Chapter Fourteen

Houston, We Have a Problem

'Cause all we are, we are
All we are, we are
And every day is the start of something beautiful, something real

All We Are, Matt Nathanson, s5e2 Family

Tim used Gibbs' trick of pressing the stop button on the elevator, only it wasn't in order to have a private conversation. Tim just needed a minute to pull himself together. It had been the week from hell, and he was forcefully struggling to keep his stutter from returning in full, humiliating splendor. It had all started when Gibbs brought on a TAD as Senior Field Agent while Tony was out on sick leave. Tim had been more than taken aback since he had fully expected that he would take over the SFA position. It had been his job during Gibbs retirement in Mexico, after all.

Special Agent Luis Ferreira from Camp Pendleton had worked in the DC office years ago and knew both Gibbs and Tony. He'd agreed to take the temporary assignment while awaiting his transfer to the Jacksonville office. Although Gibbs had pulled Tim aside before Ferreira arrived and told him that he needed more experience before he could be an effective SFA,Tim was chaffing under the snub. Gibbs said something about writing checks his experience couldn't cover, but he wasn't buying it. He'd done the job already and had been really good at it. It wasn't like it was all that different from what he already did, aside from a few more reports. Although, given, Tony did have to keep adjusting things he'd overlooked, but that was only because it was all new to him at the time.

Tim didn't believe Gibb's reasoning. He was sure it was because he'd messed up on the security detail. He knew the Director hadn't forgiven him, and he found himself wishing that Assistant Director Vance was still in charge. He, at least, seemed to appreciate what Tim had to offer. Vance had gone back to the San Diego office once Director Shepherd returned from her leave, however, so there was no help there.

Ferreira was more technically-savvy than Tony, but he wasn't as intuitive or as willing to toss out his ideas. Tim had never quite appreciated Tony's ability to pull something out of nothing until he was no longer there. He'd been out on sick leave for a little over three weeks now, but it seemed longer. Gibbs was getting more and more frustrated with their slower progress, and his displeasure was spread out over the entire team. Ferreira bristled at the vocal put downs, but since he knew he was only biding his time until he was transferred, he put up with it, often allowing Tim and Ziva to bear the brunt of Gibbs' displeasure. Tim was getting all the headslaps that Tony usually had to endure.

Things had only become worse yesterday when they'd received a call about a dead body at Quantico. They'd arrived to discover that while a Marine Sergeant was deployed in Iraq, someone had broken into his home and murdered his wife and nine-year-old son. Nothing was missing from the house and as of yet, there were no obvious suspects.

It was the kind of case that made Gibbs feral, and since he was already put-out by Tony's medical leave, Tim knew they were in for a grueling spell. Still, hiding in the elevator was childish and beneath him, so taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and entered the bullpen. Gibbs was on the phone, and both Ziva and Ferreira were away from their desks. Gibbs had sent them to check out the home of their victim's boss who had turned up at the crime scene while they were investigating.

Ferreira thought he seemed overly interested, and since one of Gibbs' rules was to always watch the watchers, he'd sent them to check it out. Personally, Tim didn't think it would pan out since finding out your co-worker had been murdered was naturally going to bring out a reaction in a normal person. Still, he wished he'd been allowed to go with them just to get out from under Gibbs' watchful eyes. He was liable to explode over the slightest thing, and Tim didn't want to be caught in the crosshairs when it happened.

Gibbs didn't look up when Tim entered the bullpen, so he quietly slipped behind his desk and began typing random letters on his keyboard. He needed to find an angle, and quickly. He wished he had Tony's ability to sniff out an obscure fact and turn it into a viable lead, but Tim's strength had always been finding the minute details, not the big picture stuff. He supposed that was why they made a well-rounded team, but he hadn't appreciated it enough.

Gibbs slammed his phone down. "I'm going to talk with Sergeant Jones' CO up in MTAC. Have something for me when I get back," he said while moving toward the stairs.

"Like what?" McGee asked, wishing he could reel the words back in as soon as they slipped out. His anxiety was going to be the death of him.

Gibbs stopped short. "I don't know, McGee – how 'bout a lead," he asked, snarling.

McGee swallowed. "Right," he said, but Gibbs wasn't listening, he was already halfway up the stairs.

A lead. How was he supposed to find a lead when he had nothing? Brenda Jones didn't have a large insurance policy or an inheritance. She didn't appear to have any enemies, and they hadn't turned up any hint of an affair. Their son was only nine, but he supposed he could look into his life. Who would want to murder a nine-year-old though? He began looking into school records.

If he didn't have something for Gibbs when he got back, Tim wouldn't be surprised if he fired him. Cases involving kids and senseless, brutal murders of women always turned Gibbs' usual short-fuse into a hair trigger, but the boss had been bad-tempered even before the case, and that was entirely Tony's fault.

They all suspected that Tony had been in contact with Jeanne Benoit since he'd been released from the hospital, although none of them had seen her. Tim knew the FBI had detained her while they were putting together their case against the surviving Turkish terrorist, but she'd finally been cleared to leave several days ago. Tim had been monitoring all flights out of the DC area, but her name hadn't appeared. He supposed she could've used an alias, but that seemed unlikely. She was a doctor, not a criminal.

No, she was still in DC somewhere. Ziva had suggested that he run a check on all the hospitals within the city to see if one had hired her, but that had also come back negative. They'd all checked in on Tony, and he was due to start physical therapy next week, but he wasn't driving them all up the wall demanding he was ready to come back.

That wasn't normal.

Realistically, Tim knew there was no reason they could stop Tony seeing Jeanne, no matter how colossally stupid a mistake it was. The woman had accused him of murder. He'd lied to her about his whole identity. Even though Tim had scoffed at the idea at first, he realized that Tony had developed actual feelings for her. But there was no coming back from all the deception – even for Tony.

Just thinking about it made Tim uncomfortable. Tony had made fools out of the entire team by keeping his undercover assignment secret for so long. Even Gibbs hadn't known, and that was unprecedented. It still burned when he thought about it, and he didn't know how Tony had managed it. Having Jeanne back in the picture only reminded Tim of his own failure, and he didn't like it.

Ziva liked it even less. She was furious, and Tim knew it was because she considered her Mossad expertise far superior to Tony's abilities. She hated that Tony had managed to dupe her. She'd never admit it out loud, but Tim knew it was true. The fact Tony had successfully fooled a Mossad operative as well as Gibbs actually made Tim feel slightly better about his own cluelessness in the whole affair.

But only a little.

He wanted Jeanne Benoit out of the picture entirely so they could all go back to their normal roles. Tony needed to push through his physical therapy, so he could get back to the office and send Ferreira on his way. Maybe then Gibbs would be a little more bearable.

"What do you got, McGee?" Gibbs asked, strolling back into the bullpen.

"I'm going through Jamar Jones' school records, but so far nothing out of the ordinary. I'm also waiting for a call back from a Trudy DaSilva who was Brenda Jones' best friend," McGee said, cringing.

"So, in other words, you've still got nothing," Gibbs said.

Tim could feel his insides withering. They were interrupted by a commotion coming off the elevator. The usually cool, composed Agent Ferreira was red-faced and shouting at Ziva, who looked perfectly calm and disinterested.

"Of all the reckless Probie mistakes, this takes the cake since you keep insisting you have more experience than an actual agent," he said.

"I am Mossad. My training makes yours look white in comparison," she replied dismissively.

"Pale in comparison," McGee muttered under his breath, but they all ignored him which suited McGee just fine. He couldn't help but notice how much interest this scene was generating from the other teams across the bullpen.

"Yeah, well from where I'm standing, you couldn't have been paying much attention, or you're just not as smart as you think you are," Ferreira said, tossing his bag behind his desk.

"What's going on – and it damn well better be more important than our murdered family," Gibbs said, his voice low and dangerous. He'd stood up, looking at both with narrowed eyes.

"She broke protocol and possibly invalidated our evidence."

"I found a gun matching the weapon used against the Joneses and this… buffoon is whining about blue tape."

Ferreira and Ziva spoke at the same time, their words blending and making both statements hard to decipher.

"One at a time," Gibbs said, teeth clenched. "Ziva."

"We went to the home of Brenda Jones' boss, an Edward Kaplan. Abby phoned and told us the make and model of the weapon used in the murders, and that Kaplan has the same kind of weapon registered, despite the fact he told us he didn't own a gun.

"When we arrived, we observed him through a window, and he was stowing a weapon in a drawer. We called for a search warrant, but when our suspect left the house, I decided it was prudent to go and check the weapon before he returned," Ziva said, smirking triumphantly.

Ferreira had been scowling and shaking his head the entire time Ziva spoke, but he'd held his tongue.

Gibbs frowned, his eyes not leaving Ziva's as he allowed the TAD his chance to speak. "Ferreira?"

"There is nothing more, Gibbs. He is being purposefully difficult. I should take this weapon to Abby and see if the ballistics match," Ziva interrupted, fuming.

Gibbs glared at her. "Zip it," he snarled. "Ferreira, go."

Affronted, Ziva crossed her arms tightly across her chest and began tapping her foot impatiently as Ferreira spoke.

McGee swallowed convulsively. He knew Ziva and her lock picks would come back and bite them eventually, but he didn't want it to be now and definitely not on a case so personal to Gibbs.

"Abby did call and tell us we're looking for a Baretta, however I didn't see the weapon that Ziva claims she saw–"

"That you know I saw since we have the weapon," Ziva interrupted.

"Ziva, you've had your say. I'm not going to tell you again," Gibbs said, staring daggers.

Ziva furiously pursed her lips.

"She entered Kaplan's house before we had our warrant, despite my orders to stop. I sent an agent to the court to retrieve it if and when it was granted, but Miss Mossad Impatience here wouldn't wait. Since the home has a security system, her entering will be time-stamped. We just better hope than not only was the warrant granted, but that its time-stamp predates her entrance, or all our evidence will be useless. A good defense attorney will chew it up in court," Ferreira said, seething.

"If the gun matches, we have our suspect," Ziva said. "We are wasting more time where he could be lost in the air."

"In the wind," McGee said tensely, unable to stop himself.

"Didn't anyone bother to teach you the law, Officer David? How many other cases have you had thrown out because of your refusal to follow procedure?" Ferreira asked.

"That's enough. For now, we have a weapon, and we need to check ballistics before our suspect has a chance to run," Gibbs said, pinching his fingers against the top of his nose for a brief moment.

It happened so quickly Tim would've missed it if hadn't been looking right at him. His eyes widened at the unusual display. Usually, Gibbs seemed invincible and a little human thing like tiredness would never dare to bother him.

"You do that, but it'll be pointless without that warrant. I'm writing her up," Ferreira said, returning to his desk.

Gibbs sighed. "Ferreira, now isn't the time–"

"Yeah, it is. I'm sure I won't be the first. Her casual disregard of the rules means she wasn't even paying attention at FLETC and still thinks she's at Mossad," Ferreira said, glowering at Ziva.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "FLETC? I do not need FLETC. I was trained–"

"Ziva, that's enough. Take the gun down to Abby. Now," Gibbs barked, interrupting her.

Scowling, she grabbed the evidence bag containing the weapon and left without another word.

Ferreira waited until the elevator doors closed behind her before speaking. "You may feel letting her push the envelope is all right, Gibbs, but I don't, and I won't have it marring my record if this gets thrown out."

Gibbs clenched his teeth. "You do what you have to do on your own time. McGee, I want all the background information you can find on Edward Kaplan. Yesterday."

/* /* /* /*

Tony puttered around his apartment nervously, straightening movies on his shelves and aligning the tv remote on his coffee table. Busy work. He was actually doing busy work. He rolled his eyes in disgust, imagining the Probie's reaction if he could see Tony now. Pathetic.

One arm still in an immobilizing sling, he found it difficult to do much of anything despite his best efforts. He'd been managing to forego the painkillers during the day, but if he wanted any hope of sleep at night, he still had to take them. He needed sleep to function, or there was no way Gibbs would let him back to work, not even on desk duty. The hitch was, he also couldn't go back until he was finished with the painkillers. It was a vicious cycle. He knew they'd taken on a TAD until Tony could return.

That would normally have his insecurity on high alert, and he'd be climbing the walls to get back. Oddly, it wasn't the case, and that was entirely to do with Jeanne. Since she was also trapped in DC while the FBI put together its case, the two of them had been getting together around the city in the couple weeks since they met for lunch. Both kept their barriers firmly in place and maintained a cautious distance, but they'd enjoyed visiting around the city, eating out and doing a lot of walking. When apart, they'd been keeping their phone lines busy, chatting even when they watched the same movie in their own respective abodes.

It was a bit like reconnecting with an old friend that he'd once been very close but time and distance had faded the memory. They were using the time to get to know one another again – and for Jeanne – getting to know him as Tony DiNozzo. It was nice and comfortable, and he found himself looking forward to seeing her more and more after each parting.

He hadn't outright told any of his teammates about their renewed contact, but he wasn't hiding it, either. He'd promised Gibbs there would be no more lies, and he'd meant it. He wasn't about to go back to living a dual life, but he hadn't been blatant about it. He was very aware of their disapproval. Ziva's and McGee's he could live with – that was typical anyway – but he hated to disappoint Gibbs and Abby. Their opinions really mattered to him. They always had.

But Jeanne mattered too, and if he could find a way to get around the huge mess of the beginning of their story, he had to try. He'd spend the rest of his life wondering if he didn't.

Thus came the reason for his nervous energy. He'd invited Jeanne to watch a movie – Live and Let Die – her favorite Bond film, even if it was Roger Moore. He was growing tired of all the rom-coms Jeanne favored. And he'd invited her to watch it here. He usually never invited women back to his apartment. It was his safe space – a haven and an escape from the world. He typically met people elsewhere, and if he had a date – back when he used to have dates – back before her - he'd always go to their place. Inviting her into his home was a big step, but he felt it was a way to show her that he really was allowing her to see everything.

And it terrified him.

The few times he'd actually allowed a woman to get inside his heart, it had always ended the same way – in pieces – including with Jeanne. He hoped he wasn't making the same mistake again. He wasn't sure there was enough of him left to put back together.

A knock at his door made his heart thud painfully. This was it. He'd allowed her to drive him home several times since he was still having trouble with long distances, but he'd never invited her up.

Until now.

His palms were actually sweating. He was acting like a teenager on his first date. This was ridiculous. Taking a deep breath and shaking off the cobwebs in his head, he reached for the door handle.

"Salut," she said, looking as nervous as he felt.

Something about her hesitancy bolstered his nerves. He could do this. If she was also nervous, it meant she wanted the same thing but was also worried that she was making a mistake. If it was a mistake, they could make it together.

"Hi," he replied, swinging the door open wide. "Come on in. I ordered take-out, but it hasn't arrived yet." There was an excellent Thai food place around the corner that delivered, and he remembered what she liked.

Jeanne nodded as she tentatively walked into his apartment, her eyes widening as she looked around, taking in the shelves of movies, the inlet bar, Kate the goldfish swimming in her bowl, and finally resting on his piano. Her mouth formed a small "oh."

"Do you play?" she asked.

Tony shrugged, looking down at the sling. "Well, not right now."

"But you can?" she asked.

He nodded. "My mother played, and she insisted on lessons. I gave it up for a long time after she died, but I had a music teacher in high school that took a particular interest, so I began again," he said.

"I'd like to hear you play some time. That's the first true difference from Tony DiNardo," she said, sounding almost relieved. She walked over to the piano and brushed her hand along the top. "It's beautiful."

"Do you play?" he asked. She'd never said, but the way she was looking at it seemed oddly familiar.

She nodded. "I do, although I also gave up my lessons and never went back. Bit of teenage rebellion," she said, abashed.

Tony sat on the bench, playing a few chords that he could manage one-handed, looking up to see her reaction.

She smiled. "You're better than me." She sat on the bench beside him, pressed closer than they'd allowed themselves to be and played a few more chords on her end of the piano. Tony instinctively joined in, and the two of them played a shared melody of Heart and Soul.

"Oh, we definitely need to watch Big next time," she said, beaming.

"I love Big. I know Tom Hanks gets more kudos for his roles in Philadelphia and Forrest Gump, but I've always had a soft spot for Big," Tony said, grinning broadly. His heart felt absurdly light.

"I have too," Jeanne said, returning the smile. "I've also been known to laugh ridiculously long at the Money Pit."

"Really?" Tony asked, thrown. "It's funny, but not one of my top five," he said. He'd forgotten how nice it was to have someone who shared his love of movies.

The doorbell rang announcing the arrival of their dinner, and they spread it out on the coffee table with a bottle of wine before Tony inserted the movie.

"So, Tony DiNozzo plays the piano, and has a goldfish. That's two things I didn't know," Jeanne said, once they'd consumed their meal.

"Her name is Kate," Tony said, smiling fondly at his fish as he refilled Jeanne's wineglass.

"Merci. Kate? That's an interesting name for a fish," she said, looking at him over her glass.

He knew she could sense there was a story there, and he took a deep breath. This one was easy to share. He loved remembering Kate, although he rarely spoke about her. "My first partner other than Gibbs at NCIS was named Kate. She once joked about getting me a goldfish to teach me some responsibility."

"She doesn't work there anymore?" Jeanne asked.

"No. Kate was killed in the line of duty. She was standing right next to me when it happened," he said, unconsciously running his hand along his face, feeling the ghost of her blood spatter there.

"I'm sorry," Jeanne said, her eyes stricken.

"It's been nearly three years. Time's a funny thing," he said, leaning back. How had so much time gone by already? It seemed like only yesterday.

Jeanne leaned back beside him, and he naturally moved his arm to wrap around her shoulders. She didn't pull back, but instead burrowed closer into his side.

They watched the movie for a bit before she suddenly spoke again, picking up right where they'd left off. He suspected she'd been thinking of her father and all that happened last year. It was certainly where his thoughts had strayed.

"You're right about time. I sometimes go back over conversations in my mind, forgotten snippets I overheard from my parents, and it all makes so much more sense now," she said softly.

"Hindsight is always twenty-twenty," he replied, giving her a gentle squeeze. It was a cliché, but sometimes a cliché existed because it was true.

"So they say. I wish there was a way to go back and ask him his reasons. You said your mother introduced you to the piano before she died. That was true then, your parents are deceased?" she asked.

Tony winced. "Not exactly. My mother died when I was eight, but my father is still alive. For an undercover assignment, it's always best to limit ties to avoid any possibility of a meeting," he said, wanting her to know the whole story. It wasn't as if Senior was a part of his life, anyway.

"Oh. So… does he know anything about your… assignment?" she asked, uncrossing and recrossing her legs.

It alerted Tony to her continued discomfort over his using her. She certainly had the right, but even if she was uncomfortable, she hadn't pulled away and remained tucked beneath his arm. He liked having her there.

"No. We've been estranged for a long time. He calls on rare occasions, but I haven't actually seen him in years," he said honestly.

She furrowed her brow. "Really? I can't imagine that. I'd give anything to have another conversation with my father."

"There were a lot of extenuating circumstances. We were never close," he said.

He'd promised he'd be honest, but explaining his complicated relationship with his father would take much more time than they had left in the movie. It felt so weird being open about Senior. He usually tried to avoid the subject if possible. Even when he'd let something slip, he always changed the subject quickly. He'd promised her the truth – and it turned out it wasn't as hard as he'd anticipated.

"Is he really a Marine?" Jeanne asked.

Tony felt his face warming, and he ducked his head. He'd forgotten that bit of fabrication. "No," he said.

"Gibbs is a Marine, though," she said astutely.

"Yeah, well… Gibbs has been more of a father to me than anyone else has ever tried to be. He puts in the effort. I suppose the best my real father ever did was teaching me to be a poser. He's excellent at that, and I've developed the skill to an art form," Tony said bitterly.

Jeanne's eyes widened, and she swallowed convulsively. "You've done a lot of undercover work, then."

He nodded. "I have. I've earned myself a bit of a reputation for it, which is why, I suppose, the director tapped me for her assignment. It wasn't like any other op I've ever done, if that's what you're wondering."

"So, you've never fallen for your mark before?" she asked, her bright eyes locked on his.

"No. Not until you," he said softly.

"Tony," she said in that way she had that brought all his senses to life. Her eyes never looked away.

Heart thudding, he was so caught up in the moment that the vague sound of a key turning in the latch was ignored as he leaned closer, his eyes dropping to her lips as they parted.

Author's Note:

You all owe my new beta, Unilocular, a thank you for saving you from a massive cliffy on this chapter, lol.

I had hand surgery on Monday, and unfortunately, it's slowing me down a little more than I anticipated. Sorry about that, but I'm going as quickly as I can typing one-handed. I'd still love to hear what you think of the chapter though.