Tony's forty-eight-hour deadline slips past quicker than he expects it to. Sand through the hourglass, there and gone in the blink of an eye.
After his talk with Gibbs, the team catches a case in the middle of the night. A Marine with a nearly lethal blood alcohol limit decided to take a long walk on the train tracks. In the end, a passing train killed him well before the alcohol could. What should have been a restful night's sleep for Tony turned into a cleanup job. They take reports from his—equally drunk—friends, verify that no one pushed him, and collect the scattered pieces of the Marine like the jigsaw puzzle he was in the end. All the King's horses and all of Gibbs' men couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again. At first, the work is done by flood light and flashlights. And after the sun comes up, the team realizes how much they missed.
Then, it's the paperwork. There is always so much paperwork. Thankfully, the case is easy—open-and-shut—pending Ducky's results. But it eats up almost thirty-six hours.
By the time Tony reaches his deadline, he is running on fumes.
He is far too exhausted to play games. He decides to follow Gibbs' advice and give Vance hell. If he lets the director control him now, Vance will be running the show for years to come. And since Tony is getting his own team, he plans to be in it for the long haul, but only if he is the one truly calling the shots.
For senior agent, he chooses Tim. Between their shared history and how Tim fills in Tony's weaknesses and with Gibbs' almost blessing, it is a no-brainer. After his careful review of the junior agent files, he decides to go with his gut. He chooses a woman named Samine Bogart, a former New York City police officer with a night school law degree, as many black belts as Ziva, and an impressive recommendation from her current supervisor.
Clutching the files, Tony takes the stairs, two at a time, to Vance's office. He heads past Vance's secretary, who gives him a megawatt smile. He tries to match it, but he merely ends up baring his teeth.
He is at that point, well beyond exhausted. He was exhausted ten hours ago.
"The Director is expecting you, Agent DiNozzo," the secretary singsongs.
He nods at her. "Thanks."
Her smile dims as though she expected something irreverent and witty. Some perfect movie quotes expertly tailored to fit the situation. Maybe on another day with more coffee and more sleep and an actual breakfast, he would have more for her.
Once he slips inside the director's office, Tony closes the door behind him.
Leon Vance is at his desk, phone clutched to his ear. At the sight of Tony, he raises his chin.
"I'll call you back." After he hangs up, he says to Tony: "Ah, Agent DiNozzo, right on time. Another minute and I would've been assembling your team."
Chuckling at his own joke, Vance pulls a toothpick from the fancy container on his desk. He begins to roll around his teeth as though it's a nervous habit.
Tony closes the distance between them. "Here are my choices, Director."
Vance reaches out and makes a hand it over motion. Once Tony does, he barely glances at them before his face pinches as though he just bit into a lemon. He holds up a file and Tony doesn't even need to look at it to know that it belongs to Tim.
"What are you playing at here, DiNozzo?" Vance asks.
Tony effortlessly slides into one of the visitor's chairs. Despite his exhaustion, he can still play the bureaucracy game with the best of them. He leans back, apparently relaxed and at ease.
"You told me to pick my agents." Tony waggles a hand at the files. "Those are my picks."
"I thought I made it clear that I didn't think Agent McGee was the best candidate."
The silence hangs between them, a living, breathing thing that is almost threatening. Tony forces a tight smile, but he doesn't back down. Vance gnaws at the toothpick with a renewed vigor.
"You did," Tony says. "In not so many words."
"And yet, you decided to ignore my advice."
Tony shakes his head. "You also told me to build my team. Those are the people I think would work best with each other and me. Assuming Bogart does well in the interview. You wanted the best. I brought you that with the limited options you gave me."
Tony leans further back into his seat, trying to take up as much space as possible.
Vance folds his hands against his desk as though he is biding his time to figure out where he goes from here. He almost looks like Dr. Evil in Austin Powers right before he announces he wants One Billion Dollars. It takes everything Tony has not to laugh.
Vance slides Tim's file off his desk. "I must disagree, Agent DiNozzo. I don't think you've made the appropriate choice for senior field agent. If you want to review those other files again, I'll give you an additional twenty-four hours."
Tony shifts forward. "With all due respect, Director. Is this my team or not?"
"It is." Vance's face pinches further. "But I have final say in all personnel decisions."
Tony laughs mirthlessly. "If you expect me to do my job, I need the right people. How is your pet project going to look to SecNav if we aren't getting the results you promised?"
Vance's eyebrows rise. He steeples his hands against his lips. Suddenly, he flinches and moves to pull the splintered remains of the toothpick from his mouth.
Then, he leans back in his chair. "I'm listening."
"No one else in your recommendations has the same computer experience as McGee. No one else has the same track record. No one else has the same education."
"There was another agent, Trevor Lamont," Vance offers. "He comes highly recommended from Cybercrimes. His educational history and expertise with computers are similar to Agent McGee."
"Lamont went to Michigan State," Tony says as though it explains everything.
Vance stares at Tony, clearly not understanding the gravity of the statement. Tony doesn't breathe a word because the reason why he can't work with Trevor Lamont should be self-explanatory. No self-respecting Ohio State graduate would be caught dead working with someone from Michigan State.
What would my frat brothers think if they found out?
Okay, his reasoning might be thin—almost transparent, really—but if Vance needs a reason, Tony will clutch at straws if he must.
"I fail to see the problem," Vance says. "Michigan State is a great school."
"You would say that," Tony replies. "You don't get it."
"Enlighten me."
Tony's eyebrows jump. "I went to OSU."
"How is that a problem?"
"Michigan State is one of OSU's biggest rivals."
Vance pulls out another toothpick. "Are you telling me that you wouldn't work with Trevor Lamont because he went to Michigan State?"
Tony leverages an easy smile. "No, I'm not saying that at all. In fact, I'd be more than willing to work with him, but odds are, he wouldn't work with me. That's just how people who went to Michigan Stare are."
Vance exhales angrily through his nose. If he didn't know better, Tony might think Vance was a bull and he should be yelling "Toro!" Thankfully, Vance is enough of a politician to close his eyes when he rolls them, but Tony catches the way his lids move. Vance is rolling his eyes so hard that he's probably got a great view of his own brain. Tony barely swallows his smile.
"Could this just be a ploy to bring Agent McGee on board?" Vance asks.
Tony schools his face into the picture of innocence. "Not at all, sir."
Vance huffs again. "And if I still say no?"
Sitting in his chair, Tony licks his lips. He shifts his weight, knowing everything comes down to this very moment. How he and Vance interact for the rest of their relationship is on the line. If Tony rolls over, Vance will expect the same reaction at every impasse. If Tony stands up for himself, Vance will only push him when it's necessary.
If I play this wrong, I could lose having my own team. And if I don't push back, Vance will own me.
And suddenly, Tony understands why Gibbs is such a bastard.
Tony swallows hard, hoping he makes the right move. He never was good at chess, but Tony could play people like a game and for Vance, it's all about what makes him look the best. If Tony can keep Vance happy, he'll get what he wants.
Tony meets Vance's gaze. "Then I think Bill Ellison at the Newport office is going to need that reference. If this isn't going to be my team, I don't want it."
"That's a bold statement," Vance says, tilting his head.
Nodding, Tony decides to lay it on the line for Vance. "The last time I was team leader under Jenny Shepard, I was controlled and manipulated. I'm not going down that road again. Either this team is mine, completely and fully mine, or you can find someone else to lead it."
Vance's face folds deep in thought as he rolls the toothpick around his mouth. He studies Tony carefully as if trying to gauge his seriousness. The silence settles deep around them, thickening the air. Tony tries to force an air of calm. All the while, it feels as though his insides are rearranging themselves.
He is already mentally packing up his apartment and contemplating whether he'll enjoy Newport. While he wants his own team, it needs to be on his own terms. He more than deserves it and if he isn't the one calling the shots—from personnel decisions to everything else—it will never be his own. When Tony turned down the Rota promotion, Jenny Shepard told him it could be years before another opportunity came up. At the time, he hadn't believed her. He merely thought she was trying to scare him into taking the promotion, but in a way, she had been right. It had taken almost half a decade to get here again. If this falls through, there might not be a next time.
I'm playing chicken with my career.
Eventually, Vance removes another splintered corpse of a toothpick from his mouth. He narrows his eyes maliciously at Tony.
"Has anyone told you that you're exactly like Gibbs?" Vance asks.
Tony blinks. "Thanks."
When Vance meets Tony's gaze, his eyes are burning. "That wasn't a compliment, Agent DiNozzo."
Tony's body goes rigid. He didn't even realize he is gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles ache. Whatever is about to happen, he won't stop it. If he backs down now, he'll spend the rest of his career rolling over. If Vance won't let him build his own team, his best option is to walk away.
Move to head a team in Newport. Or go crawling back to Gibbs' team. While the very thought of it leaves a hollow feeling in his chest, Tony knows Gibbs won't make a big deal out of it. Life will move on with the casework and the suspects and the bodies. But Tony, he'll remember just how close he came.
Vance continues to stare at Tony. Still seeming to bet he'll back down.
Tony begins to rise out of his chair.
As if realizing he's lost, Vance grabs Tim's file to slam it down on top of the one belonging to Samine Bogart. It's the only indication Vance will give Tony that he has won, that Tim McGee will be Tony's SFA.
Then, he moves on as if nothing happened. As if it's business as usual.
"I'll have Bogart here first thing in the morning for a formal interview," Vance says.
"Great, I'm looking forward to it," Tony says.
"And we have a meeting with SecNav on Thursday evening. For dinner. Alice will send you the details." When Tony leans forward, Vance doesn't look up. "SecNav wants to see the American people's tax dollars at work. His committees are curious about the newest addition to the NCIS roster."
At the news, Tony nods carefully. That would explain why Vance folded so easily. If he's already told SecNav about Tony, he couldn't show up to dinner empty handed. Nothing is worse than a politician who can't be taken at their word. Tony files away that piece of information, hopeful he won't have to use it anytime soon. Hopeful that Vance has learned to let Tony do his job without interference.
Though it will be weird to see SecNav when he isn't yelling at Gibbs.
And then, Vance turns back to his computer. Tony doesn't need to be told he is being dismissed. Still, he waits for a moment in case Vance has something more. Tony climbs out of his chair, heading to the door without looking back. He feels oddly triumphant, a little bewildered that he won.
As soon as he hits the door, Vance calls, "Agent DiNozzo."
Tony's heart clambers into his throat. That's it, Vance is about to pull the plug.
Tony turns back. "Director?"
Vance is busy murdering another toothpick. His expression is hard, eyes nearly black with anger.
"Don't make me regret this."