That Wednesday when Tim is supposed to start, Tony is already in his "office" to put his own finishing touches to the space. Since they last saw each other, Tony has run down some leads for Barrows' team, worked the forensics side with Abby and interviewed a surprise witness. It was busy work, really, but there isn't much he could do on his own as a one-man band. Vance told him to settle in, but Tony doesn't really know quite what that means.
He managed to "find" an unused plasma screen in an empty cubicle on the other side of the building. He doesn't know who it belongs to, but since possession is nine tenths of the law, it's his plasma now. Right now, he is trying to make his new tiny stuffed Flying Monkey—a gift from Abby for his promotion-sit on the screen without impeding the view.
By the entrance to the Bull…Campground, Tony quickly settles on, someone clears their throat. Tony glances over to find Tim standing there, a bemused smile on his face.
"What?" Tony asks.
Tim jerks his chin at the monkey. "That thing looks ridiculous. What is it?"
Tony rears back as if he's been slapped. Tim might not have the most extensive movie knowledge, but he must have watched The Wizard of Oz. Everyone has watched it at some point in their life.
"A flying monkey." Tony hums the famous music, that one where the Wicked Witch of the West comes for Dorothy and her ragtag group.
Tim tilts his head like a confused dog. Any further and it might roll right off his neck.
"'Are you a good witch or a bad witch?'" Tony looks at him, imploringly.
Tim tilts his head in the opposite direction. Tony's eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline. He never realized there could be a complication as dire as Tim never having seen The Wizard of Oz. If Tony had known, he might not have agreed to the working arrangement.
I'm kidding…maybe.
"'There's no place like home.'" Tony clicks his heels together for emphasis.
When nothing appears on Tim's face, Tony can only gape at the young man.
Then he clutches his chest, dramatically writhing. "'I'm melting. Melting…melting.'"
There's a tiny twitch at the corner of Tim's mouth, a little tell that he's amused. Tony still stares at him, clearly dumbfounded that he's never seen one of the most important pieces of western cinema of the last century. Heck, one of the most important pieces ever. Tony makes a mental note to drag Tim to a movie night where they watch all of Judy Garland's best features.
Tim moves into the Bull…Campground. There's a hitch in his step, a careful hesitation like he is trespassing. Tony catches it, a signal. Loud and clear.
To change the subject, Tony throws his hands out. "The Wizard of Oz."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Tony," Tim deadpans.
"It's from the Wizard of Oz," Tony repeats. "You had to have seen it. Everyone has seen it."
Tim shakes his head. "I think I'd remember that."
"Well, that'll be our first team building activity." From his position, Tony gestures back at his computer with his chin. "You would be amazed by how many e-mails I get about how to build a better bond with my team now that I'm Supervisory Senior Agent. Do you think Gibbs ever got them, McGee?"
"Oh yeah, he got them all the time." Tim meets Tony's gaze when he looks over. "Gibbs had me send everything related to team building and human resources to his spam folder. So, while he got them, I doubt he bothered to read them."
"Well, that explains a lot," Tony mutters to himself.
Pressing his lips together, Tony turns back to the Flying Monkey. He manages to get the limbs threaded through the cart's legs to keep it from falling. Then, he tries to make it look as real as he can. He wouldn't mind visitors believing he could send the furry, little monkey swooping after them. It might just keep everyone in line and cut down on the number of people dropping by.
From his desk, Tim already eyes the stuffed animal as though it might hop over and eat him. When Tony grins at him, Tim narrows his eyes. He returns to setting up his desk, checking the drawers and organizing his belongings. Tony puts his hands on his hips, waggles his head around, scrunches his lips up. Then, he decides he doesn't like the position of the Flying Monkey. He moves it to a better spot.
"How is he?" Tony asks suddenly.
Tim's head snaps up. "Who?"
"Gibbs," Tony clarifies.
The silence stretches long enough for Tony to glance over his shoulder. He finds Tim staring at his computer screen, his lips pulled into a deep grimace.
"Are you still alive over there, McGee?" Tony asks.
Tim pulls a sheepish face. "Gibbs is still on the warpath. He said nobody better get dead while he only has half a team to work the case. Said he might have to tap me if a case comes up." That drains the color out of Tim's cheeks as he looks at Tony, eyes worried. "If that happens, who am I supposed to listen to?"
"Your boss," Tony shoots back.
At that, Tim clips a nod. Slowly, realization settles across his face as he understands Tony never really answered the question. Based on his expression, he doesn't want to ask again. The answer should be Tony. Tim, obviously, knows that. But neither of them can deny that Gibbs is a human wrecking ball bent on controlling everyone in his path.
Before Tony has a chance to say anything else, Tim levels a nasty glare at his computer. He clicks with the mouse several times before he stabs the power button on the computer monitor.
"You know, Tony, I forgot something in the bullpen," Tim says. "I'm going to go grab it."
Tony holds out his hand as if to say, go ahead.
"Great," Tim says.
He slithers out of his chair, disappearing under his desk. There's a rattling from beneath the desk as he unplugs the wires from his computer tower. Then, he lugs up the huge metal box. He stands there, almost daring Tony to say something.
Tony just smiles. "Have fun."
If Tim stealing his old computer helps to ease the transition, Tony would much rather have him bring it. Leave whatever Tim doesn't want for Stan Burley. As far as Tony can tell, the new computers are just fine, but he doesn't know quite as much about them as Tim.
"I'll be right back," Tim says.
He stalks away, cradling the computer tower like a distempered baby.
Once he's gone, Tony turns back to the Flying Monkey. He has it almost perfect when it topples to the floor. Rolling his eyes, he stoops to pick it up. When he does, his fingers hit a noise box and the monkey releases a farting noise. Tony can't help laughing. Of course, Abby would give him a monkey with a bad case of flatulence, just like her hippo.
Tony places the Flying Monkey back into the same spot. He shouldn't be wasting time on this, but he wants to get it just right. There are probably thousands of e-mails to comb through and dozens of forms to fill out, but right now, he wants to make this space feel more like his old space in the bullpen, more like home. As soon as he gets the Flying Monkey situated, he'll hang up an old movie poster from the film Charade. He wants to see just how long it stays up before Vance makes him remove it.
Tony almost has the monkey just right when he hears someone breathing behind him. He wheels around, half-expecting to find Tim in a staring contest with the monkey.
Instead, Jethro Gibbs waits at the entrance to the Campground.
There's some kind of strange emotion painted across his face. His cheeks are tinged white, his eyes vacant where there should be fire. Even though Gibbs never sleeps, he looks like he has been doing it less and less. And drinking more. What Tim describes as a warpath, Tony instantly recognizes as sadness. It doesn't look right on Gibbs' face.
Tony starts: "Boss…"
The look on Gibbs' face stops him. "I'm not your boss, DiNozzo."
"I know," Tony whispers. "Are you alright?"
Gibbs nods resolutely before moving into the Campground. His eyes flick quickly over the space, but he is inspecting every square inch. He might look like he is disinterested, but he is absorbing as much as he can. He eventually stops at the sight of the Flying Monkey in Tony's hands.
"Abby?" Gibbs asks.
"A housewarming present," Tony replies.
That makes Gibbs flinch a little. He moves across the space to inspect what will be Tim's desk when he is done stealing his old computer. Right now, it's completely empty except for a computer monitor and a bunch of wires. Tim's backpack is abandoned beside his chair. When Gibbs glances at Tony's desk, there is more life. Tony's Mighty Mouse staples, a few candy bars, an unopened pack of rainbow-colored Post-Its, and his leg lamp for A Christmas Story. Gibbs doesn't even do a double take on that.
Around the corner, Tim comes loping with a computer tower that looks identical to the one he whisked away. He rushes towards the Campground, excitement clear on his face. At the sight of Gibbs, his expression turns to look more like a deer in the headlights. He rushes right past their office and into the staff lounge. A moment later, Tony hears the tinkle of coins and the whir of the vending machine.
You eat your snack, McTraitor.
Thankfully, Gibbs never even turns around.
As much as he feels a tad forsaken, Tony understands Tim shouldn't be here. Whatever is going on between Tony and Gibbs, it's just that…between him and Gibbs. Tony crosses his arms, watching Gibbs crawl through this new aspect of his life. He doesn't need to do it, but he knows he owes Gibbs this much.
He'll let Gibbs be the first to speak. Tony spent far too long being the first one to talk, the first one to back down during a fight, the first one to roll over and play dead.
Things are different now.
He is different now.
Now, it's Gibbs' turn to try. Keeping his back to Tony, Gibbs moves to Tim's desk. He puts one hand on Tim's desk, the other on the back of his neck. Eventually, he sighs so loud it feels as though his very core is splitting into shreds. Tony feels it straight down into his own soul.
"This is great, DiNozzo." Gibbs sounds like it is anything but.
Tony swallows hard. "I thought this is what you wanted for me."
When Gibbs turns to face Tony, his face is more open than Tony has ever seen it. Sadness and pride and yearning are clearly written there. Gibbs has always been so closed off that Tony is used to reading the little bits that make it to the surface. He learned to read the slightest changes in Gibbs' expressions like some people read tea leaves. He isn't used to having everything on full display.
"I did. I do." Gibb sighs quietly. "It was time."
Tony just looks at him. For someone so accustomed to holding conversations, Tony is the one who doesn't know what to say.
Gibbs sighs again. "It doesn't mean I have to like it."
At that, Tony nods carefully. He hugs his arms to his chest.
"We had a good run, didn't we?" he asks.
Gibbs half-smiles. "You were a giant pain in the ass."
"And I still am." Tony grins. "Just ask McGee."
That makes Gibbs flinch a little. "He'll…"
"Be fine with enough time. I'll smooth the ruffled feathers as much as I can." Tony shakes his head. "I know why you did it, but I think you went about it the wrong way. You should've just talked to him." Tony blinks at the realization slowly taking hold. "And to me."
Gibbs tilts his head. "Think you can give me advice now that you're team lead?"
"That depends." Tony takes a step forward. "Are you going to take it?"
Gibbs opens his mouth to speak, but he seems to think better of it. Instead, he says: "You are right about that. I should've talked to you." He shakes his head, rueful. "Both of you."
"You know, Gibbs...We can't change the past, but we can change the future."
When Tony offers the older man a handshake, Gibbs pulls him into a full hug. Being hugged by your former boss is already weird enough, but being hugged by a man like Gibbs is like a full-on exorcist moment with pea soup and everything. Tony wants to ask who died, but he decides against it. He doesn't want to wreck the moment. He'll call Ducky to check on the autopsy list later.
Once he's alone and his head stops spinning from Gibbs being…nice.
Gibbs laughs. "That a movie quote?"
"Nope, that is 100% all Tony DiNozzo," he says, chuckling.
Gibbs is grinning now. "You know what, I like those better."