Disclaimer: NCIS characters and situations borrowed; the original story and scenario from "Believe Again" by Montana-Rosalie, FFN story ID #5047152 .
A/N: Another thanks to M-R for the original idea and letting me continue to have my way with it.
And a big thanks to Shashile for patiently answering my geeky technical question about a small matter in this installment. It might have been a mini-moment, but I like to think the flavor of it was just what I needed – so thanks once again!
If you're read all of these, it's apparent that my interest in continuing Montana-Rosalie's original story is more to see how Tony's injury affected the others in his world, not just Tony himself. There are tons of Hurt!Tony fic out there, but not as much examining its direct effect on the others. This is just more of the same, Vance's turn.
CHRONOLOGY: installments posted as written but not in the story's chronological order. If you prefer reading in order, Ziva's, (Ch. 1), runs the full range of this chronology, and the others run in order from Ducky (Ch. 5), to Abby (Ch. 3), McGee, (Ch. 4), Tony (Ch.6), Gibbs (Ch. 2) and this, with Vance (Ch. 7).
As always, would love to know what you think. Many thanks for reading and reviewing this far!
Believing still
"Director? SecNav's office asking if you're available at eleven for a call."
Leon smirked as he glanced at the clock. "Tell them I am." He released the phone's intercom button and got up to cross the few steps to his file. Not bad, Leon thought to himself. Not rushing to check on day 180. Made it to 181... He pulled out the personnel jacket he'd need, just in case anything came up he needed to confirm, but didn't open the file. He did the same with the agent's computer file, opening it on his screen but not reviewing it. He knew he wouldn't need to.
The call came in eight minutes later, only two later than promised. SecNav's schedule hadn't gotten away from him too badly today, Vance noted, which might mean the man would be in a better than usual mood: it was usually either Congress or the press who made him late, and usually the ones who could upset the otherwise tough, driven man.
"Leon." The drawled voice, as usual, seemed to drip with sarcasm even in a simple salutation. "Good work with the SitRep on the joint op planned for Baja next week. We got an 'atta boy' from the Attorney General with the green light, which doesn't happen all that often."
"Glad to hear it, Mr. Secretary," Vance found it interesting that he began with the compliment, even though he'd expected to hear about the op approval this morning, too. SecNav wouldn't have called himself if it was just the op. He'd have gone through channels...
"You know why I'm calling, Leon..."
Yep. Just still not quite sure why a personnel issue has gotten your personal attention. "I suspect so, Mr. Secretary."
"Then how's your boy doing? I think he was due to come off probationary status, oh ... yesterday, maybe?"
As if you didn't know. "Yesterday, Mr. Secretary," he confirmed.
"And I suppose if you had to let him go you would have let me know."
Leon's mouth quirked up into a small grin. "I would have." He paused only briefly to go ahead with what he knew the man wanted – another SitRep. "Special Agent DiNozzo has done quite well with his move to NSF – he started site assessment rotation about three months ago, so is fully up to speed with the teams there. Plus, we had a somewhat unexpected issue come up – Shaw in MTAC started arguing that he should be assigned there, instead – a better use of his ... talents."
There was a snort. "What'd he do?"
Leon remembered the argument and his grin widened a little, a pride there for DiNozzo in spite of himself. "It seems that the analysts in MTAC never had a field agent right there with them for more than a couple minutes at a time before they rushed off after whatever brought them in. DiNozzo and his mouth were around, essentially full time, for all of about two weeks before they were going to him for his thoughts about some of the intel they were getting – they took him the 'what' and he helped them work on the 'who' and 'why.' I had to figure out how to post him in both units."
"So he's still an asset."
"Yes – in NSF, in MTAC – and, when they think I don't know, back in the Bullpen with some of Gibbs' team, kicking around ideas."
"Well, that's good," the man's usual sarcasm actually disappeared for a moment, only to resurface with his next words. "I didn't want to have to negotiate an international incident. Notwithstanding your relationship with Director David, it's a lot easier to keep DiNozzo on the payroll for all the usual reasons than to have to kick him off – or worse, to keep him on but have to keep an eye out to made sure he doesn't screw anything up." There was a pause. "Eli seemed pretty intent on making sure someone repaid DiNozzo's efforts to protect his daughter. I think he preferred it was us."
"Not going to be a problem."
"Good." Another pause. "So what did he say?"
Leon's eyebrows knit slightly, wondering how the Old Man knew. "Excuse me?" he stalled.
"DiNozzo. When you told him he was off probation, back on full status. What'd he say?"
Busted. And the SecNav was going to have some fun with it, just to prove he knew. Leon's smirk, now grudging, began to return. "Haven't mentioned it yet."
"And DiNozzo wasn't on your doorstep, on day 180? That doesn't sound like him," the Secretary drawled. "You didn't tell him, did you, Leon." It was a statement, not a question.
"No, sir," Vance admitted immediately.
"Any particular reason you didn't follow my orders?"
"You ordered DiNozzo's reinstatement as a probationary placement, to see if he could do the job, and that's how it was handled. You did not specify that he be told of the conditions, Mr, Secretary." Leon allowed himself a small grin as he added, "I assumed you'd left the details of a routine personnel matter to me, as usual."
Leon heard another amused snort on the other end. "Just how often do you avoid policy directives for employee matters, Leon? That's the sort of thing that makes legal very nervous."
"Legal has plenty of other bones to pick with me. We both know that, sir." Leon grumbled, and finally relented, "DiNozzo's always been an asset, Mr. Secretary; I knew he still could be. His jacket is full of the things he's done for NCIS, including things that never should have been asked of him. He was injured in the line, looking out for the daughter of Mossad's director. If we owed anyone his best shot, it was Tony DiNozzo." He took a breath. "I think I've gotten to know him pretty well since I've been here, and it was my assessment that his success in this new position was in large part based on whether or not he thought we believed he would succeed. No harm in not telling him all the details."
"You sound like Gibbs, taking care of his team..." SecNav mused.
"DiNozzo's my team, too," he reminded his boss. "And yours."
There was a long pause, and Leon finally heard the Secretary sigh. "For a good time to come, it would seem." There was another chuckle, a more rueful one this time, and the SecNav sighed again, "sometimes I feel like the dinosaur I thought the last SecNav was, Leon. Hell, these days, a Marine loses a leg in action on a Monday, gets shipped home Tuesday, gets a new leg on Wednesday and he's back in theater by the weekend, practically back to front lines. Unheard of." The old man was waxing philosophical at his expense, but at this point Vance didn't care. He'd approved DiNozzo's permanent status, and that was worth a few more minutes of his time. "Did I tell you how interested the SecDef was to know if DiNozzo was staying on?" his boss asked.
Leon's smirk was back. "No, you didn't."
"Oh, yeah. Seems some of his detractors are squeamish about letting permanently injured troops back on active duty, as active as that means now. He wanted me to tell you he appreciated your willingness to let a good agent back on the front line – and that it will make his job easier."
"Never hurts to be in the good graces of another Secretary."
The man's laugh barked in his ear. "True enough, Director." Leon heard some murmurs in the background as the subtle road noises he'd heard on the SevNav's cell faded. "Give DiNozzo my best, Leon – even if he doesn't know why."
"I'll do that. Thank you, sir," he added, still feeling a pleased relief that DiNozzo wouldn't have yet another blow to face.
"Carry on, Leon," Vance heard as the phone went dead.
Hanging up, he glanced at his calendar and clock, showing he had another fifteen minutes before his car would be around to take him to the Pentagon. Suddenly feeling a moment of nostalgia for his own team and his days in the field, he walked out of his office to clip, "MTAC" to Cynthia as he passed.
From the walkway above the squad room he glanced down to see Gibbs' senior field agent, Timothy McGee, at the large screen beyond Gibbs' desk, animatedly pointing out some highlighted lines to a skeptical Ziva David, who frowned up at the display. Gibbs, nowhere to be seen, still filled the room in their banter, the man's gift for investigation having polished their own, very different skills to make each of them as fine an investigator as he could ask to have in his Service. He stooped for the scanner to allow him access to MTAC and stepped in more slowly than was usual for him, just to pick up a bit of the chatter in the room.
He wasn't disappointed. As happened with some frequency, he heard the soft discussion between the watch officer and one of the analysts at a console off to the side. "...caught these signals across the port for the last couple days and posted an assessment alert, but Tony thought we should notify the RA in Annapolis, too," a younger, female voice was explaining. "The RA did some checking with the waterfront businesses and local LEOs, and was able to track the activity to some wannabe smugglers..."
"So it went to the locals?" the watch officer asked.
Vance neared to see the petite brunette nod. "A small time gang with some skill at electronics. Off our board," she reported.
"Good. Director," the watch officer noticed him and straightened to greet him. Leon thought he managed to request the satellite feed to the Bahrain office and obtain a follow up report on a previous assignment without revealing his interest in the previous conversation. He nodded curtly and left.
Something so simple, he mused. DiNozzo's become the voice of practical police work and common sense around here. His cop-sense for follow up and connecting the dots seems to be missing in the generation of computer-savvy, book-smart and street-deprived recruits we've been hiring.
It gave him pause.
He remembered a time not long ago, in discussing DiNozzo, that Gibbs had accused him of wanting to turn the agency into more of a reflection of himself than of Gibbs. Well, it appeared he had – or, rather, he had turned the agency into a reflection of how he thought of himself, only to ignore his own time on the street. And it took the talents of an irreverent, sometimes juvenile, blind agent born with a tarnished silver spoon in his mouth to get him to see it.
"Well, I'll be damned," he murmured about DiNozzo once again. Something to tuck away for later, he realized, as came out of MTAC and again paused to watch the activity below. Ziva had moved back to her desk, while McGee, phone tucked against an ear, was handing a printout to their new probie, Dwayne, the former Marine who might just survive to win Gibbs' approval for a permanent spot on their team.
The elevator opened, and Tony emerged from the rest of his new team with a promise to run upstairs shortly. "The devil speaks!" Ziva crowed at his appearance.
On cue, Tony snorted, but headed directly to her desk, her reaction clearly intended to let him know she was there and where to find her. "I hope you mean 'speak of the devil' – or maybe I do. I do if it's because it's lunch time." By the time he was done speaking he was grinning at her as she came around his old desk to sidle up to him and brush her fingers along his back, subtly but affectionately. "You people eating today?"
Vance watched the interplay he'd seen among them, before – DiNozzo's old teammates, at least, were fully attuned to providing him with auditory clues of his surroundings – Tim, on the phone, knew that was enough; Ziva's words were for location, and her soft contact with him let him know they weren't absorbed in a time-crunched investigation. Even the lack of growling or greeting or grunt from Gibbs spelled his absence, as much Dwayne's soft "hey, Tony" did his presence.
Maybe the SecDef would like to come see how it's done, Vance mused with a bit of pride as he turned back to his office. Behind him, Tim cautioned the others that they had a lot to accomplish before Gibbs got back, Tony volunteered for a sandwich run and Ziva announced she would help carry and work twice as fast on her return.
Nope, Vance assured himself. Not a reason in the world to tell the guy he'd just been a probie all over again...