Episode filler and tag to "The Good Wives Club."
I've been asked how far I will continue with these. My answer: as long as I'm still inspired with things to write. I'd say that I feel confident that I see lots of inspiration through at least season 6. We haven't gotten as much good Gibbs and Tony stuff the last few seasons. Then again, by the time I get there, perhaps I will be excited to have more creative license to come up with my own stuff! So, we'll see.
States of Mind
"Agent DiNozzo? Can you hear me?"
"Tony? Hey, Tony?"
There was a female voice he didn't recognize right away, then a male voice that sounded familiar. Young. Slightly frightened. McGee? Then there were hands – tapping his face, firmly but gently. But just then the throbbing started, and he briefly wondered if he could simply go back to sleep. Unfortunately, another, more demanding voice chose that moment to break through the fog.
"DiNozzo! Open your eyes!" That was a voice he definitely recognized. One that refused to be ignored. Knowing he couldn't not obey an order from his boss, Tony's eyes slowly fluttered open. There were three faces staring down at him: Gibbs, McGee, and Agent Melankovic. Jane. As in "me Tony, you Jane." That was the female voice. Someone seemed to be missing, but it wasn't coming to him right away and trying to remember just seemed like so much work right at the moment.
Where am I and why is there a freight train tearing through the back of my head? The presence of Agent Jane reminded him they were working a case. And they weren't at home. They were in Jacksonville. Missing women. Chains. Petty Officer Swain. I found her and I was talking to Gibbs and then…nothing. She must've hit me with something. Why would she do that? And…wait a minute…where's Kate?
"Kate?" he mumbled, hardly recognizing his own voice. "Kate?" Now he was starting to panic. But when he tried to sit up, three sets of hands stopped him.
"Whoa, DiNozzo. Where do you think you're going? You don't move 'til the EMTs get here." But, Boss, where's Kate?
"Yeah, DiNozzo. Maybe one of them will be female. Think of all the attention you can suck up." Kate. She was teasing, but when he caught sight of her face he saw something else. Concern, possibly? She was holding up a very shaky, but miraculously alive, Barbara Swain. Poor woman still looks terrified.
"What've we got?" That was a male voice, unidentified. EMTs must be here.
"Petty Officer Barbara Swain over there. She's been held hostage in this room for months, chained up. Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo – he's one of mine. Looks like she hit him in the back of the head with a lamp. He was out cold when we got here, maybe a couple of minutes or so. Just regained consciousness."
There were two EMTs, and sure enough according to Kate's prediction, one of them female. Too bad his head was throbbing too badly to be charming. There was a light in his eye, then in the other. "Sir, we're going to have you sit up very slowly so we can look at your head, ok?"
Tony nodded in assent, then hissed loudly. Big mistake. Note to self – do not move head unless absolutely necessary. "Yeah, you've got a pretty nasty bump on the back of your head alright. Do you know where you are, sir?"
"Jacksonville Naval Air Station."
"What day is it?"
"It's Friday. And it's 2004 by the way. October 8th."
"Nausea, dizziness, blurred vision, headache?"
"You mean it's just a headache? Thought maybe a grenade went off inside my head or something."
"Sense of humor is good. Other than the bump on the head and the headache everything else seems normal, sir, but I'd recommend getting checked out just in case. Especially with a loss of consciousness."
Tony groaned. "No, really, I'll take something for the headache and put an ice bag on it and it'll be fine."
Gibbs was glaring at him, but Tony just dug his heels in further. I am not going to the E/R in freakin' Jacksonville. I wanna go home. Seriously, a guy can't even get knocked out at home anymore?
"DiNozzo-"
"Boss, c'mon. We still have to fly home. Who knows how long I'll be sitting in the E/R. We don't want to be stuck here an extra night."
"I can send Kate and McGee back and you and I can stay here."
"No, Boss. I really just want to sleep in my own bed. It's just a headache. I've had worse. You know I've had worse."
"Don't remind me. "
"Sir, I can't make you go to the hospital, but I do recommend that you have someone with you for the next 24 hours just in case your symptoms get worse. Do you live with someone?"
Crap. He was about to answer when Gibbs cut in. "I'll stay at his place tonight just in case. And I'll do a concussion check periodically." At this point, his boss fixed a piercing glare in his direction. "And if anything gets worse I'll march his butt to the E/R."
MY place? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did I say that thing about sleeping in my own bed tonight?
"Boss, you don't have to-"
"DiNozzo, you have three choices where to stay tonight. The E/R, my guest room, or your own bed with me sleepin' on your couch. Which one do you want?"
He seriously considered Gibbs' place until he remembered how Gibbs had somehow lured him to the basement and gotten him to spill his guts the last time. Ok, maybe not lured, but he still planned it. I know he did. With this headache and this case and my teammates thinking I'm soooo much like our sicko kidnapper, who knows what I might say this time. "Fine. My place. I guess I could sleep on the couch."
"No, you sleep in your own bed like you said. Couch is fine. I'll have work to catch up on and besides, I sleep under my boat half the time anyway, remember?" This got a curious look from both EMTs as they were leaving with Swain. Tony could have laughed, but that might accidentally move his head. And he would have to stand up in a few minutes. That was going to be enough torture.
And it's only the afternoon still. I have to fly home, go back to work and probably finish up my report. And then go home. My home. With Gibbs.
I'm not so sure I'm gonna make it.
The flight home had been miserable, the throbbing in his head refusing to subside. While Kate and McGee had chattered away across the aisle from them, he and Gibbs had sat in total silence, Gibbs by the window because just the thought of being next to the bright light made him want to puke. Gibbs was pretending to read some sniper magazine, but Tony knew he was being watched. He didn't much care, sitting stone-faced and holding an ice bag to his head for all it was worth.
"You sure you don't want to stop at the E/R when we land?"
"I'm sure, Boss. It'll be fine," Tony growled.
"Yeah, DiNozzo? You might want to tell that to your face."
Tony responded with a Gibbs-style glare that did the older man proud.
"Fine, Tony. But skip writing up your report tonight. Monday's fine. You don't need to be staring at a computer screen." Tony wasn't about to argue with that reasoning.
"Unfortunately, we're gonna be in the office a while. Gotta get reports from Kate and McGee and wrap up with Agent Melankovic in MTAC."
Jane. I didn't even get her number. I must really be injured. "I know, Boss. Not a problem."
"Ducky's probably gone home, but I could call him to take a look at you – " It was unlike Gibbs to do more talking than Tony. Like the Earth had shifted off its axis. If he didn't know better, he'd even think his boss sounded sort of anxious.
"Don't bother Ducky. Let him enjoy his night off for a change."
Truthfully, they were all pretty relieved to not be escorting the body of Barbara Swain back to DC with them. And relieved that there was one less psycho on the loose.
And that was what had made the pounding in his head worth it.
Maybe if I just pretend the headache is gone, Gibbs will change his mind and let me go home. Alone.
They were in MTAC wrapping things up with "Agent Jane," who was unfortunately back to being all business. Tony was making feeble attempts at flirting, but every time he attempted to smile, it came out as a grimace instead. If Melankovic didn't think he was nuts before, she was certain to now.
He may have been swaying slightly at one point. He wasn't quite certain. All he knew was that Gibbs stopped suddenly mid-meeting and huffed out an order. "Tony," and then nodding behind him at the group of chairs in the back of the room he commanded, "sit." Kate and McGee looked slightly surprised. He'd actually had them convinced he was feeling better, for maybe about a minute.
The meeting lasted an eternity. The case is over, what can they be talking about for so long? With Gibbs leading the meeting, of all people. Tony decided to shut his eyes just for a moment. Next thing he knew, someone was gently tapping him on the shoulder.
"Tony. Wake up. Time to go." Gibbs.
"Boss? You're done already? What'd you do with Kate and McGee?"
"Probably halfway to the elevator by now. Time for us to go, too, DiNozzo. C'mon."
Tony stood up too quickly and found himself flailing his arms for something to grab to steady him, but there was nothing nearby but Gibbs, and he wasn't about to grab onto his boss. Instead, a strong arm reached out and grabbed him around the waist, holding him firmly upright . "Careful, Tony. You ok? Dizzy?"
"No, Boss. Just stood up too fast. Head rush. I'm fine." He tried a forced smile but gave up about halfway through the effort. Tony made his way up the ramp and out the doors, Gibbs trailing more closely behind him than was normal. He stopped just a minute when he got to the stairs and then very slowly made his way down. Proud of himself for making it down the stairs without incident, he reached his desk and went to grab his backpack.
"You were taking aspirin?" Gibbs was looking at the still-open bottle on his desk, the little white pills scattered over the surface. "DiNozzo you're not supposed to take aspirin if you might have a concussion. What were you thinking?"
Oh, yeah. Not supposed to take aspirin or ibuprofen. "Uh, I only took one, Boss. It was the only thing I had around and I was kind of desperate."
Gibbs sighed. "Do you have any Tylenol at home, or do we need to stop on the way?" Tony just looked at him sheepishly. "Never mind. I'll stop at the drug store. You can take Tylenol, right?"
"Yes. No loopiness, I promise."
They started to head out when Gibbs stopped. "Where's your ice pack?"
"I think I ditched it somewhere…"
"You mean when you were pretending your head wasn't still throbbing? We'll get you another one of those, too. I know where Ducky keeps 'em." Mostly for you, DiNozzo. "C'mon. Time to go home."
Tony never thought he'd be thinking of the words "mother hen" in conjunction with Gibbs, ever. Until now.
Not only had the Earth shifted from its axis, but they'd entered an alternate universe.
They made it to Tony's apartment now armed with a bottle of Tylenol and a new cold pack.
Gibbs took in the appearance of Tony's apartment, recalling that it had looked much different the one and only other time he'd been there, dropping the younger man off after the month or so he'd had to stay at his place. At that time, there had been boxes and furniture scattered throughout the living room, signs that Tony had probably just recently removed the rest of his items from storage.
Now, the place was neat, almost even sparse. Tastefully decorated. Gibbs couldn't help remembering how much Tony knew about the 50's style furniture that had been found with Carolyn Figgus' remains. And there was a piano in the living room, one which Gibbs suddenly wondered if Tony knew how to play. He almost asked, but remembering how uncomfortable the younger man seemed by his presence there, thought better of asking too many personal questions.
"I'll get you a pillow and blanket and everything, Boss. I'm sorry I don't really have a guest room. Are you sure you don't want the bed?" One look told him the other man was sure. "Right, Boss."
He returned with a pillow, set of sheets and a blanket. "Here you go. Need anything else, Boss? I'd offer you something to eat or drink, but unless you want beer or…" He almost said Scotch but thought he'd better leave that out. "Or water, that's about all I've got."
"I'm fine, DiNozzo. Take your Tylenol and go to bed. I've got it covered."
"Yeah, ok. Are you really gonna do a concussion check every hour?"
"Yes, Tony, I really am. And don't even think about arguing. You're lucky I didn't make you go to the E/R."
After downing a couple of Tylenol, Tony wandered off towards the bedroom mumbling to himself. Gibbs thought he caught something about ex-Marines and people blowing things way out of proportion.
He chuckled to himself before settling down on the couch to read through his team's case reports. Minus one from a young man who was hopefully well on his way towards being fast asleep.
Gibbs had gotten through Kate's case report with ease. He loved reading Agent Todd's reports. They were concise, well-written, and contained all the necessary information. And only the necessary information.
Unfortunately, now it was time to read Agent McGee's case report. Having received reports from McGee in the past, he had expected it to be detailed. But not quite this detailed.
Geez, McGee, I could read "War and Peace" quicker than this. He realized Tony must have screened the past reports he'd received from the younger agent and told him what to eliminate. No such luck tonight. His boss half expected the report to include a detailed account of each of the junior agent's meals and trips to the head for the duration of the case. He had to take one break in order to do Tony's concussion check, which the younger man had grumbled through but passed with relative ease.
Gibbs settled back down to read the last few pages of the report:
Agent DiNozzo, Agent Melankovic, and I were instructed to search the home of Chaplain Evans after his suicide for any clues pertaining to the whereabouts of Petty Officer Swain. While Agent Melankovic searched for evidence, Agent DiNozzo watched DVDs of a show called "Ozzie and Harriet" found in the suspect's home. DiNozzo said he owned the box set as well and was watching the show for insight into the mind of the suspect. I located a set of love letters hidden under the settee which I began to read through. Then Agent Melankovic discovered that the suspect kept a dark room in his closet. After they had exchanged words, she and Agent DiNozzo located the suspect's camera equipment in the closet and we began to search for pictures. I continued to read the love letters aloud and Agent DiNozzo noted that they sounded like the recordings of someone named Nelson Eddy (sp?), apparently not of the same Nelsons that made the "Ozzie and Harriet" show and that he also owned a collection of Nelson Eddy's forgotten recordings. When I pointed out that Agent DiNozzo and Chaplain Evans seemed to share many areas of mutual interest, Agent DiNozzo became quite agitated. However, it was then that he somehow had the idea to take apart Chaplain Evans' record player and there located the photo album showing him with his alleged victims, two of which had been heretofore unidentified. I sent the prints and negative to our forensic scientist, Abigail Sciuto, for further analysis….
In the rush to locate Barbara Swain which had followed, Gibbs had forgotten that he'd been told it was Tony who had located the photo album inside Evans' record player. He'd meant to ask the younger man where he could have possibly come up with the idea to look there. This was often where Tony excelled – finding clues in places others would have never thought to look – but usually Gibbs could figure out his reasoning, even if after the fact. Agent McGee's report left him more curious than ever. Were there so many perceived similarities between Tony and Brett Evans that DiNozzo had become hypersensitive about it? Was that how Tony somehow discovered the location of the album? Worse yet, was Tony once again comparing himself with a psychopath? It had not been so long ago that the younger man had been comparing his own qualifications to be a parent with those of a man who had paid to have his wife and daughter kidnapped. But if he was comparing himself with Brett Evans – well, Gibbs couldn't just let that pass.
That kind of thinking could lead Tony down a very dark path. And an undeserved one. Whatever the younger man's self-esteem issues, Gibbs knew Tony was a good man, one who put his life on the line every day to help people like Barbara Swain. One who would gladly take a blow to the head, or worse, if it meant saving a life. Sometimes, he just needed someone to remind him.
DiNozzo. Wake up. Concussion check. What day is it?"
"Mmmm…Saturday, Boss. Has to be by now. Early. Still October 2004. I'm home in my bed. Dying to go back to sleep. Head is pounding again though."
Amazingly, Gibbs had understood that string of words his host had just mumbled his way through. "Need more Tylenol, Tony? What'd you do with it?"
"Think I left it in the kitchen, Boss. Dumb….I'll go get it…"
"No, DiNozzo. Stay here. I'll bring it to you."
Gibbs located the bottle of pills on the counter quickly, but decided Tony would probably appreciate some water to wash it down with. Without even thinking, he started looking through cabinets, finally locating the glasses, but also noticing the bottle of Scotch Tony had stashed away, over half empty.
He tried telling himself that lots of people liked their whiskey, but something about this bothered him. In spite of his own habit of drowning his darker thoughts in a bottle of bourbon, it didn't seem quite right for Tony. It was unsettling to think of the younger man sitting here alone in this apartment trying to fight his demons with liquor. He shook himself from those thoughts when it occurred to him that Tony would be expecting him back with his pain medicine by now.
"You get lost, Boss?"
"Not likely, DiNozzo. Was just looking for a glass." He handed Tony two pills and a glass of water, taken eagerly by the younger man.
"You brought water, too. Thanks, Boss. You're a good nurse."
By the time Gibbs realized what his charge had just said, likely due to a sleep-induced alteration of his mental state, the younger man was already asleep.
Lucky for you, DiNozzo. Doubt you'd enjoy a headslap right now.
While he wasn't generally one for snooping, something had led Gibbs back to the kitchen to check Tony's refrigerator. For one thing, he wondered if the other man kept any food in the house which could actually qualify as a meal. Upon opening the refrigerator, he realized the answer was no, and therefore planned a quick trip to the store early the next morning. For once, Tony was going to have something besides doughnuts and fast food for breakfast.
He had also impulsively opened the freezer. Frozen dinners and frozen pizzas. So that's what he eats when he doesn't go out. Shaking his head, Gibbs had headed back to the couch to try and get some sleep himself.
The next morning, Tony woke to the smell of his boss making scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.
"Boss? What are you doing?" Tony asked as we wandered into the kitchen.
Gibbs smiled proudly. "Making breakfast, DiNozzo. What does it look like I'm doing?"
"I can see that. But, why?" the younger man inquired with a puzzled frown.
"I was hungry," Gibbs replied matter-of-factly. " Sit down."
Even in his own home, Gibbs was still the boss. Tony sat at the table, secretly eager to dig in to the delicious-smelling meal being set before him.
"Here. Got coffee, too. How's the head?" Tony appeared barely awake, but the lines of pain in his face seemed to have eased somewhat.
Sleepily, Tony responded, "Head's down the hall."
"Yeah, I found that last night. I meant your head, DiNozzo?" Gibbs wasn't sure if he should be amused or worried.
"Oh, right. That head. Sorry. It's better, actually. Just hurts a little bit now. Hey, I didn't know you could cook, Boss. I mean other than your special form of grilling."
Gibbs shrugged. "Had to learn if I wanted to eat. I can't live on frozen dinners and pizza."
"Told you I didn't really have much food in the house. I eat out a lot."
"Yes, I gathered that, Tony. Wouldn't have guessed you washed down the frozen pizza with Scotch, though." After the words were out, Gibbs wondered if he was wise to even bring it up. But it had been weighing on his mind since the previous night. He was hoping for some explanation from the younger man that would ease his concerns.
A brief look of guilt flashed across Tony's face, mixed with something else he couldn't quite pinpoint. "Guess you saw that when you were looking for a glass, huh? It was a gift from my father. Right up there with the power sander."
"Most of it's gone. Your father give it to you half empty?" Tony's expression told him all he needed to know. "Didn't think so."
"Before you even think about lecturing me, let me remind you that I know you keep a bottle of bourbon in your basement," Tony responded rather testily.
"Wasn't gonna lecture you, Tony. I know what this job can do to a person. Just hoping you don't make a habit out of it."
"I've had that bottle two years. Does that answer your question?"
"Didn't ask. But, yeah, it makes me feel better." Tony stopped and looked at his boss quizzically, the thought occurring to him that the last statement seemed out-of-place coming from Gibbs. Remembering the way his boss had nearly fussed over him last night, DiNozzo wasn't quite sure what to make of this never-before-seen version of Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
"You didn't have to stay and make breakfast, but thanks. I think I'm on the road to recovery now though." It was a not-so-subtle hint that the other man was free to leave at any time, but Gibbs just gave him a searching look and smiled slightly. He wasn't leaving just yet.
"Glad to hear that. So, what in the world made you think to look in the record player, DiNozzo?"
No one could shift gears quite as abruptly as Gibbs. Tony actually had to think for a few seconds to catch up. "Oh, that? I just, uh, happened to remember that I used to hide things in my record player when I was a kid."
Gibbs had figured the answer would be something like that, though he had to suppress an urge to ask the younger man what kinds of things he'd felt he needed to hide. "Was that before or after you got angry with McGee for suggesting you had a lot in common with Brett Evans?"
Tony's face hardened in anger immediately. "McGee put that in his report? He had no business! That had nothing at all to do with the case."
His boss had expected a reaction, but this one was more extreme than he'd imagined. "McGee needs to learn to shrink his case reports by at least half. And, yeah, that really didn't belong. But obviously it bothered you. You wanna tell me why?"
"Gee, I don't know, Boss. I just love it when my teammates compare me with a sick, psycho serial killer who chains up women and leaves them to die!" By now, Tony was so infuriated, he'd gotten up from the table mid-meal and stormed into the living room. Gibbs gave him a minute to collect himself before following.
"What do you mean by 'teammates,' Tony? Did Kate say something too?"
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, his agent answered the question with, "You mean you missed Kate's snide remarks about me understanding the part where the victims didn't live up to Evans' expectations? Oh, and you weren't there when I explained to the Probie that I was reading the 'Good Wives Guide' to understand Evans' state of mind and he said it explained more about my state of mind. What kind of person do they think I am, anyway?"
Gibbs was now the one feeling a surge of anger. He knew Kate and McGee had thought they were simply teasing DiNozzo, but they'd hit a nerve, and he was frustrated that they didn't exercise better judgment instead of teasing Tony where it hurt. McGee, he supposed, still barely knew Tony. But Kate should surely know better by now. "They don't think you're like Brett Evans, Tony. No one thinks that. You don't believe that, do you?"
Tony drew in a slightly shaky breath. "No, not really, Boss. But sometimes I think there's something wrong with me."
"Wrong with you how?"
"Don't you think it's weird that I like the same music and tv shows as this guy? And we used the exact same hiding place?"
"I'm sure you aren't the only two people to hide stuff in your record player. And there's nothing wrong with 'Ozzie and Harriet.' "
"But Kate said he was trying to create the perfect relationship like what he'd seen on tv. And I used to watch those shows and imagine what it would be like…"
"What what would be like?"
"Having a family like that," Tony said softly.
Gibbs sighed. "No family is that perfect, Tony. Not even the best ones. It's a fantasy. But it's one that a lot of people have. Nothing wrong with that. Doesn't make you like Evans."
"No." Tony laughed nervously. "But you have to admit that I'm just a little screwed up."
Gibbs chose his next words carefully. "I think you've been carrying around a lot of stuff for a long time. And maybe you do think a little differently. If you didn't, we might never have found Petty Officer Swain. But you use what you've got to do good, Tony. And that's why you aren't like Evans and never will be."
"Good people go bad sometimes." His expression held an unspoken question, like he was looking to Gibbs for some sort of confirmation.
"Weak people. Not you, Tony." Gibbs could tell the words registered with he other man, though he wasn't perhaps completely convinced. "You gonna finish eating? Cause judging by the looks of your refrigerator, it's the first decent breakfast you've had in years."
"Sorry, Boss. Didn't mean to insult your cooking or anything. It's actually pretty good." Smiling, Tony made his way back to the table, followed by Gibbs.
A few minutes after they'd settled back down at the table, Tony asked casually, "So, what'd you think of the rest of McGee's case report?" Gibbs could tell from his grin that he was back to a joking mood.
"I think if you don't teach him to get to the point, the next one's gonna accidentally end up in my fireplace."
Tony was practically grinning from ear to ear. He'd been letting his jealousy get the better of him lately, culminating in a heated discussion he'd had with McGee in the car a couple of days prior. Regardless of whether or not the younger man had meant all the things he'd said about not wanting Tony's job and about Tony being Gibbs' right-hand man, one thing was certain from the look currently on his boss' face.
Nope, McGee won't be taking my place anytime soon.
Later that evening, well after Gibbs had left finally satisfied that he was out-of-the-woods, Tony dug out his DVDs of The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, hoping he could pinpoint the reason why both he and Brett Evans would be drawn to the same things.
About an hour-and-a-half into the project, he finally had an epiphany of sorts. Kate had said that Evans was trying to create his fantasy of a perfect relationship. Apparently, Evans' perfect world involved having someone who was completely subservient to him, there to serve his every need, wish, and desire without a requirement for him to do anything in return.
But that isn't what it's about. He completely missed the point. It's about family. It's about people doing things for each other and being there for each other because they want to. Because they love each other. Cause that's what families are supposed to do. That's why I'm drawn to it.
And that's why I'm not like Evans.
His thoughts turned to his teammates. Kate and McGee had probably never had to fantasize about being surrounded by a loving family. Because they'd both had one, regardless of the minor complaints they'd shared about nosy, bossy siblings or strict parents. That's why they don't get it.
But Gibbs does.
Once again, Tony had shared far more than he'd ever intended to with the older man. But this time, instead of feeling regretful or uncomfortable, he simply felt relieved. Like some small piece of the weight he felt himself under had lifted. Like maybe someone else was finally helping him carry it.
As he remembered they way Gibbs had looked after him over the past day, he tried to recall the last time someone had truly taken care of him. Not because they were hired to or because they owed him something, but just because they wanted to. He guessed it hadn't been since Wendy . And before that, maybe since before he'd lost his mother.
And for all the reluctance he'd felt to share intensely personal things with Gibbs, he had to admit that it felt sort of good that someone had simply listened to him. Maybe even understood him just a tiny bit. He knew he had no right to make the comparison that forced its way into his conscious mind.
Sort of like family.