Chapter Three

The Marriott Marquis

I tasted, tasted love so sweet
And all of it was lost on me
- All We Are, Matt Nathanson; s5e2 Family

Abby arrived in her laboratory the next morning at an hour so early it shouldn't be allowed. She'd had difficulty sleeping and finally gave it up as a bad job. Terrible nightmares that involved a battered and bleeding Tony walking through a hail of bullets had plagued her all night. No matter how much her dream-self screamed at him to get out of the way, Tony kept walking through the maelstrom. None of the bullets seemed to hit him, but his chest continued to bleed copiously.

She'd awoken gasping and unable to calm down for quite some time even after she'd made herself a hot chocolate. She'd paced for a while, knowing it was just bete noire but even with her fond remembrance of Kate, she was unable to fall back asleep. She knew her dreams were most likely the result of their awkward car ride the night before, but thinking about Kate had caused her to remember how prophetic her previous bete noir had turned out to be.

Tony hardly ever talked about his real feelings – even to her. He talked incessantly about everything else, but he was almost as bad as Gibbs at repressing his emotions. Well, no. No one was as bad as Gibbs, but Tony could give him a run for his money. For someone who rarely shut up, he actually said very little of what was going on behind those bedroom-eyes of his. Still, he was her friend, and she'd felt compelled to try.

The quiet stillness of their car ride was so unusual compared to other times when she and Tony were together. Typically, no one else could get a word in edgewise – unless of course, Ducky joined them. The three of them could all talk a blue streak. The fact Tony had shut down confirmed to her how much he was still hurting, and Ziva and McGee were just rubbing salt in his wounds.

She didn't know the cause of the tension amongst the MCRT, but it was impossible to miss. Abby loved them all as her pseudo-family and didn't like when they weren't getting along. She didn't mind the sniping and back and forth that had always gone on, but more recently, at least since Tony's undercover op had been revealed, the barbs had grown darker, more pointed.

She suspected there was some resentment that Tony had been tapped for the assignment and especially that he'd managed to keep it secret from all of them for so long. Ziva considered her Mossad training far superior than anything the others had experienced. She didn't enjoy being shown up. And McGee… well, Abby suspected Tim had become a little too big for his britches lately, as her grandmother used to say. He'd come a long way from the stuttering newbie he once was, but he still had trouble seeing beneath the surface of his first impressions. He believed that he should've been the one the Director tapped for the undercover assignment, but Abby feared he wasn't ready yet, and she was glad the Director knew it. The fact he wasn't aware that he wasn't ready scared her more than anything. She'd never want to lose Timmy. Then of course, there was Gibbs, who was furious about all the secrets and lies, and the fact he'd been kept in the dark about it all.

Abby had noticed that he and Tony seemed to have come to some sort of understanding after the FBI accused Tony of murder – again – but the relationship between Gibbs and the Director was still frosty. Abby liked Director Shepherd. She was always happy to see a woman break the glass ceiling, but despite her admiration, she could admit that the circumstances of that undercover op were hinky. The fact Director Shepherd never faced any sort of reprimand for using NCIS resources for her own personal vendetta was troubling. Although Abby had no love for Jeanne Benoit after she'd falsely accused Tony of murder, she did know that the woman was an innocent in Director Shepherd's crusade. Abby really didn't like to see anyone hurt, but the fact Jeanne had turned around and hurt Tony was unforgiveable. Abby protected her own.

She began powering up all her babies and put some music on, something with a good beat to make her want to dance. She needed something to help her wake up aside from the two CafPows she'd brought to work with her – one of which she'd already inhaled. Gibbs and the team weren't supposed to arrive at the hotel until eight, and she figured it would take them a little time after that to get their communication set up.

She'd been considering trying to set Tony up with one of her friends, but she wasn't sure he'd go for it. She knew he wasn't back to his usual dating habits, and as far as she knew, he hadn't had a new girlfriend since his affair with Jeanne had ended so explosively. She still couldn't decide if Tony was truly ready for a relationship. She hadn't worked out if the reason he'd stayed in the relationship so long was only because he was on as assignment, or if Jeanne was just special, but she'd never known Tony to become so serious about someone before.

And she'd never known him to take a breakup so hard – not even when his bitch of a fiancé had virtually left him at the altar.

They'd often gone out clubbing together, each watching the other's back and letting the other know if they got any hinky vibes if one of them met someone they wanted to take home. It had been over a year now since they'd gone out together, and she missed her carefree, light-hearted friend. Tony was so much more serious these days. Oh, he went over the top with his jokes and ribbing, but Abby knew him well enough to realize that it was an act. Tony was the king of diversionary tactics. She wanted to help, but she had no idea how, and Abby wasn't used to being uncertain.

"What've we got, Abs?" Gibbs asked, coming into the lab at his usual brisk pace and looking remarkably alert for such an early hour.

"Gibbs! What are you doing here? I thought you were all going right to the hotel this morning. Why didn't anyone tell me the plan had changed? Why wouldn't they tell me… unless they didn't know either. They didn't say anything last night, so if they don't know, they'll all be sitting around waiting for you forever. You can't be mad at them for not being here if you didn't tell them they should be here, Gibbs," Abby said.

"I'm meeting them there. I want to be sure we have everything in place. SecNav is breathing down our necks on this one," he said.

"What's his deal, anyway? This is sort of an obscure conference for him to be so invested," Abby said. "It's giving me hinky vibes."

"I don't know. Apparently, one of the guests is a personal friend. We haven't been 'read-in' on anything more than that," he replied, using his fingers to make imaginary air quotes.

She could tell he wasn't happy with the lack of information. Then again, Gibbs was rarely happy with the amount of information they were given unless it included a bad guy trussed up like a pig for slaughter. Of course, just because SecNav claimed he had a friend at the conference didn't mean he actually did. It could be someone he had, or hoped to have, a side deal with; the politics of it all were always disheartening.

"Does the Director know anything more?" she asked.

"Not that she's telling me," he said shortly.

Abby pursed her lips. Clearly there was still some unresolved feelings in the ranks – on top of the unresolved feelings that had already existed between the Bossman and the Director.

"Do you have everything you need to monitor anything happening at the conference?" he asked, looking around at all her active babies, despite the fact he had very little idea what any of them did.

"Yep. I'm ready to go as soon as McGee gets things set up on his end. I'll be able to monitor all your voices and any chatter picked up by the remote devices Tony will set. I've programmed in certain key words and phrases to trigger a warning. Typical security detail, Gibbs. We've done a hundred of 'em," she said, smirking.

"I don't want to hear that kind of attitude, Abs. As soon as you get complacent, something gets missed. Stay on your toes," Gibbs said, frowning.

"I'm always on my toes, Gibbs. I'm an excellent dancer," Abby replied, grinning.

Gibbs shook his head as he left her lab, leaving Abby to return to her many machines as she waited to hear from McGee.

/* /* /* /*

Tony arrived at the Marriott Marquis to find McGee and Ziva were already there, but there was yet no sign of Gibbs.

"Morning, kids," he said cheerfully, taking a good look around the luxurious ballroom where tonight's dinner and opening ceremony were being held. There were several ceiling to floor columns that looked stunning but would hinder a full view of the room.

"Nice of you to join us," Ziva said.

"Isn't it? I knew you'd be lost without me. What have we got?" he asked, smiling playfully as he needled her

"I've already spoken to the Facilities Manager, and he's set up our communication equipment in a small conference room off the main hallway, Room Bravo One Twelve. I'm going to be there getting the communications with Abby running. I'll also have earwigs for you both before the event starts," McGee said.

"Where are the remote listening devices? This room is so big there'll be some echo before it fills up, and those columns are going to be a bitch," Tony said, surveying the room closely.

"They're waiting for you in the communication room," McGee said.

"All right. Ziva and I will begin placing them unobtrusively while you get the other equipment up and running, Probie," Tony said, already turning in the direction of the conference room.

"Where is Gibbs?" Ziva asked, unmoving.

"He's going to meet us here, so let's not have him arrive and find nothing has been accomplished, Officer David," Tony said, putting a commanding tone in his voice.

"And why did he not tell us this? Did you know, McGee?" she asked.

McGee looked as if he were stuck between a rock and hard place, but he shook his head as he took a step toward Tony.

Tony turned his back and continued walking. "Well, that's because I'm the Senior Field Agent, and you're not. Now, let's get to work," he said, aware that McGee, at least, was following his lead.

Ziva paused a moment longer but eventually she followed them as well.

They spent the morning setting up all their equipment and doing sound checks with Abby. Tony took a long walk around the ballroom and all the various conference rooms that would be used starting tomorrow. He was inspecting the corridor for any tucked away hiding spaces but coming up with nothing when he felt a presence behind him. He continued on his track, doing his best to look casual while his senses were on high alert. He grinned once he realized who was following him.

"Finally made it, huh, Boss?" he asked without turning around.

"Glad to see your instincts are still sharp, DiNozzo. What have we got?" Gibbs asked, moving up to walk alongside him.

"Equipment is all in place. Ziva and I have been doing a sweep, but so far, we got nothing," Tony replied. "There was a unit here earlier with some bomb-sniffing dogs, but they didn't find anything. Earwigs are primed and ready with McGee. He'll be able to communicate with all of us and Abby, but we'll just hear him," Tony said.

"That's good work. Even though we'll be armed, we're going to be dressed like the waitstaff to be unobtrusive but present. The uniforms are being sent up to McGee," Gibbs said.

"Aww, boss, do I really have to wear a waiter's uniform? My skin doesn't react well to polyester," Tony said, pleading.

Gibbs ignored him, as Tony knew he would.

The uniforms really weren't that bad – black pants, a skirt for Ziva, and white, button-down shirts. Still, Tony felt it was his duty – not to mention the reputation he'd carefully cultivated – to whine excessively. He scratched at his arms repeatedly and kept trying to pull the fabric away from his skin.

"This is going to drive me crazy. I'll have a rash for days," he said, scratching dramatically for effect.

"You'll live," Gibbs said, unconcerned. "I trust you're all wearing your vests underneath."

"Of course," McGee said immediately. "Although, if it is terrorists, a bomb is more likely, and the vest won't protect us from that."

"It will not protect your head, either," Ziva said.

"I'm not taking mine off. It's the only thing protecting my chest from the material in this shirt," Tony said.

"Oh, will you stop being such a baby," Ziva said, exasperated. "You would never survive in Mossad where we are trained to live with being uncomfortable."

Tony couldn't help but notice that she was also pulling at the material on her arms. He wondered if it was because he was doing it. Maybe it was catching like a yawn effect.

"Well, it's a good thing this isn't Mossad, then, isn't it Zee-va?" he said, stretching out her name in the way he knew annoyed her.

"If you all don't shut up and get to work, I'm going to kick your uniforms up your asses," Gibbs said, looking perfectly unruffled in his matching outfit. "McGee, if I hear the word 'bomb' come out of your mouth one more time, I'll tape it shut. We don't want anyone panicking."

"Right, Boss," McGee said, chagrined.

"I'm going to stay positioned inside the ballroom. Tony and Ziva patrol the cocktail area where the guests will be entering and taking attendance. McGee, you monitor all of us from here," Gibbs said.

"On it, Boss," Tony replied, following Gibbs from the room.

It didn't take long before the guests and attendees began to trickle in. Tony recognized a few of the military higher-ups, and he could mostly discern the diplomats from the doctors as they signed in. A lot of them seemed to know one another already. There was a group of Turkish doctors that huddled together in a group rather than socializing as most of the others were, so Tony kept an eye on them, noting their position as he carefully swept the room.

It was as the guests began moving into the ballroom for dinner that he saw a familiar face.

"Brad?" he asked, surprised.

Dr. Brad Pitt turned around, a broad smile crossing his face as he noticed who'd called. "Tony! How are you? It's been a long time – not that that's a bad thing. You certainly look better than the last time I saw you. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," McGee muttered in Tony's earpiece.

"Security detail," Tony said, keeping his voice low enough not to be overhead. "I didn't make the connection that you'd be attending this thing. I know you work in Infectious Diseases, but have you been overseas?"

Brad shook his head, beaming. "No. I'm still stationed at Bethesda, but there aren't too many doctors who've treated a survivor of the Pneumonic Plague. I'm one of the speakers. Most of the victims in Third World Countries don't survive, and the doctors are too busy to document it all."

"Wait," Tony said, stunned and more than a little uncomfortable. He shook his head like a dog to be sure he'd heard that right. "You're going to be talking about me?"

"Oh, dear God, we'll never hear the end of this," McGee said, moaning.

"Well, technically you're Patient Zero in my discourse, but yes, it's about you," Brad said, grinning. "Who else is here? Are Kate and Gibbs with you?"

Tony felt as if an ice cube had just dropped into his belly. It always happened if he was caught unawares when someone mentioned Kate.

He heard McGee inhale sharply.

"Gibbs is in the ballroom," Tony said. "Do me a favor and carry on as if you don't know us, all right? We're on duty."

"Oh, sure. Maybe we can catch up after the dinner," Brad said, shaking Tony's hand.

"Sounds good," Tony replied, scanning the crowd. He'd lost sight of the Turkish doctors, but by now the lobby was mostly empty.

Ziva approached him once Brad had gone into the ballroom. He knew that at least she and Gibbs hadn't heard that whole conversation. They had to keep their focus.

"Only you could go to a random medical conference and find someone you know," McGee grumbled in his ear.

"Who was that?" Ziva asked, watching Brad's back.

"Don't worry about it," Tony said. "We should go into the ballroom and back up Gibbs." He was not about to listen to a night full of chatter about the joys of having the plague with the Scooby gang. Not happening.

When he and Ziva entered the ballroom, the guests were seated and salads were being served. They walked in opposite directions inside the room, and Tony met Gibbs on the far wall.

"Anything notable?" Gibbs asked quietly.

"Not particularly," he said, his eyes scanning the room for the Turkish doctors. He saw them seated at together not far from where he and Gibbs were standing. There were four of them, all in their thirties and still sitting separated from any of the other guests.

"I noticed them, too," Gibbs said, observing where Tony was looking. "I heard the name Sahin, but I couldn't see which one they were addressing. McGee is running down the guest list."

"The one with the glasses is Doctor Demir," Tony said. "I overhead them in the lobby. I don't know if McGee picked it up."

"Searching now," McGee said through the earwig.

"I noticed Dr. Brad Pitt came in shortly before you did," Gibbs said, sounding amused.

Tony scowled. "He's actually one of the speakers, and you'll never guess what the subject is."

"Pneumonic Plague," Gibbs said, now not even trying to hide his amusement. "Thought you liked being the center of attention, DiNozzo."

Tony could hear McGee chuckling. "He likes being the hero, not the victim."

"When are we out of here?" Tony asked.

"After the opening remarks which should happen when dinner is over. I need you all back at oh six hundred tomorrow to do another sweep before the actual conference begins," Gibbs said. "Has Ziva reported anything unusual?"

"She's keeping her eye on one of the diplomats whose talked on his phone more than engaged with any of the guests," McGee reported.

"Copy that," Gibbs replied.

Tony moved away from Gibbs and took a position by the door as the dinner was being served. The smell of the standard chicken dinner, although nothing fancy, was making his stomach growl, but he reckoned he could last another hour before this thing broke up. The Turkish doctors remained huddled together, and he noticed several of the diplomats were already shifting in their chairs, growing restless. He suspected they were here more for show than interest and would make a hasty retreat when the opportunity presented itself.

McGee's voice in his earwig sounded before the dinner was cleared away. "Tony, I got a call from the front desk that there are a couple of late conference attendees coming up in the elevator."

"All right, I'm on it," Tony said, timing his exit from the ballroom as he heard the ding from the elevator. He walked out into the cocktail area as two people, a man and a woman, emerged from the elevator. Tony stopped short, looking into the equally stunned face of Jeanne Benoit.

Her hair was both shorter and lighter than it had been the last time he'd seen her, but those crystal-bright, cyan-blue eyes were the same – wounded – betrayed – mesmerizing.

He watched the color drain from her face and could feel the same happening to his own. His throat went dry, and for the first time in his life, he was at a loss for words.

Jeanne didn't have the same problem. "Whose life are you here to ruin now, Tony?" she asked.

Her words were cold, but her burning eyes remained locked on his, and he could easily read the anguish still lurking beneath her anger.

"Jeanne," he whispered, powerless to look away.

Author's Note

Melinda's NCIS Rule Number One: Always leave a comment – it keeps the author motivated. Thanks very much to all who take the time to share your thoughts. I thrive on the feedback, and it always makes me want to write more.

I try to respond to each review, but I know this site can be – to use Abby's word – hinky about email. If you didn't get one and you care, you can go to PMs in your Account page, and they all should be there.