Just a little guy of a chapter tonight, but hopefully a longer one next time.
Tony strode through the halls of his precinct feeling lighter than he had in weeks. Months, maybe. He had a brusque, growly, impatient fed at his side. Literally pacing right along at his side. If he stopped or turned, Gibbs would stop or turn too – maybe look at him like he was a slow-witted child for goofing off, but he'd move in the same direction nonetheless.
True, it was mostly because Gibbs had no idea where they were headed, but still. It was a potent feeling.
They passed other cops, other detectives, most of whom greeted him. He cheerily returned their greetings. Today, he didn't have to worry about looking too friendly with anyone. Mallace and his toadies weren't focused on what cops Tony was talking to. Just on Gibbs.
And what could Mallace possibly do to Gibbs?
A wide grin spread across Tony's face, infectious to those he passed. He pulled a bright red gerbera daisy out of a bunch gracing an absent aide worker's desk and presented it to the first female he passed. It just happened to be pretty Sarah Vogel from records.
She took the daisy and slapped him on the ass as he walked by.
Sarah had a good thirty years on Tony, but that didn't stop him from considering turning around and chasing after her for the pure fun of it.
But he was on a case.
No.
They were on a case. Him and his fed partner, who had his own resources and his own office, blissfully unrelated to this one.
DiNozzo knew he was overestimating this connection and this freedom he was feeling. But he didn't care. He purposefully surrendered to it, illusionary or not.
It had been a long time since he felt happy, and he'd worked hard from an early age to make happy one of his natural states of being.
This place was getting to him.
It was time to move on once this case was solved. He didn't want to give Mallace the satisfaction of driving him out, but if he left after successfully solving a serial case that no one else had believed in, Mallace would be seen as the failure. And Tony would have his pick of detective positions in other cities.
Half-dancing down the hall and perilously close to breaking out into song at the station house, Tony opted for the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator and jogged down, eager to find Dr. Mallard and see if he had discovered anything useful.
Turning one last corner, DiNozzo entered the domain of his station's ME, one of many throughout the city. He spotted Ducky and the elderly Doc Estein in a corner, speaking rapidly in low tones. "Mark! How goes the war?"
"Never-ending, Tony. Are you the one who sicced this tenacious bastard on me?"
Gibbs tensed, but Tony shot him a look to forestall any counterattacks. No insult was intended, it was just the way the man spoke.
Ignoring the Baltimore doc, Gibbs looked to his own ME. "Got anything, Duck?"
"Not yet, Jethro, but I begin to believe this man is not a fool, and we are going over the results of the other cases together. Give us a few more hours." Ducky had apparently already learned to speak Mark's language; the other man cracked a rare smile at being termed probably not a fool.
Tony shrugged and turned to leave, Gibbs beside him. Even if they couldn't find anything, at least someone was looking. He'd rather have a potential line of investigation firmly shut down than continue wondering if he just didn't have the technical expertise to recognize something important that was lying there in plain sight.
Jogging back up the stairs, mood still light, he grinned at meeting little Leo at the top of the stairs, who was scurrying towards the captain's office with a precarious stack of files. Leo flashed him a quick grin back before reassuming his normal harried mien and continuing along his way.
A sideways look at Gibbs didn't reveal whether or not the man had seen anything strange in that brief exchange. There was no reason to assume he had, so Tony continued on to his desk in the Homicide room.
He moaned in only partially overdramatized pain at seeing the additional mountains of paperwork now stacked haphazardly on the left-hand side. Another detective passing by, Sturgis, slapped a consoling hand on his back in solidarity, and Tony worked to exchange a pained glance with him rather than display the physical pain he was feeling at the friendly touch on his newly bandaged injury.
He pulled it off well enough for Sturgis, who kept on walking, but perhaps not well enough for Gibbs, who was now looking at him rather intently.
Falling into his chair, Tony indicated the same one Gibbs had used on his last visit. "Feel free to make yourself at home. I need ten minutes to go through these and check in on a few leads for other cases."
"How many open cases you got?"
"More than enough. You really only work on one case at a time?" It seemed decadent.
"Usually." Gibbs still stood, glancing around the room with what seemed to Tony an overly penetrating gaze given the mundane nature of the room. Abruptly, he turned and left. "Going for coffee," he called out over his shoulder.
Well, okay then.
Tony turned his attentions to his voice mails and powered through. He'd returned two calls and filled out several stacks of forms by the time Gibbs returned ten minutes later, eyebrow raised.
"You just filling in random words?"
"No, this crap is all routine. I can fly through these with my eyes closed and my mouth busy somewhere else." He flashed a grin. "Talking, of course."
Gibbs thrust a cup at him.
Taking it, Tony sniffed cautiously. Appreciatively, he carefully sipped the steaming hot chocolate while eyeing Gibbs.
The special agent shrugged. "Asked the cantina guy what you usually got. He listed off pretty much everything but coffee." That Tony was a fool for not drinking the one substance Gibbs apparently condoned was obviously implied.
Tony raised his cup. "Thank you. Good choice."
Gibbs half-shrugged. Could this be the expression that passed for mild embarrassment on the man's face? Tony supposed the man might not hear verbal thanks very often.
Or be in the position to be thanked?
Letting that thought meander freely at the back of his head, DiNozzo quickly filled out two more pages and left the rest of the papers to be dealt with later – they weren't urgent. Stacking the others in an outbox for the mail kid, he stood and faced Gibbs. "You got any ideas as to what you want to pursue next?" Tony had a few of his own, but was willing to reprioritize to some extent.
The look on Gibbs' face indicated he mostly definitely did have a decisive opinion as to what they'd tackle next, but Tony's phone rang before Gibbs could elaborate. With an apologetic glance, he answered the unfamiliar number. "DiNozzo."
"Detective DiNozzo, this is Director Morrow of NCIS."
Tony straightened. This was new.
"Sir?"
Gibbs' eyes focused on him with steely interest at the honorific.
"I need to speak with Agent Gibbs, detective. Dr. Mallard indicated his phone had been destroyed, but that he might be reachable through you."
Bemused at playing assistant, and mildly impressed at the fact that the director would bother to call Gibbs at all, Tony handed the phone over. "Your director."
Taking the phone, the special agent answered, "Gibbs."
There were a series of rapid-fire expressions crossing the man's face as he listened. Annoyance, concern, anger, and worry – perhaps a little rage and a little fear.
"Sir, I'm in the middle of a case." A pause. "No, but I do believe there is the threat of a new victim any day now." A series of, "No…no…yes…no…sir…" followed, Gibbs obviously reacting to whatever logic or command Morrow was throwing at him.
The call ended with an, "Understood." Gibbs ended the call and pocketed the phone, looking torn. He turned to Tony. "Caught another case."
DiNozzo's stomach tightened. Had Mallace somehow gotten to NCIS command? Was Gibbs being forced off this case?
Mouth dry, shoulders squared, he stood stock still and stared, waiting to be deserted.
Gibbs recognized the same stillness in DiNozzo that he had seen at the academy. It was unnerving, though he would never admit it. Apparently it wasn't solely tied to an abrupt physical touch, since he was a good five feet from the man.
He let a minute pass, but still DiNozzo stood watching him, motionless but not tense. Usually the detective vibrated, even when absorbed. Hell, even when asleep. But all of his energy was funneled into singular attention to Gibbs' face, now.
What was he thinking?
Making a snap gut decision, he announced, "You're with me. Grab your gear."
Tony blinked, and the moment shattered. "We got another body?"
"Let's hope not. Kid went missing nearby."
The vibrating was back. "On base? That why they called you and not us or the FBI?"
"Nope. At a boarding school nearby. Both parents are deployed. Makes it NCIS jurisdiction."
"So your director's pulling you off of this case?"
"Nah, there's just nobody else closer. Need someone there ASAP. Situation's unclear, maybe the kid just took off, maybe he's asleep under a tree somewhere. Director's sending another team, but they won't make it for three hours."
A subtle relaxation overtook the detective's body. Gibbs read it as, "Oh, thank god" though he was pleased that DiNozzo didn't say any such thing aloud.
"You don't have to drag me along, I can keep working the case from my end."
Gibbs paused to consider his next words.
He glanced around the room and caught sight Detective Delilla, whose red eyes and hangdog face sure seemed to be sporting a whopper of a hangover. Said red eyes were also glaring pokers into Tony's back.
What was it Leo had said? A good detective, but not a good man?
Suddenly he wondered about the good detective part.
Going with his gut, he finally answered, "I want you there."
Eyebrow raised, Tony asked, "Because of my charming wit and amazing skills?"
"Because it's a military school – middle and high school kids." Gibbs had little knowledge of the places, assumed they were like academies for younger kids, but Tony's reactions earlier made him question that theory. The detective might have some insight that could prove helpful.
"Oh, goody. That sounds like fun. Let me just grab my thumbscrews for the ride…"
Gibbs grabbed DiNozzo and propelled him forward, taking care not to push too hard. So far the kid hadn't been limping, but he knew from personal experience that knees didn't magically heal themselves overnight.
He felt Delilla's hot gaze on their backs as they left, and spotted Mallace's square little head peering out at them with displeasure from his office as they passed.
He suddenly wanted to get DiNozzo the hell out of this building.