Chapter Eleven
You Can't Handle the Truth
And in the end, the words won't matter
'Cause in the end, nothing stays the same
All We Are, Matt Nathanson
Gibbs slammed his phone back onto the receiver, glaring at it. Fornell was in Gibbs' usual coffee spot and wanted to meet. Gibbs was still steaming that the FBI had the lead in the investigation and was tempted to blow him off. Even though both a hostage situation and the shooting of a Federal agent did technically fall under the FBI's jurisdiction, it was an event hosted by a Naval hospital and had NCIS security on the premises. There was definitely a grey area.
He hated not being in control of the information. Fornell had been keeping him in the loop, but he couldn't stand Zachary DuBois, the lead agent. Man seemed color-blind to the shade of grey. Never mind the fact they were wasting time checking into DiNozzo's role in taking down an armed terrorist. Any idiot could see that group wasn't there for just a rubbery chicken dinner.
"Going for coffee," he barked at Ziva and McGee as he stalked past them toward the elevator.
Both junior agents had been trying to avoid his wrath since the FUBAR at the Marriott Marquis. Gibbs wasn't happy with either of them, but it was McGee who was bearing most of his ire. Jenny was still all over Gibbs' ass about the broken chain of command, and in turn, he took his frustration out on McGee.
That was a chain of command.
Kid wanted to believe he was ready to be a field agent, but he wasn't. How he was allowed to be DiNozzo's SFA while Gibbs had been away was beyond him, but he usually didn't allow himself to think about that time if he could help it. McGee was great with computer stuff, far better than anyone else on the team, but that superiority didn't translate to other aspects of an investigation. McGee hadn't quite grasped that fact yet – his skills needed to catch up with his ego. Not informing the Director that he was the last man standing was a rookie mistake – less than a rookie mistake because a rookie would panic and look for direction. McGee was at a stage where he no longer felt he needed supervision, but he wasn't there yet. The Director knew it. Gibbs knew it, and McGee was going to have to come to terms with it. Once he did that, he'd become a great agent.
Ziva too, had messed up, but she'd been following her own gut. Gibbs was a big proponent of following gut instincts – just preferably his gut. Her gut had been wrong. That wasn't something he could teach, and she needed to learn how to read her own instincts. That only came with experience. He knew DiNozzo was furious about it, but he suspected that had more to do with the fact Jeanne Benoit had been grazed by Ziva's knife. Gibbs didn't think it was intentional – much. He knew Ziva was an expert with those knives of hers, and he'd made a comment about her aim, but she wouldn't do that. She'd come a long way in curbing her violent tendencies.
He was also pissed that DiNozzo didn't tell him that Benoit had visited him. What had gotten into his entire team? They knew how he operated – he didn't like surprises. Tony hadn't denied it when Gibbs called him out, but he didn't volunteer the information, either. Kid had been wrung out from the FBI questioning, and even Gibbs' too-small heart couldn't bear to put any more strain on him. As far as he knew, Benoit hadn't returned, so Gibbs took that as a good sign. DiNozzo said she just wanted to know why he'd pushed her out of the way, which was a damn good question.
He claimed it was his job.
Gibbs knew that was bullshit, but he was willing to let it slide as long as she stayed out of the picture. DiNozzo was on a heady concoction of painkillers, and he always had unusual reactions to them. Still, he'd handled the FBI's questioning with flying colors, and Gibbs couldn't help the swell of pride when he thought back upon it. He hoped that DiNozzo would be able to do the same if Benoit returned. He also hoped that if she did return, Tony would tell him.
Keeping secrets was how this whole mess had begun, and he didn't want to go back. The secrets had put a strain on the relationship between him and his second. He knew he had a share in that blame, so he wanted to be sure they didn't lose the ground they'd gained. He was concerned that DiNozzo was going to be laid up while he recovered, but there was no alternative. He couldn't be out in the field with a broken clavicle, and he couldn't go back on desk duty while medicated. Too much time and not enough to do was a bad combination for someone as restless as DiNozzo.
He knew Tony would try to forego the medication and suffer through it, but he wasn't ready for that. The torn muscles needed to mend, and he couldn't fake an MRI.
The hospital had him up and moving the day after surgery. Just a few shaky steps several times a day, and Gibbs was dismayed by how much that took out of the younger man. The doctors said he needed to be upright as much as possible to avoid any chance of pneumonia. Tony's damaged lungs couldn't handle another bout.
When Gibbs arrived at the shop, Fornell was sitting at a table by the window, sipping his coffee and watching the crowd. Gibbs waited his turn for the cashier who knew his order without having to ask.
"What do you have for me, Tobias?" he asked, taking a seat once he had his coffee in hand.
"Good morning to you, too. I had a decent night's sleep, thanks. And you?" Fornell asked, smirking.
"Save the drivel. Did you find the weapon?" Gibbs asked impatiently, not in the mood for games.
"This isn't drivel, Jethro. It's called a conversation and basic civility. You should try it some time," Fornell said, apparently enjoying himself.
Gibbs glared.
Fornell rolled his eyes and harumphed, giving up. "All right. We found the weapon exactly where DiNozzo said it would be. In our defense, we didn't know that a weapon was missing."
Gibbs didn't even dignify that with a response, and the purplish flush on Fornell's face said he knew he didn't have a leg to stand on.
"So, DiNozzo's kill was justified," Gibbs said, not bothering to hide the fact he was gloating.
"Looks that way. Our forensic analyst is still matching the trajectories of the bullets found in the hallway," Fornell said, not meeting Gibbs' eyes.
"Oh, come on. What's really going on?" Gibbs demanded, seething. "Those terrorists were armed and funded. DiNozzo was simply doing his job."
Fornell pressed his lips together, pausing for a moment before speaking. "Well, since you've done nothing but piss off DuBois since you lost the battle over jurisdiction, and DiNozzo has made a gleeful habit of getting under the skin of my junior agent, Ron Sacks, they're not ready to clear him yet."
"So, we're back to petty politics?" Gibbs asked, disgusted.
"If it were up to me, DiNozzo would be cleared already. You've taught him a little too well how to piss people off," Fornell said.
"He was an expert at that long before I met him," Gibbs replied.
"You haven't been a good influence. In fact, I'm not all that happy with you, either," Fornell said, leaning back and taking another sip of his coffee.
"Feeling's mutual," Gibbs growled. The shop was extremely crowded, and their raised voices were beginning to draw attention.
"Why didn't you mention the fact the hostage DiNozzo took a bullet for was Jeanne Benoit? Didn't think that was relevant?" Fornell asked, lowering his voice.
"Jeanne Benoit? What? She was at the conference?" a female voice that Gibbs knew all too well demanded from behind him.
Great. That was just what he needed. He turned his head to look at this newcomer, and sure enough, he recognized the angry scowl. He'd seen a lot of it lately.
"Director."
Jenny's eyes narrowed, and Gibbs could almost feel his insides sizzling under her death glare.
"We'll be discussing this omission back at the office in detail, Special Agent Gibbs. Where is she? I want to talk to her," Jenny said, nearly spitting.
"There's no need. No one has seen her since she gave her statement," Fornell said, looking positively delighted at this turn of events.
Gibbs wanted to hit him.
"Why was she there in the first place?" Jenny demanded.
Gibbs shrugged. "She said she'd done a Fellowship in Gabon. I imagine the topic of Infectious Diseases was relevant."
He watched the Director closely. They'd been butting heads for the past several days, and he felt vindicated by her frustration. If she'd backed him in taking the lead, she wouldn't have to ask the FBI for permission to speak to anyone. Still, something was off. Jenny had been obsessed with the senior Benoit, and he could see that same zealous pursuit gleaming in her hazel eyes once again. It didn't bode well.
"And you don't think it was intentionally done to get close to DiNozzo?" she asked in a clipped voice.
"She wasn't happy to find him there," Gibbs replied.
"That could've been an act," she snapped.
Gibbs was dismayed to notice Fornell narrowing his eyes, watching the entire exchange with renewed interest. This wasn't good. Jenny knew better than to give so much away. What was she thinking?
"She's not that good of an actress," he said, glaring hard enough that she should notice the warning.
"Why do you need to speak to her, Director?" Fornell asked quickly.
Great, now the FBI was catching his hints rather than his own people. It didn't help that Fornell had seen Jenny's obsessive and nearly unhinged behavior when he set up a meeting with Benoit's CIA handler, Trent Kort. This wasn't good.
"I find it just as much an odd coincidence as you do, Agent Fornell," Jenny said, not quite successful in hiding her eagerness.
"Hmm. How's DiNozzo taking it?" Fornell asked.
Gibbs wasn't about to let them drag DiNozzo back into this whole mess. He'd barely survived the first round. "He hasn't brought it up. He's a little busy right now recovering from a bullet wound," Gibbs snarled.
Fornell wasn't backing off.
"She and your agent were the only two women left behind in the ballroom after all the others were released. Why is that?" Fornell asked. "I mean, Officer David is understandable, but Ms. Benoit was supposedly just another guest."
"Because one of the terrorists saw her arguing with DiNozzo before the siege and realized they knew one another. He was suspicious that she was working with us," Gibbs said, only loosely controlling his mounting fury.
Unfortunately, Fornell was one of the few people who wasn't intimidated by his temper. They were too alike that way.
"Was she?" he asked.
"What kind of question is that? You're just pissed that my agent made you Hoover boys look incompetent," Gibbs said, scowling.
Fornell shrugged, unfazed. "Seems like a rather big coincidence."
"The doctor who treated DiNozzo when he contracted the plague was also at the conference. You think he was in on it, too?" Gibbs asked.
"I don't know. Was he?"
"I don't have time for this," Gibbs said, clenching his fists so he wouldn't throttle the FBI agent.
"What is this doctor's name?" Fornell asked persistently.
"So, now the FBI is going to do its job the way it should've already been done? Well, that's just great, Tobias. His name is Commander Brad Pitt of Bethesda Naval Hospital," Gibbs said, nearly spitting he was so enraged.
Fornell furrowed his brow and looked at Gibbs doubtfully. "Brad Pitt? That sounds like DiNozzo's humor."
"Papa. India. Tango. Tango. Look it up," he bit out.
"Oh, I will," Fornell said, nodding to Jenny as he stood and made his way out of the coffee shop. Gibbs waited until the door was closed before turning his fury on the Director.
"Why wasn't I informed of Jeanne Benoit's presence?" she asked, beating him to the first question.
"Because there was nothing to tell," he said, waiting to see if she'd catch on to the mess that she'd just stepped in.
"Don't give me that. Everything about her is relevant to me," she snapped, eyes flashing.
Gibbs shook his head. She didn't get it. "Why is that, Jen?" he asked softly.
Jenny looked shocked. "Because of her connection to La Grenouille," she said as if it was obvious.
"He's dead, as you well know," Gibbs replied, deadly calm.
"She and her siblings inherited his very vast estate. He had information related to my father's death. I know it," she said.
"Let it go."
Her eyes flashed again. "I will not."
He clenched his teeth. "If you don't, the FBI is going to be all over you about his murder again."
She reared back, shocked. "I thought the FBI is convinced Trent Kort did it."
"They are, but if you start poking around in his personal business again, you put yourself at risk. Didn't you see the way Fornell's ears perked up when you said you wanted to talk to Ms. Benoit?" he asked.
She waved her hand dismissively. "You're being paranoid."
"Am I? I know La Grenouille didn't leave your house with that gun. Benoit told them that DiNozzo killed her father, but my gut says they thought you ordered him to make the hit," he said quietly.
Jenny's eyes flew open wide. "But they know that never happened. Jeanne cleared him."
Gibbs nodded slowly. "She did. But that doesn't clear you."
/* /* /* /*
Tony was bored. Beyond bored. If they didn't let him out of this hospital soon, he was going to sign out AMA despite all Gibbs' dire threats. It had been three days since he'd awoken after his surgery, and exactly how he got here was still a complete blank. The doctors said the memory might never come back. Of course, with his arm useless, and his car being a stick shift, driving himself home was out of the question. The doctors wanted him "resting," so his stiches wouldn't tear. He didn't want them to tear, either, but did they really just expect him to sit still for days on end?
Bleeding seemed the better option.
The nurses had done both of their daily torture sessions – aka walking – already, and he was both grateful and annoyed. Grateful that it was over, and annoyed that now all he could do was lie around. His arm was in a sling secured tightly to his chest, immobilizing it and it threw his balance off when he tried to walk. Just a short jaunt to the bathroom left him shaking and exhausted. They'd explained it was from the massive blood loss, but he was tired of feeling tired. He was sick of dragging the IV pole around, too, but they insisted it was still necessary.
His blood pressure kept dropping lower than it should, setting off a beeping alarm that drove into his skull and tried to pop his eyeballs out. At least, that's what it felt like. Again, they insisted it was part of the blood loss, but it was depressing because he knew they wouldn't let him leave until it stabilized.
At least they'd removed the nasal cannula, and he was breathing fine on his own. Another positive indication of his improving condition was the fact the feeling in his fingers was returning. Just pins and needles mostly, which was annoying, but they insisted it was a good sign.
Brad Pitt kept popping in to check on him and sharing stories of their old school days, helping to pass the time. Abby and the Autopsy Gremlin had also both been visiting him regularly and trying to keep his spirits up, and even Tim and Ziva had been popping in sporadically to sneak him better food. Abby told him that Gibbs was riding them hard. That wasn't unusual, but he couldn't help wondering what they were working on. The FBI still had jurisdiction, and he wasn't aware of another case.
Gibbs usually stopped by in the evenings, and Tony had noticed how nervous he made all the nursing staff. He could only imagine what the demanding Marine had put them through. Still, he was always pleased to get the visit, and something about the fact Gibbs always stayed until he fell asleep felt nice. He had no memory of anyone ever doing that for him before.
He picked up the television remote and started flipping through the channels looking for something interesting. Movement by the door caught his attention. He looked over and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.
Jeanne stood there, looking rather awkward and unsure.
He hadn't expected her to return and was therefore stunned to see her. She wore a purple top and jeans – more casual than her last visit – although she hesitated in the doorway. Her new haircut framed her face nicely, but he missed her longer hair. He'd always enjoyed running his fingers through it. He wondered if that was why she'd cut it.
"Hi," he said, transfixed.
"Hi," she echoed, taking a breath and gathering her courage. She stepped into the room and moved to the chair next to his bed. "Do you mind if I sit?"
Tony shook his head. Words – his best and most oft-used defense and weapon both – eluded him.
She sat, crossing her legs primly and stared at him, her eyes registering his sling, the still attached IV, and the various machines monitoring his vitals.
"I wasn't sure if you'd still be here," she said, swallowing convulsively.
Tony shrugged with his good shoulder. "My blood pressure has been giving them fits," he said, watching her intently.
Why are you here?
Their eyes locked, blue on green, and the air between them seemed to fill with some sort of static electricity that nearly hummed, both powerless to break the stare.
I couldn't stay away.
His heart was thudding rapidly, and he worried one of the nurses would be alerted and interrupt. He wanted to hear what she had to say but at the same time dreaded it. His battered heart really couldn't take much more. He knew that was ridiculous considering all the times he'd walked – sometimes ran – away from women who'd wanted a more permanent relationship. He'd been terrified by the thought of it.
Then.
Jeanne smiled weakly. "I kept wondering how you were doing, and I was angry at myself for caring. I have things I need to know, and I'm not sure I can ever really move on until I do."
"You still care?" he asked, unable to stop himself. He'd always been so desperate to hear that someone did, and he hated that he'd never been able to squash that need.
"I don't want to," she said baldly.
He winced, averting his eyes. He knew that feeling well.
"I suppose I'm curious about who Tony DiNozzo really is," she said.
Tony still didn't look at her, her words like a knife stabbing relentlessly into his heart. "You already know him, really."
Jeanne shook her head, a spark of anger entering her voice. "No. I know Tony DiNardo, a charming film professor who doesn't exist. Do you know how it feels to learn everything you believed wasn't real?"
"I do, actually," he said, finally looking up, a bit of fire igniting in his own belly. Yes, he'd lied to her and made a mess of things. He'd never deny that, but she didn't own the entire corner on being hurt. He'd been damaged long before he'd even met her.
"Tell me," she said.
Her words were the same ones she'd used on that awful day, after his car exploded – a cruel metaphor for what was actually happening in his life.
"I had misgivings about the assignment once I realized you weren't even remotely involved in your father's business. You're a decent person, focused on your own career – helping people. Your father needed to be stopped, though. He was dangerous, and the weapons he was distributing were catastrophic in the wrong hands," he said, his mind going back to the beginning. "My mind kept pitting those two things against each other."
He'd been working nearly non-stop at that time, both heading the MCRT after Gibbs' abrupt departure and taking on Jenny's undercover assignment. He'd been getting grief from all sides and barely holding his head above water. But it was no excuse. He should've seen it sooner. He should've realized something didn't smell right about the entire thing. The fact he didn't was entirely on him.
"So why didn't you ask to be taken off the assignment?" she asked.
He grimaced. "I've asked myself that same question a hundred times. I knew I was in over my head, but I couldn't see a way out that didn't hurt you. Whether you believe it or not, I desperately wanted to spare you. I knew the director wouldn't stop. She was determined to get to your father, and I was afraid she'd assign someone else to get close to you. Someone who didn't care. I couldn't let you be collateral damage in a war that you didn't even know was being waged."
She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath as if steeling herself. "I know all about my father now. My mother came clean with all of us, and he left us all letters in his will," she said, her eyes filling. "I'm still having trouble with all of that, too. He wasn't the man I always believed, and it seems I'm a terrible judge of character."
"No, you're not. Children believe in their parents – at least they're supposed to be able to do that," he said softly, ruthlessly squashing images of his own messed-up childhood.
She nodded. "I suppose. It doesn't mean I had the right to accuse you of murdering him."
Tony looked directly into her eyes, eyes he knew so well and had seen so many emotions filter through them. "Why did you?" he asked, his heart clenching and not sure if he really wanted to know.
He'd been hurt by it, deeply, even though he knew that she had every right to be angry. He'd never meant to hurt her, although he knew that he had, but her retaliation had been deliberate – meant to wound.
She looked down, swiping at her eyes. "I don't know. I was angry, and I was confused, and I somehow managed to convince myself it was true. I'd lost you both, and I couldn't make sense of it all. I couldn't make sense of anything, and I felt so… "
"Empty," he finished for her.
"Yes" she said, meeting his gaze but looking so helpless. "I am sorry I did it, though."
He could see the sincerity in her pain-filled eyes, but couldn't answer past the lump in his own throat. He nodded, keeping eye contact.
She smiled sadly. "My turn. If you were only on assignment, why did you tell me you loved me? Was it just because I pushed so hard, and you were worried about ruining your undercover work?" she asked, her voice breaking at the end.
"No," he said, clenching his eyes shut.
He'd tried to let her go, tried to release her believing it was all a lie, that it would somehow set her free. But it hadn't worked. It hadn't worked for either of them. If anything, he owed her the truth now. A truth he'd never openly shared with anyone. He suspected Gibbs might know, but he wasn't certain.
"To be honest, I haven't had a whole lot of experience with love in my life, so those feelings, when they came, were unexpected. It took me longer than most to even work out what it was I was feeling, and then I wasn't sure how to deal with it," he said, throat raw. "I tend to hide behind jokes and always pushing people away. Until NCIS, I never stayed in one place very long. As soon as anyone started to get close, I'd bolt. But every time I moved, every time I'd leave to start over, I'd think this is it, this'll be the time I let someone in. But it never happened. The walls are too strong, too firmly in place. With you, I needed to be someone else, but I let it be me because it wasn't supposed to be real. It wasn't supposed to be forever, so it wouldn't matter. I couldn't get hurt. It didn't work out that way, though, and I felt so… "
"Trapped," she said, finishing for him this time.
"Yeah. I was happier than I ever remember being, but I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't even tell you, because it was all such a mess," he said, shaking his head at his own stupid dreams.
"That must've been lonely," she said softly.
He looked up, shocked. He didn't expect she'd understand, thought she'd throw it back in face and leave. But she was still there, staring at him. He wanted to reach out and touch her so badly, but knew he was no longer allowed.
"It was. Still is," he said, voice strained.
"Because you knew it couldn't work?" she asked.
He shrugged again, ignoring the pain that sliced through his shoulder from the movement. "I don't know. I had these ridiculous ideas in my head of explaining things to you, that somehow, I could make you see what was real and what wasn't."
"You did love me," she said, her voice stronger, more self-assured.
"I do. I never stopped," he said, leaving himself raw and exposed. He owed it to her, and he was done hiding. "I've spent the entirety of my life wearing masks and being who people expected me to be. I've been undercover for a very long time. With you, my name and job were hidden, but I let you see the rest. The real me. Even my team doesn't know the person you know," he said, blinking through a glaze.
"Tony," she said in a choked voice that conjured heady images of the two of them locked in embrace and knowing one another as intimately as possible.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Abby's voice carried across the room causing them both to jump.
Tony looked up to see her standing at the door, eyes narrowed and arms akimbo, glaring at both of them. Jimmy Palmer stood behind her, eyes round behind his glasses and looking as if he wished he were somewhere else.
"Abs," Tony said, clearing his throat and trying to shake off the spell he'd been under.
Jeanne, too, stared up at the Goth, her lips parted in surprise and confusion.
"You nearly destroyed him once. I won't let you do it again," Abby said, nearly spitting.
"Abby, please stop," Jimmy said, trying to pull her back, his eyes letting Tony know that he, at least, had picked up on the tension in the room. He seemed to understand they'd interrupted something important.
Abby shook him off, stomping across the hospital room in her huge, clunky boots, the sound echoing. She placed herself between his bed and Jeanne as if protecting him. Tony couldn't wrap his head around it. All of them at one point or other had tried to shield Abby and protect her from the darker aspects of what they did. Even though she was the forensic scientist who knew more about the scientific side of their business than any of them, she could sometimes be childlike and in need of protection. To see her now, placing her body in front of his as if to somehow prevent Jeanne from hurting him was mind boggling.
"Abby," he said weakly.
"How do you know she isn't working with the FBI to blame you for the standoff?" Abby asked furiously.
Jeanne looked at him sharply. "Blame you?" she asked.
"Wouldn't be the first time he's been falsely accused," Abby said cuttingly.
Jeanne winced and stood up. "I think it's time for me to go."
"It is," Abby said, eyes flashing.
"Jeanne," Tony said helplessly.
She reached into her purse and pulled out a card. "This is my new cell phone number. You can decide if you still want to talk," she said, handing him the card and slipping out the door under Abby's fierce glare.
Author's Note
Melinda's NCIS Rule Number One: Always leave a comment.
Before anyone loses their mind – I KNOW Gibbs is giving Ziva a pass and making excuses for her – but that's what he tends to do. Bear with me – it's not over yet.
As for McGee – I'm not trying to bash him. I like McGee, but he and Tony weren't as close as they later became at this point, and I did think he took great pleasure in needling Tony about Jeanne. I promise, I will have the two characters address it before the story is complete.