Several weeks later—it might be May now, Tony thinks…all the days blend together anymore—he and Tim stare at a video playing on the plasma screen. Security footage from a recent case, an AWOL Marine from Camp Lejeune who flew to DC. Tim found a hit on a known alias for the Marine on a flight that landed an hour ago. The footage Tony and Tim review is the livestream from the concourse at Dulles' Airport. To Tony, this is a lot of work for a guy who doesn't want to be found.
Except the Marine has more than just a few missed shifts in the Mess. He is suspected of running drugs with a conspiring Marine who just got posted in Virginia. Of course, it's always drugs. The team from Lejeune thinks he might be meeting in DC.
Why didn't he just wait until he had leave for his meeting? We wouldn't be on to him if he'd waited.
Gibbs and Ziva are on the ground, at Dulles Airport, working with the team from Lejeune. They just happened to be coming back from another case when they got the call for an assist. Gibbs and Ziva rerouted to the airport while Tim accessed—how, no one bothered to ask—the live camera feed.
Tony squints at the screen. Head tilted and hand clasped around his chin. His eyes glide over the different camera feed in rapid time. They should be doing this in MTAC with bigger screens and better resolution and more computing power, but Vance had it already scheduled for some schmoozefest. So, here they are, making do with what they have.
Tim leans forward, eyes fixed on the image of a mass of people moving through the hallway from a recently departed flight. He points at a person on the screen.
"There he is!" he announces. "I found him!"
Tony checks the spot. "Do you need glasses, McGee?"
Sure, the footage is beyond grainy, and people move in a sickening, stop-motion staccato, but still…
"No, he's there. Right there." Tim jabs his finger at the screen so hard it flecks into a rainbow of colors before returning to normal.
"That's an old lady." Tony is staring at Tim now. "In a wheelchair."
Chastened, Tim leans so close to the screen that it nearly touches his nose. He stares hard for a long moment, blinking owlishly. Then, he closes his eyes. Sighs. He steps back, pretending to rub his eyes to hide the red blazing on his cheeks.
A self-satisfied smirk slithers across Tony's face. He bites his lip to keep from laughing.
"We have an excellent vision plan," he says. "You should probably use it."
Tim makes a strangled noise. "It's just eyestrain from the computer monitors."
"You keep telling yourself that, Mr. Magoo."
And they both go back to staring at the screen. Tony takes a full step back before holding his hands up to his eyes as though they're binoculars. Then he stands on one foot, tilts his head to the left as he bends sideways at the waist. Then he shifts his head to the right.
I think I see something. Maybe…maybe.
He closes his left eye and then, he comes up, right index finger pointed at the screen.
"I found Waldo right there," he announces. "To the left of your old lady in the wheelchair. Above the guy with the Knicks hat. The one with the physics textbook."
"Are you sure?" Tim asks, dumbfounded.
"The guy is reading the book upside down."
Poleaxed, Tim whips his head between the screen and Tony. Any quicker and he'll give himself whiplash.
Just there, at the edge of the screen in the lower left, there is a young man reading Conceptual Physics for Dummies upside down. A quick glance confirms he matches the description of their AWOL jarhead. His shaggy hair juts out from underneath a baseball hat, but from what Tony can see from his face, it's an exact match.
Tim is nodding. "I'll let Gibbs know."
While Tim pulls out his cell phone, Tony's skin suddenly begins to crawl. He feels oddly like a bug under a microscope. Tim must feel it too because, at the same time, they glance up at the second-floor landing. Standing there, Director Leon Vance studies them with a strange look on his face.
"Oh boy, somebody's in trouble," Tony singsongs under his breath.
Tim whispers, "What do you think Gibbs did this time?"
Gripping the railing, Vance locks his gaze on Tony. Vance might be trying to intimidate Tony, but he has had years of being glared at by Gibbs. It doesn't work on him anymore. He manages an easy smile.
"Agent DiNozzo, a word?" Vance calls.
Making a slightly panicked face, Tim takes a full step back. He holds his cell phone to his ear without looking at Tony or Vance, as if he won't be on the chopping block if he looks busy.
Tony shoots him a dirty look.
Et tu, McBrute?
Vance clears his throat, an indication that he's already growing impatient.
Jumping to life, Tony heads to the stairs. His mind is already trying to determine what is sending him to the Director's office this time. He hopes it isn't another HR complaint about his movie quotes. He hasn't had one since last year when the new woman in the armory said he was mocking her with John Wayne quotes. It took six months of lending her DVDs before she thawed and watched the movies. Now, she knows the dialogue even better than he does.
Gibbs probably ruffled someone's feathers. Again.
When Tony hits the top of the stairs, Vance has already retreated to his private office. Tony strides past the secretary's desk where a young woman writes notes on a piece of paper. He turns on his megawatt smile, but she doesn't even look up.
Inside the director's office, the lighting is softer. Likely more suitable for schmoozing whatever government bigwig shows up. It's almost as though the harsh lighting of the agency floor would render them inconsolable and unpliable.
Vance is already at his desk, fingers steepled and face unreadable.
"Close the door, Agent DiNozzo," he says.
Biting his lip, Tony closes the door as slowly as he can. His brain is suddenly churning as it tries to come up with exactly why the Director would need a private meeting. He tries to figure out who he could've pissed off lately. Who Gibbs has pissed off lately. Whether Tim accessed a database he wasn't supposed to. If Ziva pulled a gun at the wrong time or broke a law that she doesn't know existed.
They're my team and I'm responsible for them. All of them.
He smooths his tie, plastering a genial smile on his face. It's all an act, but it works so well to set his superiors—except for Gibbs—at ease.
When Tony turns around, Vance gestures to the chairs by his desk. If Tony plays the game right, he won't be here long enough to sit down. He lingers by the door, trying to get Vance to fold first.
They're in a stalemate.
In the end, Tony blinks first, but only because he needs to get back to work. He wants to watch the arrest in real time. Apparently, Vance could do this all day. Tony collapses into one of the comfortable chairs. He leans back in the seat, lifts his chin to Vance as if to say, Your move.
Vance appraises him for a long moment.
"Care to tell me why Bill Ellison is calling me," he says eventually.
Tony opens his mouth, excuse on his tongue and ready to fly. Still, his brain works overtime to determine just who Bill Ellison is. He recalls the team's recent cases, Gibbs' most recent run-ins, and the regular group of looky-loos who call into the NCIS tipline. That name doesn't ring a bell.
Tony's mouth falls closed.
"I don't know who that is," he admits quietly.
Vance clips a nod. "Bill Ellison is the Special Agent in Charge at the Newport Field Office." He stares Tony down as he lets his point resonate. "He called to ask for a reference. For you."
Tony barely manages a small, "Oh."
Vance removes a toothpick from his drawer before actively trying to gnaw it into smithereens. The entire time, he keeps his eyes glued on Tony. If he is trying to make Tony nervous, he is failing miserably. Tony has been stared down by Gibbs for far longer.
"Are you having problems with Agent Gibbs?" Vance asks.
Tony laughs awkwardly. "Gibbs and I, we're great. Never better."
"And the rest of your team?"
"Same." Tony half-smiles. "Great."
Licking his lips, Vance tilts his head. "Then why are you applying for another position?"
"'Oh, same old, same old.'"
Tony leans back in his chair as though it explains everything. Vance's brow furrows.
"Groundhog Day," Tony explains. "Bill Murray and Andi MacDowell. Guy's in a small town and keeps reliving the same day over and over again."
The furrow in Vance's brow deepens even further. "I'm aware of the movie. I watched it based on your recommendation. While I rather enjoyed it, I fail to see how that is applicable here. Care to tell me the real reason you applied for another job?"
Leaning forward, Tony uses his elbows to prop himself against his knees. When he filled out the application for the SSA position, it had almost been an afterthought. Something he would do sometimes when he wanted to dream about a different life in a different place, but he never actually hit send. He still doesn't know what possessed him to do it last week. Maybe it was an impulse brought about by too many cases and too little sleep and not enough coffee. Maybe it was just an accident.
Maybe I really do need a change.
Right now, he might be able to plead insanity. Vance is giving him an easy out. A way to throw a laugh and say he doesn't know what happened. Maybe those gremlins in his desk are at it again, toiling away late at night and throwing typos in his reports like confetti in a ticker tape parade. He really needs to stop feeding them after midnight.
"Because I'm ready," he blurts out.
Vance's eyebrows shoot into his hairline. "For what?"
Tony straightens in his seat. "For my own team, sir."
"And what makes you say that, Agent DiNozzo?"
Leaning back further in his chair, Vance studies Tony for what feels like a long time. It's meant to disarm Tony and make him nervous, but it doesn't. Instead, he plays into it. Pretending to be slightly anxious. He uses the time to try to think of the right answer because, to Vance, there absolutely is one. In the end, Tony has no idea what it could be. He answers as honestly as he can.
"Because I deserve it," Tony says. "I've been a senior agent for nearly a decade. If Gibbs retired early, I would be the Supervisory Agent. And I did the job once."
Vance tilts his head, engaged. "That was a long time ago, Agent DiNozzo."
"If anything, I'm more ready now than I was before."
"And that's it? You think you should get the job because you're here?"
Tony laughs, shaking his head. "My track record more than speaks for itself."
His record likely has lots of high and low points. Sure, there are a few—okay, more than a few—HR complaints from people who just didn't comprehend his method. There's two—okay, fine, it's actually three—sexual harassment complaints due to misunderstandings. Movie quotes taken the wrong way. But those black marks are years old now. From a time before he'd allowed himself to mature into the confident and capable agent he is today. Back when he thought he still needed to play the frat boy part. He could call them mistakes or miscalculations, but they weren't. He acted way out of line, but his other work should make up for it. All of it.
If anything, he grew as an agent. As a person too. Got better and better. More serious and determined. He might still be fun and garrulous on the surface, but underneath, he is more controlled and calculating. Through everything, Gibbs' closure rate never faltered.
Vance's eyes are like dark coals, burning brightly while giving nothing away, while he watches the senior agent. To his credit, Tony doesn't back down. Just holds Vance's gaze.
Vance raps his knuckles against his desk, drawing Tony's attention to a file.
"It's a funny thing, Agent DiNozzo," Vance says. "Your timing, as always, is impeccable."
Tony tilts his head. "Thanks, I think…"
"My predecessor…" Frowning, Vance checks a piece of paper. "Excuse me, I misspoke. My predecessor's predecessor, Tom Morrow, believed there was a need for an additional MCRT at the DC branch of NCIS. As you can see, everything in the government moves at its own glacial pace."
"Bureaucracy at its finest," Tony says, forcing a bright smile.
"Congress finally approved the budget set forth by Morrow to allocate funding."
When Vance nods as though he should understand, Tony just stares at him.
"There is funding in place now for a third MCRT," Vance finishes.
Tony tilts his head. "Why?"
Vance shrugs. "Morrow believed there needed to be better work-life balance for his agents. He seemed to believe an additional MCRT would provide better synergy by allowing the additional team to pick up extra cases. You've seen that need at work today when the team from Lejeune needed a quick assist because Barrows' team was working elsewhere."
"Okay," Tony says, still not following.
At least, he thinks he knows where it could be heading. If Vance is going to offer him a job, Tony wants to hear the words come out of his mouth. Not having Vance do his usual bureaucrat dance and make Tony guess that's what is happening.
"And what does this have to do with me?" Tony asks.
"In the next few weeks," Vance says, "I'll begin the process of creating the third MCRT. Since the funding came in now, I'll have the choice of who takes the SSA position. I was considering Davenport, but – "
"Eloise? Barrows' SFA?!" Tony feels as though Vance just plunged a knife into his chest.
When Vance rolls the toothpick around his mouth, Tony realizes he's playing a game. Possibly. Maybe. At least, Tony would like to think Vance is just toying with him and not asking for a reference for Eloise Davenport in the most roundabout way possible.
"She's a good agent," Vance comments.
"That she is," Tony concedes.
Vance continues to stare him down. "But you're better."
Tony is about to refute Vance's claim, but the director shakes his head.
"Don't change my mind, DiNozzo," he says. "I wasn't going to ask you because I thought you were content on Gibbs' team. At least, I did until Bill Ellison called to discuss your career. He had questions regarding the HR complaint from Janet down in the armory. Wanted to know if someone really reported you for quoting a John Wayne movie."
Tony licks his lips before smiling cynically. "Yeah, she believed my quotes were threatening."
Vance holds a hand against his mouth to hide his laugh. "Once we got that out of the way, we got to discuss your career. Which, I must admit, is quite impressive."
Tony considers a movie quote before he settles for a simple: "Thank you, sir."
"So, Agent DiNozzo, let's get down to business. Would you like to head the new MCRT here in DC?"
Poleaxed, Tony opens his mouth to speak. Not trusting himself to form words, he closes it again.
Vance continues: "As unorthodox as your methods are, I can't say they aren't effective. Plus, I'd rather not lose you to – " his lips curl around his toothpick as he nearly spits out " – Bill Ellison."
Tony might not know who Bill Ellison is, but it's clear that Vance doesn't like him.
"Only if you'd like to head the new team, Agent DiNozzo." Vance smiles thinly. "Though if you need a change of scenery, I certainly respect that."
Tony is still reeling, but he forces himself to life before Vance changes his mind.
"I'd like to stay in DC," Tony says. "I'll take it."
When Vance holds out his hand, Tony shakes it emphatically. Out of all the scenarios he dreamed about getting his own team, they usually involved moving somewhere halfway around the world. Somewhere far, far away from his home and the city he has grown to love.
Vance is grinning full-force now. "Glad to have you aboard, Agent DiNozzo. More details will be forthcoming shortly. I'll be posting the listings for SFA and JFA on the internal site soon."
"And Newport?"
Vance's grin turns wicked. "Ellison and I go way back. I'll let him know you got a better offer."
And on that note, Vance nods quickly as a sign their conversation is over. As Tony heads out the door, the entire interaction feels as though it could've been a dream. As though he hallucinated the entire thing due to a caffeine and pizza overload. He'll wait until he receives the formal offer e-mail from HR to decide if it's truly happening or not.
On Tony's way out, Vance calls after him, "Agent DiNozzo, one more thing."
With his hand on the door, Tony turns back. He meets Vance's eyes.
"I trust you can inform Agent Gibbs of your impending departure."