed that it was so he wouldn't have to navigate if he didn't feel like talking, and his regard for Special Agent Tony went up another notch. He really didn't feel like talking. He was vaguely aware that the agent glanced at him from time to time, without making a big deal of it, and he was vaguely aware of the passage of time and distance, but most of his attention focussed on the blood on his clothes and the bandages on his arms.

"I suppose I ought to change my clothes," he said suddenly, a little surprised to realise he'd voiced his thought out loud.

"I suppose you should," his companion agreed gravely. "Do whatever you need to, Josh." Nothing more was said until they arrived at the Cooper residence.

There was a large official car outside, and a large marine corporal standing guard at the front door; his easy stance was completely unthreatening, and yet he managed to discourage the curious without doing a thing. Josh was silently grateful for that, and realised that his father's CO must be there. Again, he found himself thinking aloud.

"I won't need to tell Mom," he said, and then wasn't surprised when the big agent's reply showed he'd picked up on the edge to his tone.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked curiously. "I mean… you couldn't have been looking forward to it."

"I was dreading it," Josh said honestly. "But it should have been me, not a stranger – I mean, not that the general's a stranger, but I should have told Mom, I'm her son and I should have been there for her and my sister, she's only twelve and I – " As his tongue was running away in confusion his feet had come to a stop of their own accord, halfway up the steps to the door. His tongue gave up a moment later, and he stood for a few wavering seconds, feeling the same total lack of direction he had already experienced earlier. He did not want to go through that door and face what lay beyond it.

Special Agent Tony was behind him, one step lower, and he said neutrally, "You'll need to look out for them, Josh. The first thing they're going to see is the blood, and the bandages. You'll need to let them know you're OK."

And there it was. The direction he needed; something to concentrate on. He took a couple more steps and pushed the door aside.

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Sitting alone in the small conference room some time later, waiting for Special Agent Tony to return from wherever he'd vanished to, Josh pulled a wry face. Was there nothing Mr. Perfect couldn't do? His sister, Claire, sitting curled up on the sofa, hair messed, face pink and tear-streaked, and clinging to her mother as if she were now the only constant in her entire universe, had nevertheless blushed and managed a tremulous half smile when the agent had brought her a glass of water. Nadia, their redoubtable Romanian neighbour, who had moved in and quietly taken over as good friends do when needed, had openly admired him when he wasn't looking. Even his mother had given the guy a long, hard, assessing look, and had seemed to be satisfied with what she saw.

The wry expression was still on Josh's face when the tall agent came back into the room. He put a power bar and a bottle of water with a plastic cup inverted over the top on the table by Josh's elbow.

Josh accepted it with a silent nod of thanks, realising that he actually was hungry. Special Agent Tony put his hat down on the table and sat patiently making notes while he ate and drank, disposed of the wrappings for him, and sat down again, giving the young man a close, considering look.

"So, Josh, D'you feel up to this?"

Josh didn't, but he knew he had to. His dad needed him to, but he still found it difficult to get started. He retreated into platitudes, knew he was being stupid, and said so, the anger in his tone directed inwards. The man opposite him remained calm, and Josh felt an inexplicable desire to push. When he asked the agent to tell him it had all been a trick, that his dad was still alive, half of him wanted to hear just that; the other half was poised to lay into him if he dared to come out with the conventional "I wish I could" sort of garbage. He lifted his head and met those compelling hazel eyes in a long, pleading glance. Don't disappoint me….

The agent still took him by surprise. There was no mushy sentiment; nowhere to channel his bitter feelings, just the same soft-spoken understanding, and the offer to leave things until tomorrow. Josh's anger deflated instantly, and he was relieved that he hadn't been given the chance to take his pain out on someone who didn't actually deserve it.

His astonishment was complete when he found he'd not only been led to open up about Princeton, but also about his guilt at not mentioning the spider's web, and his misery at the thought that he should have done something. By deftly dropping in his own platitude at that point, the NCIS Agent had given Josh a chance to let off steam; by stringing out a whole line of them, with the slickest of comic timing, he'd given him a chance to release some tension through humour, however grudging.

Josh was surprised, however, at Spec – no, he wasn't going to think of him like that any more, hadn't he just thought that he deserved a bit better? He didn't feel on first name terms with the agent yet, but there was nothing to stop him thinking it. Yes, he was surprised at Tony's reaction when he suggested that those who hunted terrorists needed more help. He suddenly found himself sitting opposite a big brother, who was sternly and earnestly telling him to think about his career, and leave the investigating to the men.

"You just focus on Princeton, we'll find the one who killed your father."

"He doesn't mean it like that," Josh told himself, but it was the first time that the Special Agent had got it wrong. The yo-yo swing of Josh's emotions hurtled off in the other direction, and no matter how much part of him was shouting "stop", the other part was shouting "I'm not a kid", and he lashed out.

"Yeah, like you found bin Laden!"

Tony looked at him for a second, then his eyes slid away momentarily in something like pain. When he looked back, his expression was calm enough, and bore no rancour at the outburst, but as he held Josh's gaze, the younger man heard a clearly as if he'd said it aloud, "I wasn't looking for him."