Chapter Ten

Round Up the Usual Suspects

Tim took his time as he strolled through the corridors of the hospital. Usually, he hated being around hospitals – they always made him feel as if he was coming down with something. Today, however, the early spring sun was streaming through the windows, and the nurses had daffodils on their stations. It put a bounce in his step. Tim had always liked daffodils, a sure harbinger of summer's coming warmth.

He'd bought a coffee on his way in – a fancy one made just the way he liked, and the heady aroma made his tastebuds water. He'd felt he needed something to cheer him up this morning. He was still reeling from what a disaster the security detail at the medical conference had been. He'd been so excited to be in charge of communication, so sure he was going to make a mark and showcase his abilities. In actuality, he'd been sidelined by the FBI and committed the humiliating faux pas of leaving his own Director out of the loop.

Saying she wasn't pleased was putting it mildly. No matter what else he'd done, no matter how much crucial intel on the terrorists that he'd gathered, it was all overshadowed by that idiotic lapse in judgement. Both Gibbs and the Director were pissed at him. Really pissed. Since he was a child, Tim had always hated being in trouble. It made him uncomfortable and panicky, and he apologized way too much. Add that to a boss who insisted that apologies were a sign of weakness and wouldn't listen to them… well, Tim's anxiety was at critical mass.

He knew he'd messed up, but it wasn't as if he hadn't been in touch with NCIS during the entire standoff. He'd been on the phone with Abby through all of it, and she hadn't thought to inform the Director, either. Of course, Gibbs would never take his frustration out on Abby the way he would anyone else, and sometimes it was just plain irritating. He was the only field agent not being held hostage, so it was on him to keep the Director updated. Yes, it was fault, and he owned that, but there were extenuating circumstances.

The atmosphere in the bullpen that morning was stifling, and when Gibbs' phone rang giving him a new target for his fury, Tim breathed a sigh of relief. It turned out the FBI wanted to question Tony about the shooting of the first terrorist. Since the other terrorist who'd been in the hallway at the time, Emir Ozturk, had been killed by the FBI, Tony was the only survivor who could clarify the events leading up to the siege. Several of the hostages had already told them that the terrorists were angry at Tony for killing their partner. The FBI wanted to determine if the shooting was what triggered the siege.

Gibbs was furious, insisting they were willfully ignoring the fact that the terrorists had an accessory on the hotel staff who had placed the weapons there for them. Obviously, they had an agenda. The FBI still wanted to talk to Tony, and Gibbs insisted they weren't going to do it unless he was present, and Tony wasn't under the influence of any mind-altering drugs.

Since Gibbs was still busy dealing with Director Shepherd, he'd sent Tim to sit with Tony until he arrived. Tim wasn't sure how he could stop the FBI from questioning Tony if they insisted, but he figured he could at least call and inform Gibbs if and when they showed up. If he could find a way to stall them, it might help alleviate some of Gibbs' ire with him.

In the meantime, he was out of the office, out from under Gibbs nose and temper, and had a good cup of coffee to enjoy. The day had improved already. He didn't know if Tony would be awake or not, Gibbs hadn't said much about his condition, and Tim had been afraid to ask. Thanks to Abby, he knew that his partner had undergone surgery to remove the bullet, and the excessive blood loss was making him sleep a lot. Tim brought a book along and was hoping for a chance to read some of it if Tony was still unconscious.

As he turned the corner approaching Tony's room, he froze, mouth gaping. Jeanne Benoit was hurrying out of Tony's door, head hung low, and she was crying. Tim ducked back behind the wall, not wanting to be seen. He wasn't even sure why he'd done it until after he already had, but he let her go, watching her retreating back until she was out of sight. Feeling apprehensive, he cautiously inched toward Tony's room and peeked inside. He was stunned to realize Tony was using his good arm to roughly wipe away his own tears.

Tim didn't know what to do and stood frozen in the corridor just outside Tony's line of vision. Tony was his tormentor, his teacher, his older brother – the stereotypical jock who flushes the stereotypical geek's head down the toilet – he's never vulnerable.

But he obviously was, and Tim didn't know how to handle it.

He stood in the corridor for a protracted few moments, leaning his head back against the wall and trying to summon his courage. Tony wouldn't want to be seen like this. He was sure of it. But Tony also looked as if he could use a friend. Despite all the teasing and torment and endless practical jokes, Tony had also been the first one to show up and offer Tim support when he'd been in trouble. After he'd killed that cop, when he was nervous about being promoted to Senior Field Agent ahead of schedule when Gibbs had left – Tony had actually taken him under his wing and been supportive.

Tim owed him.

Steeling his resolve, he entered the room – to find Tony fast asleep, the control to his pain medication device still clutched in his hand.

Tim's lungs deflated heavily; he hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath. He sat in the empty chair by Tony's bed, contemplating. It was still warm.

Jeanne must've been sitting here.

Why had she come? She'd obviously sought Tony out. He couldn't have tracked her down in his condition. The last time she'd been in town, she'd accused him of murder. The FBI had been ready to arrest him. What else was there for them to say? Unless she still wanted to call him out on using her and lying about their relationship. They'd both wounded the other badly, right?

Tim's thoughts drifted back to what he'd heard while monitoring the ballroom and Ziva's furious muttering about Jeanne's presence. At the time, Tim thought she'd sounded a bit like a stalker. Tony had been shot trying to protect Jeanne. It was more evidence of the fact that Tony had truly cared about her which always unsettled Tim. Any traces of those feelings should be long gone though, right? Tony had lied about his identity. Jeanne had lied about witnessing her father's murder. For two people who had absolutely no reason to trust the other, it certainly sounded as if they were having a lot of trouble keeping their eyes off one another.

Tim really wasn't sure what he should do about it. Should he tell Gibbs that Jeanne had been here? Gibbs would probably be pissed, but Tony might be pissed if he told. Plus, then Tony might know that Tim had seen him upset. Maybe it would be better if Tim just pretended that he'd taken a minute longer at the coffee shop.

He supposed he was already in trouble for not reporting on a situation, so doing that again wouldn't be smart. Perhaps he should tell Gibbs that he saw Jeanne leaving but skip the emotional side. Gibbs wouldn't want to hear about that, anyway.

McGee felt he was far more in touch with his feelings and capable of showing emotion than his boss was – but that wasn't saying much. Pick a person, any person, and they'd also be able to claim the same thing. Still, when push came to shove, he didn't want to get dragged into this turbulent boiling mess of Tony and Jeanne's story any more than he already was.

Director Shepherd should've given him the undercover assignment in the first place. It would've saved everyone a whole lot of trouble. Although, after the mess at the hotel, he probably wouldn't be getting his feet wet on his first undercover mission at any time in the near future.

He was lucky he hadn't been benched.

He sighed, pulling his book out of his bag and resting his coffee on the bedside table. Tony's head was tilted slightly toward him, the uninjured side of his face resting on the pillow. The side that showed was deeply bruised and swollen, his bottom lip split, and a nasal cannula supplying him with oxygen. Tim knew they'd managed to remove the bullet because Abby had told him, along with the fact he had a broken collar bone.

Tony was a trouble magnet, but Tim had to admit he was impressed that he'd managed to pull one of the terrorists down before he could shoot anyone after taking a bullet himself. Of course, he'd never admit that to Tony – he'd never hear the end of it – but he was impressed.

Tony's brow furrowed, and he twitched in his sleep. McGee waited to see if he'd awaken, but he sighed deeply and remained still. Tim's eyes followed the line of the tubing that was inserted in Tony's hand up the IV pole. If the FBI did show up before Gibbs got here, at least he could tell them that Tony was in a medicated sleep. That should hold them off.

Tim got lost in the mystery of his book, as often happened when he got really drawn into a story, so he wasn't aware when Tony finally opened his eyes.

"Hey, McGoo," Tony said, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

Tim jumped, dropping his book on the floor. "Tony! You're awake," he said, picking up his book and then pouring some water into a disposable cup.

"Nothing gets by you, McObvious," Tony said, reaching out a trembling hand for the water. He winced as he tried to lift his head to sip it.

"Here, try this," Tim said, pressing the remote to make the bed angle slightly. He wasn't sure if he should hold the cup since Tony's hand was shaking so badly that he was dribbling water all down his chin. He settled for supporting Tony's hand.

Once Tony had his fill, he nodded slightly as he relaxed into the pillows, sighing. "Thanks," he said, dropping his arm heavily onto his bed.

Tim took the empty cup and placed it back on the table. It felt very strange to be helping Tony. Even though he was injured, Tony always seemed so capable and in charge. It was weird.

"Couldn't stand being at the office without me, eh? I knew you'd miss me," Tony said, smirking feebly.

Somehow, his weak attempt at bravado made the situation even worse, and Tim grimaced.

"Gibbs sent me. The FBI wants to ask you some questions about the terrorist you shot out in the hallway, and Gibbs wants to be here when they do," Tim said.

Tony frowned, and his heavily lidded eyes glazed over. One eye was nearly swollen shut, and the other was dragged down by exhaustion. Tim wondered if his doctors would even allow the FBI to question him right now.

"D'you remember what happened?" he asked warily. If Tony couldn't remember, the FBI might just get away with pinning the whole thing on him. It wouldn't be the first time they'd falsely accused him. In fact, it was becoming a downright pattern.

Tony sighed. "Yeah, I remember the beginning. It's the end that's still fuzzy. The FBI is handling the investigation?" he asked.

Tim nodded. "Uh, huh. And Gibbs is pissed. Of course, he's pissed at all of us right now, too, so it's like Russian Roulette on who he's going to ream out next," Tim said, grimacing.

"What I'd do now?" Tony asked, seemingly unconcerned that Gibbs was pissed at him. Again.

Tim rolled his eyes. "You got shot."

"Oh. Right. What you'd do?" he asked.

Tim sighed, dejected. "I forgot to keep the Director in the loop while I was monitoring the hostages. She found out through other channels."

Tony winced. "Ouch. And Ziva?"

"She went after the terrorist near you rather than the one in the back that Gibbs told her to cover. That one shot one of the hostages," Tim said, raising his eyebrows.

Tony's brow furrowed. "She went after the one I grabbed?" he asked.

Tim nodded. "Yeah. Apparently, she didn't think you were up to that. None of us did, though."

"Never count me out, McFly. You should know that by now," Tony said, scoffing.

"Gibbs reamed us both out at the hotel. He ended up sending us home, so he didn't have to look at us before coming here to check on you. He's been in his simmering mode ever since, only grunting and pointing," Tim said, knowing Tony would recognize what he was talking about. Gibbs had a lot of angry tells, the grunting and pointing meant someone was in danger of getting smacked. Hard.

"She didn't get benched?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Who?" Tim asked, feeling as if he'd lost the thread of the conversation entirely.

"Ziva," Tony said, teeth clenched.

"Nah. The hostage survived, and three of the terrorists are dead, the other one and the accomplice are in custody. The FBI is the bigger concern right now" McGee said, shrugging. He didn't think Tony was taking the issue seriously enough.

Tony made a noise in the back of his throat, clenching his good hand and looking extremely agitated. Usually, it took a lot to get under Tony's skin. He was the one who always riled up everyone else around him. Maybe he was just hurting, and Tim wondered vaguely if he should go find a doctor.

"What?" he asked tentatively, craning his neck to see if any of the staff was in the hallway that he could flag down.

"He tends to give her a lot of leeway, don't you think?" Tony asked, exasperated.

Tim shrugged. "Who? Ziva? I suppose. Abby knew what was happening, too, but he was only angry at me."

"Abby isn't out in the field with us with our lives in her hands, Probie. It's not the same. Gibbs wouldn't tolerate outright disobedience from anyone else in the field," Tony said.

"I guess. Hadn't really thought about it. The FBI and the Director have been taking up all his time. He might still take it out on all of us later," Tim said.

/* /* /* /*

When Tony awoke from his next drug-induced slumber, McGee was gone but Gibbs was sitting in the chair beside his bed. That chair got more action than a hooker on a Navy base. Gibbs was holding a coffee cup in his hand and reading a copy of Time magazine that Tony didn't remember being in the room.

Apparently sensing the observation, Gibbs looked over at him, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Aw, hell, DiNozzo. You couldn't just make it easy and stay asleep, could you?"

"Huh?" Tony asked, disoriented.

He was in no mood for riddles. His chest and shoulder throbbed mercilessly, and his head felt as if it were stuffed with dryer lint. He still couldn't move the fingers on his injured side, although the doctors had insisted it was normal, and the feeling would return. He couldn't shake the anxiety, though. He needed his hands. McGee had said that Gibbs was in a terrible mood, so Tony assumed it was his turn for a dressing down.

Gibbs surprised him however by pouring some water and putting a straw into the cup so Tony could sip it without having to move. Tony drank the cool liquid gratefully – not only did it alleviate his parched throat but also helped to clear some of the cobwebs in his brain.

"Make what easy, Boss? Letting you avoid having to talk?" he asked, staring at his boss blearily.

Gibbs frowned. "I have no trouble ignoring you if I want to. Fornell and Zachary DuBois are here. They want to ask a few questions about what happened in the hallway before the siege. You feeling up to it?" he asked.

The fact Gibbs even bothered to ask Tony's opinion, never mind his physical state was disconcerting, and he stared at this boss blankly.

"That a no?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

Tony shook his head. "No. I can handle it. Did you make them wait out in the corridor?" he asked.

"Yep," Gibbs replied with a smirk before standing to open the heavy door and waving their visitors inside.

The first person to enter was a burly, grey-haired man with piercing dark eyes. He carried himself as if he'd been in the military at some point in his life. Tony assumed this was Zachary DuBois, who'd been given the lead in the case. Tobias Fornell, Gibbs' version of a friend and a frequent partner on shared jurisdiction cases followed him. Both men looked stern and foreboding, but Tony wasn't intimidated in the least. This should be fun.

"Thought you weren't working this case," Gibbs said, staring hard at Fornell who looked unbothered.

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, my superiors seem to think I'm some sort of a Gibbs Whisperer," Fornell replied, making Tony snort.

The unexpected action triggered a lightning bolt of pain to coarse through his shoulder and into his chest, stealing his breath and causing him gasp in pain.

Gibbs scowled at him.

"Are you all right?" Fornell asked, watching him closely.

Tony breathed through the pain and was able to give a curt nod. "Just don't make me laugh again," he gasped, feeling sweat gather on his forehead.

"Agent DiNozzo, I'm Zachary DuBois, and I'm leading the FBI's investigation into the events that took place at the Marquis Marriott here in DC. Could you tell me in your own words what happened during the siege," DuBois said, wasting no time on pleasantries and getting right to business. He held a notebook in his hand and removed a pen from the pocket of his suit.

Fornell started a small tape recorder that he'd taken from his own pocket.

Tony nodded, his mind going back to the beginning of the day that already seemed so long ago. "We were there on a security detail. Dinner was finishing up, and two of the four men we'd been keeping our eyes on had gone to the men's room–"

"Why had you been keeping your eyes on them?" DuBois asked, interrupting.

"Because they weren't interacting with the other doctors. It was a medical conference, and they all seemed to know each other, but those four kept themselves separated. Nothing wrong with that, but it alerted us to pay attention," Tony said, narrowing his eyes. He could see where this was going.

"Because they were Turkish?" DuBois asked pointedly.

"No, because it was a security detail, and their behavior raised a red flag," Tony said evenly. "They weren't the only ones we were monitoring."

"So, you followed them to the men's room?" DuBois asked.

"I ordered him to check out the men's room," Gibbs said. "I'm sure you can hear it on the recording Special Agent McGee was monitoring."

Tony nodded. Gibbs was ensuring that they couldn't try to pin the whole mess on Tony personally, and he appreciated it. He gave his boss a jaunty smirk despite his bruised and swollen lip.

"I never made it to the men's room, actually. As I was walking toward it, they both came out, and it was impossible not to notice that they were heavily armed. I identified myself as a Federal Agent and told them to freeze."

"You're certain you identified yourself?" DuBois asked.

"Positive."

DuBois' eyes narrowed. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because they immediately tried to shoot me," Tony replied.

DuBois' expression remained doubtful "But they missed?" he asked cynically.

"It wasn't close range. I was closer to the ballroom than the bathroom, and they were startled. I wasn't. What can I say? I'm a remarkably good shot. I killed one, but the other ran into the ballroom. I gave McGee a sitrep, and hid the weapon of the one I killed inside a planter in the hallway," Tony said.

"You hid the weapon?" DuBois asked sharply.

"Didn't you find it?" Tony asked, delighted to have some suspicion to toss back at the other man. "That seems sloppy."

"What kind of investigation are you running?" Gibbs asked incredulously. "I'm sure you can verify his story as long as you found the bullets in the hallway."

"We did, but as I'm certain you're aware, there was a lot of activity in that hallway after the shooting and before we were able to begin our investigation," DuBois said coolly.

Fornell looked at the ground, shifting uncomfortably. Tony was petty enough to enjoy his discomfort, and he smirked at Gibbs.

"I knew I didn't have long, and I wanted one less weapon to try and keep track of inside. At that point, I had no idea how many were holding the ballroom. I just had time to get back to the body when one of them came out and escorted me back inside," Tony said.

"That was good work, Tony," Gibbs said.

Tony looked smugly at the two FBI agents, preening. He loved when Gibbs acknowledged he'd done something right. It didn't happen very often, and the fact it was in front of the two FBI agents was a bonus.

"Did the one who came out say anything to you?" DuBois asked.

"He wanted to know where the missing weapon was. I mouthed off, and he pistol-whipped me," Tony said sourly, indicating the bruised side of his face. He wished he didn't have to admit that part.

"What about the two who came out of the bathroom. Did either of them say anything when they saw you?" he asked.

"They shouted in Kurdish, but I couldn't translate," Tony replied.

DuBois' eyes narrowed again. "How did know it was Kurdish and not Arabic? The two languages are very similar."

"I didn't. Officer David told me at a later point. She speaks about fifty languages. She's sort of like Dumbledore and comes in really handy when things like this happen," Tony said.

Gibbs scowled – his way of telling Tony to scale it back.

"Thank you, Agent DiNozzo. If we have any further questions, we'll let you know," DuBois said stiffly.

"You know where to find me."

"Take care of yourself, DiNozzo," Fornell said, using the traditional pronunciation of Tony's name that he was prone, but he seemed sincere, nonetheless.

"I wouldn't have missed finding that weapon if we were in charge," Gibbs said through gritted teeth once the door had closed.

This was very true. Gibbs didn't tolerate mistakes, which reminded Tony of his irritation over what happened during the siege.

"I know. You'd have fired most of us for something like that," he said, staring pointedly at his boss.

Gibbs frowned but said nothing. Tony knew he got the message, however. The question was – would he say anything about it? At heart, Gibbs was a chauvinist, and everyone but him knew it. Even Ari – the bastard who'd killed Kate knew it – he'd tormented Gibbs by going after the women on his team because of it. Ziva knew it, too, and recently Tony suspected she'd been taking advantage of it.

Gibbs was the only one who didn't realize it – or at least wouldn't acknowledge it. "Once they find the gun and match the bullet trajectories with your testimony, you should be in the clear. It was justified," he said. Avoiding Tony's eyes, he picked up a tissue off the nightstand and dabbed at the sweat on Tony's brow.

Tony nodded tightly. He wasn't worried about the FBI, but he was concerned about the elephant in the room at NCIS. Tony fully intended to bring it up again, but not now. His head was still too messed up from all the pain-killers they were pumping into him and although he didn't want to admit it, the interview had taken most of his energy. He needed to be clear and alert when he talked to his boss about this, because Gibbs definitely wasn't going to want to hear it.

Gibbs surprised him by speaking again, but it was something Tony wanted to discuss even less than the insubordination.

"Just when were you going to mention that Jeanne Benoit came to see you?"

Author's Note

Melinda's NCIS Rule Number One: Always leave a comment.

I really appreciate all those of you who do, and it always pushes me to write more. The feedback is so helpful in knowing what's clicking with readers and what isn't.