Disclaimer : I own nothing, but the typos. Oh and the OCs.
Warnings : Rated T for language.
Author's Note : Thanks to everyone who read, favorited and followed so far. And thank you so much to everyone who's left a review. Apologies for skipping the chapter yesterday. Baby decided that naps were overrated.
Enjoy.
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Veronica Lake is the Glock that bought as a graduation gift for himself after he graduated from the police academy. She is lithe and delicate, built of dark and dangerous curves that seems as though she were made just for him, to fit perfectly into the palm of his hand. She is the first love of his life, the first that could never and would never abandon him, the first that would be by his side.
But poking out of his father's jacket pocket, she looks so out of place, so sinister, so lethal. Like a graceful, silent film star caught in a world of Youtube one hit wonders and reality television.
Tony's heart quickens at the very sight of her.
They are long lost lovers about to be reunited for the blink of an eye before she'll be packed up in her case forever. No guns in the house because of Tali, he told himself. But he didn't have the heart to leave Veronica.
Tony's father, Anthony DiNozzo Senior, shifts his weight on the mall bench. Veronica disappears back under his three-piece suit that is misplaced with the weather.
With guilt threatening to suffocate him, Tony drops his gaze to Tali.
I promised her I wouldn't let the violence that consumed her mother's life run mine.
Senior clears his throat, casting his eyes out at the mall.
"Is this really necessary, Junior?" he asks.
Tony blinks as he returns to the moment. "Yeah, Dad, it is. I don't know what's going on, but my gut is telling me that it isn't good."
"There you go with your gut again." Senior sighs. "The jewelry store closed early, son. That's all."
To an outsider, it might be that way. But for someone like Tony, Rick—who hasn't moved from the front of store—looks a hell of a lot more like a look-out than a security guard. Not to mention the two men in grey suits who seemingly replaced Rosalind and Maurice for a two hour long shift. Their coordinated and carefully timed movements as they move around the display cases are visible through the plate glass windows.
From where Tony sits, it doesn't look like the jewelry store is closed early. Tony knows what s a robbery looks like, plain and simple. But he doesn't have the time to reason with his father.
"Can you watch Tali for me?" he asks, quietly.
Senior makes a face. "I think you're being rash, Junior."
"No, Dad, I'm not."
"Yes, you are." Senior huffs like Tony is the one who always makes poor life choices. "I don't think you should – "
"Then tell me where the hell Tim went?" Tony blurts out.
"What do you mean?"
Tony gestures at the nearly empty hallway. "What happened to Tim? He told me he was going to the store to buy an engagement ring and now, he isn't answering his phone. Rule three, Dad."
"Is that the one about not screwing a coworker?"
Tony rolls his eyes. "'Never be unreachable.'"
"Maybe he went somewhere with no cell reception." Senior half-shrugs as he gestures to the entrance to the men's room. "Or he's in there. Hell, maybe he got cold feet, went home, and is too afraid to tell you. You keep saying you don't know why he won't marry that lovely young woman."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tony shakes his head. Maybe his father is right. Maybe Tim changed his mind and decided he didn't want to see whether Tony would make good on the threat.
Or maybe—like Tony's gut keeps screaming—he's being held hostage in the jewelry store.
Both possibilities make sense...
Tony fights the urge to laugh. Only after years of being an agent and cop would the likelihood being collateral damage in a jewelry heist be the same as getting cold feet.
But this is reliable, predictable, and by-the-book Tim McGee. He would never break Gibbs' rules.
"He wouldn't just ditch me. Especially not now, Dad. Not after everything we've been through." When Tali fusses, Tony starts to rock the stroller on reflex and she snuggles deeper into her seat. "Can you just humor me?"
After a long pause, Senior sighs hopelessly. "Do whatever you think is right, son. But remember, you aren't a federal agent anymore."
Tony narrows his eyes. "Thanks for always reminding me."
"You need to keep things in perspective."
Tony shakes his head. "What I need to do is to help my friend."
Senior sighs again, but seems to finally accept that Tony won't back down. He checks over his shoulder to ensure no one is watching, then Senior passes Veronica to Tony as covertly as he can.
Tony's touch instantly warms the cold metal of his long-lost love. Even though he hasn't held a gun since he left NCIS, Tony never forgot how heavy and how intimidating—and how wonderful—they feel in his grasp. He slips her into his pocket, then gives her a reassuring pat.
When Senior glances over with worried eyes, Tony simply shakes his head.
"Can you take Tali home?" he asks.
"Come with us," Senior suggests. "We'll do a movie night. She's been begging for Finding Nemo."
"We just watched it yesterday. And the day before." Tony quirks a grin. "Not to mention fifteen times last week and I don't even know how many the week before."
"It's a great movie, son." Senior smiles as though it could help seal the deal. "You should come watch it with us."
Tony leans down to kiss his daughter's forehead, ruffle her untamable hair. In a dead sleep, she grabs onto his hand and pulls it closer to her chest. For a split second, he considers listening to his father's advice and just going home with them.
Then movement in the jewelry store catches his attention. Someone else has joined the two men in suits.
Tony's blood runs cold.
Tim stands behind the counter. He nervously glances over his shoulder towards the back of the store. The bald, grey-suited man, who now sports a crooked and bloodied nose, stands is by his side. He is busy gesturing through the glass at Rick the security guard.
I was right! It is a freaking heist!
When Tony springs to his feet, he says, "Take Tali home!" to his father.
Senior stares at the store, mouth hanging at the sight inside. "Ye-yes, son. Just be careful."
He throws a cheeky smile over his shoulder. "Always am."
And with that, Tony slinks across the now deserted hallway. He rolls onto the balls of his feet as he sneaks up on the Rick, who Tony now realizes is a shitty lookout. Even when the man in the store motions for him to turn around, Rick just shrugs and says, "I can't hear you."
Tony pulls out Veronica, presses her against the small of Rick's back.
The security guard's body stiffens. "Is that a gun?"
Tony blinks. "Um, yeah."
Rick lets out a moan. "What…" He swallows hard. "What do you want?"
"For you to get me into the store." When Rick doesn't move, Tony snaps: "Now!"
"Right."
Inside the story, the bald man throws his hands up as though he is surrounded by idiots. When Tim's face jerks back to the front of the store, relief washes over it immediately. Tony gives him a wink to tell him that he is here to save Tim's damsel-in-distress ass whether the younger man wants it or not. Tim manages a small smile.
"Wait, are you robbing us?" Rick asks, voice shaking.
"That's a joke, right?" Tony replies. "Your friends are in the middle of clearing out the store."
Rick tilts his head as he considers the thought. "But there's supposed to be an honor among us, isn't there? Stay away from our job and we'll stay away from yours. You know, that kind of thing."
"Who said I was a thief?"
"Then who – "
"For the love of G-d, just open the door!"
Seeming to finally understand the gravity of his situation, Rick fumbles through the giant ring attached to his belt that's filled with keys in every size, shape, and color imaginable. After several tries with his shaking hands, he manages to pull open the security gate. It clack-clack-clacks to the half-way point.
Then Tony spurs Rick into the store.
Once they're inside, Tony comes face to face with the bald man and his impeccable grey suit. The man drags Tim closer and points a gun at his neck.
"Who are you?" he barks.
Adrenaline courses through Tony's veins. His stance tenses as he clenches his jaw. And for the first time since he walked away from NCIS, he knows exactly what to do, knows how to react. A gun to his best friend's head is a hell of a lot more predictable than a powder keg of a two-year-old who's just been told it's bed time.
He exhales through pursed lips.
Tony carefully watches the rehearsed movements of Tim's captor. Unlike Rick, this dirt bag is calm and calculated. He has done this before, likely planning this job down to the most miniscule detail. Infiltrate the store, separate the employees, clean out the inventory, take a hostage, and get the hell out of dodge. It could've been a textbook heist, if it weren't for Tony.
Thankfully, Tony doesn't have to worry about the dirt bag blowing Tim's head off in a moment of temporary insanity. Tony bets the dirt bag knows the value of a hostage comes from the threat of ending their life, not by turning them into a pile of blood and guts.
"Who the fuck are you?" the man growls again.
"There are those who call me…Tony." Despite the tension, Tony is quite pleased with himself that he—almost—used a quote from one of his favorite movies.
The man's eyelid twitches. Tim tries not to laugh.
"And since I introduced myself, you could return the favor," Tony says.
When the man doesn't reply, Tim blurts out: "Harlan."
Suddenly, Harlan cracks the gun against the side of Tim's head, sending him tumbling to the floor. Groaning, Tim climbs to his knees and presses his bound hands against his left temple. Harlan touches the gun to Tim's head to tell him that it's far enough, that he's done playing around.
Tony releases Rick to double-down on his grip on Veronica. While he confirms his aim, Rick scuttles as far away as he can.
"What are you doing here, Tony?" Harlan asks flatly.
The words federal agent die on Tony's tongue before he gets them out. "I'm just a concerned citizen."
"Well, thanks for the concern. But I think we're peachy keen here, Tony. Aren't we, Lover Boy?" Harlan jams the gun harder against Tim's head.
Tim drops closer to the floor. "Yeah, we're doing great."
At that moment, another man in a grey suit—really, who wears last season's Armani to a heist?-heads out of the back. Two huge black duffel bags are slung over one shoulder while he holds a hand gun loosely at his side.
"Those two won't be going anywhere for a while," he says, laughing. "I even got that old bastard to open the vault." When he notices Tony, he stops suddenly. "What's going on, Harlan? Who's the new guy?"
"For the love of G-d, Fisher," Harlan yells. "I said no fucking names!"
When Harlan turns his attention to Fisher, Tim and Tony's eyes meet. All it takes is one quick, shared nod between them for Tony to know they share the same plan. Tony tilts his head to tell Tim that it's go time.
Then all hell breaks loose.
Tim kicks his legs out, knocking Harlan on his back, while Tony rabbits across the room to tackle Fisher at the knees. Fisher punches Tony just under the left eye. Stars explode in his vision, the world slides sideways. He loses his hold on Veronica and she lands on the carpeted floor, skipping and hopping away.
Tony retaliates, but his strike goes wide. Fisher's upper cut to the jaw leaves Tony's ears ringing and his vision blurry. He slumps to the floor. Against the dim lights, Fisher looms over Tony like a monster ready to rip him limb from limb.
Tony kicks him right in the nuts.
Gasping and groaning, Fisher lands on Tony. The weight sucks his breath away and he is pretty sure that he's going to have the mother of all bruises there later. But he fights to wriggle out from underneath the gargantuan dirt bag and regain the upper hand.
Tony drives his knee into Fisher's gut. The man doubles over onto the ground, wheezing and coughing. Tony scrambles to grab Veronica off the floor. He scrambles to his knees just in time to get his gun pointed at Fisher's head.
At the same time, Tim bellows, "Everybody freeze! Federal agents!"
Tony grins.
It's just like old times.
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While Tony and Veronica keep careful watch over the three would-be thieves, Tim heads into the back of the store. Moments later, he returns with Rosalind, Maurice, and enough zip ties to arrest half of Washington. Once the suspects are properly secured, Tony breathes a sigh of relief.
Tony's chest heaves as his heart slows to its normal rhythm. Veronica trembles in his grip as the adrenaline slowly dissipates, leaving him exhausted. He runs his hand across his face, winces at the rapid swelling around his left eye. He checks on Tim, who has blood trickling from the gash on his temple.
I can't believe we almost got ourselves killed. But what's worse is that I can't believe how much I miss the feeling of putting my life on the line to protect others.
He crooks a smile in Tim's direction. "It looks like you still need me to save your ass, huh?"
"I figured I'd let you," Tim replies, grinning. "Once more for old time's sake."
Tony laughs heartily. "Yeah, I bet."
Slumping against the wall behind the counter, Maurice covers his heart with his hands. He mutters soothing words to himself like a man on the edge of a nervous breakdown.
Tony debates about telling him that everything will be okay, that they're safe, that the police will be here soon. But he is too busy basking in the afterglow of laughing in death's face yet again. Plus, there are certain things that he—thankfully—no longer has to deal with since he turned in his badge. Hysterical witnesses, annoying suspects, and Miranda rights are some of them.
He offers Tim a small tilt of his head, tells him that Maurice is his responsibility now. After a stilted sigh, Tim squeezes Tony's shoulder in thanks. Then he heads over to talk Maurice off the ledge.
After checking to ensure the three dirt bags aren't plotting anything—Harlan is too busy bitching out Fisher and Rick, who actively ignore him—Tony glances around for Rosalind. He finds her rummaging through the black duffel bags full of diamond rings like she is setting up for the day.
Just when Tony goes to approach her, she exclaims, "Aha! I found it," and jumps to her feet.
He is by her side instantly. "Found what?"
She holds out the Biblio-whatever ring with a Stanley-or something other diamond that Tim had his eye on earlier. Under the house lights, it shines brighter than the North Star. And Tony is pretty sure that if that ring doesn't make Delilah say yes than nothing else in the world ever will.
Rosalind glances up at Tony, drawing attention to the mascara-streaked tear trails down her cheeks. Her short hair sticks out haphazardly, but her smile is bright, beautiful, grateful.
"I just thought you two could use a reward," she says. "For saving us."
Tony takes a step back. "We can't accept – "
"I insist," she interrupts. "They would've killed me and my baby if it weren't for you and your friend. Pick something out for yourself. I'll take care of it." When Maurice starts to protest, Rosalind glares him down. "Take it out of my last paycheck, you cheap bastard!"
Maurice hangs his head, mumbles: "I'm sorry. Whatever you choose is on me."
Pressing his lips together, Tony doesn't know how to respond. Sure, he is used to women offering kisses—and hell, even sometimes themselves—as thanks for a job well done. Back when he worked at NCIS, he was forced to decline every gift, every date, every offer of a little something to show you how thankful I am that was offered to him. But now as a civilian, he almost feels obligated to let Rosalind repay his bravery.
He picks his way through the store. Past the men's watches and cuff links. Beyond the diamond rings and jewels in a rainbow of colors. When he ends up in the sterling silver section, he feels Rosalind's questioning stare on his back.
Almost instantly, he finds a simple silver cross in the sea of initials and animal shapes.
"That," he says, pointing at it, "is perfect."
With raised eyebrows, Rosalind joins him in the land of simplicity. She studies his choice for a long moment before she glances up at him.
"Are you sure?" she asks.
"Absolutely."
So she reaches into the case to pull out the tiny pendant. In his hands, Tony finds it even more beautiful than Tim's diamond and its a mile-long pedigree.
He reaches into his pocket to pull out the Star of David pendant on the plain, silver rope chain. There are knots and kinks in the necklace from its constant presence on Tony. Even though he worries he might be destroying it, he still carries it every day to keep a piece of Tali's mother close to her. When she's older, he likes to think that she'll wear it herself.
He slides the cross onto the chain and it bounces over the lumps and bumps until it collides full force with the Star of David. The quiet plink is like two completely different worlds crashing together into a white-hot supernova of what should have never been, but somehow was.
Rosalind watches him. "That must be for someone special."
"It's for my little girl," he says, quietly. "To remind her where she came from."