A/N: Okay so this chapter was supposed to be a lot longer but I had some trouble with it, so I thought I'd end it where I did to get a fresh start. Nothing much happens in this but the next chapters will be filled with emotional turmoil. Promise. *evil laugher*

Thanks to my beta ktwesterna. Great job as always!!!


Their Day in Baltimore


Chapter 04

Tony sat in the only interrogation room currently available and stared at his reflection in the two-way mirror. He wrinkled his nose at the sweats and old t-shirt he was forced to wear, since his suit had been all but ruined after his little date with the pavement earlier. Usually he had a back-up suit in his locker, but that one had been needed last week after he'd followed a suspect into the sewer and he'd neglected to replace it until now.

When the other detectives had seen his new outfit they had sneered at him in obvious spite. Everyone knew of his taste for expensive suits and most of them, those who didn't really know him, even thought that he would put their safety before his job.

But while he really did love his suits and mourned every single one of them he lost during an investigation, he would never put them before his job or someone's life. He was well aware that clothes were just things and that things were never more important than people. An important insight his father had always lacked.

Nonetheless, he would complain and whine about his suit as soon as someone was around to listen, but only because people expected it. He liked giving others what they expected . It kept them from giving him too much thought. If people spent too much time thinking about you there was no telling to what conclusions they could come.

Tony shifted in his seat and winced when the movement jarred his sprained ankle. Although he would never admit it, he was glad that Mike had ordered him to wait in the interrogation room while he took the fingerprints of their new suspect. The man hadn't said a word since they'd reached the police station and when they'd searched him there had been no identification on him.

The young detective sighed and shifted his gaze to the ceiling. It wasn't a much more interesting sight, but at least he wouldn't have to see his tired face and the dark circles under his eyes. He'd experienced much longer and more exhausting days during his career, but he felt as if he'd run ten miles with a Gibbs-shaped rock on his shoulders.

A snort escaped his lips at the mental image that thought provided and he wondered, not for the first time, where the Agent had disappeared to. Shortly after he'd helped the Italian sit down - with a gentleness that had been a surprise in itself - he'd left the room and hadn't returned until now.

Tony suspected that he'd gone off to search for his beloved coffee and was oddly grateful for that. He needed to be alone right now, even if it was just a few minutes. There were too many things on his mind and he really needed to sort them out before he faced anyone.

Tony lowered his eyes and frowned at the table in front of him.

"You haven't chanced one bit."

He couldn't get those words out of his head. They had certainly come out of nowhere and Tony really didn't know whether he should be flattered or insulted.

In the end he settled for confused.

If he hadn't changed one bit, why did Gibbs act as if he didn't care? Hadn't he cared about him back then? Or did he care about him now but pretended like he didn't? But why would he do that? It wasn't like Tony wanted to play a big part in Gibbs life. All he'd wanted was one case. One case they could work on together as equal partners. Maybe muse about the past over a beer of two before they went their separate ways again.

After their more than disastrous reunion, Tony had come to terms with the fact that he would have to drink those beers alone and that it would probably be a lot more than one or two, but that latest turn of events had confused him.

If Tony hadn't known it better, he could almost believe that Gibbs voice had sounded affectionate, rather than judging. But that couldn't be true. It'd become obvious that Gibbs felt anything but affectionate towards him.

The door opened and the object of his thoughts walked in, the ever present cup of coffee clutched in his hand. Seconds later Mike followed with their suspect in tow. The man looked a lot calmer and for the first time Tony had the chance to really look at him, now that he wasn't chasing him or jumping after him in front of a car.

The man was tall and as skinny as a rail and Tony guestemated that he was no older than 35. He wore clothes with muted colours and Tony realized - with some amusement - that it was probably his poor attempt at camouflage. Something he needn't have bothered with, considering the bright red hair that was even more noticeable than one of Magnums Hawaiian shirts.

Mike motioned their suspect to sit down and left the room, leaving the interrogation to Gibbs and Tony. The Agent took the seat to Tony's left and glared at the man in front of them with such a heated glare, that the guy actually flinched back and lost some of his calm. Tony on the other hand slouched in his seat and regarded the redhead with a lazy and friendly smile.

When he was younger, and finally able to watch some TV on the little ancient television that stood in the common room of Rhode Island Military School - the only thing that provided entertainment when the kids didn't have to run laps or stand at attention – Tony had been obsessed with crime thriller like "Serpico" or "Dirty Harry".

The 'Good Cop, Bad Cop' concept had especially fascinated the young boy. He had learned a lot during those endless hours watching Clint Eastwood break a suspect.

Seeing Gibbs right now and his hateful glare, it was obvious who would play the part of the 'Bad Cop' this time.

Tony briefly wondered why Gibbs was so angry with the man. They had no reason to believe that he was their serial killer. The shiny object that had caught Gibbs attention had been an ordinary camera, so it was theoretically possible that they were just dealing with a reporter. They hadn't released the second victims identity yet, but maybe he had an informant within the force. Sadly, there were always black sheep like that. In light of that, Gibbs aggressive behavior towards the man seemed a little over the top.

'Maybe he's like that because you were almost killed because of the guy.'

The thought came out of nowhere and Tony wanted to laugh, loud and bitter.

"Care to tell us your name?"

Gibbs voice was like ice but the man stayed silent, although there was no hiding the little drops of sweat that appeared on his forehead.

"Listen," Tony said, adopting an understanding and friendly expression. "You had no identification on you but the fingerprints my partner took will be back soon and if you have a criminal record we'll get your name anyway, so why don't you spare us the trouble?"

"I have no record." The stranger sounded sullen and defensive, but Tony didn't miss the little grateful look he shot him. It probably had something to do with the fact that he wouldn't be alive without the Italian right now. "What is this anyway? I didn't know that it was against the law to walk across the street nowadays.

"It is when you are spying on a woman who swears that she's never seen you before, and you're taking pictures of her and her house." Gibbs stated in a matter of fact kind of voice.

"I-I didn't spy on her."

"Well, I'm sorry pal but it certainly looks like you were." Tony leaned forward to whisper and the Redhead actually leaned forward to listen, making the two of them look like schoolboys discussing their next prank. "You really should work with us here. My bad tempered partner isn't too patient when it comes to murder."

The man jerked back as if Tony had spit on his face and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Murder?" he shrieked. "I don't know what you're talking about! I didn't kill anyone!"

Gibbs seemed to be completely unimpressed by the outburst. "So you didn't kill Corporal Sperr? What did he do? Catch you stalking his wife? And how does Alan Lowe fit into this?"

The man gaped like a fish and for a moment Tony was afraid he would hyperventilate.

"I didn't kill Sperr! I didn't even know he was dead. Oh god. Oh shit. And I don't even know any Alan Lowe. Oh shit." He breathed another low 'oh shit' before he, with a lot of self-control, took a deep breath. "Ok, this is nuts guys. Seriously nuts! Listen, my name's Carl Wertham. I work for George Plass. Call him, please! I didn't kill anyone!"

The name sounded familiar but it took a few seconds before the literal light bulb went on in Tony's head.

"The George Plass? The founder of Plass Construction?"

Wertham nodded enthusiastically while Gibbs just raised an eyebrow.

"Enlighten me, DiNozzo."

"Plass Construction is one of the most powerful construction firms in Boston. They practically own half of the city. They are also the one's that tried to buy the block where Mrs. Sperr lives." Tony turned back to Mr. Wertham. "So you were hired by Mr. Plass. What exactly were you supposed to do?"

Wertham looked uncomfortable but answered nonetheless. Mr. Plass' wrath would be bad, but not as bad as being arrested for murder. "He told me to shadow Mrs. Sperr. She's very stubborn and refuses to abandon her house. Mr. Plass hoped that if I kept an eye on her I may be able to catch her doing something illegal. Something that would give Mr. Plass the edge to... 'convince' her to sell after all."

"You mean blackmail." Gibbs growled. It wasn't really a question, so Werthan didn't answer and just lowered his head.

"And did you?" Tony asked. "Catch her doing something illegal, I mean."

"No. Nothing."

"What about her husband. Did you watch him too?"

Wertham began to panic again. His eyes traveled from one end of the room to the other as if he was searching for a way to escape. "No. No, I didn't! I was told to watch Mrs. Sperr only, because it's her house. Corporal Sperr was of no interest to Mr. Plass."

The Italian chanced a glance to his left and saw that Gibbs was rapidly losing interest in the man.

Wertham was definitely not their serial killer. A stalker and voyeur maybe, but not a killer. They would check his story and confiscate the pictures he'd taken and he and Mr. Plass would face a trial for invasion of privacy, but truth be told, Tony considered this another dead end. One of many he and Mike had experienced since this had started.

They asked him a few more questions but he swore that he'd noticed nothing unusual about the Corporal or his wife and it didn't take long before Tony called an officer to escort Mr. Wertham to the cell where he would wait until someone paid the bail for him, probably Mr. Plass himself. From now on another set of officers would handle this situation, since DiNozzo, Gibbs and Mike had enough to do with their killer.

As soon as Wertham was gone, Mike entered the room. Tony knew that the older man had watched trough the two-way mirror when he saw the frustrated look on his face.

"Well, I think the youngsters would call that a flop."

Tony shrugged and gathered his notes. "It would have been too good to be true, anyway."

Gibbs stood and took a long sip of his coffee. "Our killer is too smart to make that type of mistake. Maybe those pictures will tell us something though."

Tony noticed that Mike watched Gibbs with an odd expression before he turned back to the younger detective. His voice held curiosity and disbelief when he said, "You two were a pretty good team, though. Are you sure that you haven't seen each other for a few years? Looked like you'd done this a lot already."

Tony couldn't help the grin that stretched his face and failed to see the one Gibbs tried to hide by taking another sip of his coffee.

"Oh come on," he drawled while he stood as well. "With me by your side, every interrogation is like a walk in the park." His voice had hitched a little towards the end as he put too much weight on his ankle.

"I'm sure it is, DiNozzo." Gibbs snorted but his eyes held a certain seriousness that unnerved Tony. "It's late and there's nothing more to do. I suggest we all go home and meet tomorrow to discuss our next course of action."

"I guess that's a good idea." Mike agreed and shot Tony and his ankle a meaningful glance when the Italian tried to protest. "We will need all the rest we can get."

"Fine." Tony huffed, but couldn't quite hide his relief. He really was tired and his throbbing ankle bothered him more than he wanted to admit. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He was about to leave when Mike grabbed his arm. "And how do you plan to drive with that ankle of yours?"

Tony scowled at his injured foot. Mike was right, he couldn't drive like this. He was barely able to walk. But he really didn't want to call and wait for a cab. He wondered if Mike would be willing to drive him home, but remembered that the older detective would have to make a detour since he lived at the other end of town. His partner looked tired as well and the Italian really didn't want to bother him.

"I'll drive him."

Tony's head snapped up at the words. He felt his jaw drop when he realized that the offer hadn't come out of Mike's but Gibbs' mouth. The Agent looked even more surprised by his words than Tony, but he didn't take them back either.

Although he certainly had the chance during the seconds of tense silence that followed his exclamation.

Tony couldn't quite believe it. What was wrong with Gibbs? Did he suffer some kind of bi-polar disorder? One moment he was distant and cold, and the next he offered him a ride home.

A part of him was thrilled by that little display of kindness but another part outright resented it. If Gibbs would stay cold and distant it would be so much easier to hate the man or at least develop some kind of indifference towards him. Tony felt like he was on an emotional roller coaster and he wanted nothing more than to get off.

The grip on his arms tightened and Tony looked up to see Mike staring at Gibbs with something akin to distrust in his eyes. But there was also something else. Something that Tony couldn't quite decipher.

"Are you sure?"

Gibbs eyes narrowed, but he nodded nonetheless. "Sure." He turned towards Tony, but couldn't quite meet his eyes. "Hurry up, DiNozzo."

The young detective was too dazed and confused to even consider protesting and followed the man out of the room.

He didn't turn around, so he didn't see Mike's worried, yet hopeful expression as he watched the two men go.

TBC


A/N: That's it for now folks. Tell me what you think.