Warnings: Spoilers for "Dead Air"

A/N: There seems to have been some confusion. I still have two more chapters to post on this story. So, when I posted yesterday I meant that it was all written up, in the editing stage, not that I was done posting on it. Sorry about that.

NCIS Fan- I think Tony wants a long term relationship, to be loved, but you're right it is harder for him because he hasn't had the best example growing up. Funny you should point that out because "No Good Deed" was on last night, and Senior tells Zoe that he wasn't the best example for Tony when it came to commitment.

E- Thank you! This chapter and one more to go in this story. Hope to have the first chapter of the second part up in the coming weeks :)

"Here's one," Tim said, looking over at Natalie, as he held a letter in his hands. "I would listen to your radio program more if you were on it less."

"This one's nice" Tony piped up, smiling with a bit of a flirty look in his eyes at Natalie. "It's a marriage proposal from a woman that thinks Gator would by just as sharped tongued in the bedroom as he is on the air." He waggled his eyebrows. "It's good..."

Tim rolled his eyes. "I'm beginning to think that these people had way too much time on their hands."

Natalie sighed. "None of these are credible threats. I don't know why Gator would keep them."

Tony chuckled. "Well, you know what they say—you never know which one is out to get you—the ones that love you," he said gazing at Natalie, "Or the ones that hate you," he implied, looking at Tim.

Tim ignored his partner and stood up, showing what he had found to Natalie. "Here's one. It's Ben Franklin's old political cartoon. And it came in an envelope was no postage, what do you make of that?"

"Short, sweet, gets the message across," Natalie said, taking the envelope from Tim's hand.

"And kind of creepy," Tony said, going to stand next to her. "Hey, that's addressed to the radio stations P.O box. That means whoever delivered this had to have access to the postal system. Better start looking for Matt L. in the database, Timmy. Looks like we might have our man."

Matt Lane turned out to be a dead end since he was twenty minutes away from the radio station when Gator, the Commander, and the intern had been shot. Tony drove them back to the Navy Yard, silent. The thought that domestic terrorism was right in their backyard was obviously disturbing him.

Tim watched the scenic neighborhoods roll by him. "So... um... is everything okay between you and Natalie now?"

Tony shook his head as he turned onto the highway. "Not everything... but we're going to work on it."

"So... that means..."

"We're not breaking up."

Tim sighed in relief and leaned back against his chair. "Thank God. You don't know what it was like having to play neutral. I mean... not that I wanted to take sides but Abby was putting lots of pressure on me... I'm glad you decided to work it out."

Tony chuckled and smiled, softly. He edged the Charger into the middle lane of traffic. "It was pointed out to me that relationships are about making treaties and truces... I have to learn to accept that Natalie and I are going to fight... but I need to learn that the first response, the one to run and be done with it, is not the best one. I was willing to throw away something that really mattered to me, Tim... even if it hurt both of us. By the way... I never wanted you to pick sides either. I'm sorry that I inadvertently put you in the middle."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You and Natalie are my best friends, Tony," Tim said, honestly, "It was killing me that you were both so angry and hurt and I couldn't do a thing about it."

A grin spread across Tony's face. "Me? Your best friend... wonder what Kate would say..." he mused. Suddenly he missed Kate. It happened at the oddest times. I could have used her advice the other day... Kate probably would have told him to take his head out of his ass... to work with Natalie and not call things off when it got hairy.

"Kate would think it was a miracle," Tim said, interrupting his thoughts. "But I bet she'd be happy."

"She should have been here to see it, Probie," Tony muttered, shuddering slightly recalling that day on the rooftop.

Tim's cell rang, thankfully ending the somber moment. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered. "Hey, we're on our way back to the Navy Yard. Matt Lane wasn't our guy, he was making a delivery right before the shooting and was twenty minutes away. We're looking for someone else."

Natalie sounded rushed. "Abby found something on one of the phone calls that Gator recorded. Gibbs wants us to go collect voice samplings at Royal Woods. Gator got a call from a man there last night. But the lines are old and it's hard to trace to an exact spot."

"Royal Woods?" Tim repeated. "Isn't that like one of the most wealthy neighborhoods in the D.C area?"

"Yeah... we're not looking for some militia group in the back woods," Natalie said.

"How does Gibbs propose we get voice samplings without tipping that group off?" Tim asked, glancing at Tony briefly.

"He wants Tony to get wired up and pretend to be buying a house," Natalie answered. "Better hurry! We have thirty five houses to hit!"

By the time Tony fell into the backseat of the Charger, his feet hurt from walking the entire neighborhood, his throat hurt from talking to at least forty residents, and his head hurt from having to listen to someone scoff at his Italian heritage—neighbor number one—a rather foxy housewife tried to lure him into the back yard and her hot tub—neighbor number five—and a dad that was running late, with a moody teenage daughter—neighbor number eleven.

Of course the worst part had been chasing after those joggers. He didn't have the right type of shoes on for that. Tony undid the top button of his shirt and loosened the collar, he was gasping for breath a little after having walked around for nearly two hours, even running... "Anyone have some water? I have a tickle in my throat."

Natalie leaned over the center console, into the back seat, and handed him a water bottle. "You should have let one of us take some of the houses."

Tony rubbed his throat after he took a few sips of her water. "Didn't think... didn't think I'd be talking that much."

"You might be getting a cold," McGee said, glancing into the back seat. He had noticed Tony's voice faltering in the last thirty minutes.

"Maybe it's all the sawdust I inhaled at Gibbs' house last night," Tony replied, still rubbing his throat.

"Well, whatever you think the cause is, please stop talking before it gets worse," Natalie chided him and then she looked nervously away. "Your throat... I mean... before your throat gets worse."

Tony reached over the console and grabbed her wrist. Gently he squeezed it. "Hey. I know what you meant."

Tim started the car up and watched as Natalie's shoulders eased. She had been slightly walking on eggshells around Tony all day, and given that they were fresh off their first major fight—and a brief break-up—he didn't blame her. "Any of these residents seem like they could be domestic terrorists?"

"You were listening in... you tell me," Tony quipped.

"All of them sounded like good, model citizens," Natalie supplied. "Just like all the boring background checks I was running until the battery on my laptop died."

"Aw, you sound like you didn't have fun sitting here in the car with McGeek," Tony said, playfully flicking her ponytail.

Natalie winced and shifted in her seat. "My back hurts from sitting here for so long."

McGee frowned as he turned out of Royal Woods and headed back to the Navy Yard. "Hey, I had to sit here for just as long."

Tony reached over and slapped McGee gently on the shoulders. "But you didn't have to sleep on a sofa last night."

"I thought Natalie told you to stop talking."

"She did. Never said I was good listener, Probie."

"Something we can all agree on."

Natalie laughed, followed by Tony. McGee finally cracked a smile. The moment of lightness and humor was needed, because they had a long night ahead of them matching the voice samples to the phone call that Gator had received.

Tony's voice was not getting better by nightfall. "Abby matched the voice on the phone call to that of Arthur Haskell. He moved to Royal Woods a year ago, no connection to MAH—or the politically correct term, Military at Home. "

Natalie frowned and looked at Gibbs. "Sorry, there isn't anything out there about a group called MAH. They only thing I could dig up was the literal political term. MAH stand for Military at Home, meaning that people want funds to go into protecting us here on our own soil and not overseas."

Gibbs raised his brows. "Meaning they don't want our military being the world's police. Haskell have any reason to want more military protection at home?"

"His was murdered in a home invasion last year—drug addict looking for money," Tony said, bringing up the newspaper article about Mrs. Haskell's death on the plasma. "Haskell and his sixteen year old daughter, Kristen, witnessed the crime."

"It was enough for legal to give us a warrant to look into Haskell's personal finances and his emails," Natalie said. "We found that he's been emailing a Deeter Johanson, a South African who used to cook meth...no is cooking up explosives. They were talking about Haskell buying wrist watch for his wife."

Tony watched as the connections were beginning to be made in Gibbs' brain. The team leader looked at his two agents. "His wife has been dead for over a year.. he isn't buying a watch. What do you two think he's buying?" he barked.

Natalie pulled up another photograph on the screen. "Some kind of bomb... Haskell is meeting with Johanson tomorrow afternoon at a coffee shop."

Gibbs smirked. "No. He's not. We are."

"Ah... staying up all night boss to create a cover..." Tony guessed.

"Yep," Gibbs said, pointing at Natalie. "You just became an explosives expert."

"I'm meeting Haskell?" Natalie repeated, just to make sure she had figured it out right.

Gibbs nodded. "Yep. Make the deal. Find out where the target is and we can arrest the ones involved. I'll have Abby start working on a deep cover alias for you right away. I'm thinking you're former CIA turned arms dealer. You look like a spy, Callahan."

Natalie was quick to point out that she actually knew very little about explosives. "If Haskell has the slightest doubts about me, Gibbs, he's going to end the talk and go find his bomb elsewhere."

Tony shook his head. "This guy isn't a hardened criminal. I don't think it's going to take too much to convince him that you're an arms dealer. As long as Abby's background stands up against his check—you'll be in."

"Am I the only one that thinks this is madness?" Natalie questioned. She still was not certain that this was the best course of action.

"No!" Gibbs said, grinning, "but if we weren't a little mad... this wouldn't work."

Natalie and Tony watched as Gibbs left the bullpen to get Abby working on Natalie's cover story ASAP. While she was no rookie when it came to undercover work, there was a fear, the awareness of danger, that always made itself present when she was given an assignment. She had marveled at how easily Tony could manifest into his cover and he'd been given her pointers since she had arrived at NCIS... yet...

Tony could see she was brooding and tugged playfully on her ponytail, again like he had in the car. "Don't worry. McGee and I will be listening in. We'll have your six, Natalie, like always. So no worries, okay?"

She wrapped her arms around her middle and hugged herself, trying to center her thoughts. "What if he saw me in the car with Tim at Royal Woods? What if the cover doesn't stick and he makes me?"

He gently moved his hand to her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "If he does make you, I doubt he's going to hurt you. These aren't hardened criminals, mob bosses... they're rich people trying to make a statement."

"Then the idiots should take a full page ad out in the Washington Post," Natalie snapped, anxiously. Her gray eyes quickly dashed to look downward. "Sorry... I'm getting tired again and the filter..."

"Shut up, Natalie," Tony told her, surprising her for a moment, but then he laughed, softly. "I'm not asking you to stop feeling anything but happy... I understand that exhaustion can make people twitch. So, please, stop apologizing every time you think you've said something to offend me. Trust me... I'll let you know if you have."

Natalie sighed and took a deep breath. "Okay, fine then. I don't want you to stop joking and teasing... McGee is right—it is part of your charm. If you stop doing it, I don't know... it won't feel like you."

Tony smiled and moved closer to her. "So, my impression of Harry Caray..."

"I found rather amusing. Not annoying."

"Huh... you are one the few that enjoys my impressions...McGee usually rolls his eyes and Gibbs slaps me on the back of the head."

"Maybe I enjoy them because they're something about you that I love."

"Believe it or not, that sarcastic side is something I love about you. Don't ask me why... part of your charm perhaps?"

She grinned, exhausted. "My mother wouldn't think so."

He took another step towards her. It was the closest he had been to her since the night before on the sofa. "How about dinner at my place?"

"I meant what I said about taking it slow," Natalie replied, brushing her ponytail off her shoulders. "But I'd be willing to go out to dinner."

"You have yourself a date, Agent Callahan," Tony said, grinning, broadly. "As soon as Abby is done transferring you into a badass arms dealer, that is."

Natalie sat in the Charger the following afternoon, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. Her hair was down and "wild" as Tony had informed her when she was getting wired up in the lab. He'd ruffled her hair and said he liked it wild.

Gibbs sat in the driver's seat next to her. They could see Haskell sitting at a table reading a newspaper and sipping coffee while waiting. Tony was out canvasing the street, trying to keep his face hidden from Haskell while getting ready to intercept Johassen.

"He's late," she stated.

"Ah, give him some time," Gibbs replied. "Maybe he got stuck in traffic on the Beltway."

Natalie fidgeted, nervously. She was not comfortable with this undercover assignment. Tony was better at going undercover than she was, but since Haskell had already seen his face the day before while he got those voice samples—Tony was not an option. "What if he doesn't show?"

Gibbs took a deep breath and looked at her, briefly. "He's going to show. He wants his money. Haskell and his associates are offering a lot of cash for the bomb they want. If you can get him to talk about the target... what he needs... we'll do the rest..."

McGee chimed in from the back. "Everything is all set boss. If Haskel runs a background check on Natalie he'll find that she left the military after her parents were killed in a drive by shooting—gang related. She also has two years working for the CIA before she left and went underground. Abby even made a mock arrest warrant for your arms dealing, Natalie."

"Wonderful. I'll frame it when this is over," Natalie snapped. In her side view mirror she noticed Johanson pull up in a convertible. "He's here."

"Go DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered into the radio. He opened the driver's side door. "You two... you know what to do," he said before disappearing.

Natalie took a deep breath and looked behind her at McGee. He nodded in encouragement. She got out of the car and crossed the street. When she sat down at the table she startled Haskell.

Haskell lowered his paper and narrowed his eyes on her. "You're not who I was expecting. Where's Deeter?"

"Mr. Johanson's line of work is very dangerous, Mr. Haskell," Natalie said. "I'm afraid that he has been... dealt with... by his competition."

"And you are?" Haskell inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Natalie O'Connor," she replied, with a slight smile, "I'm the competition."