"Ah, Jethro," Dr Mallard took one look at the ex-marine's face as he stalked into autopsy and turned to his assistant. "Gerald, could you please take those samples to Abby? And then I do believe that you are over due for your break."
"Right away, Dr Mallard," The MD's assistant didn't bother to point out that he had only just returned from his break. The dark look on Gibbs' face spoke volumes and he was mightily relieved to be allowed to escape the inevitable fallout. Taking the samples, he walked the long way around to avoid getting into Gibbs path as he paced up and down and left the two old friends alone, carefully closing the door behind him.
"Do you think I am being too hard on him, Duck?" Gibbs got straight to the point.
"I presume we are talking about young Anthony?" Mallard surmised. "Well, as we discussed, our newest Agent does seem to be somewhat too cavalier about his own health and well being. That is a dangerous trait which might well, if unchecked, cost him his life. But whist I admire your motives, I think you methods in this particular case leave something to be desired."
"He withheld evidence of an assault on a Federal Officer," Gibbs protested. "And then he lied to me about it. You don't think he should learn something from that?"
"Perhaps, the question should be, what exactly do you intend to teach him, Jethro?" Mallard enquired. "And he didn't exactly lie. A man of your experience in interrogating witnesses knows only too well that to get the right answers you have to ask the right questions. As I recall, the first time you simply asked if he was 'alright'. Since he was still able to perform his duties without endangering you or Agent Roberts, I strongly suspect that Anthony truly believed that he was indeed 'alright'."
"You saw what that bastard did to him," Gibbs shook his head. "How the hell could anyone think that was alright?"
"And yet Anthony has been really quite dismissive of the severity of his injuries. He has refused to take any prescribed pain medication for fear of side effects which might affect his performance as a field Agent, a duty which he has continued to perform without making any allowance for the discomfort he must be feeling, something which you have hardly gone out of your way to accommodate these last few days." Mallard rebuked.
"He was the one who said he was fit for duty."
"And your plan to convince him otherwise, has rather backfired. As I recall, you were confident that he would reconsider his impulsiveness and take the sick leave before the first day was out. Now look where we find ourselves."
"I know," Gibbs scrubbed at his face. It had become harder and harder for him to sit across from DiNozzo looking at the thin lines of pain around DiNozzo's mouth, or the dark shadows under his eyes from the effort of keeping it together. So, he had figured out ways to keep him out of his sight. He hadn't thought about how DiNozzo might take it. "How do I fix this, Duck?"
"Well, you could try talking to the boy." Mallard suggested.
"About what? About how I thought we were partners? But that apparently he doesn't trust me enough to tell me when the guy I shot to save his life beat the crap outta him?" A few days ago, Gibbs might have believed DiNozzo trusted him enough to be straight with him. Now he was pretty sure hell would freeze over before the kid gave the least little thing away."By rights, he should have been in the ER but he was going to come and sit in my house and eat at my table and not say a dammed thing about it."
"You don't tknow that, Jethro," Mallard pointed out. "It's really no wonder thatthe boydidn't speak up right away. He had just been through a rather traumatic experience. Matthews was already dead. There was no risk of him escaping justice. And Anthony may have been understandably rather reluctant to expose his own fallibility in an offical capacity when he already feared what Morrow's reaction would be.Granted it was rather glossed over, in his after action report, but more congenial environment might have been just the ticket to encourage him to confide in you. If you really want him to learn anything from this, Jethro, what the boy really needs is your forgiveness," Mallard reproved mildly. "And I have to say, I agree with Abigail. That young man is really quite alone in this city and his present accommodations leave rather a lot to be desired in the realms of comfort and security."
Gibbs had his own opinion on that. He had always prided himself on being a good CO but he had always made it a point not to get too involved in the personal lives of his Agents. That route encouraged a familiarity and openness that he was no longer comfortable with. DiNozzo was a grown man earning a decent wage. Where he chose to live was entirely his own business. Giving the MD a nod of thanks for his time, he turned to leave.
"Jethro," Mallard's voice stopped him in his tracks. "We both know you like to keep your people in a high state of anxiety. You'll recall Agent Burley's laboured breathing, I'm sure. But perhaps, you should consider a different approach in young Anthony's case."
"Tony's not afraid of me, Duck," That was one thing, at least, of which he was absolutely certain. He gave the MD a look. "Don't suppose you'd have any idea what he is afraid of would you?"
"He may not be afraid of you," Mallard agreed. "But is he very much concerned about loosing your good opinion and perhaps not living up to your high standards."
As the ex-marine took his leave, Mallard looked around the empty room with a sigh. "Of course, there is another reason for his recent behaviour, but I am very much afraid that is something you are going to have to work out for yourself, Jethro."
That evening, Gibbs drove a little slower than usual as he made his way home through familiar streets. In all the years Gibbs had worked with Stan, the man had never stayed at his house. When his senior field Agent had split from his wife, Gibbs had offered bourbon, consolation and a day's leave to go apartment hunting. He hadn't offered his own roof and Burley hadn't expected it.
He knew DiNozzo might be a little short on cash right now. Between the suspension without pay and starting a new job it was a while between pay days. It wasn't like he could expect any help from his family. Pretty much the opposite in fact, Gibbs knew that the kid had missed out on a number of scholarships and grants because people thought he came from money. His only real extravagances were the loan payments on his car and those fancy designer ties.
Gibbs could understand the car.
As he pulled up in front of the non-descript Motel Gibbs ruefully acknowledged that this was where he had been heading all along. He looked up at the building with a sense of déjà vu. Thus time DiNozzo's living accommodation was in a fairly reasonable part of town, but the peeling paint work and unkempt flowerbeds suggested that it had seen better days. Checking the room number he made his way up to the third floor.
"Gibbs," As he opened the door Tony looked understandably surprised to see him, before a little furrow of concern appeared in his forehead, as he worried that he had missed a call. "Did we catch a case?"
"No case," Gibbs assured him blandly. "Can I come in?"
The younger man cast a look over his shoulder, before shifting his feet uncomfortably. For one awkward moment Gibbs thought he had a girl in there and cursed Abby and Mallard for sending him on a wild goose chase.
"Um, now's not really a good time," Tony coloured. "The place is kinda in a mess."
Gibbs simply shook his head and shouldered his way in. The room was as nondescript as the rest of the Hotel. Furnished with the bare minimum requirements, all the fixtures and fitting were old and tired. The tiny TV in the corner was balanced precariously on the wardrobe, in an effort to get some kind of signal. The carpet was worn and stained. Some boxes were stacked in the corner of the room, and a few changes of clothes, a few piles of dirty laundry, and some empty soda cans and candy wrappers were the only signs of occupancy. A half empty pizza box on the nightstand and a bottle of some kind of over the counter pain pills were obviously DiNozzo's dinner.
"Back still hurting you?" He asked in a neutral tone.
"A little." Tony was guarded, but Gibbs didn't miss the fact that the direct enquiry had at least got him an honest answer.
Sticking his head in the small bathroom, Gibbs saw that despite the mould in every corner the shower had been recently used. Turning on the Fawcett he wasn't surprised to find the water only luke-warm as it spluttered out of the clogged holes. The smell of damp hung in the air only partly masking other unpleasant smells. And DiNozzo had been living like this since he arrived in DC.
"Are you going to read me my article 52s too?"
Gibbs didn't bother to hide his grin as he turned back to look at DiNozzo. He liked that the former detective was smart enough to pick up on what he was doing as he conducted his search and had enough guts to call him on it.
"Where's the rest of your stuff?"
"Don't have much," Tony shrugged. "Apartment in Baltimore came furnished. I'm not much of a cook and I don't like ornaments. I've got a few other boxes in storage, my TV, a few DVDs, that kind of thing."
Gibbs' eyes narrowed slightly at the picture just painted of such a rootless, barren, existence. DiNozzo was at an age when a man should be thinking about putting down roots, meeting a girl, buying a house, starting a family. The Italian lived more like a fugitive ready to pack up and leave at a moment's notice. Gibbs didn't like what that suggested.
"Got a basement you could use to store a few things."
The simple offer caused DiNozzo to look suddenly awkward and a little shy of all dammed things.
"You don't have to."
That got Gibbs attention. As an investigator DiNozzo was cocky, and over confident, some would even say arrogant, Gibbs had been at some pains to slap him down for that, worried that it might get him killed. Insecurity just didn't sit well with what he had seen of the man so far. Filing that thought away for later consideration, now Gibbs simply raised a brow.
"I know how much you don't earn, DiNozzo."
"Down to the last tax dollar," Tony's lips quirked, acknowledging the point. "I have a trust fund I was supposed to inherit from my grandmother, it's not much, but it would be enough to keep me in good suits and nice shoes. Except, my father's lawyers keep the whole thing tied up in knots. Without a decent lawyer I don't have a hope in hell of getting my hands on the fund and without the fund I don't have a hope in hell of getting my hands on a decent lawyer."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth Tony winced. Sure, Gibbs had to know from his jacket that his people were East Coast money, but that didn't mean he had to go bringing it up. Hadn't he already leant that lesson in Peoria? Hell, he was lucky the ex- "I work for a living" - Gunny didn't rub his face in it on a daily basis.
"Lawyers can be like that. My second ex-wife, I almost lost the house."
Tony blinked as he realised that not only had Gibbs not spat in his face, he'd actually sympathised. Never one not to push his luck when the opportunity arose he risked a rueful grin.
"Don't suppose you could give me his number?"
"Got it back at my place," Gibbs agreed. "Grab your gear."
"Thought you said we didn't have a case," Tony said even as he reached over to pick up his shoulder holster and his gun, only to have a hand, close firmly over his wrist, aborting the movement. Surprised at the physical contact, Tony looked up, to see steady blue eyes warm with compassion.
"All your gear," Gibbs clarified. "You're checking out."
"Boss?"
"You heard me," Gibbs assured him. "Pack your stuff. Settle the bill. You can stay at my place until you have a chance to find an apartment."
"Really? Thanks Boss, that's great, that's .." Tony looked inordinately touched, but after a few monents thought his pleased expression morph into a frown. "Um, are you sure that's a good idea?"