Tim and Tony take Tony's car because they decide it's safer to leave Tim's car in the NCIS lot. It's well after dark with the streetlights burning and the traffic thin in the late evening. The air is chilly and biting through Tony's suit jacket. He huddles deeper into it. He might look good, but right now, he doesn't feel good. Once they're in the car, Tony turns the heat on full blast. It takes the edge off the cold and before they're even out of Northwest, he is sweating through his shirt.
As Tony cuts through the back streets of Washington at normal speeds, Tim stares morosely at his hands. He is quiet and sullen. Tony tries to fill the silence as only he can, rife with movie quotes and thinking out loud about his cold case. Tim offers an idea or two, but it isn't much. Just something to show he's still listening, to show he's still alive.
"Maybe you're overthinking it," Tim says gently. "Maybe it was nothing more than a smash and grab."
That quiets Tony.
As he drives through the darkened city, his mind churns with the possibilities for his cold case. He doesn't want to admit the killer could've actually been someone that the victim didn't know. A true smash and grab means the killer might never be found. He doesn't like to think that way.
Damn it, McGee might be right. The vic will never get justice.
Tony pulls into the driveway of a quiet house in the Kingman Park neighborhood. This time, the house looks exactly as it should, shrouded in darkness and secrets. He doesn't know what color the door is or the state of repair of the front porch or whether another shutter fell off. It is a utilitarian fortress, a safehouse.
Once Tony kills the engine, Tim looks up. His expression darkens like a thunderstorm.
"Did you bring me to Gibbs' house?" Tim asks.
Tony raises one shoulder. "Yeah."
"Don't you think Ziva would look here?"
Tony had tried to point that out to Gibbs, but the team leader wouldn't have it any other way. If Tim was going into protective custody, it was his house. Since there isn't an official protective order in place, Tony couldn't really fight it. Not to mention, he couldn't think of any safer place.
"We'll have reinforcements soon," Tony says.
Tim's face folds into a question.
Instead of answering, Tony says: "Not to mention, Gibbs has more weapons than the armory."
Opening the door, Tony allows the chilly air to invade what once was a warm space. The interior light blinks on, bringing the shadows to life. Tony starts to climb out, but Tim remains planted in his seat.
"Do you think you should stay here?" Tony asks. "If Ziva is coming, she'll definitely find you in the car."
Those words spur Tim forward. Huffing quietly, Tim scoops his go-bag from in between his legs. Tony grabs his own bag from the backseat before leading the way over the uneven path to Gibbs' house. Behind him, Tim gives a loud start. He probably found the loose stone that Tony tripped over last week. Tony manages to disguise his laugh as a cough.
After a few moments, they're inside Gibbs' functional house. The interior is warm, a fire roaring in the fireplace and all the lights are on. Tony can't remember the last time Gibbs had his lights on. Tony heads into the living room to abandon his bag on the couch. Tim stays huddled in the hallway, but he places his go-bag just inside the door.
"Heya Boss!" Tony exclaims.
From his position by the fireplace, Gibbs grunts in reply. He is crouched, stoking the logs with a poker. The whole house smells like wood fire and searing steaks and stale air. Tim watches Gibbs for a long moment. Then, he glances at Tony with his eyes squinted and lips pursed.
"Is Gibbs cooking a steak?" he whispers.
Tony nods. "Yeah."
"In the fireplace?"
Tony looks at Tim as if he is the weird one. "Yeah, it's Cowboy style. They're great. Usually, he makes baked potatoes in there too."
"Oh." Tim pauses for a long moment before saying: "I'm not hungry."
Tony shrugs as if to say More for me.
Setting back on his haunches, Gibbs looks back to Tony and Tim. He raises his chin at Tony, who takes that as an invitation to make himself at home. He shucks off his suit jacket and tosses it onto a nearby chair. Tim removes his own coat before folding it nearly beside Tony's.
Gibbs hops to his feet, leaving the steaks to cook on their own. As he moves closer, Tim takes to rolling up his shirtsleeves. Tony keeps a careful eye on Gibbs, who looks concerned.
Oh shit, Gibbs is being nice. This is bad. Really bad.
"How are you, McGee?" Gibbs' voice is all wrong. Alarmed and thoughtful and kind.
Tim drops his gaze to his shoes. "I'm fine."
Gibbs starts, "Is there – "
"I need to use the bathroom," Tim announces. "Tony took the long way here."
"Down the hall to the left."
"I know where it is."
And with that, Tim stalks off in the direction of the bathroom. Tony and Gibbs watch him, his form disappearing deeper into the house. They stand, shoulder-to-shoulder. Each seemingly wanting to ask the other, but neither of them wanting to speak first.
Tony cracks first. "He talked to Harris, Boss. I sat in on the interview."
"And?" Gibbs asks, looking over.
"It's not good," is all Tony says because it isn't his story to tell.
For a brief moment, Gibbs closes his eyes. His shoulders hunch as he presses his lips together. If Tony had to guess, Gibbs broke some rule that Tony hasn't learned yet. There are so many things Tony wants to say right now, but he can't seem to get the words right. He hopes Gibbs will know how to fill the silence.
"I got ribeyes," Gibbs offers.
Of course, Gibbs isn't ready to discuss the emotional fallout of his team. Since Tony isn't either, he flips their conversational topic. He knows next to nothing about steaks, other than he likes them and you need a special kind of knife to eat one and they taste good when cooked in a fireplace.
"'I made a cow,'" Tony says.
Gibbs smirks. "It's a steak, Tony."
"'Those cows trusted us.'"
The movie quotes leave Gibbs rolling his eyes with a good-natured smile. It isn't much, but it causes the tension to evaporate like an autumn fog on a chilly morning. Gibbs doesn't say a word, but he must know Tony will explain where the quote is from.
"City Slickers. Billy Crystal and Daniel Stern." Tony nods carefully. "Only the best movies about having a midlife crisis and becoming a cowboy."
"Do I look like I'm having a midlife crisis?" Gibbs asks.
"Of course not, Boss. You look like you're becoming a cowboy."
That earns Tony a chuckle. The smell of burning suddenly fills the room and quickly, Gibbs hustles back to the fireplace to tend to the steaks. He places three of them on plates with a resounding squick. If these are cooked like Gibbs usually cooks his steaks, Tony's quotes about cows probably aren't far off. Tony only hopes that his dinner doesn't escape before he can eat it.
"Have you talked to Harris?" Tony asks.
Gibbs doesn't look back. Nods.
Tony raises his eyebrows. "Did he say anything?"
"That he can't discuss an active investigation," Gibbs replies with a shocking malice.
Suddenly, there is the sound of crunching footsteps on the front walk. Someone gives a surprised yelp at the loose rock in the footpath. Tony leaps to his feet, fumbling to grab the Sig that Gibbs keeps duct taped underneath his end table.
On his way to the door, Gibbs throws Tony a confused glance.
"Are you expecting someone?" Tony asks.
"Yeah." Gibbs offers no further explanation.
When Gibbs opens the front door, Tobias Fornell strides into the entranceway. Wearing a navy suit, he looks as though he is in the middle of working a tough case. He carries a briefcase. His face is schooled into a serious expression, but he looks as though he is trying to keep himself from laughing. When Tony looks over Fornell's shoulder, there are several unmarked FBI cars on the curb. Tony catches two agents skulking around the back of the house.
"Any of them coming in?" Gibbs asks.
"Them?" Fornell laughs mirthlessly. "They aren't allowed indoors yet. They have to earn it." His seriousness gives way to a smile. "Oh, and this is gonna be awkward."
His eyes dance between Tony and Gibbs as though he has a secret. When Tony hazards a glance at Gibbs, his boss narrows his eyes at Fornell. The men start squaring off with glares and set jaws.
Tony falls for it. "What's going to be awkward?"
"Which one of you am I supposed to be meeting?" Fornell asks.
Tony's brow furrows. "Huh?"
"You both – " Fornell uses his free index finger to gesture between Tony and Gibbs " – called me to assist on the case. Talk about – " he draws out the word " – awkward."
Gibbs turns to glare a hole through Tony, who rubs the back of his neck. Tony had called Fornell to get him off Harris' back and in the end, he spilled his guts to Fornell. He figured if NCIS wouldn't take care of Ziva, at least the FBI could arrest her. Tony wanted as many people on their side as he could.
But why would Gibbs call him?
Fornell moves into Gibbs' living room. His eyes rove around the room.
"Where's McGee?" he asks suddenly.
Gibbs tilts his chin toward the opposite side of the house. "In the head."
"Ah." That's when Fornell notices the steaks. "Ah, you made me dinner. And here, I didn't think you cared."
Gibbs shakes his head. "I don't."
Ignoring the comment, Fornell claims a seat on Gibbs' couch. He plucks a plate off the coffee table. Then he starts digging through his briefcase with his other hand. Tony scoops up a plate before Gibbs does. Unfortunately, Tim will have to fight Gibbs for the last steak. Gibbs just stands in the hallway, arms crossed.
"You got something, Tobias?" he asks. "Or are you here to eat my food?"
Fornell saws through his steak like it's a huge log. The steak on his plate bleeds more than Tony's last murder victim. Fornell shovels a huge bite into his mouth, chewing with his mouth open as he digs a file out of his briefcase. He chucks it onto the table with a loud thwack.
"Translations of those papers Tony found." Fornell gestures with his knife. "Who knew your Internal Affairs agent would just hand me the evidence without me even needing to say please."
It's protocol, Tony wants to point out, but he doesn't.
Tony looks at him. "Harris couldn't read it. Who knew Slacks spoke Hebrew?"
That raises Gibbs' eyebrows.
Fornell waves. "I did. Anyway, Sacks says it has details about innerworkings of NCIS and your team. Plus, some other fun details Ziva David shouldn't have had access to." He takes another huge bite of steak. "Ziva describes how she utilized your team for information, Gibbs. She even had nicknames for all of you. She called Gibbs The Leader. Then there was The Asset, which I assume is McGee. And – " he sees Tony glancing over " – you don't want to know what she called you, DiNutzo."
Tony raises his eyebrows. "It couldn't be that bad."
Fornell grimaces before taking another bite. "It was worse."
Just as Tony is about to ask, Gibbs narrows his eyes. So, Tony drops it. He cuts a piece of his steak, more blood oozes out of the meat. He is surprised there isn't an arterial spray. He takes a small bite and it's still ice cold in the middle. Only Gibbs knows how to cook a steak just right.
"Harris said Slacks thought it was a diary," Tony offers.
"It was better than that. Do you know what a honey hole is, DiNutzo?" Fornell asks.
Tony nods. "Of course."
"This was so much better."
As Tony peruses the translated document—Slacks opted to use the word Lothario for Tony—he is floored by just how much information it contains. NCIS' innerworkings. His team's interactions. Their cases. And what is missing is Ziva's nickname for Tony. It is everything—maybe even more—Ziva would have sent when she was still a liaison, but he had no idea those few pages could be so valuable.
Swallowing hard, he passes the papers to Gibbs, who tries to read them. Then, he narrows his eyes and reaches into his pocket for his reading glasses. Once he slides them on, Fornell chuckles gleefully. Gibbs glares him down.
"Good steak, Gibbs." Fornell grabs the last steak. "Though, they're a little overcooked for my taste."
"I think it's great, Boss," Tony says. "I can still taste the cow."
Instead of replying, Gibbs pours over the documents while Tony and Fornell eat. Tony might be a fast eater, but Fornell rivals a Formula One driver. He inhaled the first steak, leaving only a bone and a puddle of blood to show it ever existed. The second one meets the same fate. Then, he slides the plate away.
"Is McGee still in the head?" Fornell asks. "Because I have questions. So many questions."
As if on cue, Tim appears at the entrance to the living room. His hands are in his pockets, his face pointed at the floor. If Tony had to guess, Tim was probably waiting for him and Gibbs to finish off the steaks before he came back. Little does Tim know that Gibbs considers expired jerky and burnt coffee to be acceptable foods to serve guests.
Fornell leaps to his feet. "McGee, you and I need to talk."
Tim's head jerks up. His eyes widen at the sight of Fornell.
"Agent Fornell, um, hi," he says.
"Care to tell me how you're a Mossad asset?" Fornell pauses to let that sink in. "Because DiNutzo and Gibbs left out that little tidbit when they called me."
At that, Tim goes sheet white. "I – I - I – "
He can't seem to find his voice. His eye whip between Fornell and Gibbs and Tony and back again before landing on Tony. His mouth gapes like a fish on dry land.
"Because Ziva threatened to kill Tony!" Tim closes his eyes, breathing hard. "That's how it all started. It was a joke. I swear, I thought it was a joke. She said she'd kill him if I didn't what she wanted. By the time I realized she was serious, I was in over my head. When I tried to question her, she began threatening me."
The ensuing silence is enough for Tony to hear his own heart pounding. His stomach drops straight to the floor. He sits there, mouth gaping and hands clutching a plate with a half-dead cow on it.
Tim screws his face up before he turns away.
Then, the room comes to life with activity.
"Wait, Ziva was going to kill me?" Tony says incredulously at the same time that Gibbs barks: "How could you not say anything, McGee?"
"What in the name of stale Hannukah crackers is going on here?" Fornell spits out.
That gets everyone's attention, but Fornell holds his hands out to redirect. He is already trying to head towards Tim to herd the man somewhere else. Gibbs is trying to push past Fornell to shake down Tim for more information. Fornell holds his hands out to keep Gibbs back.
"She said she would if I didn't play along," Tim says again. "Actually, she says, 'sing her song,' but it didn't take much to figure out what she meant."
"Looks like you're in protective custody now, DiNutzo." Fornell sounds downright gleeful. Then, to Gibbs: "Where can McGee and I talk more privately?"
"I need to be there," Gibbs says.
"No, you don't," Fornell snaps. "You get involved and he's going to clam up again. There's a reason he hasn't talked to you and I intend to find it. I'm taking the lead here, Gibbs. Don't make me ask again or I'll give our ex-wife your new phone number." They glare at each other. "The one even I'm not supposed to know."
At the threat, Gibbs rolls his eyes. There must be some truth to it because he doesn't start fighting Fornell. Instead, they fall into a staring contest.
Gibbs relents by gesturing to the kitchen. "Take the basement."
Fornell barrels through the hallway as he herds Tim back towards the kitchen. Tim throws Tony a helpless glance, but all he has to offer is a small smile. Tony doesn't know what to say here because they are both so far over their heads now. Whatever Tim said about this being easier, he must not have known it would drag them out to sea.
Gibbs starts to follow, but Fornell shakes his head.
"Just me and McGee," he says again.
Gibbs doubles down. "Tobias."
"You can't screw up the investigation," Fornell says, holding out his index finger.
Those words make Gibbs pause. In the end, he sets his jaw and makes a face.
"You know where the weapons are." It isn't a question, rather a statement.
"Shotgun behind the workbench," Fornell trills. "Glock behind the water heater. Sig under the boat hull."
"Don't forget the other shotgun behind the furnace."
Fornell laughs. "Thanks, mom."
And in the end, Gibbs watches Fornell lead Tim downstairs into the basement.
Whatever is said will forever remain between those two. Despite how flippant Fornell may be, he won't compromise Tim's privacy and safety like that. If Tim wants to talk, it'll be on him. Nothing that Gibbs does right now will get him any information and Tony knows it must be killing him.
Collapsing beside Tony on the couch, Gibbs stares towards the fireplace. The fire is slowly dying, the wood crumbling into charred bits in the middle. It's trying, desperately, to hold onto whatever life it has left, but without another log, it won't last much longer.
Tony looks down at his plate. A half-eaten steak swimming in a sea of red. It looks like he murdered the poor thing and tried to cover it up. If he doesn't eat any faster, it'll probably drag itself away.
He offers the plate with his half-eaten steak to Gibbs, who glances down curiously. Then, he looks up at Tony. In Gibbs' eyes, Tony catches a torrent of emotions that Gibbs is trying so hard to bury. There is so much conveyed in that instant that Tony barely recognizes any of it. Gibbs' shock at the betrayal of his team member, his shame at not knowing what was going on, his hurt at letting his team down. his anxiety at not knowing how to fix it.
"'Food's brown, hot, and plenty of it," Tony says.
Despite himself, Gibbs half-smiles. "Not anymore."
"That's the best I got, Boss."
Gibbs nods. Takes the plate. "I know."
And they sit on Gibbs' couch, in the dying light of the fire, straining their ears for a conversation they'll never hear that takes place beneath them. Tony rubs at the back of his neck.
Wondering just how they got here.