Chapter Nineteen

Love that Dirty Wahtah

Grateful to finally slow down, Tony sank onto the sofa, scooting over so there was plenty of room for Jeanne. She put a plate of decadent cannoli on the coffee table, while he poured them each a glass of Chardonnay from the decanter already resting on the table. The brownstone belonging to Jeanne's brother where they were staying was elegant and sophisticated without being ostentatious. Jeanne insisted her brother must have a cleaning service, as he wasn't a neat person. It was located in Boston's historic Back Bay, and the view of the city outside the long windows was spectacular.

They'd arrived that morning after a particularly hellacious flight. It hadn't been long, but completely booked leaving Tony no room to adjust for his injury. He'd sat on an aisle seat, but after his shoulder had been bumped unexpectedly several times, he was gnashing his teeth in agony. Jeanne offered to switch seats, but he thought the cramped middle seat would be even worse with his long legs. She'd quietly slipped her hand into his in silent solidarity, and it somehow did make him forget about his misery for a while.

Once landed, they'd each gone directly to their subsequent appointments which took up most of the afternoon. After they were finally finished, however, they'd strolled through Faneuil Hall marketplace, enjoying the street performers and the liveliness of the area. After, they'd had the most delicious meal in the North End – traditional Italian food with a seafood twist since they were so close to the ocean, and afterwards had bought the cannoli at Mike's Pastry Shop – an apparent must-see in the North End.

And Jeanne had kept her hand in his for most of the day. He'd absently stroked her soft skin with his thumb, remembering better days. When she reciprocated, it sent a delicious tingle up his spine.

Tony was trying not to jump to any conclusions, but he was fighting his own natural instincts to take things to the next step. His body was reacting to the aching familiarity of having her so close, and emotions that had been dormant for months were struggling to the surface. He needed to let her take the lead this time, however. He wanted her in his life, but he needed to be sure she really wanted him and not the ghost of who she remembered him to be.

He recalled a long-ago conversation in the bull pen where Ziva had joked that Tony could sleep with a suspect from whom they were trying to get information. Both Gibbs and Ziva had chimed in that they'd done it before, as a shocked Probie's mouth dropped open. This was different though. Jeanne wasn't a suspect. She wasn't guilty of anything except who her father was, and he was living proof that you couldn't hold a person's relatives against them.

If they were going to make a real go of this, he had to let her be in the driver's seat – no matter how much his libido wished otherwise.

She sat beside him, snuggling close and biting into one of the cannoli. She reached over and offered him a bite of his own. He groaned as the sweetness spread across his tongue.

"Oh, that's good," he said, not meaning only the cannoli.

Jeanne made a sound of pleasure beside him.

"So, are you going to tell me how your interview went?" he asked at last. He'd been avoiding asking all evening because a part of him was afraid she'd take an offer and move here. Not that she'd committed to moving back to DC, either, but he knew he wasn't built to survive a long-distance relationship. He'd told her all about his appointment – but there wasn't much to tell. The doctor agreed with what his own doctor said about his progress and to keep up with the physical therapy.

She shrugged, taking a sip of her wine. "It was fine. I told you I wasn't interested though."

"Still? They didn't make some sort of spectacular offer to sway you? They'd be crazy not to want you on their staff," he said, toasting her glass.

She grinned. "What are you buttering me up for? I already shared my cannoli."

"And I want you to keep sharing, but that doesn't make what I said any less true," he replied.

She seemed pleased with his answer. "It wouldn't matter what they offered. I love my brother dearly, but I wouldn't want to live right under his thumb."

Tony's eyebrows raised. "That's interesting phrasing. You said before that he thinks you're floundering. Is he trying to control your next step?" he asked. He'd never had a sibling, but he was always fascinated by how the relationships and personalities worked. He knew Jeanne was the youngest of the three but not much else. Neither her brother or sister had been part of Jenny's scope.

"Marc is having the hardest time of all of us accepting what our father was involved in. He's very detail-oriented and likes everything to fit into its correct box. Learning that not only was our father an arms dealer, but he was working with the CIA is just more than his ordered mind can take. My mother tried, but the two of them are so alike they just keep butting heads. Marc is compensating by trying to get involved in the rest of our lives. He has this need to know everything," Jeanne said, growling slightly.

"And you're much too independent for that," Tony replied, nodding.

"You've noticed?" she quipped.

"Hard to miss. So, do you know what it is you do want to do?" he asked, his stomach clenching.

She looked up at him, her impossibly-vibrant blue eyes wide and searching. "That depends," she whispered.

"On?" he asked, feeling as if all the air in his lungs had been sucked away.

"On you… on how I feel. My father left me a significant inheritance, so I don't have to work right away. I can pick and choose where I'd like to take my career next. I checked out of the hotel where I was staying before we came here, but I think I'll check back in when we return and stay in DC awhile," she said as if the plans were formulating in her head as she spoke.

"I'd like that," Tony replied. "Would you consider going back to University Hospital?"

Jeanne shrugged. "I really liked it there, but I think I left too abruptly for them to ever consider taking me back."

Tony winced. "There were extenuating circumstances."

Jeanne didn't reply but instead took another bite of the cannoli.

"You said your mother tried to talk to your brother. Does she know you're here – with me?" he asked. He hadn't really considered it before, but he couldn't imagine her mother would be happy with that decision – look how Gibbs and the team were reacting, and they weren't actually blood. That one dinner he'd had with her had been uncomfortable enough – he couldn't imagine what she'd say now.

It was Jeanne's turn to wince. "Oh, she does."

"I suppose 'not happy' would be an understatement?" he asked.

One corner of Jeanne's lips rose in amusement. "She called me an idiot. Of course, she was also furious with me when she learned I'd accused you of murder. She's very sensitive to lies after everything she went through in the divorce, and she certainly let me know what she thought about it."

"We better not introduce her to Gibbs, then," Tony said.

"Ha! I suppose we're ticking a lot of people off, but then again, you seem rather good at that all on your own," she said.

"Oh, it's a well-developed talent, and I excel," he said, smirking.

"Is that where Gibbs anger is really coming from? Because I said you'd done it?" she asked, wincing. "That really was a low point for me."

Tony took a sip of his wine and carefully placed the glass back on the coffee table. This was tricky, but he'd promised honesty. She just had a habit of getting into places he'd really rather not explore – even in his own mind. Sighing, he sat rigidly, hoping to get it out all at once.

"At heart, Gibbs is a cop, too. He knows what would've happened to me had I been convicted. I put a lot of those people in prison, and I'd never willingly allow anyone to make me his bitch. I don't think I'd have lived very long, and neither does he," he said.

Jeanne looked stricken. "I… I didn't think it out. It was a stupid thing to do, and I know that, but you have to know that I never consciously tried to get you killed. Even when I felt so full of hate and betrayal, I wouldn't have wanted you brutalized."

Tony reached over and wiped a tear from her cheek. "I do know that – because even though I knew what I was putting you through, I'd convinced myself I could make it right. I think we've both learned we're exceptionally good at lying to ourselves."

"I suppose we are. So… what does that mean? Where do we go from here, and do we trust ourselves to be honest with each other going forward?" she asked.

"I can't answer for you – but I need to try. I like being around you – and quite honestly, I think you make me a better person," Tony said, uncertain if he'd ever been so brutally honest before in his life. It left him feeling terribly vulnerable and exposed.

"She took his hand in her own. "I like being around you, too, and I like the way you make me feel. I'm concerned what will happen the next time I think you're hiding something from me, though," she said, holding up her hand to stop him from denying it as he was about to do. "I know you're not planning on it, but we're human, Tony. A disagreement will happen eventually, and I need to know I can handle it without bolting," she said, and he could see in her eyes that she felt just as exposed as he did.

"Well, let's have some fun getting to that point, then. Since we're ticking-off everyone around us, it'll be like the two of us against the world, anyway. Your mother will probably try and have me castrated," Tony said, only half-kidding.

"You might be surprised. She's not impressed with the deception, but you did expose my father, and oddly, that earned you a few points," Jeanne said, raising an eyebrow.

"Did it? Well, you earned a few points yourself when you stood up to Gibbs the other night. Not many people do that. He actually apologized to me," Tony said, still having trouble wrapping his head around it.

"Well, good. He owed you one," she said. "He apologized to me, as well."

Tony's mouth dropped. "You're joking."

Jeanne shook her head. "Nope. He sought me out when I went to Bethesda to get your medical records for your appointment. He said he owed it to us."

Tony shook his head incredulously, his head spinning as a warmth filled his insides. So much for Rule Six. Gibbs did more with actions than words, and he knew apologizing to Jeanne was an attempt to make things right with Tony. Still, it was huge – two apologies.

"You don't understand. I told you that Gibbs doesn't do apologies – he says it's a sign of weakness – like John Wayne. It's one of his rules," he said, eyes wide.

"Sounds like a stupid rule to me. Owning up to your own mistakes is part of growing and accepting accountability," Jeanne said.

"Yeah? You can try telling him that, then," Tony said, grinning as he imagined the expression on Gibbs' face should she try it. "He did warn me that our Director has been snooping around for information about you."

Jeanne stared at him blankly. "About me? Whatever for?"

"She thinks your father was responsible for what happened to her own father, and she thinks he might have passed on some information about it to you or your siblings," Tony said, watching her reaction closely.

Jeanne continued to look confused, but gradually anger sparked in her eyes. "So, she targeted me to get to my father in the first place, it didn't work, and now she wants my help? Is she insane?" she asked bitterly.

"A few months ago, I might've said no, but I'm really not sure anymore. She's not being rational, and she's gotten herself in a whole boatload of trouble because of it. I don't want you to worry about it, though. I'm going to watch your six," Tony said, determined to keep Jenny's unhinged behavior far away from Jeanne this time.

"My six?" she asked.

"Navy-speak for your back. I've no intention of letting her hurt you again," Tony said, and he meant it. He owed Jeanne that.

She was silent for a moment, and he could see she was processing it all.

"So, what are we going to do tomorrow? How should we start having some of this fun of which you speak?" she asked, and Tony had the feeling she wanted to move the conversation away from the Director. He couldn't blame her – the idea she was still wreaking havoc in their lives was unsettling.

"Duck boats," Tony said succinctly.

"Duck boats?" she asked, amused.

"Yep. Saw them in the Victory parade when the Red Sox won the World Series last year. I want to go on a Duck boat tour – and speaking of that – I want to see Fenway Park, too," he said.

"You're such a sports nut," she said, but she was grinning.

"Yup," he agreed unrepentant. "It opened on April 20, 1912 – same day the Titanic sunk, so it's history. What about you? What do you want to do?"

"I'd like to see the Stewart-Gardner museum, but the Duck boats do sound fun," she replied.

"That's the one where all those paintings disappeared, right? I remember reading about it," Tony said.

She nodded. "Biggest art heist in history. The paintings have never been found – there was even a Rembrandt that was stolen."

"Sounds like the plot of a Tom Cruise movie – or maybe George Clooney," Tony said.

"Except there's still no ending. It doesn't have to be happy, but I prefer stories that have a concise ending," she said.

Tony swallowed, feeling she was talking about more than the museum now. "I do, too – but I'm definitely a sucker for a happy ending," he said, leaning over and gently kissing her on the cheek.

She looked at him, not pulling away, and her eyes searched his face for something, but he wasn't sure what. Tony felt a pregnant pause fill the room, and he could swear the air was tingling. His body stirred, but he held back.

She'd already shown him where he'd be sleeping, and not only was it in a separate room, but they were on separate floors. He could take a hint, and he was willing to go slow. He'd once told her that if you did what you'd always done, you'd get what you always got – and while he hadn't really been aware that he was already falling in love with her when he'd said it – he knew it now. And he was definitely looking for something different this time.

The moment lengthened and still she didn't speak but continued to stare with that intense expression, her lips slightly parted. It was torture to pull away.

"I'm going to get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning for our adventure," he said.

/* /* /* /*

Laughing, Tony pulled Jeanne from the cab and paid the driver. Jeanne's Red Sox cap was tilted, and she stumbled slightly on the cobblestone sidewalk. Tony was having trouble walking a straight line himself. They'd spent the day exploring the city and had scored last minute Red Sox tickets when they'd visited the park. They'd imbibed more alcohol than they should – but it had been a great game, and Tony had enjoyed himself more than he could remember in a long while. His throat actually hurt from laughing. If he'd been more in control of his faculties, he'd have realized that it was also the first day in weeks that his shoulder hadn't bothered him at all.

He'd awoken that morning in a state. He'd tossed and turned during the night, unable to get the vision of that last inexplicable expression on Jeanne's face out of his mind. He'd felt her eyes on him the entire time as he left the room, and his subconscious mind had dwelled on it… well, that and images of her during their previous relationship. Definitely not safe for the workplace images, and he'd struggled to rein in both his body and his emotions. It wasn't just the physical side, but a longing ache deep within his soul. He missed that closeness with her.

Of course, that didn't mean that he hadn't found the need to take a cold shower like a God-damned teenager. It was embarrassing.

Despite its rough start, the day had been wonderful, and Tony found himself wishing they had more time to spend in Boston. He was having fun, and the lack of stress was doing wonders for his healing.

"I can't get the key to work. He gave me the wrong one," Jeanne said, giggling, her words slightly slurred as she kept missing the keyhole.

"It can't be the wrong key. We've used it to get in before," Tony said, wobbling as he climbed the stairs. "Let me try."

Jeanne huffed but gave him the key. "Why? You have some super-agent-man way of getting into a locked building?"

Tony chuckled. "You'd be surprised at how many super-agent-man talents I have. Ha! Told ya!" he said, pushing the door open.

"Lucky guess," she said, entering the Brownstone.

"What guess? You only gave me one key," he replied, yelping.

"Are you always so modest?" she asked.

"Modesty is a long-held tradition in the DiNozzo family. We're well known for it," he said, entering the living room and flipping the switch for the light. He sank onto the couch with a satisfied groan. "Are there any more cannoli left?"

"You can't possibly be hungry again. After all that junk we ate at the game," she asked in disbelief.

"Well, I am," he pouted.

Jeanne rolled her eyes, but she went into the kitchen, hopefully because she knew where they'd put the cannoli. She returned a few minutes later with the box containing a single remaining cannoli. She placed it on the coffee table between them.

"I'll split it with you," she offered, one eyebrow raised.

"I'll give you fifty dollars for it," he said without hesitation.

Jeanne looked at him incredulously. "We didn't even pay that much for the entire box."

"I don't care. I'm starving," he said, flopping on the couch dramatically.

"Well, I am, too," Jeanne said, taking a large bite out of the cannoli while staring at him with a challenge in her eyes.

Tony looked back, dumbfounded.

She swallowed thickly. "What? You thought I'd give it all to you just because you wanted it? Uh, uh – we go halfsies."

He narrowed his eyes, leaned over and took an even larger bite than she had, his eyes twinkling triumphantly as he chewed.

Jeanne smirked as she sat beside him. "You're such a child."

"Pot, meet kettle," he replied.

"I need to get a job," she said, sighing as the humor leaked from her voice. She tilted her head back to rest on the top of the couch.

"What?" Tony asked, eyebrows raised. His inebriated brain struggling to keep up with the non-sequitur. "What are you talking about? I thought you said you didn't want that job."

He felt as if he'd been punched in the gut and was desperately trying – though he knew he was failing – to hide his disappointment.

"Not the job here, but the interview made me realize that I need to get back to work when we return to DC. I just don't know where exactly," she said.

His distress subsiding, he tried to focus on her dilemma. "What's changed? You said you didn't have to work right away if you didn't want to."

"But that's just it – I do want to. I like what I do, and I miss it. Not so much the conditions I faced in Gabon, but the feeling I'm making a difference. You'll be going back to work soon, and you don't need nearly as much assistance anymore, so I need to find something to do with my time while we're… while we're having fun ticking everyone off," she said, smiling wryly.

Tony grinned. "I do like doing that. Okay, so… there are loads of hospitals in DC, and all of them always need doctors. You liked University Hospital. Why don't you start there?"

"I told you, they won't take me back," she said.

"Well, if you don't even try, of course they won't. If you try and they say no, then you won't be left wondering, and there are a lot of other hospitals. I told you I'm friendly with Brad Pitt at Bethesda. I could ask him if there's an opening where you'd fit," Tony said.

Jeanne blinked. "Okay – I'm going to try and see what they say." She reached over and grabbed her purse, pulling her phone out.

"You can't call them now," Tony said, surprised. "It's kind of late."

Jeanne rolled her eyes. "You're drunk."

"And you're not?" he asked, rolling his eyes right back.

"This is weird," Jeanne said, staring at her phone.

"What is? That we're drunk? We had drinks at dinner, then a lot more than you think watching the game," Tony said.

"No. I got a text from my brother, but I must've missed it with all the noise at the stadium. He says someone contacted the hotel where I was staying looking for me, and my credit card information has been questioned. I listed him as an emergency contact even though I didn't give the hotel my real name," Jeanne said, frowning.

Tony's fuzzy brain cleared instantly. It wasn't as if he was sober, but his ability to focus narrowed as adrenaline rushed through his system. He reached out, and she handed him the phone.

"Has to be the Director," he muttered.

"What?" Jeanne asked, confused.

"What name did you give the hotel?" he asked sharply.

She blinked. "Michaela Quinn."

Despite the tension he felt in his gut, he couldn't help but smile. "The Medicine Woman?" he asked.

Jeanne nodded happily. "I used to love that show."

"Jane Seymour was smokin' hot," Tony said. "And she was a Bond girl – in your favorite Bond film, no less."

Jeanne rolled her eyes.

"Leaving an alias was a good idea. It'll slow her down. Use a different one when you go back though, so she can't look for someone still there from before the medical conference," Tony said, concerned.

"Are you sure it's her?" Jeanne asked doubtfully.

"I'm sure," Tony said, his conviction grim. "She's unbalanced, and she has a single-minded focus where your father was concerned."

"What does she want with me? Even if my father did have information about her father, why would he give it to me? And if I did, I wouldn't give it to her, anyway. I might've forgiven you, but I don't forgive her," Jeanne said bitterly.

Tony looked up, his mouth dropping slightly open. "You've forgiven me?" he asked, barely breathing.

She froze, locking her eyes with his. "I think so. I want to. I like being with you," she whispered.

It took all of Tony's considerable self-control not to whoop with joy. He swallowed convulsively.

"I have a question, though," Jeanne said, and Tony came crashing back to earth.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Last night – before you went to bed – you kissed me on the cheek, but I could tell you wanted more. It was like there was a war going on behind your eyes. What were you thinking?" she asked.

"That I wanted to really kiss you," he said honestly.

"So… why didn't you? I thought I was giving off plenty of vibes that it would be okay," she said, puzzled.

Tony sighed, handing her back her phone. "That's just it – you weren't – at least not clear ones to me. Since you didn't have all the facts the last time, I think it's important that you have the lead in whatever happens next," he said, shrugging helplessly.

Jeanne stared at him blankly for a moment, then nearly leaped across the couch, pulling him down beside her and kissing him – hard.

Startled, it only took Tony a moment to reciprocate, his restraint vanishing as if uncorked from a bottle. One arm still in a sling, he found it difficult to position himself whatsoever, so he just relaxed, surrendering himself to the moment. He knew they were both slightly intoxicated, and it was probably a bad idea, but he'd been thinking about it all day, and he was tired of second-guessing. She'd taken the lead, and he was a willing passenger. He tangled his hand in her hair, letting the luxurious tresses slide through his fingers as he plunged his tongue deeper inside her mouth. Touching, exploring, allowing all his dormant senses to return to life. He inhaled that rich, floral scent that was all her.

Tony had wanted to take things slow and thoroughly enjoy their reunion, but Jeanne was having none of it as she tugged at the buckle on his belt. Her ball cap fell to the floor, and the rest of their clothing soon followed in haphazard order. They both knew just where to touch, just what pleased the other and the urgency was something neither could control. They never even made it off the couch to one of their respective bedrooms.

Authors Note:

Thanks to both my pre-reader, Suesducksfoot, and my amazing new beta, Unilocular. I really appreciate your time and efforts.

For the most part, chapter titles have been movie or song quotes – did you recognize them all?

Not to sound like a broken record, but feedback is awesome.