As soon as he arrives back at the office, Tony dives straight into his report. He doesn't mince words or sugarcoat the facts. He describes exactly how the operation started and how it ended with every dirty detail in between. How he stepped out of the car—probably against protocol, but it was only for a moment—and how Ziva turned off the listening device and how the op ended with Tim, unconscious and battered in a dumpster. He proofreads it, disbelieving his own words on the page. Even after living through them and even after writing them down, it still feels as though it happened to someone else.
He prints his report and lays it on top of the case files strewn haphazardly across Gibbs' desk.
That comment from Ziva is still worming its way through his brain. Gnawing deeper and deeper until it's part of his grey matter. A tiny seed of doubt growing into a full, living breathing thing with claws and wings and teeth. Uncertainty, distrust, betrayal. None of the words seem quite right for what he feels.
McGee and I, we do this sometimes.
There is a certain level of fear in discovering the people you trust with your life might not be worthy. And at the same time, there is an even greater terror in not knowing if your fear is unfounded.
Tony isn't quite ready to throw Tim's career into a meat grinder without proof. Though if he is going to tell Gibbs about his suspicions, Tony will need evidence anyway. Gibbs is like that. He will burn the world to the ground to keep you safe, but he won't do it on your feelings. He'll want irrefutable proof. His feelings are different. He'll torch everything sacred and dance in the flames over his gut feelings, but he wants more for yours. For yours, he needs evidence. Clear cut and watertight to convince him beyond the shadow of a doubt.
Rubbing a hand over his face, Tony sighs quietly.
He doesn't know how to gather the evidence Gibbs would need to prove that his teammates left him without back-up. Hell, Ziva might have been messing with him. She isn't a jokester, and she has almost zero sense of humor, but that doesn't mean she doesn't enjoy knocking him off his game now and again.
But there was something about the way she said it. The way the words rolled straight off her tongue with an ease that suggested they were true. Unrehearsed and spontaneous. As though it was fact, not fiction. That tone of her voice still makes Tony's skin crawl.
Deciding to investigate it quickly, he brings up the team's reports from his most recent undercover op. That's probably the best place to start. If it doesn't pan out, he can always try to dig into the listening device's software. There should be some way to check the code. At least, he thinks He'll probably ask Abby Scuito for her help.
Last month, he portrayed a bartender at a watering hole frequented by Marines. It took nearly a week to uncover a drug dealing operation being run out of the back room. And that was far longer than it should have taken because their suspects weren't the brightest bulbs. Though all in all, the entire op went off without a hitch and their suspects confessed before they even left the scene. Tony already signed off on Tim and Ziva's reports before submitting them to Gibbs. Still, he decides to review them again to look for any nuances he might have missed.
He rereads Tim's report first. It's merely Tim's retelling of sitting in a back booth with Ziva, nursing a flat soda while keeping an eye on Tony. Tim hits the high points of the operation, notes on the suspects and snippets of conversations between the dirty Marines and Tony that could be used later in court.
Near the end, Tony discovers a throwaway line that includes "technical difficulties" in regard to their listening device. And the whole time, Tony thought it was working just fine. No one said anything to him.
Tony exhales slowly. "That wasn't there before."
Tony re-reads it about a dozen times as the words slowly sink in. He doesn't remember those words in Tim's initial report. Though, Tony might have missed them. He vaguely remembers his hands being sticky from the mixed drinks and the peanut shells in shoes. And Gibbs telling him, over and over, that no one was leaving until their reports were filed.
Maybe I missed it. Maybe I was just tired.
He hopes he isn't lying to himself.
G-d, I hope Ziva is just screwing with me.
Then, Tony brings up Ziva's report. He reviews it with more scrutiny than Tim's. About halfway through, she mentions some kind of "interference" and "the listening apparatus was rendered nonfunctional for a few minutes." Later, she mentions how Tim was able to get the listening device back into working order. Visual contact was kept on Tony the entire time.
But that was one where they were right there. What about the other times?
A sinking feeling rises in Tony's gut, an ocean tide threatening to pull him under. He couldn't miss that detail twice. He isn't that kind of senior agent. He might be playful and flippant, but he won't miss something as important as that. Not something so important to someone's—to his own—safety.
Those notes weren't in the report when he reviewed it the first time. That much he knows. He might've overlooked Tim's since it was buried towards the end of the reports like an afterthought. Ziva's notes are front and center as if she is attempting to draw attention to them.
Tony would remember finding out that he'd been exposed for several minutes during an undercover operation. Even if he only found out after the fact. He would have forced Tim and Abby Scuito to rip the recording equipment apart to ensure it never happened again. They would have troubleshot it so many times that Tony would have felt safe using it again.
Tony buries his face in his hands.
"Oh my G-d," he murmurs.
With an acidic taste rising onto his tongue, Tony dives back into the old reports on any case he went undercover for the last year. Each and every single one of Ziva's reports mention the same "interference." Each time, the mic went quiet for a few minutes. And each time, Tim was the one to fix it.
His heart is crawling up into his throat as he cross-references Tim's reports. The mentions of a listening device interruption in Tim's reports are spotty. Just once, Tim mentions the technical difficulties again. During the case when Tony went undercover as a dishonorably discharged Marine turned gun runner. Tim wrote that he believed the signal interruption was due to a cell jammer, but he was able to re-establish contact. Again, it is added as an afterthought, a postscript. As if Tony's life wasn't worth more than that.
I never read this. It wasn't here before.
Tony prints out Ziva's old reports before highlighting the spots where she mentioned the microphone cutting out. Then, he does the same to Tim's. The dread rises in his throat, that sinking feeling in his stomach deepening with each report. Tony is trying to force it all back down, but it's almost impossible.
Did they alter their reports after I signed off?
In total, Tony uncovers six reports where Ziva noted the listening device cutting out. There are two where Tim wrote the same. He lines them up, side-by-side, on his desk. Trying to remember each operation and how exposed he would have been each time. If anything went wrong when they weren't listening…G-d, he can't bring himself to even consider that.
Tony doesn't know how long he sits there. Staring at those pieces of paper as though they might attack him if he even bears to look away. Acts of betrayal in black and white and yellow, nothing more than printer paper and bits of toner and highlighter. And yet, they are so much more.
At some point, Gibbs rushes back into the bullpen. He clutches a to-go coffee cup in his hand like a lifeline. Since Tony doesn't recognize the cup, he figures Gibbs got it from the hospital.
Pausing by Tony's desk, Gibbs stares down at him. Gibbs' face is more haggard than usual, the corners of his mouth pulled into deep crevices and the bags hang under his eyes. His gaze skates over Tony's own grim expression, those pale cheeks and haunted eyes. Gibbs hasn't looked at him like that since the night Kate died. He must know something is wrong because he is about to be….nice.
"Talk to me, DiNozzo." Gibbs' order is hidden in a soft voice.
It makes Tony feel dirty and used, all twisted up inside.
"How's McGee?" Tony asks instead.
When Gibbs fixes him with a look, Tony doesn't respond. They square off until, surprisingly, Gibbs relents first. He exhales through his nose before taking a sip of coffee. He glares at the cup.
"He will be fine," Gibbs says. "Concussion. Bruised ribs. Should be back at work next week." He allows himself a smile, however tiny it might be. "Spent the whole time telling me about The Lord of the Rings. What the hell's a hobbit?"
"Little people with hairy feet, Boss."
When Gibbs' brow furrows, Tony nods quickly to redirect. The last thing he needs to do right now is try and explain the finer nuances of hobbits and Tolkien mythology to Gibbs. The man can't be bothered by details in the real world, let alone a fantasy one.
"It's a long story, but I'll tell you later." Tony half-smiles. "Or you could just ask McGee."
Gibbs' loud huff says the last thing he wants to do is ask Tim.
That makes Tony try to laugh, but it won't settle. "I'm glad McGee's okay, Boss. That's the best news I've heard so far."
Gibbs jerks his chin at the reports on Tony's desk. "What's all this?"
"'It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing.;" Tony frowns at the pile of papers. "'Such a little thing.'"
Gibbs meets Tony's eyes. "Doesn't look small to me."
Sighing, Tony holds out the reports to Gibbs. "I don't think today was the first time that Ziva turned off the listening equipment. It looks like there were a few other times before. When I was undercover." At that, Gibbs' expression turns thunderous. His eyes are like fire as Tony continues: "I think McGee could have been involved, but I'm not sure yet."
For what feels like a long time, Gibbs reviewed his teams' reports. He flips through them before starting over again and again. From where he sits, Tony watches the full gamut of emotions play over Gibbs' face. Surprise, anger, betrayal. Normally the man is as impossible to read as a book written in Hebrew, but right now, Tony reads him as easily as a picture book. To watch it play over Gibbs' face is strange because Tony felt every one of those emotions in his gut. His insides feel as though they've been ripped apart and stitched back together by an amateur surgeon and fishing line. Watching Gibbs experience the same thing makes Tony live through it all again.
Gibbs meets Tony's eyes. "McGee's reports?"
"They mention it a few times." Tony swallows hard. "Easy to miss if you really aren't reading close."
Giving a little shake of his head, Gibbs dives back into the reports. He must be reading Tim's this time because his eyes widen as though he might be trying to imagine what "technical difficulties" means.
Suddenly, he looks up at the floor above them. Right at Director Vance's office.
He mutters something that sounds remarkably like, "I'm gonna regret this."
The tilt of his head is all it takes for Tony to follow.
In a strange kind of silence, they take the stairs to the director's office. The whole floor is nearly deserted, but Tony doesn't even know what time it is. His mind is still stuck in the afternoon when Ziva turned off the listening device in the car. Time stopped at the moment. He is still holding his breath, waiting for it to start again. Only a few agents are still toiling away at their workstations. The overhead lights are at their nighttime levels, the latest way for the agency to save a few bucks while attempting to go green. Desk lamps for the few still soldiering burn in the evening.
With Tony close on his heels, Gibbs bolts straight through the entrance to Vance's office. The secretary's desk is empty, so there isn't anyone to stop them. Not like the secretary is ever able to stop Gibbs when he is in freight train mode. For all Tony knows, the director might be long gone too.
Without knocking, Gibbs barrels through the door to the office. Tony pulls up the rear.
Director Leon Vance stands beside his desk, coat slung over his arm and briefcase in hand. At the sight of Gibbs, he releases a world-weary sigh. He places his briefcase on the ground and hangs his coat on his chair. He makes a come in motion, but Gibbs and Tony are already nearing his desk.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Agent Gibbs?" he asks.
"The situation with Ziva and McGee," Gibbs says.
"Yes, I am aware." Vance sounds so tired. "Metro called to update on the suspects in Agent McGee's assault. They were found trying to steal a car two miles west of the office."
Gibbs nods at Vance.
"Good," Tony says with more force than necessary.
Gibbs' look tells him that senior agents should be seen, but not heard. At least until it's their turn to talk. Chagrined, Tony smiles tightly.
"I regret I missed your call to update me about Agent McGee's condition," Vance says. "I was glad to hear that he is recovering well. As far as Agent David is concerned, in the case of a formal suspension, I will need the appropriate paperwork filed. And I will also need her badge and weapon."
At that, Gibbs removes Ziva's gun and badge from his pocket. When he slams them on Vance's desk, a barely-there smile plays on Vance's face. Gibbs squares his shoulders, looking at them meaningfully.
"And I trust you filled out the appropriate forms," Vance continues.
"I'll handle it." Which means Tony will do it as soon as they're done here.
"Do you have any further updates on Agent McGee?" he asks.
Gibbs works his jaw. "Fine. For now."
Vance's brow furrows as he slides back into his chair. "I'm afraid I don't understand your tone, Gibbs."
When Gibbs looks back at Tony, the senior agent knows that now, it's his turn to speak. Tony takes a steadying breath. His heart kickstarts because it's all eyes on him.
"Today wasn't the first time Ziva turned off the listening device." Tony's amount of conviction surprises himself.
When he goes quiet, Vance's eyebrows nearly vanish into his hairline. He leans forward, shoulders on his desk, clearly waiting for more. Since Tony doesn't volunteer the information right away, Vance makes a go ahead motion with his hand.
Gibbs clears his throat. Tony checks with Gibbs, who urges him to talk.
"I looked into my team's reports on undercover ops of the last year." Tony holds out the printed-out reports, pointing at the highlighted segments. "Ziva states the microphone went silent for several minutes, at least once, in nearly every operation."
Pressing his lips together, Tony carefully watches Vance's face. If the man is even thinking anything, Vance gives nothing away. He takes the offered reports, dropping them to his desk as he riffles through them. The silence wraps around them like a tight blanket, thick and suffocating. The temperature of the room shoots up several degrees. Tony loosens his tie.
If I'm wrong about this, there is going to be hell to pay…
Gibbs moves towards one of the corners. His back is ramrod straight, his hands balled into his fists at his side. He looks as though he wants to shred the first person he sees, but he remains quiet. While Gibbs could burn everything down, he doesn't have any proof. This is all about Tony.
Vance looks at Tony, his gaze burning a hole through the senior agent.
"Do you understand what you're suggesting, Agent DiNozzo?" Vance asks.
Tony thinks about it for a moment before saying: "I do, sir."
Vance just stares at him.
"I believe my team stopped listening during active undercover operations," Tony says. "I witnessed it today when Ziva left McGee in the dark. He ended up in the hospital. If I don't do something, it's going to happen again. And we might not be so lucky next time."
Vance sighs like it's going to be a long night.
"As you already know, I have to inform Internal Affairs," Vance says.
Gibbs releases an actual growl.
The words Internal Affairs make Tony's blood run cold. They are the agents of nightmares, boogeymen, nameless and faceless monsters ready to end careers. Even good agents could end up on the wrong side of an investigation and lose their once bright future, their career and at worst, their freedom.
Why do I feel like there is a nasty clown about to lure me down a storm drain?
G-d, I forgot how much I hate the movie IT.
Vance is still talking: "And furthermore, the three of you will not be working together during the investigation. I'll be – "
"Wait a minute, Leon," Gibbs blurts out. "You can't – "
"I can and I will," Vance interrupts, holding up his hands. "Don't worry Gibbs, I'll find you a few TADs to cover while we get this situation sorted out. Though I hope you find one that you like. If Agent DiNozzo's suspicion turns out to be correct, he could be the last man standing for Team Gibbs."
Unable to believe what Vance is talking about, Tony opens his mouth. When Vance lasers his glare on Tony, the senior agent clams up. The gravity of the situation is just starting to hit him.
"Agent DiNozzo, you'll be working cold cases under Barrows' guidance for now," Vance starts.
"Leon," Gibbs growls. "You can't do this."
Vance holds his hand up again. "Agent David will remain on suspension. And once Agent McGee is fit for duty, he will be spending time in Cybercrimes. Depending on how IA finding, we'll see who returns to Team Gibbs." He turns to Tony. "Now, Agent DiNozzo, I'll need your weapon."
If Tony didn't know any better, he might think Vance was actually enjoying this.
With an actual growl, Gibbs bolts out of the office. He doesn't even look over his shoulder to see if Tony is following him. Where he'll end up, Tony doesn't know. Likely retreating to his basement to crawl into a bottle of bourbon while sanding the hell out of a boat hull.
"Am I being suspended?" Tony's voice sounds strange to his ears.
"Not at all. It's protocol during any investigation that involves Internal Affairs."
Tony nods numbly. "They're in my desk. I'll have to get them."
And just like that, reporting his team feels more like a punishment than it should. Tony swallows the lump that wormed its way into his throat. Mere hours ago, he planned to collapse onto his couch at a reasonable hour with a good glass of Scotch and an even better movie. Now, he is being reassigned to a different team and pulled from field duty.
For what?
Because Ziva didn't do her job and left Tim without back-up. Because at some point, Tony believes that Ziva and Tim did the same to him. Because Internal Affairs is coming to dig through their lives.
Vance shoots Tony a pointed look. "Care to get your weapon, Agent DiNozzo?"
"I'll be right back," Tony says.
As he climbs to his feet, Tony is shaking his head. His expression is stuck halfway between discontent and anger, his heart a solid lump in his chest. It feels like a stone.
I might be better off with Pennywise than whoever IA sends.