Chapter Twenty-Two
Fasten Your Seatbelts. It's Going to be a Bumpy Night
Timothy McGee dragged himself into headquarters very early the next morning. They'd worked well into the night, but as of yet hadn't found any shiny new leads, and he knew Gibbs would soon be on a rampage over their stalled progress. Some things never changed. His feet slowed as he reached the bullpen. He knew he'd beat Tony there, but he thought for sure that Gibbs would already be at his desk. Instead, the light was out, and there was no tell-tale empty coffee cup in the trash.
Go figure.
Ziva was still at FLETC and wouldn't be in until later that afternoon, but he wasn't sure about Laura. Her desk was also empty, although she hadn't been there long enough for him to detect a pattern. So far, she seemed competent, and he was immensely glad to have a buffer working with him in the field. Otherwise, he'd be alone with Gibbs.
It wasn't as if Gibbs scared or intimidated him anymore – much – but he still didn't want to work with the man one-on-one. He knew Tony had done it for a long time before Kate and then he had joined the team, but Tony also got a whole lot more head-slaps than Tim did.
Something tickled at the back of his brain, and he frowned as he put his coffee and doughnut down on his desk. A brief snippet of the conversation at McNally's pub the other night filtered through his mind. Tony mentioned that he hadn't been head-slapped recently. Tim hadn't thought about it much at the time, but it was true. Of course, with the amount of flirting going on between Tony and Laura, it wouldn't be long before Gibbs rectified that, probably spouting off about Rule Twelve.
As Tim picked the sprinkles off his doughnut, various images of that night flashed through his head.
Ziva had been digging for information about Director Shepherd's suspension. Since he'd been here the whole time, Tim knew a little bit more than Ziva did, but he hadn't wanted to admit that to her in case she started asking questions about her own suspension. They both knew it came about because of Ferreira's report, but since she'd been gone, Tim had heard a lot around the office from other agents – those on Balboa's team, mostly. They were all very satisfied that Ziva had been sent to FLETC, and apparently there had been a lot of disgruntled musings about the fact she'd been allowed to skip it in the first place. Tim hadn't been aware of it before, but now that he knew, he didn't want to share that information with Ziva. She'd always intimidated him, and he knew he gave her little tidbits of information that he never meant to say, but he also knew that he needed to stop letting that happen. If he wanted to be a fully competent Special Agent, he had to stand up for himself – to all his teammates.
Of course, with that knowledge had come a new appreciation for Tony's unique and rather twisted teaching style. It wasn't until Tony had been laid up in the hospital that Tim realized how much his SFA actually taught him along the way. Sure, it came with annoying barbs, jokes and innuendo – not to mention the practical jokes and incessant nicknames – but Tony's infectious smile had always been there to let him know that it was teasing and not meant to inflict pain. In fact, Tony always pulled back the moment he sensed there might be real hurt involved. It had taken the absence of the other man for that realization to occur.
Gibbs didn't teach – he expected you to observe and learn on the run – while he glared and shouted at you. Tony's jabs were insulting, but they always taught a lesson buried deep inside. Tim would have to grudgingly admit that it might be a lesson that he refused to learn if Tony were normal about it. Of course, if Tony had started out normal rather than like a jock during hell week, perhaps their relationship might've gotten to this point a whole lot quicker.
Or Tim might've been dead by now.
He knew he was greener than green when he first started. It wasn't just Ziva who he'd let push him around. He used to let everyone do it until he'd finally gotten so annoyed at Tony that he started pushing back. He hadn't understood the small smile Tony had flashed when it had happened and thought he was being laughed at again.
Upon reflection, he thought that might have been one of Tony's rare, true smiles because Tim had finally stood up for himself.
A lot of Tim's misconceptions had been rocked since that whole mess at the Marriot Marquis. Both Ziva and the Director had been suspended, and the Assistant Director was in charge. Tim wasn't completely sure what to make of Leon Vance. The man never said much, but instead stood on the balcony overlooking the bullpen, twirling a toothpick between his teeth and watching them with his dark, hooded eyes.
Always watching.
Tim knew that Gibbs didn't trust him and spent a lot of time at his desk, watching Vance watching the rest of them. It made for a tense atmosphere. Despite Gibbs' gut – something Tim did have a huge amount of respect for – he knew Vance appreciated and understood Tim's technical abilities far more than Gibbs ever had.
Tim enjoyed having his skills valued. He was good at what he did, and he knew it. He'd always been at the top of his class, but he'd gained enough self-awareness to know that his ego couldn't always handle it when he wasn't good at something. The success of their team hinged on complementary skill sets. They all had their own strengths and weaknesses. Tim needed to learn to be proud of his own strengths but rely on his teammates when it came to theirs.
It was a constant learning curve, but he liked to think he was getting there.
Once he'd finished his breakfast, he cleared it and turned to get started. The CO from Gunnery Sergeant Burns' unit was coming in today for an interview. Tim had spoken to him on the phone to arrange it, and his first impression was of a man very short on patience. Ziva had done some digging around and found he did have a reputation for being a bit of a hardass. Of course, the same could be said about most COs – it sort of came with the position.
Ziva was angry that he was coming in the morning because she couldn't be there for the interview. She'd wanted it moved to the afternoon so she could take part, but the CO had an exercise planned for the afternoon. Gibbs said he'd be available to take her place. Ziva wasn't happy with the answer and tried to convince him that the morning FLETC would be a waste of valuable time they didn't have, and she should be allowed to skip it in order to do the interview.
Gibbs didn't budge. Instead, he'd growled, "Officer David, you will ncontinue your course at FLETC until your instructors are satisfied. We clear?"
Both Tim and Ziva had been taken aback by the rebuke, because that's what it clearly was. Gibbs calling Ziva 'Officer David' was the equivalent of a head-slap as far as Ziva was concerned, and it had been happening a lot lately. Tony had pointed out Gibbs favoritism of Ziva to Tim when he was in the hospital. At the time, Tim had put it down to the pain meds, but the more he thought about it, the more he'd realized it was true. While Gibbs was also more tolerant of Abby, Abby wasn't in the field and expected to do the same job as Tony and Tim.
More recently, Tim had noticed that Gibbs had been purposefully trying to equalize his treatment of those on his team, including Ferreira when he was here and now with Laura. All evidence pointed to the idea that Tony must've actually said something after the Marriott FUBAR. Tim wished he could've been a fly on the wall to see how that conversation went. Of course, when Tony digs his heels in, even Gibbs listens.
"Good morning, Tim," Abby said brightly, coming around the back corner of the bullpen.
She wore a long-sleeved black netted top that reminded Tim of a spider web and a poufy, plaid miniskirt. Tim wasn't even sure if she could sit down without it pulling up too high – then again, Abby rarely sat down.
"Morning, Abby," he replied, admiring her show of leg as she perched on the edge of his desk. "You're here early. Gibbs hasn't even arrived yet."
"Oh yes, he has. He went for another coffee," Abby said. "He was in the lab with me. The ballistics on the bullet that killed Peter Burns came back, but it's nothing unique. It's from a Ruger GP-10G, .22 caliber – you can basically get one anywhere."
"Well, that's not Sergeant Burns' weapon, so there's that, although it doesn't narrow anything down," Tim said, sighing.
"So, what next?" Abby asked. "I checked the trajectory of the blood spatter, and whoever shot him did it from his back right side. He might not have seen the shooter."
"That would explain why he didn't turn around. I'm questioning his CO later this morning, and Tony and Laura are going to look into the wife's background. She does know how to shoot," he said.
"Most military family members do," Abby said, shrugging. She then took an exaggerated look around the bullpen, carefully checking the railing above. She leaned closer to McGee and whispered. "What did you think about Laura's claim that there has been more than one complaint about the Director?"
McGee couldn't help it – he automatically checked to be sure no one was in hearing distance, either. "You caught that, too, huh? I know Ferreira filed the complaint against Ziva. Do you think he filed one against Director Shepherd, too?" he asked.
Abby pressed her lips together and shook her head, pigtails flying. "I tried to do a little digging, but I couldn't find much. I think it's all really been locked down since they discovered Director Shepherd was snooping."
"Abby! Don't get yourself in trouble, too," Tim said, alarmed. There were enough members of their team out already.
"I didn't. I didn't look at anything I'm not allowed to see. I didn't get any names or specifics, but the complaints came from in-house and from more than one source, so it wasn't just Tony," Abby said.
"Tony? You think Tony complained about something?" McGee asked, puzzled.
Abby rolled her eyes. "Uhm, the whole undercover op, McGee? That was unsanctioned, and she basically pimped him out. It was so not cool. I can't imagine why he wouldn't complain," Abby said.
Tim really hadn't thought about it that way. He supposed Tony did have a right to be upset with the Director, but he couldn't see him doing that. "I don't think so. Tony might confront her directly or play some sort of payback prank, but I don't see him filing an official complaint. That's not Tony's style."
Abby paused, considering. "I suppose you're right. If it was just him, I could see that, but Jeanne was a victim, too."
"Why would Tony care now, though? She accused him of murder. I think that qualifies as her own payback," Tim said, but even as the words slipped out, his mind flashed on the image of a tearful Jeanne running from Tony's hospital room, and the look on Tony's face after she did.
Abby looked away and didn't answer.
"Abby. Do you know something more?" Tim asked.
"Me? How would I know anything? I only know what you guys tell me, and no one has told me anything, so how would I know?" Abby asked, her voice growing higher with each syllable.
Before Tim could respond, Gibbs and Tony strolled into the bullpen together, both carrying identical coffee cups, although Tim knew that the brews they each contained would be vastly different. Had they met for breakfast? That couldn't be right. Gibbs didn't do breakfast meetings. Hell, Gibbs rarely joined them outside of work for anything.
They weren't saying anything, but they were doing that weird staring, slight head move, silent conversation thing that had always driven Tim nuts. He'd never quite been able to crack that code, much like when Gibbs and Abby reverted to sign language.
"Morning, Gibbs. Morning, Tony," Abby trilled happily.
"Got anything for Tony, Abs?" Gibbs asked sharply.
Abby sucked in a breath, glancing at Tony who gave her a very slight nod. "Nothing," she said succinctly.
Tim's curiosity was piqued. "Something about our case? Did you find something on the wife?" he asked.
"Nah, this was on something else. Absolutely everyone I've talked to says the wife is a sweetheart. No one is that universally liked," Tony said, rolling his eyes.
"Except me," Abby said, rocking up onto her toes.
"Ah, I stand corrected. You are certainly the exception to the rule, which means Mrs. Burns can't be," Tony said.
Tim knew Tony well enough by now to know when he was deflecting, but since Gibbs seemed to be aware of whatever Tony and Abby were doing off the books, Tim didn't have a leg to stand on trying to dig more information out of them.
"What time does Commander Pescatore arrive?" Gibbs asked.
"Eleven hundred hours," Tim replied. "He insisted that he could only spare a half hour, though."
"Is that right? He'll spare as long as it takes," Gibbs said, growling, and Tim suspected he'd now drag out the questioning just to get under the CO's skin.
"Where the hell is Cox?" Gibbs barked.
Tony sniggered, earning himself a glare just as Laura darted out of the elevator and hurried over towards them.
"I'm here. I drove the route Christine Burns takes to work each morning just to time how long it takes."
"How long?" Tony asked, looking up from his computer.
"Twenty-seven minutes is what I got," Laura said.
"She says she got there at eight, so the timeline works, but that's only according to her word. She doesn't punch a timestamp, and she gets there before her boss," Tony said, frowning.
"What's bothering you, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.
"Abby, is there any way you can check if her car has a navigation system?" Tony asked.
"Sure, if you have reason to bring it in, I can check for a GPS tracker," Abby said.
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked again.
Tony shook his head. "It's nothing yet, just… She mentioned what her husband was watching on tv when she left, and the Today show doesn't come on that early."
Tim rolled his eyes. "You have tv schedules memorized, Tony?" he asked.
"No, McDoubtful, but since I've been laid up for over a month, and I like moving images, the tv helps to pass the time. If the wife left when she said she did, she got the show wrong. If she had the show right, she left later than she claimed, and that puts her there when the murder occurred," Tony said smugly.
"It's not enough to confiscate her vehicle, but it's a good lead. Get me more," Gibbs said.
"On it, Boss," Tony replied.
/* /* /* /*
It was later that same afternoon when Abby called, her voice sounding slightly breathless as she demanded Tony come down to her lab. When he arrived, she hurtled across the room, throwing herself into his good arm.
"Tony! Tony! I got a hit. Someone is looking for Jeanne's name at various hotels in the area again."
Tony had met Gibbs for breakfast that morning and told him about the odd feeling he had of being watched in his apartment, and that he'd asked Abby to watch for any pings if someone was doing a search for Jeanne. In turn, Gibbs had told Tony about Jenny's continued belief that Jeanne could clear her father's name. He'd also mentioned that Jenny's health was failing, and she might not be firing on all cylinders. Of course, he hadn't used that many words or disclosed specifically what was wrong with her, but he'd got his message across nonetheless.
Tony had to watch his six – and watch Jeanne's, too.
He liked to think he already had a head start on that. Despite how late it was when he'd returned to his apartment the night before, he'd given it a full sweep. He hadn't found any concealed cameras, listening devices or anything out of place. His safe hadn't been touched, and everything he had concealed in there in case he had to covertly go on the run remained locked inside – cash included. He had nothing to explain his unease except his own paranoia.
In the lab, he had to pry Abby off his side. She'd grown amoeba-like tentacles while he was on sick leave.
"What did you get specifically?" he asked,
"Just a ping that her name was being searched at various hotels and motels throughout DC, but no hits," Abby said.
Tony nodded, feeling tense. "She's not staying in a hotel anymore," he said, distracted. Jeanne had sub-let an apartment at the University for the summer while she was filling in for a maternity leave at the hospital. No long-term commitment, but some breathing room while they both adjusted to being a couple again.
"Is she staying with you?" Abby asked incredulously.
"What?" Tony asked, turning his head quickly. "No. We're not back to that level yet, but she leased a place for the summer."
"In her own name?" Abby asked sharply. "This search could be expanded to anywhere with rental space easily enough."
Tony shook his head. "I warned her the Director was looking for her. The lease remains in the tenant's name, and the sub-lease is through the hospital, so her name shouldn't come up."
Abby nodded. "Smart. I was surprised when Gibbs asked about it."
"I told you, I'm not keeping secrets this time," Tony replied.
"Except from Tim and Ziva. Tim knew something was going on, but he clearly didn't know what," Abby said, a hint of rebuke in her voice.
Tony sighed. "Give me a little time, Abs. I'm working on it. You, Palmer, Ducky, and Gibbs all know now."
Abby twisted her lips as if considering his words. It was more than half, and he hoped she didn't want to push him too hard. She knew that Tim and Ziva had been hard on him for his failed mission, but she also saw the team as a family. She'd believe they all supported him underneath the zingers, despite any evidence to the contrary. Abby was a conundrum on a good day. A scientific mind with a heart of butterflies and puppies underneath.
"You could always have her just meet you here for lunch and watch the fireworks," Abby said, grinning.
"You do remember Ziva is a trained assassin, right?" he asked wryly.
Abby rolled her eyes. "Ziva wouldn't kill anybody… on purpose… without just cause… okay, stop it. She wouldn't hurt Jeanne if she sees that she's making you happy."
"Oh, I was thinking more that it would be me she'd kill… with a credit card or something," Tony said.
"Only a Platinum Member one for you," Abby said, giggling.
Saving Tony from having to respond, Laura entered the lab. "Hey, Tony – Gibbs and McGee have finished interviewing Commander Pescatore, and Ziva has just arrived," she said.
"Okay, on my way up," he said, giving Abby a brief hug before he left the lab with Laura.
"Did you find any discrepancies in the wife's story?" he asked as they headed back for the elevator.
Laura shook her head. "Nothing. Quite honestly, her routine is rather dull and very low-risk. Both of them go to work and not much more."
"So, there's no exciting date nights or anything?" he asked as they stepped inside the elevator. He hit the round three button.
"No. It's kind of sad. Their schedules barely let them see one another," Laura replied.
"Maybe that's how they stayed married," he said as the bell dinged and they emerged from the elevator to find Gibbs standing right there.
Gibbs scowled at them. He was always touchy about marriage jokes. "What did the Commander have to say? Anything suspicious?" Tony asked.
McGee shook his head. He and Ziva were standing at the edge of the bullpen, and the others joined them standing in a circle.
"He said that he and Burns did get into a shouting match after Burns had arrived late on more than one occasion. In fact, he'd been written up for it twice," McGee said.
"So, where was he when he came in late?" Gibbs asked.
"Probably oversleeping. I spoke with several other members of the unit, and they all said the CO was difficult. He also was late getting to work the morning of the murder," Ziva said.
"Yeah, he claimed he brought his car into the shop, and that checks out," McGee said.
"Look into the times Burns came in late if there was any consistency," Gibbs said.
"Because if it's just oversleeping, it wouldn't always be the same time," McGee said. "On it."
"I have calls into several of Christine Burns' friends to see if they noticed anything unusual about the couple recently," Laura said.
"Good. I need something to warrant a good look at her car," Tony said.
Ziva frowned. "Her car? What about her car?"
"We need a reason to check her GPS tracker, but we can't get a warrant on suspicion alone. I need substance," Tony said.
"If the wife did it – where is the gun? It could be in her car," Ziva said.
"Possible, but still not enough for a warrant. We need something linking her other than just my gut," Tony said.
"Eat something from your desk stash. Perhaps your gut will tell you something else," Ziva said, smirking.
/* /* /* /*
Tony sighed happily, feeling content as the wind rattled against his window panes. He had Jeanne's head in his lap, and he ran his fingers through her soft hair, watching the movie credits roll. She'd come over for dinner – he'd made a lasagna that they only had to heat up – and she'd told him she needed something funny and mindless to watch. She'd spent the day with a very sick pediatric patient with an overbearing mom who hadn't felt Jeanne was old enough to be a doctor. Jeanne was looking for an escape.
Tony chose the film Better Off Dead.
She scowled at the title, but he'd told her to trust him and hit the play button. Two hours later, they were both still chuckling.
"Come on, admit it – you're happy now. It's a great flick," Tony said, poking her in the side.
Jeanne squirmed away, batting at his hand. "It was okay."
"Okay? Okay? I think I actually heard you snort," Tony said, poking her again.
"I most certainly did not snort," Jeanne replied primly.
"Oh, you snorted. And you're happier. I can see the way your eyes sparkle, and you're all floppy rather than tense," he said, feeling smug.
"Floppy? I'm floppy?" Jeanne asked, poking him this time and sounding indignant.
Tony laughed as he twisted to get away from her finger. "I'm glad you feel better," he said, his eyes catching hers so she could read his sincerity.
"Thanks, Tony. It was just a trying day. I hate when there's nothing you can do except comfort measures, especially when it's a child. It makes me feel so helpless," she said and some of that sparkle he'd just mentioned dimmed again.
"I get it," he said, resuming running his fingers through her hair. "I feel the same way sometimes when we come across traumatized victims. We catch the culprits to give them some justice, but it doesn't ever change what happened to them."
Jeanne tilted her head, staring up at him. "I hadn't thought of that, but it does probably feel the same. It's all so depressing when you can't help."
"You can't put the whole world on your back like that, or you'll burn out too quickly. You help the ones you can," Tony said, moving a strand of hair from her face and rolling it between his fingers.
"You have certain ones that stick with you, too?" she asked softly.
"Oh, yeah," Tony said, releasing a heavy breath that hissed through his teeth, images of various victims throughout his time in law enforcement flashing through his mind.
Jeanne reached up and gently touched his face. "Oh, no – I didn't mean to bring you down after you did such a good job of cheering me up," she said.
"Yeah?" he asked, brightening. "The movie worked, then? I want my two dollars."
Jeanne rolled her eyes. "How about I'll make the next dinner? Your lasagna was amazing."
Tony beamed. "Glad you enjoyed it. We really did a number on it," he said, glancing toward the leftovers in the lasagna tin.
"What are we going to do with the rest?" she asked.
"We can take some for lunch, and I'll bring the rest to Abby. I told her we're back together, you know," he said, realizing he hadn't mentioned it before.
"Did you? Should I be looking over my shoulder?" she asked, eyebrows raised.
"Not from Abby – she's all bluster. She really does have a big heart. She'll be happy if we're happy," Tony said, knowing it was true – even if Abby might still need a little winning over.
"Not Abby, huh? That makes it sound like some of the other members of your team aren't going to be as accepting," Jeanne said, more of a question than a statement.
A particularly large gust of wind howled against the window, causing them both to look out into the inky night sky. The streetlamps in the distance flickered as they swayed.
"Well, I told you about the Director. She's still up to her old tricks, but I also think Ziva and Tim might prove more difficult," Tony said, leaning back against the sofa, slightly discouraged.
Sensing his inner turmoil, she caught his hand in her own, squeezing it lightly. "Why? I think you're closest to Gibbs, and if he can accept it… or are you saying he hasn't really accepted it, either?"
"No. For once, Gibbs isn't being difficult at all. He just wants me to be careful – similar to what you said about your mom," Tony said, and he couldn't quite deny the coil of warmth in his belly knowing Gibbs was watching out for him. He knew that Gibbs always had his back on a case, but this was something more. Gibbs wanted to be sure that Tony was emotionally okay this time. That was something no one had ever truly been concerned about before now.
"Then why will Tim and Ziva be harder?" Jeanne asked.
"I'm not sure they will. They weren't really impressed with the fact I blew my assignment by developing feelings for you. It was unprofessional – as they frequently remind me," he said.
"But feelings are hard to control," she said, sounding as if she knew from personal experience, which of course, she did.
He returned the pressure on her hand. "They sure are – and sometimes, it's the feelings that are right despite what your head tells you," he said.
Jeanne smiled brightly, and he leaned over to kiss her, capturing her lower lip beneath his teeth. She parted her lips, inviting his tongue to deepen the kiss, and his body responded like a long-familiar lover. He slipped his good arm beneath her back to pull her more fully onto his lap. Jeanne never broke the kiss.
She was soft and supple in his arms, and he could smell that sweet floral aroma that was distinctly hers. It was probably some expensive French soap or shampoo that he couldn't pronounce, but he'd never be able to smell the scent again without being reminded of her. Their ardor increased quickly, but when Tony slipped his hand beneath her shirt to cup her breast, she stopped him, pulling back. Her hair was tousled, and her lips were swollen from kissing. He thought she'd never looked more beautiful.
"It's late, and rain is coming. We both have to work in the morning," she said rather breathlessly.
Tony didn't want to stop, and he definitely didn't want her to leave. He managed to untangle himself from her, standing up while keeping hold of her hands, a thrill of excitement coursing through him. "I have to show you something first," he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"What?" she asked, laughing. "I've already seen everything you have, and while impressive, I still have to go."
"No, come on," Tony said, grasping her hand and tugging her towards his bedroom.
She began half-heartedly dragging her feet as he reached for the door. "Tony," she said, but she was laughing.
Tony swung the bedroom door open wide and flipped the switch, flooding the room with light. Instead of his old single bed, a handsome new Queen-sized bed was centered in the room. The dark, cherry wood gleamed with polish, and the headboard was intricately carved. He'd found it in an antique store, and once he'd asked Gibbs for his opinion on the quality of the woodwork, made the purchase. It had only been delivered today.
It was a huge step for him, and she seemed to realize it. Jeanne looked stunned. "It's beautiful," she said, running her hand along the headboard.
"And – you were right. They make Egyptian cotton sheets in Queen-size, too. So – want to help me christen it?' he asked, eyebrows waggling.
Jeanne kicked off her shoes and pulled him towards her. "Je t'aime," she whispered.
"I love you, too. I never stopped," he said, his thrill at hearing her utter those words again at last stirring his passion as they tumbled onto the bed.
Much later that night, as they both slept soundly, the rain pattering against the window masked the sound of a key turning in the apartment's lock.
Author's Note:
You didn't think I'd let this story finish without a final cliffhanger, did you? I promise not to make you wait too long for more.
My thanks and appreciation to Sue and Unilocular for all their feedback and suggestions, and to all the readers who take the time to comment and give kudos. Very much appreciated.