Four hours later, Gibbs finally walked into the station house. He was tired, freezing, and stiff. And pissed.
Gibbs was very, truly pissed.
He sent his probies to find themselves a hotel. They were useless to him anyway. He bagged as much evidence as he could stand to, and then a few more pieces after that. He helped the ME's assistant wrap up and cart away the body. He left instructions with the officers stationed at the scene to let no one in; he wanted to return in daylight before he released it.
When he finally judged everything that could be done was done, he wearily drove to the station where the two rookies were to be kept available for him to question. He hoped his tiredness would be a boon to interrogating the two, keeping his anger in check.
It was a nice thought, anyway.
He did not expect to be told that the captain had let them go home for the night, or that the captain himself had left some time ago. Delilla was also at home catching up on his beauty sleep. At Gibbs glare, the desk sergeant shrugged. "Nobody knew when you were coming. Got late enough, they figured you'd come tomorrow. Weren't wrong I guess, it is tomorrow!" He boomed out a laugh that echoed through the empty hallways.
Every muscle in Gibbs' body tensed. It hurt, but he couldn't help it. He was holding on to a tenuous control. It was one thing if he decided to leap over the desk and choke the sergeant. It was another thing entirely if he did it only because he lost command of his temper.
"Hey." A low, scratchy sound came from behind him.
Gibbs half-turned to find Detective DiNozzo watching him intently. Visibly reaching some kind of decision, the detective turned and walked back down the hallway he must have come from, calling a hoarse, "Come on."
Wary but lacking any other immediate options, Gibbs followed several paces behind.
They stopped outside a door marked "Homicide," but DiNozzo waved towards the opposing door. "Cleanest men's room in the building." His voice rasped out painfully. "You need clean clothes?"
Gibbs shook his head. "Got a bag in the car."
DiNozzo nodded, and gestured with his head towards the Homicide division door. "Be in here."
Gibbs grunted, and turned to make the trek back to his car. When he returned with his bag and entered the bathroom, he noted that the garbage bins were full of paper towels splotched with red and pink. Apparently the detective had cleaned himself up in here as well.
Just as DiNozzo had, Gibbs wet down several paper towels and set about wiping off all the blood and dirt that caked his skin. He had a small med kit in his bag, but eschewed the band-aids and butterfly bandages. Stuff healed by itself if you let it. Didn't mean you shouldn't keep it clean, though.
His hair felt grimy too, but as he bent to shove it under the faucet, his ribs protested fiercely. Scowling down at them, he made do with scrubbing wet paper towels over his aching head.
He was not looking forward to the next few hours. He could either catch a nap in some uncomfortable chair here, waiting to pounce on the captain as soon as he came in, or he could drag himself back out into the mini blizzard to try to find a hotel.
His knee started shaking as he changed into clean sweats.
Huffing in annoyance, he crossed the hall and entered the room DiNozzo had indicated. Strange that he was a homicide cop. What the hell was he doing memorizing the scene from outside the perimeter?
As he walked in, DiNozzo used his good leg to kick a wheeled computer chair over to him. Seeing as the detective sat in one himself, Gibbs didn't feel so bad accepting the offer. But he walked and pushed the chair back towards the kid before sitting, just because he could.
The left side of DiNozzo's mouth kicked up. He moved a white carton to the edge of his desk. "Chinese from earlier tonight if you're hungry." Pointed at a desk kitty corner to his own. "Empty desk if you want it." Pointed downwards, "Cafeteria is closed for the night, but there's vending machines down there."
It was obvious from the cuts and blossoming bruises on his face that DiNozzo had been in a fight, but he didn't hold himself stiffly at all. And he hadn't limped earlier in the hallway. Was he truly unaffected, or just pretending he was fine?
"The desk sergeant refused to call the captain. You got his number?"
"Yeah, but it won't do you any good." The detective paused for a moment and took a long, slow drink of the steaming mug of tea on his desk. When he resumed, his voice was a little smoother. "He only answers calls from a couple of guys at night. Gotta get whatever it is cleared by them as important enough to disturb him."
"He's got deputy dogs screening his calls?"
"Yep."
Gibbs scowled his opinion of that.
DiNozzo shrugged. "Not stupid, anyway."
"I don't see how he can get away with not taking calls from any of his detectives, at any time of day. Man should never be unavailable."
The detective shrugged again and turned back to the paperwork on his desk.
Gibbs eyed the Chinese food.
DiNozzo reached out to grab some papers from a tray on the corner of his desk and bumped the white carton, sending it tumbling off the edge of this desk.
Gibbs caught it.
Well, now that it was in his hands anyway…he started to eat.
Stopped.
That was no accident.
Started cramming the noodles into his mouth, eyeing his former foe.
Mouth extremely full of noodle goodness, he wiped a hand on his shirt and stretched it out. "Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS."
Gesture returned immediately, minus the noodles. "Detective Anthony DiNozzo, Baltimore Homicide. Tony."
"Gibbs."
Tony nodded. He nonchalantly turned back to his papers, and said over his shoulder, "Closet to the left has a cot in it."
Gibbs barely refrained from drooling. "Your house."
"Caught a couple hours when you were still out on scene."
Gibbs finished the noodles and tossed the carton in DiNozzo's trash. "How come you were at my scene?"
Tony smiled tightly. "Guy's gotta have a hobby."
"Why are you still here? You on duty by yourself?"
"Not on duty." At Gibbs continued stare, the detective relented, and added, "There's a couple guys on tonight; they're out on a call."
"So why are you still here?"
"Easier to get stuff done at night, when it's quiet."
Maybe. But that didn't explain why he wasn't soaking his battered self in a hot shower at home on this particular night. He glanced at the files on DiNozzo's desk. Case files, but he couldn't see much.
"Cot's pretty comfy."
Gibbs felt a quick smile pass across his face unbidden. "You trying to get rid of me?"
"Nope."
Rolling his eyes, Gibbs pushed up out of the chair – too quickly. His knee started to give, and the chair he'd been sitting on had rolled backwards out of reach when he stood up so suddenly. He felt the young detective tense, ready to grab him if he had to.
Gibbs refused to show weakness in front of this cop, whom he could not yet classify as friendly or unfriendly. He willed his leg to hold steady.
It did.
He strode in quick, choppy steps that were NOT limps towards the indicated door. So what if he did take the cot for a while? Man has to sleep.
Detective Tony DiNozzo diligently continued doing fake paperwork for twenty minutes after the fed left to get some sleep. When the man did not reappear, he closed the folder and dropped his pen, levering his throbbing leg up onto the recently vacated wheeled desk chair.
He hurt everywhere. His throat felt like the two sides of the tube were rubbing against each other. His face was on fire, his head throbbing. Between the damage to his throat and his bruised (cracked?) ribs, he was having some problems drawing in deep breaths without blacking out. Something had torn in his shoulder, and his hands were flayed. His damn knee almost gave out in the short walk down the hallway to Homicide earlier.
He raised his sound leg up onto his desk and leaned back in the chair, groaning quietly.
It had been a long time since he was in a fight where his life wasn't in danger.
It was kind of relaxing. And a bit fun to play the suspect for a few minutes. He knew the fed had spotted him at the crime scene, figured he was being followed as he walked away. When he reached for his ID, had he been provoking the altercation?
Maybe.
He shrugged that notion off; it was unimportant now. He opened the slender center drawer in his desk and took out the case files he poured over every night.
His finger traced an outline on the top folder, an outline of the victim he knew to lie beneath. He had these files memorized. He needed the details of the Collins murder; if it fit with the rest of them, he had to get the specifics.
A part of him acknowledged that he should go home, get some sleep. He had lied to Gibbs earlier about nabbing a nap, just to see if he could get away with it.
He was now secure in the knowledge that he could.
The fed could be a problem. He was only here to focus on one case. One victim. He could easily take the entire case over from Baltimore, taking all the hard evidence with him.
Assuming any had survived the latest adventures of the Wonder Twins.
Tony ran a hand down his face, and winced as it encountered bruises.
How the captain could continue to let those two patrol together was a mystery. It was embarrassing to have all their fuckups tie back to the squad house. They should have been partnered with older uniforms, and certainly separated, since they seemed to bring out the stupid in each other.
Sighing, he pushed those thoughts away. Yeah, the fed could be a problem. But Gibbs also would have access to resources that Baltimore PD didn't have. It was a tough call: Should he push in closer and try to get everything he could out of NCIS? Or write this victim off as a missing data point, and continue with what he already had?
His gut roiled. Writing off victims didn't sit well with him. Neither did getting punched in the stomach repeatedly, but writing someone off was infinitely worse.
Okay, then. Should he try to weasel onto the case, or just try to weasel information out of one of Gibbs' team?
He was getting ahead of himself. First, he needed to confirm if Collins' murder tied into his own investigation. If not, there was nothing to worry over. Gibbs could have the case. Baltimore PD had plenty to work on.
And so did he.