...Of a Sentence
He sees the hurt shine in her eyes in the millisecond before she is able to neutralize her face. The words that follow illuminate the truth her eyes had told him.
"If you no longer trust my competency in the field, Tony, it is a conversation you should have with Gibbs."
He is frozen in place, trying to determine if he imagined the quiver in her voice.
She chooses "flight" before he can process his way through "freeze" and into "fight."
And "fight" is most definitely where he needs to land. Because she has him all wrong this time; it is not her he does not trust. It's himself. She has only been back three days, and he cannot forget the deal he made. He cannot forget how he failed her before.
But his need to protect has harmed instead, and now he will detour into "flight." He will be right behind her. He will catch her. And he knows her, and he knows her pride is wounded, that she will be in no mood for explanations. She will do her best to do all the speaking, not allowing herself to be reassured.
But this is important, and he isn't afraid of her. He'll make this okay, even if it means cutting off a ninja right in the middle of a sentence.