Beta: This story has benefited greatly by the awesome beta-skills and input of Arress and I want to extend huge thanks to her for all her assistance. And you all know the drill... any boo-boos are my bad :)
A/N Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted or faved this story. I appreciate your support and hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Just to clarify, in this story Jimmy takes on the role of narrator and is written in 1st person while everyone else is written in 3rd person pov.
People noticed that Gibbs was absent from the last chapter and wanted to know what he was doing. The time line as you will have probably gathered by now, skips around quite a lot but perhaps some of your questions might be resolved with this chapter. On the other hand, it might leave you with knew ones. :) Oh and FYI Special Agent Lina Reyes is the Fibbie that locked horns with Gibbs in Terminal Leave. Their relationship was not cordial LOL.
An Eye for an Eye Leaves Everyone Blind
Chapter 6
Jimmy Palmer:
Calling time of death on the smoke inhalation victim at 10:53, I stepped out of the ER to head down to the doctor's lounge for a much needed cup of coffee. The 16 year-old victim had been rescued from a house fire and they'd managed to get her and the rest of the family out in good time, but Gabrielle was a chronic asthmatic and the smoke damage had caused her impaired lungs to go into respiratory distress and even with timely and aggressive steroid and oxygen therapy, I'd still lost her and that burned so bad, especially when it was a 16-year-old girl. Thinking about her impaired lungs also reminded me of Tony, whose lungs had been badly scarred by the plague, and I hoped that he never got caught in a fire…or a chemical accident… or bad smog. Hell, with no word from him now in nine weeks, everything seemed to remind me of my friend.
Stella, one of the ER nurses, brought in a sausage and extra cheese pizza one night that naturally prompted thoughts of DiNozzo. One day an MVA victim was brought in to the ER by the EMTs bemoaning the fact they had cut his Ermenegildo Zenga pants to access his compound fractured tibia and I couldn't help recalling all the times Tony had whined about the demise of his designer suits, shoes and shirts at crime scenes or taking down dirtbags. And although he bitched about his clothes being ruined, my friend flatly refused to dress more practically, like Gibbs and McGee. Even when he was dressed casually, his shirts, jackets and jeans were all designer labels. I wonder how he has managed these last months since he went on the run. He'd walked away leaving his extensive wardrobe, not to mention his DVD collection and his beloved baby grand piano behind. Of course, we put his stuff in storage and Dr. Mallard re-homed his beloved piano and I kept it tuned, ready for the day when we found him and brought him home.
Still, nine weeks since the last time I'd received an enigmatic message that Tony was okay now had us all climbing the walls with worry and Gibbs had demanded that I turn over the more than 130 blank postcards that someone, and I'm presuming that it was Tony, had sent me. Gibbs was holding onto the outside hope that Dr. Mallard could perform what he liked to describe as a forensic autopsy on the collection to see if he could find some sort of pattern or give us a fresh lead on where to begin looking for Tony. I mean, there had been the odd unconfirmed sighting since every federal and state law enforcement agency in the country was trying to locate him and failing woefully. As worried as I was about Tony, I couldn't help also feeling proud that my friend, the one that everyone from Caitlyn Todd, Tim McGee, Leon Vance and Ziva David had underestimating and mocked on a daily basis had vanished from under everyone's noses. He'd evaded the FBI's finest who were supposed to be protecting him and was leading Mossad on a merry dance…well up until nine weeks ago, that was. Now unfortunately, it was anyone's guess if Tony was still alive.
Hence Gibbs' edict that Ducky needed to pull a rabbit out of his hat like he had so many times before when the MCRT had been stuck on a case. And you know, as much as I hope he can perform a miracle, somehow I don't think any of them understand just how much they don't get how Tony's brain works, but I guess that's hardly surprising. Still, there has to be someone out there that knows something about Tony DiNozzo. As much as he is an incredibly private person, he is friendly with many people, although he would probably count only a handful of individuals as friends, but he has to be getting help from someone. It's hard to believe he could have just vanished so effectively without a lot of forward planning or the fact that he had a lot of help. And I hope for Tony's sake that he has someone.
We're all meeting for dinner tonight to at one of DC Italian restaurants that was Tony's favourite before he left us. Gibbs is back in DC for a flying visit, hoping that Ducky can find a clue. Gibbs has been searching for him since he disappeared, chasing after every false lead and trying to find the assassin who tried to kill Tony while he was in hospital and ended up killing FBI Agent Ron Sacks instead. The FBI managed to find him on CT footage arriving at Dulles Airport from Tel Aviv literally hours before the poisoning attempt on Tony took place. Photo recognition had identified him as Michael Rivkin's brother, Samuel, and when the State Department had complained to Mossad, having traced Rivkin's purchase of the Exotic Deluxe fruit basket from a DC business, Capitol Gourmet Foods, Director Eli David professed shock and horror that one of Mossad's former Officers had gone rogue and decided to avenge his brother's death.
He also claimed to be unable to contact the assassin and explained that Samuel had washed out of Kidon training because he had been deemed not psychologically stable enough for the rigorous lifestyle. Since I had serious doubts about the psychological health of Ziva's father, or Ziva if it came to that, the idea that there were even less sound Mossad operatives running around and that this one was targeting Tony was truly frightening. Of course, none of us or the FBI seriously believed that Eli David wasn't pulling Samuel Rivkin's strings, but no one had ever been able to prove it. And although everyone was beginning to think that perhaps Rivkin and his puppet master had succeeded in their goal of getting retribution, we tried to take solace in the fact that Tony's body hadn't surfaced, nor had there been any signs of Rivkin trying to leave the country. Gibbs was stubbornly swearing that he'd know if Tony had died, but the rest of us were losing faith in Gibbs and his gut feelings. After all, it hadn't managed to lead him to Tony, even though he'd been looking for almost three years without a confirmed sign of him. It was like Tony had simply ceased to exist.
And therein lay the tragedy and pain that Ziva and her father had brought down on the whole team. Well, strictly speaking we weren't actually a team anymore. The MCRT had finally fallen apart when Tony felt like he had no choice but to sacrifice himself for his friends and had slipped away, never to be heard from again. Tim was working for the CIA now as an intelligence analyst and I was working at the ER at George Washington, going to specialise in Emergency Medicine or maybe paediatrics. Abby and Ducky were the only ones that remained at NCIS, and I strongly suspect that the only reason they remained was so that Tony could find them easily if he needed them. If Tony was truly dead, I doubt either of them would bother to hang around anymore. Abby has always had plenty of offers from the private sector and Ducky would more than likely retire. And Gibbs… well, I can't imagine what he would do.
He left his old life behind at NCIS to fruitlessly chase after Tony, and the fact that he is no closer to finding him after 30 plus months, has to be soul destroying. Of course, while he is obviously remorseful and seeking to atone for his mistakes, it isn't lost on any of us that if he'd only had Tony's back like he'd told him on many occasions, this whole tragic mess could have been averted. But recriminations are what got us into this catastrophe in the first place, so I try not to focus too much on what might have happened if Tony had gotten the support he needed and deserved after Rivkin's death. Better to hope that the postcards will reveal some sort of pattern that will lead us to him instead.
When I arrive at the restaurant, I'm pleased to see that Tobias Fornell has joined us, too, no doubt eager to hear what Dr. Mallard has been able to discern. I have my suspicions that Toby knows more than he's letting on. Oh, I have no question that he is as worried as all of us about Tony and doesn't know where my friend is, but I think that he is holding something back. Perhaps he knows what made Tony push us all aside so suddenly. There's something that I can't define when he looks at Gibbs, something in his eyes when they do that silent communication thingy that Gibbs and Tony used to do in the early days, too. But for tonight, he has a folder full of sightings, tips and unconfirmed leads that he hands to Gibbs apologetically, clearly not really regarding any of them as promising. Yet as all of us know as Gibbs accepts the Intel with a grateful look, Gibbs will be off by morning, chasing every last one of them down hoping against hope that somehow one will be the one to lead him to his former senior field agent.
Meanwhile as Dr. Mallard pulls out his own file, the waitress sweeps in to take our orders and efficiently returns with our drinks as my elderly mentor clears his throat and begins. "Well, as you all know, Jethro has requested that I conduct a psychological autopsy on the only available evidence that we have to work with. I've studied these blank postcards that began turning up in young Mr. Palmer's mailbox a short time after Anthony disappeared from the protective custody of the FBI. I have to concur with my protégé and agree that I think that the cards are his own way of letting his friends know that he is alive or that he was sometime prior to James receiving this last one from the Illinios World Free Fall Competition which was held in August, although it arrived in February: nine weeks ago to be precise. So, either we might infer that he was in Illinios last August or perhaps he plans to be there next August or it is a total misdirection, but I don't believe this to be the case. If he was trying to throw out disinformation, he would be much more blatant about these postcards, I think. The fact he is being so deliberately cautious and obtuse speaks to me that any information that we might glean is probably truthful."
The waitress reappeared with several plates of antipasto for everyone to nibble on while we waited for our food to arrive and people began to help themselves as they listened to the results of Ducky's findings. Looking at my mentor, it struck me exactly how much he has aged since I left NCIS. Donald Mallard had always been a surprisingly youthful man for his age, but he'd begun to look every single one of his years. And studying Gibbs, I noticed he'd also become haggard and looked much older than he used to. That insouciant air of absolute cockiness is missing, he seems to have shrunk somehow, and the piecing quality in his eyes is missing. It's almost as if he's no longer Superman, he's just Clark Kent, and I think bitterly that I'm starting to overcompensate by channelling Tony. Pity I don't have his eidetic memory… it would come in handy for my finals for sure.
Ducky reorganised the postcards as he considered his conclusions, obviously trying to make his findings coherent. "Well, Jethro was hoping that I would be able to find some patterns in the cards he sent that might give us a fresh lead on where to find him. But I have to say, it is going to be most difficult, dear friends. The cards are an example of our Anthony at his distracting, deflecting, misdirecting, unpredictable best. What is obvious is our friend's very unique sense of humour which comes shining through. Take a small sample of these cards; this one for example is from New York City's Idiotarod a play I believe on the world famous Iditarod Race in Alaska, but this is a five mile race through New York City in winter where sabotage is encouraged, elaborate costumes are required, and physical stamina is well down the list. Or the Rattlesnake Roundup held in Sweetwater, Texas, where for three days snake hunters bring in their catches to claim a bounty of $5 per pound of snakes that they've caught. Or this one, which is right up our boy's alley, that is held in Crystal Springs, Michigan in August celebrating the largest fungus or mushroom if you will, in the world. The so-called Humungous Fungus is estimated to be 1,500 years old. A highlight of this particular festival seems to be the making and eating of the HUMONGOUS PIZZA. The fungus topped pizza is 10 feet by 10 feet!"
All of us smiled at the thought of Tony at that particular festival, He would be in his element for sure. Meanwhile, Dr. Mallard took a breath to begin again, reeling off a list of Festivals, and locations. "Then there's the Cincinnati Oktoberfest Sausage Dog races, Interstate Mullet Toss in Pensacola, Florida in April, Swiss Singing and Yodelling Festival in Salt Lake City in June, Celebrity Impersonators Convention in Las Vegas in March, Bald is Beautiful Convention in Morehead City, North Carolina during September, Zombiefest in Monroeville, Pennsylvania in October, Atlanta Jazz Fest in May, Banana Split Festival in Wilmington in June, Coon Dog Graveyard Celebration in Tuscumbia, Alabama in September and World Championships Barrel Relays in September at Bardstown, Kentucky." He took a breath and I jumped in.
"Don't forget the Emma Crawford Coffin Festival in Manitou Springs, Colorado in October or possibly my favourite one of all - the National Hobo Convention in Britt Iowa during August," I contributed helpfully, as Dr. Mallard looked at me in fond exasperation.
"Quite, Mr. Palmer… although I suppose I should start calling you Dr. Palmer. But my point is that these postcards reflect the mercurial nature of our young friend along with his quixotic qualities as he searched out the quirky and the obscure gatherings. But if they are an accurate representation of his itinerary, then he is highly mobile, never staying very long in one spot. With the valuable assistance of Dr. Palmer, I have plotted a timeline based upon the order he received these postcards and I have not been able to detect any discernible pattern to be observed in his movements. That means that it is impossible to predict where he might go next."
Everyone looked shattered that another dead end had been reached and Ducky made a cryptic comment to Fornell about the enigma that was Anthony's thought processes, but that if it was any comfort, Samuel Rivkin was unlikely to have any greater luck trying to predict his next move, probably less so since he would probably cling to the belief that there was a way to predict his behaviour. Gibbs looked frustrated and McGee snorted scornfully and made a typical passive aggressive remark about Tony's intellectual potential. Part of me wanted to deliver a good old Gibbs slap to his head for being a pratt while another part of me rationalised that the so-called computer genius was not dealing well with the fact that after working with Tony for years, his computer prowess still couldn't help him to predict where Tony was or what he was doing. That had to suck!
Still, for me the question was how the hell was Tony surviving without money? Common sense dictates that he would need to get money from somewhere, but the truth was that no one could figure out how he was able to travel around the country. I was certain that there was a method to Tony's madness; that he had some grand plan, but we were missing something important. I wish that I'd paid more attention to Tony's constant chatter because I'm certain that the answer lies in something that he's said or done. Tony's most dangerous qualities have always been his ability to make people let down their guard around him and underestimate him because of his verbal diarrhoea. Where he says so much, but he in reality gives away so little of consequence, and even then you have to want to sort the wheat from the chaff. Dirtbags and his colleagues alike seem to be mesmerised by his goofy act and never realise how much of his keen intellect is gliding underneath the surface, like a lethal iceberg waiting to strike.
And finally, when I found out exactly what we had been missing, I was so angry with myself because the knowledge that would have made it possible to predict his movements was really within all of our grasps, but over time we'd let him mesmerize us into a state of complacency. Yes, even me, who had reason to know better than most exactly how smart my friend really was. Woulda, shoulda, coulda…If only…
~ An Eye for an Eye Leaves Everyone Blind ~
Flashback:
Eli David looked over the reports from the investigation into his daughter's death. The FBI was being frustratingly obstructionist and refusing to allow Mossad to have a place, even as an observer, on the investigative team. All they would agree to under a great deal of duress from the State Department was that he could have access to all the case reports. He cursed the fact that NCIS wasn't investigating the shooting, since they would have been far easier to manipulate.
Despite his grief and anger over losing his last surviving offspring, he couldn't help a sardonic smirk. These American's were so easy to play so that they felt beholden to him and his. First time he'd discovered this immutable truth had been with a greener than green Leon Vance and the fact that he'd saved his life when the woefully untrained rookie had been sent on a suicide mission to Amsterdam where he was supposed to perish. Saving his worthless, sad little life had amused Eli, since he enjoyed creating mayhem and throwing TPTB into chaos, even if they happened not to be his own compatriots. Of course, later on he realised that he'd made a useful ally and he hadn't hesitated to help Vance's career along when the opportunity arose. Eli knew that Leon felt that he owed him, and he was acutely aware of just how valuable such a favour could be, long term.
It was a lesson he took to heart, and in good time he imparted it to Ziva, instructing her to make sure to save Jenny Shepard's life if the opportunity ever arose when they were partnered together post 9/11. Of course, his fiery impatient Zivala, never one to sit idly by and simply wait for an opportunity to present itself, promptly set out to manufacture one. She hired a bumbling would-be assassin to try to kill her and Jenny and swiftly slaughtered the poor schmuck rather spectacularly, earning Shepard's undying gratitude in the process. He had really been overcome with paternal pride at his daughter's resourcefulness, and it certainly helped to have an extremely grateful Jen Shepard when she ended up being appointed as the first female director of NCIS. It definitely didn't hurt for her to be so indebted to Ziva when he hatched the plan to have Ziva join NCIS as a liaison officer for Mossad in DC.
Of course, the piece de resistance was setting Ari up to be shot down like the rabid dog he'd become in order to convince the suspicious and influential Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs that Ziva should join his MCRT. It had been easy enough to plant the idea of getting rid of a member of the top notch investigative team into Ari's head to create a vacancy for his protégé and child. Once Ari had killed off Agent Todd, it was equally simple to manipulate his traitorous whelp to then attempt to kill Gibbs. Actually, it was way too easy to set up the ill-founded attempt by his imbecilic son, simply by ordering Ari not to kill the irascible and arrogant special agent. Eli had gambled that Gibbs shared enough superficial character traits with him to irritate Haswari and make him identify with Gibbs as a surrogate father-figure. That practically guaranteed that Ari would indeed try to kill Gibbs as a symbolic slaying of his father.
Mind you, Eli mused maliciously, Gibbs hadn't exactly done himself any favours either by becoming obsessed with punishing the rogue Mossad officer in retribution for being shot during an undercover mission. He of all people with his own Black Ops background should have understood the rationale behind Ari's action in maintaining his cover when he held the NCIS personnel hostage, but clearly Ari had threatened the Marine gunny's manhood, and that had prompted their pissing contest like a pair of rabid dogs. Well, that and the fact that Gibbs hadn't rested until he managed to shoot Ari in retribution; and that had been a truly fortuitous happenstance in creating a bitter animosity between the duo. So, it had been child's play to orchestrate the attempted assassination of Gibbs so that Ziva could "save" Gibbs' life and make him feel obligated to her, and therefore to Eli and his personal agenda.
The fact that the charismatic NCIS agent also felt paternal feelings for Ziva resulting in him falsifying his report into Ari's death to protect Ziva from her evil father's wrath for killing her brother was also highly amusing to him. But it also served its purpose and allowed Ziva to gain a place of trust in the highly esteemed MCRT leader's life, and that couldn't be quantified. It was priceless!
Frankly, Eli was rather shocked that none of the trio of Leon, Jenny and Gibbs ever seemed to connect the dots that the Director of Mossad was leading them around by the um… nose… using the same tried and true method of earning their loyalty. Fortunately, this same mechanism of feeling gratitude though, had been ineffective on his brilliant young protégé, his Ziva who found her own life being saved by Agent Meatball in a botched and ill-conceived operation sanctioned by Jen Shepard not long after she assumed the directorship. Ziva was, thankfully, far too arrogant and assured of her own infallibility to be grateful to DiNozzo for talking a pair of assassins into letting her go to retrieve a fictional flash drive, even when it had guaranteed her own survival.
Being egotistic and confident in her own abilities and her refusal to consider her own mortality in this situation, she luckily didn't feel any gratitude to DiNozzo, although Eli was pragmatic enough to admit if it had been Gibbs, it might have been a different kettle of sardines. Luckily, his daughter never forgot that her loyalty was to her Abba and Israel; well, until recently that was when she forgot that being Gibbs' surrogate daughter was just a role she'd been assigned and that it was a foolish delusion, which had ultimately cost her life. That and Agent Meatball having the luck of the devil. But his luck was rapidly about to run out.
~ An Eye for an Eye Leaves Everyone Blind ~
Tobias Fornell descended the steps of the basement in Gibbs' home to check on the welfare of his old friend, and if he was safe, to read him the riot act. He disappeared and no one had seen or talked to him in over 24 hours. Not since he'd gone tearing out of MTAC after informing Director Eli David about Ziva's death. The MTAC techies and analysts had been pretty close mouthed about what had prompted him to go running out of NCIS like the Hounds of Hell were on his heels, but he knew it had something to do with Gibbs' dead wife and daughter. And like his NCIS colleagues, Fornell knew that sometimes it was better not to disturb a wounded bear, but let him hole up alone to lick his wounds.
The problem was, though, that Tobias had an investigation to run and he needed Gibbs to start answering some tough questions. He could understand that Gibbs was hurting, but he wasn't the only one. Sheree Sacks was now a widow and wanted answers about why Ron was sitting in a freezer drawer in the morgue. Likewise, he wanted to know why Tony's life had been turned upside down because he'd refused to stop pursuing the truth about Agent Sherman even after the case had been marked as closed. And now Tobias needed to ascertain if Vance had known that the "suicide" of the terrorist was really a hit by Mossad. And just like any other victim of the crimes they investigated, Gibbs was just going to have to suck it up and talk about what he knew and what he had done. Meanwhile, Fornell was the unlucky fool that was going to haul the bear out of his cave.
As he proceeded into the bowels of the basement, Fornell's nostrils wrinkled in distaste as he detected various unsavoury bodily odours, chiefly stale sweat and an equally unpleasantly acrid combination of bile and vomit. Mixed with the usual basement scents of sawdust, coffee and bourbon, it created a decidedly unpleasant aroma, and Tobias decided that mouth breathing might be the wisest option while he was down here. Taking shallow breaths, he crossed the floor to the slumped figure sitting on the paint stained wooden saw horse who stared fixedly at the empty bottle of Jack Daniels. He noted the pile of glass shards against the floor and wall plus the dark stain, which suggested that Gibbs had flung a bottle of his rotgut in frustration.
Into the silence Gibbs barked out, "Go away, Fornell."
He sighed, deciding that he didn't get paid anywhere near enough to deal with this shit. "Not gonna happen, Jethro. I need answers and you need to stop wallowing in your pity party. Your presence is needed and requested by the PTB. Not to mention your team needs you, too. Time to step up and do you job, my friend."
"Don't have a team anymore, Tobias."
"Yeah, you do, Gibbs, but if you don't get your damned fat-head out of your butt, you won't for much longer. You need to go upstairs and get into the shower and clean up while I put on some coffee so you can sober up. You reek and you can't make a statement until we sweat out that booze." He neglected to mention that it would be Special Agent Lina Reyes who would conduct the interview and be taking Jethro's statement. Frankly, there wasn't enough tea in China for him to have to break that sort of news to his friend, since Gibbs had apparently never heard of the dictum, 'don't shoot the messenger'.
Or on second thoughts, Jethro in all likelihood had heard it, but chose not to observe it, since the only rules he seemed compelled to obey were his own cockamamie ones. And even then, while Gibbs demanded that his team follow his rules religiously, he often as not didn't bother observing them himself if it wasn't convenient. No matter, Tobias would let someone else tell him about Lina!
Putting his hand under the inebriated NCIS agent's arm he tried to encourage him to his feet and up the stairs to clean up.
Seemingly to not have heard Fornell, Gibbs turned his bloodshot eyes to the FBI agent. "That bastard doesn't deserve to be a father, Tobias."
Fornell sighed deeply. Yep, he so didn't get paid anywhere near enough to cop this crap. Jethro was damned hard work to have as a friend. It was going to be one Hell of a job to sober the bastard up since he was so mired in his maudlin thinking. Still, DiNozzo and Sacks deserved that he do his best.
~ An Eye for and Eye Leaves Everybody Blind ~
Gibbs slid behind the wheel of his car as he pulled out of his driveway. He was awash with coffee and possibly for the first time ever, the thought of drinking another ounce of his favourite brew was making him feel slightly nauseous. Of course, the fact that he had consumed about a gallon of the stuff in the past couple of hours was probably to blame for that. Fornell had literally poured it down his throat until he couldn't stomach any more, then the FBI agent had forced him under a cold shower fully clothed and held him under the freezing water for almost an hour. When he finally allowed a shivering Gibbs to climb out of the shower and get dried and dressed in fresh clothing, he forced another batch of coffee upon him in a brutally tough love approach to sobering him up.
Gibbs knew that Fornell was probably the only person apart from Ducky who would dare to subject him to such treatment. Indeed, the only other person who had the guts to stand their ground with him was DiNozzo, although he knew that the younger man wouldn't haul his ass into a cold shower, hold his nose and force him to drink coffee that was strong that even Gibbs could barely swallow it. DiNozzo might possibly threaten him with bodily harm if he didn't get his ass into gear and be there for his team, but he wouldn't threaten him like the FBI agent to kick his butt so bad he'd need Ducky's expertise to remove the boot…maybe. Then Tobias had told him that because of the David's, Ron Sacks had been poisoned in a botched attempt to kill DiNozzo. He demanded Gibbs' help to persuade DiNozzo not to take off but to stay in protective custody, since the senior field agent had convinced himself that he was putting everyone in danger.
Now, as Gibbs drove down the street, he knew that Fornell was expecting him to go straight to the FBI safe house where Tony was currently located, but he decided to detour via NCIS. He decided that he should check on Abby and McGee, and talk to Ducky and get his sage insight into what to do and say to DiNozzo. The truth was he hadn't spoken to DiNozzo since he'd shot Ziva, and he didn't know what to say to him. It wasn't that he was angry with him… he wasn't really… but he couldn't help it if he was irritated that he hadn't told him that Ziva had attacked him in Tel Aviv.
What… he taunted himself mentally, how would it have changed things? What would he have done differently? Chosen Ziva instead of Tony when she issued her ultimatum and used emotional blackmail to get what she wanted in getting Tony kicked off the team?
Giving himself a mental head slap he berated his stupidity. If only he'd had DiNozzo's six when he killed Rivkin like he should have and protected him from Vance. He'd done it for McGee with Jen when Tim as a probie had killed an unarmed cop by accident, maybe if he'd afforded his SFA the same privilege then none of this would have ever happened. Maybe if he'd been more supportive of Tony to Ziva at the time, his surrogate daughter wouldn't have become so full of hate, vengeance and anger or felt that she was entitled to extract retribution by killing her team mate.
Oh, he didn't blame Tony for killing Ziva… damn it, HE DIDN'T. It wasn't as if he would have intended to kill her or anything. He was simply defending himself, and apparently he was physically at a disadvantage, so it was a miracle that he wasn't the one lying in a drawer in Ducky's morgue. Knowing that Ziva would be returning to Israel in literally hours, he knew he couldn't put off seeing her any longer. Telling himself that talking to DiNozzo could wait… especially since he had no idea what to say to him… even if he didn't blame him. Dealing with emotions and making people feel better wasn't exactly his forte, so he either procrastinated in dealing with those types of issues or he barged in like a bull in a china shop, as his grandmother used to say. This time, he decided to put off talking to his partner and decided to say goodbye to Ziva instead.
When he arrived at Autopsy, he shot Ducky his patented Leroy Jethro Gibbs death ray glare, silently expressing his desire for privacy. Sighing with relief when Duck pursed his lips, shook his head and departed, thankfully sans any longwinded anecdotes, he crossed to the freezer drawers and pulled out the one that housed his surrogate daughter. Glancing down at the lifeless body of the woman who had come to hold such an important place in his badly scarred heart, he leant over and kissed her cold cheek. Whispering, "I'm so sorry," his eyes teary, he wondered if he could survive burying a second daughter. Suddenly becoming aware that he wasn't alone anymore, he spun around ready to rip Ducky or Palmer a new one for interrupting, only to discover that Leon Vance and SecNav Davenport were the ones to intrude upon his grief. Glaring briefly at the pair, he willed them to go away.
Not taking the hint, Leon encroached insensitively on his grief determined to talk to his lead agent after being unable to reach him for hours when he wouldn't take his calls.
"We have to talk, Gibbs," He stated without ceremony. "We need to get all our ducks in a row since someone high up seems to be gunning for us over this Rivkin business. They want to paint it as some sort of conspiracy or to suggest that our conduct was negligent in some way and was responsible for DiNozzo killing David. So we have to back each other up when we make our statements. Someone is out to get us."
The SecNav regarded Gibbs, who was staring at the waxy grey corpse of the Mossad liaison officer, seemingly oblivious to their presence, but he had noticed the flicker of anger when Vance had first started speaking. Davenport also noticed the rapid pulsing of the vein above Jethro's right eye that was usually a clear tell of Gibbs' fury, and frankly SecNav was disturbed. The man was a loose cannon after all since he didn't have any political aspirations, and even more dangerously, it was obvious he had little love for the director of Mossad and blamed him for Ziva's death. The relationship between Eli and NCIS had to be protected at all costs and Davenport knew that the only way to control Gibbs' behaviour and ensure that he toed the agency line was to convince him that the welfare of his team was riding on the three of them sticking together.
That and appealing to the loyalty of Gibbs to the Corps and his brothers-in-arms, which ironically was what he'd done that night in Gibbs' basement while he appealed to him to back off on investigating Leon Vance. While he'd been busy going in to bat for Leon, had retrieved that damned stupid file and ordered Jethro to trust the new director, unbeknownst to Davenport, Gibbs had already set things in motion. He'd turned his loyal Saint Bernard loose earlier on to poke into the closed case of the dead terrorist and ICE Agent literally minutes after Vance had declared that the case had been solved.
If only Gibbs had followed his damned rules and had his agent's six and worked as a team instead of sending him off by himself to do the dirty work and spy on Ziva David's activities, they probably wouldn't have such a FUBAR situation. But he didn't, damn him, and then Rivkin stupidly decided to resist arrest. When would the Gunny learn that going off lone wolf or turning his SFA loose on his own was always a recipe for disaster?
Meanwhile, the NCIS director prowled around the dimly lit room that was coolly impersonal with its preponderance of stainless steel and fluorescent lights; frustrated that Gibbs hadn't yet acknowledged them. Vance had worked hard to reach a position where he couldn't be snubbed or disregarded by anyone, and yet Gibbs didn't seem to play by the rules, and unfortunately seemed able to press his buttons without even trying. Huffing impatiently, he recognised that ignoring them was Gibbs' preferred method of playing mind games with them, of which he was a master. But they didn't have time for Gibbs to screw with them.
The FBI and the Justice Department were on his ass, and he could only stall them for so long. They needed to stick to the script that DiNozzo offered of his own volition to go to Tel Aviv to explain his actions. Although he'd been blocked from speaking to DiNozzo, Leon was confident that Gibbs could gain access to the agent and remind him he had to take one for the team… Hell, for the agency, and it was even more important than ever in light of the events of the previous 48 hours. He glanced at his cell phone; his PA sent him a text to say that the FBI was awaiting him in his office, so he had no time to finesse this conversation.
"Special Agent Gibbs," he barked. "We need you to have our backs here and to remind DiNozzo about taking one for the team when the FBI wants to know about our trip to Israel. We need him make it clear in his statement that he volunteered to go to Israel in the spirit of co-operation between our two agencies."
Davenport joined in smoothly. "Leon's right, Gibbs; you know that someone's out to bring him down. That fake file on him that someone sent you… probably the CIA, is proof positive that someone's out to get him so you need to have his back and mine, too. Remember that it goes both ways Gunny… we'll have yours and DiNozzo's so he doesn't have to answer any charges for shooting the daughter of the Director of Mossad. Oh, and it would probably be better not to mention our little chat in your basement… just make sure DiNozzo remembers whose side he's on and we'll be fine."
Gibbs sneered, "That right, Philip? If I hadn't been so busy following your orders to trust Leon's orders because there was an important agenda in play when I should have been objecting loudly to that damned trip to Tel Aviv so he could lick Eli's butt. You and he were so busy scoring political points and Ziva ended up being the filling in the sandwich. So why the Hell should I give a crap about looking out for your butts with the FBI? Ziva David was a fine young agent and Eli David and you are complicit in her death. I frankly don't trust either of you as far as I can throw you, since you're only concerned with saving your own asses, so don't give me any crap about what DiNozzo or I owe you. Not interested!"
"Oh, please, Gibbs let's not get overly dramatic here. It is unfortunate that David is dead, but she was not the paragon of virtue that you believe her to be. She was sending back classified NCIS Intel to Mossad without authorisation and doing it on your watch. She doesn't deserve your loyalty, even in death, but NCIS does." Davenport countered, worried they had a problem here and its name was Gibbs!
"I don't care, Ziva earned my trust a long time again and I'm going to give it to her. You don't know what she gave up for me… no one does," He avowed stolidly.
Vance was starting to panic because this conversation was not going to script and he was going to have to head back to his office before the damned FBI came looking for him and found him having a pow-wow with SecNav and Gibbs. It would look like they were trying to hide something. Pissed off at the recalcitrant team leader who was a constant thorn in his side, he snapped.
"Oh, please, Gibbs. You really think that we don't already know that it was Ziva who shot her brother, Ari, not you? And did you honestly think that Ziva chose you, a perfect stranger, over her own flesh and blood, because she happened to be a righteous defender of good over evil, then you seriously need to have your head examined," Leon snarled at him, viciously pleased to be able to smack Gibbs down with the bald truth after all these years. "Ziva was following Eli's orders to kill Ari when she shot him down in your basement. She was supposed to win your loyalty so you'd let her join your team, and it worked real good, didn't it? You trusted her more than anyone, even DiNozzo."
Grinning smugly at him, he taunted the stricken agent, "It was an inspired plan, you've got give it to Eli." He finished admiringly. His friend might be twisted, but he was damned brilliant!
Gibbs felt like he'd been punched in the gut, his heart ripped apart and crushed. He couldn't… no, he wouldn't believe the lies and filth that Vance was spewing about Ziva. He'd say anything to save his own skin, typical lying, smarmy politician that he was. There was simply no way that his gut could have let him down that badly, not for four years. He would have known if Ziva David had been trying to play him like that. She wasn't the cold-blooded assassin that Vance claimed… she wasn't.
Yet, as he flashed a brief glance across at Davenport to check out his reaction, he was devastated to see the truth in his eyes. Feeling an overwhelming wave of fury engulf him, Gibbs demanded to know why no one ever told him that the whole Ari shooting was nothing more than an elaborate ruse to inveigle their way into NCIS, and Vance smirked, saying that she hadn't been considered a security risk until the Rivkin debacle. Seeing the rampant smugness that clung to Leon Vance's person like a cheap suit, Gibbs swiftly filled in between the lines that the director had also enjoyed being able to laugh at the legendary Leroy Jethro Gibbs behind his back for being played for a fool.
Picking up a tray of Ducky's tools of his trade and flinging them at the wall in lieu of punching out either the Director or SecNav, Jethro stormed out of Autopsy, ignoring the angry and desperate directives to come back, and took to the stairs to effect a clean get-away. He had to get out of there before he exploded. Who else knew about his cuckolding? Obviously Ziva and her bastard of sperm donor, but did Jenny know? What about other Mossad operatives? Officer Hadar? Did Michael Rivkin know? That would explain why he was so damned contemptuous of them and failed to be intimidated by his infamous Gibbs death-ray glare.
Getting into his precious Challenger, he roared out of the Navy Yard, battling to contain his feelings of rage, betrayal and desolation, and yes, his mortification. All he could think about was returning to his basement and getting stinkingly, blind, rotten drunk once more so he wouldn't have to feel anything again. He briefly considered that he'd promised Tobias, that he'd go and talk some sense into DiNozzo, but damn it, he was a big boy. He'd had plenty of knocks in his life and yet he'd managed to bounce back like one of those stupid blow-up punching clowns. He'd be fine and Fornell would understand. He was a father, too, when all was said and done, and he'd understand that Gibbs' heart had been shattered by the woman he had mistakenly believed had looked upon him as her surrogate father.
He'd fix things with Fornell and DiNozzo later when he wasn't feeling so damned raw. Plenty of time to deal with the living later, he rationalized callously. Right now he had a date to mourn the death of a relationship that had been nothing but a sham. And more importantly, to reacquaint himself with a relationship that he should never have forgotten in the first place.
Ziva, damn her and her father, had spat upon and cheapened his relationship with his darling Kelly, manipulating him into caring about the Mossad agent like she was a daughter. Now he needed to reconnect with his girls and remember that what he had with them deserved his loyalty and devotion. Surely no one could be hard- hearted enough to expect him to turn up and engage in a touchy-feely hand holding session with a highly strung, insecure senior field agent, could they? Well, screw them if they did!
DiNozzo would keep, he wasn't going anywhere, despite his hollow threats. Gibbs had broken him of the habit of running off at the drop of a hat six years ago, and he'd continued to hang around like the loyal Saint Bernard that he was. His senior field agent would understand; he always did after all!