A/N: Don't own NCIS and am not making any money

Beta: Mike91848 Thank you for your encouragement.

CINDERELLA Revisited

Chapter Fifteen

The Big Apple

Yeah, the big crabapple. The big crab crappy apple. The big crappy wormy apple. The...now I sound like DiNozzo. At least I'm whining in my head and not subjecting anyone else to my juvenile blubbering's. I hate this place. Gibbs is a sour apple and Fornell is a bastard.

"McGee, anything yet?"

"Boss, I told you it was going to take twenty minutes, twenty minutes which only twelve of which have passed. You will know what it knows in another eight minutes."

"He sounds kind of testy Jethro. What's the matter with him?"

"Don't know."

"Hey, Junior, what's gotten up your drawers?"

Do I look like Tony to you? I'll just pretend I'm deaf. He's not the boss, I don't have to let him practice his FBI interrogation techniques on me and he doesn't know sign language. Him and his ex-wife can rot in hell for all I care. Imagine she went after the boss like that. And I can't believe he's still rousting me about...

"McGee, why don't you take a break? When your computer does its thing, dings or whistles, whatever, we'll call you. The FBI is paying for this 5-star hotel go get a drink at that fancy bar downstairs."

"Pay more than 10 bucks for a drink and it's coming out of your taxi fare. You can take the subway to the airport. We ought to go down, Jethro. I wouldn't mind hobnobbing with the rich and famous. Some kind of big business seminar going on down there..."

We drove, not flew, you...anyway, I slipped out while Fornell was making his nefarious plans for free booze compliments of the FBI. I had put the computer on child safety lockdown so those two would be hard put to even access the time of day without the geek squad.

The suite we were in was on the top floor and the hotel was pretty swanky but we needed the cover as Gibbs was supposed to be a well-healed, newly rich lotto winning innocent here to invest in gold and diamonds. We'd make contact with the jewelry store tomorrow. The background checks were completed now we were waiting for any information on the business itself. If there was any funny business going on, taxes not paid, too much asset for too little stock we'd find out shortly.

I took the elevator down to the well-attended lobby, yeah, the place was packed with the formally dressed, casually dressed and overdressed. A good portion of them were headed toward the swank bar and grill on the right I had noted on our arrival this morning. Live music was discretely heard through the sound proof doors as they were opened to let people enter.

I'd thought about taking a walk down Broadway. It was do that and get trampled by the hordes or hit the bar and get trampled by the drunk hordes. I had on a long sleeved button down grey shirt, slacks and sports jacket but no overcoat so bar and grill it was.

It was packed and the music from a four piece band wasn't too loud. Ambient lightening and classy leather seating booths and tables were filled to capacity. The band was now playing some Satchmo Louisiana jazz rendition that Tony would have fit right in as the pianist. I had borrowed Tony's guitar and was sneakily taking guitar lessons. Sneakily because I had to see if I had any talent for anything musical before I let my co-workers in on it. Didn't need to give them any more fodder to razz me about like my authorship had.

I squeezed up to the bar just as a couple decided to check out another establishment and slid onto the vacant barstool and ordered my twelve dollar 'To Boldly Go', a split infinitive if I ever saw one, mixed drink. It wasn't bad, not too much alcohol and a lot of green so I waved to the bartender for another. I observed from my seat that the crowd kept changing as it was early and this was a first stop on a long night of parties, bar hopping, the theater and the ballet.

The guy in the seat next to me, his girlfriend finally showed up and the stool was quickly occupied by a man who asked for a Glenfiddich gran Reserva, neat. I know that was whiskey but I didn't know anything else about the drink so I was curious.

Now there's a difference between 'I'm curious' and DiNozzo's, 'I'm just plain and rudely ready to stick my nose into anything that's none of my business nosy', so I hadn't planned on asking the man anything about his drink if some idiot drunk hadn't bumped into him just as he was about to take a sip and guess who got splashed with the stuff? What is it with clumsy people, waiters and my lap?

The clumsy drunken oaf kept stumbling after some poor woman who may have come in with him but surely had no intentions of leaving with him as she made a beeline for the exit. The man next to me reached out and presented me with a pristine white linen handkerchief and a déjà vu grin.

"Some people are pretty rude even for this day and age, don't you think?" And this was said in a déjà vu tenor voice I had heard three times before. An older man was speaking, well dressed conservative but certainly not austere, distinguished and handsome, salt and pepper hair, tall, and appeared fit for an older man.

"Thanks but I don't want to ruin that. Paper napkins are just as effective." And I started to dab at the wetness.

"Here, use this, please. The toilet paper affect never was a good look." I saw what he meant as little bits of tissue paper stood out starkly against my navy camel hair sports jacket.

I sheepishly took the handkerchief and finished mopping up what I could off my pants. Still looked like I had had a little boy accident. Ah, who cared, nobody was paying me any mind anyway.

"I'd offer to get this cleaned but I don't think I could get it back to you in a timely fashion as I'm not from around here." I handed the wet handkerchief back to the man who took it and stuffed it into his back pocket.

"There's nothing wrong with the heady perfume of a good malt whiskey filling the air as you move through it."

Ok...ay. That was a good way to look at it. In the meantime, the bartender had removed my neglected green drink and refreshed it at the behest of my new friend who had his new drink in front of him. He turned to me and tipped his glass before taking a sip.

"Excuse me for asking, but I've noticed people who have drinks without ice or soda usually just sling it back and be done with it yet you sip slowly like you're savoring it."

Okay, there must be more booze in this green concoction than I had first thought because I was sure running my mouth to a total stranger like we were old college buddies but I felt like I knew the guy, intimately.

He turned on his stool to face me instead of idly watching the crowd through the bar mirror.

"Very observant and believe me the urge is there to slug this drink down. But I'm a recovering alcoholic who fortunately is one of the rare ones who doesn't have to totally abstain from his poison. It's a challenge but when I drink, I limit myself to two a night, one per hour." He looked at me with an oh so familiar smirk and his light eyes scrunched up in amusement.

"You're not a regular imbiber are you?"

"I can hold my liquor." I replied hotly before snorting into my drink. Definitely not the act of a sober man. "Okay, so I'm mainly a beer guy. A couple of those and I've had my limit." The bartender passed out bowls of pretzels and I shoved a couple in my mouth to ease the hunger pangs.

"So, what are you doing here young man? Part of the business seminar the hotel is hosting?"

"Me? No. I'm here with my boss. I'm his accountant. He's pretty useless on the computer. He builds boats in his basement for a living but he played the lotto and won big time. So his crony Toby, who is a crusty and cantankerous old fart told him to come to New York to invest in diamonds and gold so that's why we're here.

"We'll start looking tomorrow so I have some free time tonight so here I am. Hey, listen, do you mind if I order a sandwich? Man, I'm starving. My boss is pretty strict with his time and cheap so I didn't get lunch." Okay, I was inebriated else why would I need his permission to order a sandwich? Or talk about the boss like that?

"You know, that's not a bad idea. They make the best pastrami sandwiches here. How does that sound?"

Without waiting for an answer from me, he called the bartender over and ordered two sandwiches with all the trimmings and I was a happy guy. Another green drink appeared in front of me mysteriously. Let's see, how many was that? Three, I think?

I tried to continue the conversation. "What about you, sir? Here on business?"

"I am, in a way. My company was started by my grandfather and now it's run by one of my sons as I am retired. He was supposed to attend this thing he seems to enjoy attending them while you'd have to drag me to one. But he said he had some other business to attend to and couldn't make it. And this was important to him as he was teaching the basics to up and coming young entrepreneurs that this country still needs.

"That boy worries me sometimes. He disappears off the face of the earth and then he's back at the office business as usual. He doesn't tell me a whole lot, he's always been on the quiet side and he doesn't know that I know he's not around sometimes. Doesn't want to worry me I think but can't help that, to be worried."

He sounded proud of his son and obviously worried about him as a father should.

The sandwiches had arrived and I dug into mine. The bartender didn't seem to mind that we hadn't moved from the same spot in over an hour. Matter of fact now that I think about it, the bartender seemed to know this customer and never brought him another drink though he didn't seem adverse to refreshing mine too many times.

We finished our sandwiches around the same time with very little chatter between us while we ate. He mentioned that he was waiting on his chauffeur with a car problem and had some idle time on his hands. Ted the bartender brought my companion his second drink but I had the wherewithal to cut myself off after the fourth one and requested a large cola and an even larger glass of water.

"Thanks, that sandwich was delicious and the potato salad the best."

"Yes, excellent. They get their food catered from the deli across the street. I used to bring my boys here occasionally. We'd stay at this hotel then they always wanted to eat at the deli."

"How many children do you have, if I may ask?"

For the first time, the man appeared hesitate about answering a question. He took a sip of his drink and stared reflectively into the bar mirror then let out a short derisive laugh.

"I have three sons. Two of whom will acknowledge me as their father. The other one, I am dead to him. Don't know what he's doing, don't deserve to know. So. But, I've got the five grandkids, three boys, two girls. Beautiful kids each and every one of them and no I'm not whipping out the two hundred and ten photo's I have stored in my wallet to bore you with."

"Really?" I looked around him, almost falling off my seat. No way he could have...there'd be a huge bulge in his backside with...

"No. They're in my tablet." He pointed to his pocket. "I'm just fooling with you, buddy." Actually, he was laughing at me. I was not sober and I was a gullible idiot. So I started laughing too.

"You're a good kid. A man who can laugh at himself will never cease to be amused."

"You sound like another...guy I work for. He works out of his basement too and it gets kinda cold and moldy, and stinky but anyway, he's always quoting somebody or other, I don't know, and drinking tea with an accent. Who was that quote from?"

"About the laughter? An unknown wise man, I think. Read it in a book of quotes. I've been able to do a lot of reading since I gave up on the booze, learned a lot of things about myself. Not very pretty things. For instance, I was a functional alcoholic but mean as a snake to...well someone who didn't deserve it. There are some things that cannot be forgiven. Did you know that?" The question was sad and rhetorical so I didn't bother answering him.

"But we live and learn. My advice to you my boy is don't wait too long to learn the lesson." He suddenly reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out his cellphone and without fumbling or cursing went directly to the text message he had just received. "Well, it looks like my ride has arrived. It's been good talking to you...hell I don't even know your name."

"It's Tim. Timothy McGee."

"It's been delightful, Tim. Name's Anthony but my friends just call me Tony."

We shook hands. "Food and drinks on me" and he threw some big money on the bar and left.

Ncisncisncisncis

I got up and walked toward the right side of the loud music and noisy room farthest from the stage where I pulled up a chair and sat down with two men who had the most bemused expressions on their faces. Couldn't have been any more puzzled than what was on mine.

I had noticed in the bar mirror when Gibbs and Fornell had found a table on their arrival about fifteen minutes after my companion had found a stool at the bar. Previously, I had fitted my jacket with a microphone to test out the new ear plugs Fornell had purloined from the FBI so the two of them had their ear plugs in and had heard most of my conversation with the gentleman teetotaler.

"Boss, you don't believe in coincidences, do you?"

"Hard to believe it was just random."

Fornell snorted but had nothing to say.

No way that could have been planned. I felt like it just happened the way it played out. But who could think in all this noise plus I needed to use the rest room and I was still feeling the effects of the green tonic, and I was getting a headache. The boss picked up on it and told Fornell that we were headed to the room and would see him in the morning, 7a.m. sharp.

Fornell had done some research by the next morning. He said that Anthony, 'my friends call meTony', had indeed arrived back in the country as stated. He was listed as a fill in at the seminar for his son who had a business emergency to take care of. His chauffeur had been stranded at the side of the road with a flat tire and because of the amount of traffic accidents that evening, the tow truck had been delayed.

Anthony had been at the seminar all day and just returned to the hotel and had gone into the bar rather than up to his room. He frequented that hotel and that bar whenever he was in New York and the bartender did indeed know the man. His chauffeur had picked him up later and taken him to a classy restaurant where he was having dinner with some associates.

He never asked any leading questions, was just mildly interested in what I did. Strangers filling in time to pass the time while waiting for something else to happen. Quiet introspection rather than the seeker of secrets was his demeanor, self-mockery and some deep regrets. That was my opinion for what it was worth.

Would I be able to tell my friend Tony that his father had been revealed as just the ordinary commonplace man, reflecting humor and pathos, caring and guilt, and was probably no longer the bigger than life ogre; the evil monster who had lived in his childhood terrors?

Ncisncisncisncis

At 9 a.m. we entered the jewelry shop for our appointment with the jeweler. The Boss made it plain that we had several other shops we were interested in checking out this morning for the best buys. The jeweler didn't seem to mind, said that that's how most people did it before they made a final decision.

I stood by Gibbs side with my laptop open ostensibly taking down figures and such as he was shown tray after tray of sparkling gems. I looked around the shop which was not loud or obvious but understated in its elegance; the jewels the only thing crying out for attention.

I wandered around during their negotiations and noticed a small antique desk next to the wall behind the counter. There was a phone and some papers neatly set in a tray. And lying right there on the top of the tray was a flyer with the words Organ Donor Drive and a date. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

A clerk who had been helping the jeweler bring out the trays came over to see if I wanted a beverage, a cup of coffee perhaps? She was pretty, a little younger than me and had flirty eyes. I could flirt without stammering and stuttering, piece of cake.

"No thanks, but maybe later when you take your break, the coffee shop downstairs?"

"Oh." She pouted, "My morning breaks not 'til 10:30 and you're almost done here. I'm free at 5 though if you'd like to come back."

She really was pretty. Sigh. "We're leaving right after my boss makes his decision. We have two more stops to make so I don't think I'll be around at 5." I could see Gibbs peering in a microscope at some gems the jeweler had affixed there and who was explaining what their colors meant. Poor man was going to kill someone soon but he did his best to stall the guy while I got what I could out of Ms Pretty here.

"Too bad. You don't know what you're missing, Timmy," said she, seductively. Oh, yes I do.

Really pretty coquette with dimples started to go back to her employer when I remembered the flyer. "Uh, Coquette, sorry, Jeanette, could I see that flyer on the desk or is it personal?"

"Yes, of course. There's a campaign to get people to put organ donor on their drivers licenses. One of the DiNozzo kids is pretty sick and needs a transplant and they can't find a suitable donor. Anyway, someone up there distributed these flyers to pass out. You can have this one if you like.

"Oh and my boyfriend...well he's not really my boyfriend but we go out sometimes but we're not exclusive...anyway. He works upstairs part time in the DiNozzo office cause he still has a semester to go before he gets his degree in computer science. I let him come down here to use our computer to do his homework when the owner is in the back having lunch. He doesn't mind, he likes to help young people in their schooling since he could never go to college. Hey, if you need help with anything computer related you should give him a call. He's always looking for extra cash for books and stuff."

"Oh yeah?" I'll just bet. "What's his name? I could always use a little help."

She wrote his name and phone number on a piece of paper and stuck it in my jacket pocket. "Just don't tell him we kind of hooked up for a date okay? He's not as not-exclusive as I am."

Shortly after, we left the shop and Gibbs got on the phone with Fornell as we rode the empty elevator down. We met up at the aforementioned coffee shop, more like a Greenwich Village coffeehouse as there were comfortable chairs, shelves lined with books, magazine and newspaper racks and light music playing to soothe. No one was reading poetry though. Gibbs was not impressed. Coffee should come in plain surroundings, nothing need be added. Like his coffee, plain, black, coffee for coffee's sake.

I showed Fornell the flyer and gave him the paper with the not-exclusive boyfriend's phone number. We did all the intelligent work now let Mr 'keep your hands off my ex-wife' Fornell do the grunt, grunge work and get a warrant for the jeweler's computer and have the boyfriend brought to NCIS for questioning.

We parted with Fornell and left the city that never sleeps for DC and I was glad to leave.

Ncisncisncisncis

Back in DC, the MCRT lights were dimmed. Tony was leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk twiddling his fingers on his stomach.

"Boss, what did you do to McGee? How rough were you on the poor McSensitive?"

"DiNozzo, I didn't do anything to him."

"Well he sure is acting funny, even for him. I know. He blew his undercover assignment as computer nerd accountant...no that can't be, he is a computer nerd something. So what's bothering him? It has to be something you did, Boss cause I haven't been near the guy for a whole..."

"DINOZZO!"

"Yeah, boss?"

Gibbs got up from his desk and approached Tony. "McGee did very well with his extemporaneous role playing. He didn't tell you about it?"

Tony gave Gibbs a funny look. "Nooo, he barely spoke to me when you guys got back and how come you know extem...whatever that word was you just said?"

Gibbs blew him off impatiently. "Get him to talk to you, DiNozzo."

"What's going on, Boss?" Tony queried, putting his feet down and sitting up. Gibbs sighed. This would be better coming from McGee but the guy was missing in action, probably down in autopsy with Ducky getting a few minutes needed rest. Ziva was also in the building somewhere although she had been given leave to go home.

The team was still here because the missing boyfriend had been found...in his apartment with a large caliber bullet hole in the back of his head, his apartment trashed and his computer gone. He did not have access to the DiNozzo business computer, had more mailroom duties than anything, hence his use of the girlfriend's.

It appears the FBI had made off with the jeweler's computer just in time because there was a break in there but the alarm system was up to date and above the thieves capability to turn off so they had fled. It appeared they were back to square one if McGee was unable to break into the boyfriend's account on the jeweler's computer.

"We got nothin'." Had been Tony's disgusted acerbic observation.

Tim had been silent and focused as he attempted to break into the computer geek boyfriend's account. The guy was good. McGee was getting a run for his money trying to break in and he wasn't liking it. The FBI hadn't found anything incriminating in the man's apartment and the girlfriend, on being interview by the FBI, had tearfully had nothing to add. She also did not own a computer, laptop or otherwise, and was being given protection by the FBI for the time being.

"Boss?"

"Look, DiNozzo..."

Just then, the elevator binged and the doors opened. McGee walked out and headed to the bullpen and to his desk but instead of turning on the computer and getting back to work, he turned to Tony instead with obvious purpose.

"Tony, I need to tell you something." McGee looked around at the dim corridors and spaces and not noting anyone else's presence turned back to Tony.

"When we were in New York, I met someone in a bar..."

"Good for you, Mc...Sorry, never mind, go on. Tony scrambled back to his desk and slunk back in his seat after getting two identical Boss and Probie, 'you're an idiot', glares.

"We shared a conversation, some food and drinks. When he left, we shook hands and he said his name was Anthony, but everyone called him Tony."

"Yeah, so? My name is not that uncommon, McGee, what's the big...?" Tony looked between the two men, the tension in McGee, the hidden concern in Gibbs' glance. He wasn't dimwitted. He could figure it out. What was the big deal?

"So, again. What's the big deal?"

"It was your father, Tony."

"Yeah, I figured that out from your over dramatic pronouncement and Gibbs understated concerned looks...Look, guys, sorry. But it is no big deal. I'm not gonna swoon, I promise. And McGee thanks for telling me. I don't want to hear any of the particulars, but thanks for telling me..."

"Tony, you sure?" Tim looked relieved he had gotten the subject off his chest and was more than willing to let it drop. Gibbs just nodded once and gave a 'your call' shrug to his SFA.

"Why do you not want to hear about your father, Tony?" It wasn't the question it was the tone of voice. Ziva came from around the corner. Her hearing wasn't that good so she must have been lurking and eavesdropping. Since their private and confidential disaster of a talk, Ziva's attitude had been totally professional and above board.

They did their usually snarky joking around; he even corrected her total lack of feelings for American idioms. And, obviously, no one else had picked up on it, but Tony knew her and he knew that she was furious; at him for his non-compliance with her demands of courtship and at Ned Dorneget for his insubordination towards her mistaken belief that she could order him around. But he knew she'd have his back in the field, and he her's, that's all that mattered.

Zi...vah. I'm going to tell you a story. Have a seat. No use sneaking around the corner here, you have my permission to listen and learn, oh Padawan, Obie wan Kenobie and McR2D2." Rolling of eyes, snorting and a head slap were their disrespectful responses.

Flashback

After winning all their games, Tony's basketball team had been chosen and participated in a fund raising fantastic event. The boys were still hyped after playing basketball with the Harlem Globetrotters at Radio City Music Hall and not doing too poorly with a loss of only twenty points. Those guys were fantastic players and Tony's team had gotten a lot of pointers along with the goodwill ribbing and fooling around. And the audience screamed their delight. The little bald headed children, the results of their chemotherapy, sat down front in special seating and embraced their special treat.

Now, sixteen year old CC and fifteen year old Tony parted at Grand Central station because CC wanted to visit relatives in Harlem and Tony just had to go to the Museum of Natural History. The lockers at the station would hold their duffle bags for 24 hours so they were set to go. Their plan was to meet up at five, go back to the hotel where they would wait outside for CC's father who was taking them skiing in the Adirondack's and no one would be the wiser that they weren't in their room at the hotel because the coach had left the stragglers, those whose families were unable to pick them up after the game, in the care of the assistant coach, who wasn't too careful and didn't have an eagle eye on the students in his charge and what they were up to. Checkout time was at noon and when none of the students were still around, he assumed they were all taken care of and he left.

Tony was watching a film on dinosaurs at the museum when his phone vibrated and he let it take a message as the film was almost over. "Tony, my dad was in a car accident, slid on some ice and he has a broken arm and maybe a rib. They're keeping him at the hospital and my aunt is taking me there now. We'll stay until he's ready to be released.

"Tony, listen, my aunt says to get on the subway and come here to stay. She doesn't want you to be alone in the city by yourself. She'll leave the key with a neighbor okay, she said eat whatever you want, make yourself at home, okay gotta go."

He would have gone there too if CC had left the address of the brownstone but in his haste and worry about his father, he forgot to. Then, when Tony tried calling him back, it went to voice mail. He left a message and waited hopefully for CC to call him back. In the meantime he took the subway from 79th Street to 42nd Street and Rockefeller Center to watch the ice skating and see the decorated tree.

He was standing looking down at the ice skaters. There was some kind of private function going on down there, a fundraiser for something or other, so the rink was closed to the public. There were men and women and children, families having fun together, eating hotdogs and drinking hot chocolate. He knew he was lonely and alone but he was trying to make the best of it. His grandmother was out of the country hiding somewhere. Janes was visiting an elderly aunt. There just wasn't anyone he could fall back on. He had been looking forward to spending the time with CC and his family but he couldn't cry over what wasn't to be.

He watched a group of boys playing tag on the ice in a corner away from the fledgling skaters. It looked like a lot of fun and he wondered if he could go down and join in.

Suddenly, one of the boys was called over by a man sitting cozily in the stands with the other people not skating. They were all warmly dressed and some had blankets in their laps as it had started to snow again. You could see the steam as it left each cup of hot something or other they were drinking.

The man who had called the boy over pulled off his warm gloves and handed them to the gloveless boy and he could see the boy's happy face as he accepted the added warmth. A familiar face. A hated face. Antoney the traitor's face. Just then the man looked up as though he felt eyes on him and their eyes met and there was recognition in that brief glance his father gave him.

Tony was at such a low point just then. Nowhere to go, no family to spend time with him. He was desperate and that close to running down there and throwing himself on the mercy of the man who hated him. To please give him a few hours to spend with them, to eat a hotdog and drink a cup of hot chocolate with them. He took a step forward, if his father could hold off hate for a few hours, just not look at him like that, give just a nod and Tony would make the first move. But his father...turned his head away. Shifted so that all that he presented to him was his back, his rejection, and his disdain.

Tony left after that, ran to the subway and rode it all night while he waited for CC to get back to him. When CC finally called and found out he hadn't given him the address, he was upset and almost crying. His aunt came right away and got him, fussed over him and bought them breakfast, and put them both on the Greyhound bus back to Rhode Island and to school.

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Tony was matter of fact when he told this story while perched on the edge of his desk. The agents maintained their silence when he was done, after all, what could possibly be said to make any of it better. Even Ziva's eyes sparkled unshed tears.

"So, you're all pretty quiet, but you see, I told you this story, Tim, so you can mention the man without feelings of guilt or thinking that I might be hurt by something he could do to me. There isn't and I won't... be hurt that is. He's as dead to me as I am to him.

And Tim realized that Tony's father may have mellowed after thirty some odd years, but Tony's scars seemed too deep for there ever to be a place for forgiveness.

"So, McGee, can you stop walking around with a long horsey face? It's not the most appealing look on you and by the way, whatever happened with Ms Jeanette? I heard you were quite smitten with..."

McGee just groaned and turned back to his computer.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter and please keep reading and reviewing.

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