Chapter Thirteen

There's No Place Like Home

It took all of two days after he left the hospital before Tony called Jeanne. He'd played out different scenarios in his head, still uncertain what was best, but truth be told, he wanted to see her again. He'd spent his convalescence thus far watching movies, playing games on his phone – ones he could do one-handed – and sleeping off the daze the pain medication tended to give him. He'd realized fairly quickly that he couldn't completely skip the pills and expect to function. He wasn't there yet, and he found it discouraging.

Abby had come over, and they'd made a lasagna to keep in his fridge. It was easy to re-heat, and he could break it apart on his own. McGee had showed him a few games on his phone, and Ziva had brought by a beef and bean casserole that was quite good. Still, he liked what he liked, and when he got a craving for something, it wasn't going to go away until he ate it.

He wanted a steak – cooked medium rare with a baked potato.

He'd considered inviting himself over to Gibbs' place. Boss made a mean ribeye, but the team had caught a case, so that was out. Undeterred, he made a reservation at one of his favorite restaurants and called a cab to take him over as driving was still out of the question.

Calling Jeanne to invite her to join him was a last-minute whim. He didn't want to eat alone and was in need of some conversation. It was lunch, not dinner, and somehow that seemed safer. Less like a date and more like two old friends meeting to share a meal.

Jeanne seemed startled by the call, but she agreed to meet him at the restaurant. That was safe. If they each had their own transportation, either could leave whenever they wanted an out. No pressure.

It wasn't a date.

Tony struggled to get dressed. He was still unable to manage jeans, so he had to resort to elastic-waist running pants. They were at least a bit dressier than sweatpants. A shirt was harder, and a button-down out of the question, but he managed to find one he could get on, securing his sling back on afterwards. So what if he needed to breathe through the discomfort once he had it on. He wasn't dressed in his usual impeccable fashion, but he looked okay, and besides, it wasn't like it was a date.

Tony was already seated at a table by the window when Jeanne arrived. It was a sunny day, although cooler than it had been. The cherry blossoms were all in bloom however, so the scenery was nice. Welcoming. Plenty of people out and about, walking around the city doing a lot of things other than a date.

He saw her enter the restaurant before she spotted him. She wore a green dress with a grey blazer, and he noticed several heads turning to watch her progress. He raised his hand so she noticed him, and she nodded as she turned in his direction.

Tony smiled in greeting, not too brightly, holding back on the charm. It wasn't a date, after all.

"Glad you could make it," he said as she sat down, and it surprised him slightly by how sincerely he meant it. He'd been thinking of little else since she'd left his hospital room.

"I was hungry… and curious. I wasn't sure you'd call," she said.

"I wasn't either, but I wanted a steak," he said.

She smirked, picking up her menu. "Of course, appetites take priority. When did you get out of the hospital?" she asked.

"Couple of days ago."

"So, now you're bored," she said knowingly, putting her menu to the side.

Tony shrugged, not denying it. "What about you? I wasn't sure you'd still be in DC."

"Well, the FBI kindly requested I stay around in case I thought of anything to add to my testimony. I'm really not sure what they're still looking for since all the terrorists are dead," she said.

"One is still alive, but he took a bullet to the gut, and I heard he has a load of complications," Tony replied.

"The abdomen will do that," she said. "What did your friend mean the other night when she alluded to the fact you were being blamed for something the terrorists did?"

Tony winced. Abby's scene had been uncomfortable, and he would've preferred skimming past it without ever mentioning it again.

"One thing you have to understand about Abby is that she's very emotional. Probably the most brilliant forensic scientist you'll ever meet, but emotional nonetheless," he said.

"That woman is a forensic scientist?" Jeanne asked, unable to hide the incredulity from her voice.

"Yeah, and the guy who came with her is the Assistant Medical Examiner at NCIS. I call him the Autopsy Gremlin," Tony replied, grinning fondly.

Jeanne raised her eyebrows. "I'm sure he appreciates that. You didn't say why the FBI suspects you of being involved."

Tony took a sip of his water. This cut a little too close to their own shared history that he didn't want to get into it again right now. He just wanted a nice lunch. He was given a reprieve when the waiter came and took their orders. Once he walked away, Jeanne looked at him expectantly.

"I had an altercation with one of the terrorists outside the ballroom before they took over," he said.

Jeanne raised her eyebrows. "I'm aware, They were pretty vocal how unhappy they were with you about it. The blood all over your face was a big giveaway," she said.

Tony shrugged. "I mouthed off. Kind of a habit," he said.

"I've noticed. If we're going to try and work past our issues, I need you to be honest with me," she said, pinning him with her eyes.

"Is that what we're doing? Working past our issues?" he asked, his heart thudding. He'd been so determined, trying to convince himself that it wasn't possible, but that little relentless sliver of hope just wouldn't leave him alone.

Jeanne remained silent, taking a sip of her water and studying him with those bright, probing eyes.

"From what Gibbs said, the FBI suspected the altercation in the hallway triggered the siege. Even though they came armed to the teeth with a hidden stash of weapons, the illustrious FBI wanted to put their focus on me. They were insisting I forced their hand," Tony said.

Jeanne frowned. "That's ridiculous."

"That's the FBI for you. I've dealt with them on numerous occasions in the past, and let's just say there's a shared animosity," Tony said, wishing he'd ordered a stronger drink, despite that fact it was only noon.

"Suspected? So… you've been cleared?" she asked, picking up on the past tense.

"Yeah – or they haven't been able to poke any holes in my story yet, anyway. It certainly was one hell of an evening," Tony said.

Jeanne raised her eyebrows. "I'd prefer never to go to another medical conference like it. I can't believe you used Road House as a reference," she said, chuckling.

"Hey! It has a sexy doctor, too," Tony said, wishing he could reel the words back after he'd said them. His mouth did tend to get away from him.

Jeanne's eyes widened and she quickly took another sip of her water, avoiding eye contact. It wasn't hard to read her body language to know she was uncomfortable.

Of course, Tony felt the need to fill the awkwardness. He never could stand those stilted silences. "I wasn't exactly at my best. You have to give me that one," he said, shrugging.

The moment was saved by the arrival of the waiter with their lunches. He placed them down in front of each.

Tony inhaled deeply, the rich aroma heightening all his senses, making his mouth water. He took a moment just savoring it. Eventually, an uncomfortable thought struck him. He'd wanted to come out for steak because of the difficulty in preparing it without the use of his arm. However, he still couldn't cut it one-handed. His choice was to not eat it or stab the entire slab and eat like a caveman. While he could get away with that at home – alone – he couldn't pull it off in a restaurant and company.

Even if it wasn't a date.

He frowned, perplexed as he rapidly tried to come up with another option that wouldn't be embarrassing.

Jeanne casually reached across and took his plate, bringing it over to her side of the table. She'd ordered a seafood casserole, which also looked amazing, and he supposed it would be much easier to eat. She didn't switch with him, however. Instead, she calmly began cutting the steak.

"So, the love of movies is real, then?" she asked, keeping her gaze focused on what she was doing. She sliced in quick, precise strokes like a surgeon.

Tony felt embarrassed and self-conscious. He absolutely hated to show any sign of weakness, and this was pretty damned pathetic. Still, she had to know that his love of movies was definitely real.

"Oh, yeah – can't fake that. Not to mention my excellent recall and massive knowledge of useless cinematic trivia," he said, covering his discomfort with bravado as had worked so often in the past.

"It was a good cover, then," she said, still slicing the steak.

He nodded. "According to Gibbs and the rest of my team, I watch too many movies. I've even figured out who the bad guys were by remembering old plots sometimes," he said.

Jeanne handed him back his plate with the steak cut up as if it were for a child. He took it, and she nonchalantly returned to her own dish as if it were a completely ordinary thing to happen.

"Thanks," he said, feeling his face warm as a blush stained his cheeks.

"What about Sean Connery? Is he really your favorite Bond?" she asked suddenly. He remembered a conversation about Connery when they were watching The Hunt for Red October, curled up on the sofa in her old apartment. It seemed like another lifetime ago.

Tony looked at her incredulously. "Of course, I do. He was the best."

Jeanne shrugged. "I'm more partial to Roger Moore. Live and Let Die was my favorite," she said, taking a bite of her shrimp.

"That's it, we can't be friends," Tony replied, deadpan. "Although, that was one of the better Moore films."

Jeanne laughed, a real laugh, not forced and not polite. It reminded Tony of happier days. He reached for his water and winced slightly as the pulling motion blazed a trail of fire across his chest and up into his shoulder. His pain medication had long worn off and struggling into his shirt hadn't helped any. He hoped he'd hid it well, but of course, she'd noticed.

"Are you still in a lot of pain?" she asked softly.

"It's not bad. I need to ice it when I get home," he said. The ice part was true – the pain was definitely past discomfort, but he wasn't going to admit that after she had to cut up his dinner.

"You'll be out of work for a while. How do you plan on spending the time?" she asked.

Tony made a face. "The doctors said ten to twelve weeks before I could get back in the field, but it won't take that long. I've had a broken clavicle before and it was fine after about a month."

Jeanne grimaced. "Did it happen when you were a child?" she asked.

Tony nodded warily. "Yeah. Why?"

"It heals a lot more quickly for children than adults. That timeframe sounds right to me. Maybe you could plan a holiday and get away for a while," she said.

Tony frowned, not liking the sound of that. He certainly didn't intend to be out of work for that long. Gibbs would have to get a TAD to replace him, and he wasn't about to let that happen.

"I can go back on desk duty once I've stopped taking pain medication and start physical therapy," he said, determined to push through it as soon as he could.

"You like your job," Jeanne said. It wasn't a question.

Tony paused, knowing they were back on sticky ground. Still, he was determined to be open and forthright this time – at least about everything except how much his shoulder hurt.

"I do. I think I was born to be a cop," he said.

"Was it always what you wanted to be?" she asked.

He smiled, reminiscing. "No. For a while I thought I'd play basketball for the rest of my life. A torn ACL changed that," he said, his mind drifting back to his college days.

"Were you really that good?" she asked, eyes widening.

"The Ohio State's finest," he said, grinning. "That's why Brad Pitt calls me Buckeye. We played against each other in college."

"Oh, so that's how you know each other. I was wondering about that," she said.

"How do you know him?"

"I didn't personally until that night. We'd had a small outbreak of Pneumonic Plague when I was in Gabon, so I was going to listen to his lecture. He treated a patient here in DC who somehow contracted it and survived. None of the patients I treated did, so I wanted to hear if he'd tried anything different," Jeanne said.

Tony felt a small thrill of foreboding, but he couldn't help himself. The temptation was far too great to overcome. "His patient must've been in really great shape before contracting it."

Jeanne shrugged. "Maybe. Of course, conditions here are a lot better than they are there. He wrote a book about it."

"Did he really?" Tony asked, using every ounce of his formidable undercover expertise to hold his mask in place. He still had no intention of deceiving her, but his mischievous nature couldn't pass up the opportunity presented so willingly.

"Yes. I suppose I've missed my chance to ask him about it, though," Jeanne said, completely unaware of Tony's inner delight.

"Brad has been checking in on me. Maybe I could ask him and his fiancé to dinner one night if you'd like to meet him," he said, barely suppressing his grin.

Suddenly, his mind caught up with his mouth. He'd been caught up in the enjoyment of the idea, but that last suggestion sounded suspiciously like a date – a double date even – and that was faster than he'd intended to move.

"I mean – at a restaurant. You could pick where. Then you'd get to ask whatever you wanted to talk about, and Molly and I could make fun of you both for being all sciencey," he said, feeling panicked and trying to rectify the situation before she shot him down.

"Sciencey?" she asked, grinning.

Tony pulled a face. "Abby reacts the same way when I say that to her."

"I see," she said, and this time there was a definite coolness in her tone. Tony made a mental note to be sure Abby and Jeanne never ran into one another again.

They finished their lunch chatting amicably. Tony answered whatever questions she had about his past, and he found he relaxed very easily back into a familiar comradery. When she noticed him cradling his arm already in a sling – he was well past the point of being able to cover his discomfort – she said it was probably time to go.

Tony paid the check and waved her off when she tried to protest. "It's the least I can do. Besides, I asked you here to save me from going stir crazy."

"Bien. Next one is on me," she said.

He stared, closely analyzing her expression to see if he could decipher any hint of deceit in the intriguing possibility of a next time.

"At least let me drive you home so you don't have to wait for a cab," she said.

Tony hesitated, unsure if he should accept. He didn't want to end their meeting, but he also was very cautious about letting anyone know where he lived. He'd always guarded his home as a private place. Somewhere to relax and let all his masks slide away.

"I'm not coming in. I'll just drop you off so you can ice it and take some pain medication sooner," Jeanne said, as if she, too, was establishing some boundaries.

He'd never had her back to his place when they'd dated, and it felt like something else to make right.

"Sounds like a deal."

/* /* /* /*

It had been a week since Tony's release from the hospital, and Gibbs reluctantly found himself outside his apartment. He had news to share with his SFA, but he knew the younger man wouldn't take it well, and he wasn't thrilled that he had to do it.

The Director hadn't left him with any choice.

Using his knuckles, he rapped firmly on the door twice. "Open up, DiNozzo."

It took a few prolonged moments, and he almost knocked again when the door opened wide, revealing DiNozzo standing there in sweats, tousled haired and bleary eyed. The dark rings beneath his eyes on his still bruised face indicated he was trying to avoid the pain medication.

Stubborn as ever.

"You pestered the doctors to release you, insisting you can take care of yourself, but skipping your meds is exactly what's going to keep you out of work longer," Gibbs said, growling as he pushed his way into DiNozzo's apartment.

Although he'd never admit it, Gibbs knew the team's progress always slowed when his SFA wasn't there, and he wanted DiNozzo back as much as the younger man usually wanted to come back.

"I can take care of myself. I took a couple of those pills yesterday," Tony said, grimacing on the word 'pills.'

Gibbs quirked one eyebrow, looking at the fatigue clearly written on DiNozzo's face and the mess in his usually tidy living space. The tv was on – no surprise there – playing some forgettable morning show, and the coffee table was littered with a variety of glasses, both his house and cell phone, and an opened box of Fruit Loops. Several of the colored, sugary circles were scattered everywhere. The entire team had been sending him food since they knew he rarely kept supplies on hand in his kitchen, and he was eating Fruit Loops from the box.

Dumbass.

"I did!" Tony said, easily reading Gibbs' doubt. "They knock me on my ass, so I slept all day, then I couldn't sleep last night."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Then why didn't you just take a couple more?"

"Because I can't think straight when I'm taking them, and I can't come back to work like that, so I'm trying to wean myself off," DiNozzo said, exasperated.

"What do you need to think about when you're sleeping? Don't be an idiot and take the pills. Any word on starting your PT?" Gibbs asked.

If possible, Tony's scowl deepened. "Can't until the swelling goes down."

"And you didn't think taking the pills just might help that along?" Gibbs asked.

Tony looked away sulkily. "I'm not doing anything to prolong it - just sitting here doing nothing but watching tv. Judge Judy is about to come on."

"Who the hell is Judge Judy?" Gibbs snapped, getting up and moving to the kitchen to fill a glass of water. He'd make sure DiNozzo took the pills before he left, but they had something to discuss first.

"Did you come over here just to criticize how I'm spending my sick leave? Is this how you treat a person on his death bed?" Tony asked.

Gibbs sat back down, placing the glass of water on the coffee table beside Tony's pain medication. "If you're not getting better, I'll drag your ass back to the hospital myself."

"You wouldn't!" Tony said, aghast.

"Try me."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Right. Like you're one to talk about doing what the doctors tell you."

"Diversion's not going to work. I need to tell you something," Gibbs said.

As typical, DiNozzo recognized the tone and became serious, watching Gibbs warily. "Yeah? What's that?"

"Director Shepherd assigned a TAD to the team while you're on sick leave," Gibbs said. "We could use the help, but your job will be there and waiting for you as soon as you're able to return."

Gibbs didn't believe in hand-holding, but he knew the idea of being replaced would bother his SFA and undermine his already fragile self-confidence. He didn't want there to be any question that he wanted DiNozzo back on his team. Maybe it'd make him take the damn pills, so he could heal quicker.

Tony stared at him blankly, but Gibbs could see the apprehension filling those expressive green eyes. "Anyone I know?" he asked, going for nonchalance, but Gibbs wasn't fooled.

"Actually, we both do. Do you remember Luis Ferreira?" Gibbs asked.

Tony's brow furrowed a moment before his expression cleared. "Yeah, he used to work here back when you first recruited me. We worked that weapon smuggling case at Mayport base together. As I recall, he argued with you about moving until we got the call from headquarters," Tony said.

Gibbs frowned darkly. "He slowed us down, but he was right in the end."

Tony grinned, enjoying Gibbs' discomfort. "Yeah, because the Admiral couldn't argue since SecNav himself made the call. That was a good bust."

Gibbs ignored him. "He's been stationed at Camp Pendleton for the past several years, but apparently, he's getting his own team in Jacksonville. He's been transferred to DC until the current team leader retires, and he's agreed to take the TAD assignment on the MCRT."

Gibbs liked to choose his own people, but if he had to have a TAD during Tony's leave, at least it was someone he'd worked with before and knew he could handle it.

Tony nodded slowly. "That's good. He'll back you up. What about McGee? How'd he take it?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Haven't told him."

Tony winced. "You do realize he was my Senior Field Agent when you were on your Mexican Tequila Hiatus, right?" Tony asked.

Gibbs scowled. "He wasn't ready, still isn't. Director isn't happy with him for bypassing her in the chain of command, anyway," he said, grimacing internally. He knew he'd have to say something to McGee before Ferreira arrived, but that wasn't DiNozzo's concern. He needed to focus on healing.

Tony winced. "Fair, but he's still going to expect to move up, since he's done the job before."

"DiNozzo, we both know the Director was manipulating a lot of things during that time. Let's not go there," Gibbs said.

For some reason, DiNozzo briefly glanced at his phone before nodding his acceptance. He supposed he planned to call McGee and let him down easy. "Okay. Either you or the Director should tell him, though."

"He'll figure it out. You okay?" Gibbs asked, refusing to be drawn into the discussion DiNozzo obviously wanted to have about McGee. Tim probably would have his nose out of joint about not getting the temporary promotion, but that was better than a black mark in his file. It was an oversight, not deliberate like Ziva's mistake had been, and Gibbs didn't want a Probie mistake to hurt his bright future.

"Me? Yeah, why wouldn't I be okay with it?" DiNozzo asked, a little too quickly.

Gibbs stared at him, knowing DiNozzo would eventually be the one to speak. He always caught on quickly, but he didn't like prolonged silences.

"I'm okay with it. I like Ferreira. He'll keep Probie and Ziva on their toes, and he'll have your six. That's what matters," DiNozzo said.

"And hopefully by the time he gets his promotion, you'll be ready to at least get back on desk duty. You can start by taking a couple of these pills," Gibbs said, pushing the water and the prescription bottle toward the younger man.

Tony scowled but complied, grimacing as the pills went down.

"So, what else have you been doing around here besides watching the boob tube?" Gibbs asked.

"I like the boob tube," Tony said indignantly. "I don't have a basement, and it's not like I could build a boat even if I wanted to with one arm. "I've been walking every day, keeping my strength up."

Gibbs could hear the discouragement in his voice. "They told you that you wouldn't have a lot of energy at first. You lost a lot of blood. Don't push it. Anyone walking with you?" Gibbs asked, concerned about a weakened DiNozzo pushing himself until he collapsed somewhere dark and deserted.

"Abby's been coming over. She says she has to be sure I don't fall on my ass and need to be rescued like a princess in a tower," Tony said, rolling his eyes.

Gibbs grinned. "Atta girl." He looked at the two phones still lying on the coffee table. He knew everyone had been checking in to be sure DiNozzo was doing all right, but he noticed the slight tension in DiNozzo as he followed Gibbs' eyes and suspected he knew what that was all about.

"I've spoken to her a few times. I told you I wasn't going to hide it," DiNozzo said evenly.

Gibbs nodded. He didn't like it, but he was glad DiNozzo wasn't trying to hide anything again. Ducky's cautionary reminder that his agent didn't need a boss right now made him take a breath. DiNozzo needed a friend, he needed family. "What about your father. Has he called?"

Tony looked startled, as if Gibbs had just asked if he'd been to the moon recently. "My father? No, why? Did someone call him?"

Gibbs shrugged. "I'm sure Human Resources did when you went into surgery. Don't know for sure, though."

It was SOP for Human Resources to get in touch with family when an agent was injured in the line. He knew DiNozzo's father had never responded before, which was why he'd insisted on being listed as next of kin on Tony's emergency card. The fact agents needed to have someone in close proximity take that role was convenient, but he also didn't want Tony to ever again have to depend on someone who wouldn't come when he needed.

He could see DiNozzo's lids growing heavy, and he was trying to stay focused on the conversation. Gibbs got up and turned off the tv. "Come on, DiNozzo. Go hit the rack and get some rest."

Tony complied, hoisting himself off the couch and stumbling toward his bedroom. As he shut the door, Gibbs realized Tony hadn't been as upset about not being at work as he thought he'd be once he learned Ferreira was going to cover for him. The thought made his gut roil.

Author's Note:

I know in canon Tony and Brad talked about a football game, but the show later ret-conned Tony's game to basketball, and I honestly think it fits him better. You can't be a Division One athlete in both sports – the timing overlaps, so in all my stories, I stick to basketball competitively. He could still easily play pick-up football and any other sport he wanted with his frat brothers.