Chapter Twenty-Six

Play it Again, Sam

Tony held the door of the posh, uptown restaurant so Jeanne could slip inside ahead of him. Her off-the-shoulder summery dress kept making him want to lean over and nuzzle her bare neck, but the cool air inside was pleasant on their flushed skin. The heat outside was thick and oppressive, even at the later-than-typical dinner hour. It was Saturday night – date night – and the five-star restaurant was crowded with a long line still awaiting tables. Tony had booked their reservation several weeks ago since coordinating the schedules of four busy, working people with demanding jobs proved difficult. He was nearly giddy waiting to see how this would unfold, and he was utilizing all his extensive undercover skills to tamp down that enthusiasm.

He didn't want Jeanne to suspect he was up to anything mischievous. This was just a promised dinner date amongst friends. He saw them as soon as he and Jeanne entered the waiting area. Brad Pitt and his fiancé, Molly were seated at the bar enjoying a glass of wine. Molly was a petite blonde, neither striking nor plain with a killer wit and welcoming mid-western nature.

"Buckeye!" Brad called when he noticed them, waving them over with a wide smile.

"How are you doing, Wolverine? I see you've started without us," Tony said, grinning and pumping Brad's hand with more force than necessary.

Brad gave it back as good as he got, and the two men spent several seconds trying to crush the other's hand before Molly interrupted. "Oh, will you two grow up. You must be Jeanne," she said, reaching out her hand.

Jeanne smiled and took Molly's hand. "I am. I'm delighted to see I'm not the only one dealing with an overgrown teenager for a boyfriend."

"Definitely not. They've both been like this for ages, and I'm glad to get some reinforcements on the coaching staff. Apparently, they played against one another in college and have never been able to let go of their glory days," Molly said, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, now – don't be negative. Nothing wrong with fond memories, they keep you young. Jeanne, nice to finally meet you when there isn't a group of crazy gunmen spoiling our evening," Brad said, kissing her on the cheek. "Tony tells me you were going to listen to my lecture that never was. I can let you know; it would've been fantastic, even if you were the only one in attendance."

"Poor Brad. I listened to that speech about eighty times, and he never got to actually present it," Molly said, patting Brad on the shoulder.

"I'm sure it would, and I doubt I'd be the only one," Jeanne said. "I read your book and had loads of questions at the time. Now, I'm no longer practicing in Gabon, and University Hospital doesn't have nearly the risk of an infectious disease contagion."

"Oh, you might be surprised," Tony said, eyes sparkling.

He'd never shared with her the source of Brad's Pneumonic Plague knowledge, and he felt like a little kid at Christmas awaiting the big reveal. He'd kept his word about not lying to her, but he'd convinced himself this one wasn't a lie – just too good an opportunity to pass up on some fun. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face.

The hostess interrupted to escort them to their table, and they all perused the menu for several minutes before returning to their conversation.

"So, are you back on field duty yet? Did you really get clearance, or did Gibbs just get sick of your whining?" Brad asked, grinning good-naturedly.

"I never whine, and I am fully cleared. Gibbs wouldn't budge until I was," Tony said, still irritated by the extensive precaution Gibbs had insisted he take. "I was climbing the walls being stuck in that office. That orange is not a soothing color, and I was fine."

"Of course, you were. I don't know Gibbs all that well, but he doesn't seem like the type of guy whose going to budge easily," Brad said, chuckling.

"You have no idea," Tony grumbled.

"It's impressive considering what a pain-in-the-ass kind of patient you are," Brad replied.

"Oh, right – to this day he's still the only patient you've ever brought home to socialize with, but you keep pretending that he annoys you," Molly said, laughing.

"Hey! I have to cater to him – he's my meal ticket if being a doctor suddenly doesn't work out," Brad said, clinking his glass against Tony's.

"Patient?" Jeanne asked, puzzled as she glanced between Tony and Brad curiously.

The smile melted from Brad's face, and he turned to look at Tony, shocked. "You didn't tell her?"

Tony's trademark, mega-watt smile spread across his face, his teeth glinting sharklike in the candlelight. "I thought I'd let you do it," he said.

Jeanne's eyes narrowed. "Didn't tell me what?" she asked, a little sharply. Her widened eyes quickly glanced at Tony apprehensively.

Brad glanced back and forth between the two hesitantly. "Well, you know I was asked to speak at that conference because of my book, and it's based on a Pneumonic Plague survivor," he said slowly.

Jeanne nodded, clearly puzzled yet still looking at Tony suspiciously. "Yes. Extraordinary that you have a survivor, and I assumed it was because of the more updated medicine and technology you have available here. In Gabon, the conditions are so primitive and access to antibiotics so limited, there was very little we could do to even isolate the patients, never mind treat them."

"Brad's patient must've been a prime specimen of strength and resiliency," Tony said, and this time he wasn't quite able to conceal his playful giddiness.

"Oh, brother," Molly said, rolling her eyes.

"What is it?" Jeanne asked.

"Jeanne, Patient Zero was a Federal agent who contracted the disease through a powder-filled letter sent to his office by a terrorist," Brad said, raising his eyebrows.

"A Federal ag… " she stopped short, turning sharply toward Tony, her mouth forming a perfect 'oh.' "No way."

If possible, Tony's grin grew even wider. "In the flesh."

"You actually survived the Pneumonic Plague? You're Patient Zero?" Jeanne asked incredulously.

"Yep. Brad and I did know each other in college, but imagine my surprise when I was quarantined at Bethesda, and he was the doctor on duty," Tony said.

"He and Kate arrived bickering, and they never stopped until Tony's lack of oxygen forced him to shut up. Kate stayed and kept right on going," Brad said, his eyes fixed somewhere in the past.

"Kate is the partner you named your goldfish after, right?" Jeanne asked, still looking rather stunned. "She was infected, too?"

"No, she just had a cold, but we weren't sure who was infected at the time. Gibbs and McGee also had to be quarantined back at NCIS," Tony replied.

"Tony was the only one infected, but Kate stayed and quarreled with him about movies, cases, the color of my lab coat… anything to keep him fighting," Brad said. "For two people who argued over everything and anything, the bond between them was clearly evident. I always thought she deserved some of the credit for keeping you alive."

"I keep my goldfish bowl in my living room so she has to watch all my movies with me forever. Can you imagine how much that must tick her off?" Tony asked, grinning.

"What about complications?" Jeanne asked urgently. She didn't look amused about Tony tormenting Kate the in afterlife. In fact, she looked upset.

"This was years ago, Jeanne," Tony said.

"Do you have your lungs monitored regularly? There can be damage to the heart, kidneys and liver as a result. Are you still being monitored for complications? What about necrotizing pneumonia? Does anyone watch for lingering damage? Jeanne asked, her voice getting more panicky as she spoke.

"Take a breath, Jeanne. He's been clear and healthy for the past three years. He does have significant scarring on his lungs, and a pulmonologist who monitors it. As you know, he has to take extra caution with any respiratory infections but otherwise lives a full, normal life," Brad said.

"He doesn't eat a healthy diet, and I haven't seen any inhalers or medications in your medicine cabinet," Jeanne said, her tone both admonishing and concerned.

This wasn't going at all the way Tony had imagined. He should've taken into consideration that Jeanne would know all the medical repercussions of his illness – things he rarely gave a second thought about. He'd been more focused on the fun of the shock when she realized he was Brad's patient rather than her fright over what could've happened.

He reached under the table and took her hand in his, running his thumb along the outside of her thumb soothingly. "Hey, I'm fine, and Ducky always checks me out if I get even a hint of a sniffle," he said.

"Oh, you get regular check-ups by a medical examiner. Somehow, that's not at all reassuring," Jeanne said a little sharply.

Molly shook her head. "I said the same thing, Jeanne, but Brad assures me that Dr. Mallard is more than qualified, and one of the few medical professionals that Tony actually trusts. He kept in touch with Brad the whole time Tony was in isolation," Molly said sympathetically.

"Plus, I have my own personal physician now, and you know how much I like playing doctor," Tony said, looking directly into Jeanne's eyes and waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Tony, you really should keep an inhaler on hand," Brad said, obviously considering Jeanne's words.

"I do have one – I just keep in my desk at work," Tony said, exasperated. "Look, I'm fine. I'm a living, breathing, walking medical miracle."

This finally seemed to penetrate Jeanne's alarm, and she rolled her eyes dramatically. "You're a survivor, that's for sure," she said. "Plague, gunshots, car blowing up – what exactly is a normal day for you?"

"If it's any consolation, I don't think Agent Gibbs would allow him to die on his watch. He actually came into isolation and ordered Tony to live – and he did," Brad said, shaking his head at the memory.

"Says the man who's paying for his wedding with the profits from disclosing my medical trauma," Tony said, rolling his napkin into a ball and tossing it so it bounced on the top of Brad's head.

Brad grinned, tossing the fancy, cloth napkin ball back. "Not just the wedding – the honeymoon, too. Seems a lot of people are fascinated by your survival."

"Where are you thinking about going for your honeymoon?" Jeanne asked quickly, clearly wanting to get away from the plague discussion. Tony suspected he'd be hearing a lot more about it later after she'd processed it all. He also thought he'd suddenly find more inhalers strategically placed around his apartment.

"Brad wants to go to the Caribbean, but I'm leaning more toward Hawaii," Molly said. "The wedding is this October, so we're going to have to get around to making a decision."

"Enjoy Hawaii, then," Tony said, smirking at Brad.

"I'm sure I'll enjoy wherever we go. It'll be great to get so far from the hospital there'll be no way they can call me with 'just one question.' They always seem to call the moment I start to relax. It's like they can sense it," Brad said, chuckling.

"Don't I know it? I've only been back a few weeks, and it already seems they keep me on speed dial," Jeanne said.

"Tony told us you were covering a maternity leave. Are you planning on staying around once the doctor you're covering returns?" Molly asked.

Jeanne looked over and met Tony's eyes. "Yes. They offered me a permanent position on staff, so I'm planning on sticking around," she said.

Tony beamed.

"You should take a vacation before you sign anything, then. You wouldn't believe the hoops I had to jump through to get time off – and that's for getting married," Brad said, grumbling.

Jeanne's brow furrowed. "You know… that's not a bad idea. Think Gibbs would sign off on you taking a vacation?" she asked.

"What do you have in mind?" Tony asked, perking up. The trip to Boston notwithstanding, he hadn't had a real vacation since he'd gone on Spring Break with his fraternity brothers a few years ago.

"After my father's will was read, my siblings and I all took what we wanted from his properties and donated the rest to charity. I chose a bungalow on St. Martin, but I haven't even had the chance to see it yet."

"Oh, that sounds amazing," Molly said.

"St. Martin? That's the Caribbean, right? I could get into lying in the sand and letting the sun and rum do what it does. Do you think I could convince you to wear a string bikini on St. Martin?" Tony asked hopefully.

"I'm French, Tony – and so is St. Martin, at least the northern side where my bungalow is. Swimsuits are optional on the French side. I can help you with the sunblock since I'll bet there are parts of you that have never seen the sun no matter how hard you try and convince me otherwise," Jeanne said, quirking her eyebrow.

"Oh, you've definitely met your match in this one," Brad said, laughing. "Jeanne, I was going to warn you about Tony, but I can see now you don't need that warning."

/* /* /* /*

Gibbs lugged the heavy, awkward package wrapped in brown paper out of the elevator and down the corridor to Tony's apartment. He kicked the door in lieu of knocking since his hands were full, and he didn't think his knees would tolerate bending to put it down, then again to pick it back up once Tony's answered.

It was a Sunday afternoon in late summer, and pre-season football had begun, so he was hoping his SFA would be watching on this precious, full day off. There had been a lot going on at Headquarters lately, and Gibbs used the time-off to work with his hands, clearing his mind from all the chaos. Tony filled his with watching sports or movies – at least that's what he used to do. Since Jeanne had come into his life, he'd just as likely be at the theatre or out on the town.

And it wasn't a bad change.

Tony's personal life had settled just as work life turned chaotic. As expected, Leon Vance had been named Director of NCIS. Things remained the same at first, but soon he gave McGee a technical assignment, breaking some top-secret encryption codes. McGee reported to both Gibbs and the Director, but he was working in the Cyber Crimes division and only had limited availability for regular case work. Then, Mossad had given Ziva an assignment requiring her return to Israel. Vance had approved it. Although Gibbs didn't like it and wanted more information, Ziva wanted to do it, and she'd been gone for about a month now.

Gibbs' gut churned, and he couldn't shake the feeling that Vance was more involved in Ziva's assignment than he let on. Laura Cox had been reassigned to Balboa's team, and Gibbs suddenly had a few other new TADs working with him and Tony. After repeated pestering and refusing to accept the vagueness, the Director had finally told Gibbs that he had strong intel that one of Gibbs new TADs was a mole. Tony and Gibbs had been working tirelessly trying to figure out which one it was. They had suspicions about all of them, but as of yet, which one was the mole remained a mystery.

Gibbs suspected that if Tony hadn't been injured and was therefore protected from reassignment, Vance would've shipped him off somewhere else, as well. Gibbs was pleased that hadn't happened, so Tony could help him deal with all these new faces. He had better interpersonal skills than Gibbs did, yet they both had suspicions about all of their new teammates.

Outside Tony's apartment, Gibbs could hear the tv through the closed door, so he knew Tony was at home. Impatient, he kicked the door again just as it opened. Tony stood there in jeans and a T-shirt, blinking owlishly.

"Hey, Boss. What's going on?" he asked. "You're early."

"You gonna just stand there and leave me holding this heavy thing or get out of the damn way?" Gibbs asked crossly.

Tony stepped back, swinging the door open wide so Gibbs could enter. He put the wrapped package on the floor in the hallway, wincing slightly as he straightened.

"What do you have there?" Tony asked curiously, getting down on his knees and examining the package with an eager expression.

Gibbs mind flashed back to images of Kelly on Christmas mornings. Tony had that same, enthusiastic glee over a present that she'd displayed.

"Leave it until Jeanne gets here," Gibbs said, unable to hold back his smirk as Tony's excitement melted into a pout.

"You brought a present for Jeanne?" he asked, standing up and not quite able to pull off the nonchalance he intended.

Gibbs chuckled. For a grown man, Tony could be remarkably childlike – and he didn't always think that was a bad thing. Of course, he'd never admit that to the younger man. "I brought a present for you, but I think she'll enjoy it," he said, clarifying.

Tony bounced on the balls of his feet once again, his countenance brightening. "It's a present for me. How come? What is it? My birthday was last month," he said.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Where's the beer?" he asked. "We're missing the game."

Tony sighed, taking one last, longing look at the present. "Yeah, sure. I've got it on, but the Redskins are getting crushed," Tony said, leading the way into the living room where the game was playing. He went into the kitchen and tossed Gibbs a beer.

"What smells so good?" Gibbs asked, popping the top and taking a seat on the couch.

"Gnocchi – my Nonna's secret recipe, but it won't be ready for a while. Jeanne had a shift this morning, but she should be here any time," Tony said, sitting on the couch beside Gibbs.

The two watched the game, but it was only pre-season so not very exciting. It wasn't that long before the door opened, and Jeanne let herself inside. Gibbs made a mental note that she had her own key. That was new.

"What's this?" she asked, unable to miss the large package in the hallway.

Tony leapt off the couch, rushing over to meet her. He kissed her on the cheek before pointing at it. "Gibbs brought me a present," he said, a large smile blossoming across his face.

Gibbs stood up and leaned back against the wall, watching the young couple. Unlike most people, he usually hated days off. Too much time to think about could've-beens. He'd always hibernated in his basement, using his tools to burn off some of the anger that always built when he didn't have anything else to occupy his mind and drowning his sorrow in too much Bourbon. More recently, however, there had been a thawing in his soul, and he knew it was a direct result of these two people.

They insisted on involving him in their lives – and he found he not only didn't mind it – he looked forward to it. Sunday dinners together were becoming the norm. Somehow, he knew Shannon would approve. He'd always known she wouldn't support his reclusiveness, and she'd have called him out on wallowing too long in his grief.

She'd always been forthright like that.

Sometimes, in the wee hours of the morning, he'd allow himself the idea that it was Shannon who'd directed him to Baltimore all those years ago and right into the path of a reckless cop who also needed to find direction and support.

Tony's voice broke into his musings. "Can we open it now?" he asked, green eyes wide and sparkling with anticipation.

Gibbs waved his hand in a go-ahead motion. Tony tore the packaging off with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old. Inside was a handsome, cherry wood nightstand, intricately carved to match the new bed Tony had purchased a few months prior.

"Gibbs, this is beautiful," Jeanne said, running her hand over the carving. "The detail work is incredible. Did you make this?"

Tony nodded. "He did. He also did the shelves in the living room. I've been over to your basement though, Boss, and I didn't see this."

Gibbs grinned. "It was under a tarp – and I knew you'd look, so I didn't leave you alone down there."

Tony returned the grin, unabashed. "That's what makes me such a great investigator."

"And me a proactive boss," Gibbs replied easily.

"Interesting excuse for your nosiness," Jeanne said, rolling her eyes. "You finally have a grown-up bed, and now you have a nightstand for each side."

"Jeanne will have somewhere to put her things," Gibbs said, beginning to feel uncomfortable with their awed expressions. "It's just some wood."

"It's much more than that," Tony said, lifting the heavy furniture and carrying it into the bedroom. He placed it on the empty left side of the bed and stood back to take a look.

"It's much nicer than the one you already have," Jeanne said, indicating the one on Tony's side of the bed that was littered with empty water bottles and the knickknacks he'd tossed there.

"Yeah, well, that one just came from a regular old furniture store. It's not special like this one," Tony said.

"It needs a lamp, and I have a lovely Tiffany one that will look just perfect there," Jeanne said.

"I'm going to make another one so you have a matching set, but you don't get that until you decide on something more permanent," Gibbs said, enjoying the surprise that filtered across both their faces.

Neither seemed shocked, embarrassed or uncomfortable, which let him know that it had already been discussed between them.

His boy was growing up – perhaps they all were, and the future looked more welcome and promising than it had in a very long time.