Tony walks straight into the bullpen as if he hasn't just unleashed chaos in Cybercrimes. The bullpen is empty and for some reason, he is the first one here today. He checks his watch and by Gibbs' internal clock, he is already six minutes late. That should be enough to earn him a glare and a snarky remark. He shrugs to himself and makes a mental note that everyone else is late.
On the way to his desk, he catches sight of the newest addition to Brahe's growing collection of oddities in her workspace. A tiny light now bathes her potted plant in a sulfuric glow.
Tony rubs at the back of his neck, considering. That plant is fake, so it shouldn't need light. He deposits his bag at his desk before checking to ensure the coast is clear.
Then, he slinks over to Brahe's desk to lean close enough to study the plant.
I'm pretty sure it's fake.
But the new grow light just adds another layer of mystery to Brahe's plant. Tony rubs his finger along one of the leaves. It feels waxy, like plastic and supple like a leaf. When he leans closer, he sniffs it deeply. It reeks of dirt and plastic.
He rubs at his chin. "Hm."
Suddenly, he feels someone watching him. He cringes, fully expecting Gibbs to be glaring a hole though him. Tony draws himself to his full height, playing with his tie as he goes. Just behind him, Tyler Brahe watches him with a strange smile on her face.
Tony gestures at the plant. "I was just telling your plant how pretty she is. Like you always do."
Brahe makes a face. "Tell him that he's handsome."
Tony grins that trademark grin. "Why, thank you."
As she rounds her desk, Brahe laughs heartily. Even though she has been sitting there for a few months, Tony still finds himself surprised. Sometimes, it's almost like he thinks Ziva should still be there. It might be wrong, but sometimes, he still pictures her ghost. She might still be alive, but to him, she is as dead as Kate Todd. Brahe goes about her morning routine, unpacking her things and lining up her pens just right.
"I have a question for you, Brahe," Tony says. "A very, very important one."
Brahe looks up from where she makes sure that her red pen isn't too close to the blue one. One of them appears to be missing.
"What's that?" she asks.
Tony gestures at the plant. "Is it real?"
She raises her eyebrows, smirking. "Is that what you ask all the girls?"
He snaps his mouth closed because all that comes out is a rough laugh. Settling into her desk chair, she clicks off the glow light on the plant. Tony stares at it for another long moment as if she might actually answer the question. He might not be able to figure it out by sight alone. He'll wait until Brahe isn't paying attention later and snip off a few leaves. Abby Scuito should be able to tell him after a few lab tests.
It's fake. It has to be.
Before he can press Brahe for an answer, the elevator doors ding. Tim McGee and Jethro Gibbs hustle toward the bullpen together. Brahe shoots him a questioning glance, but Tony merely shakes his head. In the Cybercrimes chaos of the morning, Tony forgot today was the day Tim completes his agency mandated therapy sessions. Three weeks ago, Gibbs' attendance was requested and they've been doing weekly sessions together since. The sessions are like Fight Club and Tony and Brahe, they don't talk about Fight Club.
Gibbs and McGee just got back from couples' therapy.
They walk back to the bullpen, quietly talking.
How long will it take before I have to go too?
On reflex, Tony darts back to his desk before Gibbs can tell him to. He checks his desk, surprised to find an envelope in his paper inbox. It wasn't there when he left late last night, and he can only speculate when it turned up in the morning. The mail clerks must've made an early morning run specifically for the letter.
The return address is from the prison where Ziva is currently incarcerated. It lurks there, innocuous and innocent, but it develops its own heartbeat like the Tell Tale Heart. He considers tossing it into the trash can, but he needs to know what it says. Later. After a few stiff drinks and with another bottle waiting on the sidelines to deal with the fallout.
He collapses into his desk chair. Goes about pretending the envelope isn't even there. If he doesn't look at it or think about, it doesn't exist…right?
Schrodinger's letter.
Without saying a word, Gibbs walks straight to his desk. He grabs the pile of reports on his desk. Then, he rummages around in his desk to find a green pen that looks suspiciously like one of Brahe's. When he gets a chance, Tony will take that one straight out to the dumpster like the rest of them.
Tim pauses in front of Tony's desk. He stands there, coat slung over his arm and backpack on his shoulder. He stares at Tony for a long beat, shifting his weight. His expression borders on anxiousness. It's enough to even make Tony feel nervous. He knows the invitation to join Tim's therapy session is incoming. Having Tony and Gibbs air their grievances was the most recent roadblock to Tim returning to field duty.
Tony decides to put Tim out of his misery. "When are getting our heads shrunk, Probie?"
Tim clears his throat. "Next week. Same time."
Tony glances at Gibbs. "Will it just be us?"
Tim nods. "Gibbs and I are done. For now."
That makes Tony breathe a sigh of relief. From his desk, Gibbs glares at them.
"You got a problem with me being there, DiNozzo?" he growls.
Tony shakes his head. "No, Boss, it's just that McGee and I need couples' therapy. If you're there, that's more of a threesome and you know how those go."
Gibbs tilts his head. "Enlighten me."
"Someone always leaves upset." When he catches everyone staring at him, he plasters on his best grin and shrugs. "Or so I've heard."
That leaves Tony clearing his throat and straightening his tie. He looks back at Tim, whose face is flushed and eyes wide. Tony wonders if Tim has even gotten laid in the last year.
Tony changes the subject. "Hey McGoo, I forgot to tell you, but Sasha will be here this weekend. She found a new recipe for a Nutter Butter cookie that she wants to try out."
Before Tim can respond, Brahe leaps out of her seat. "We're getting nookie cookies?!"
Tony's brow furrows as he repeats: "Nookie cookies?"
She darts across the bullpen to stand beside Tim, and she holds out her hands excitedly. Both men blink at her. Wincing, she toys with the end of her ponytail. If Tony wanted a distraction, he got one.
"Did I say that out loud?" she asks awkwardly.
Tim bites his lip, nodding.
Tony just looks at her. "Oh yeah."
"Well, it's just that whenever Sasha shows up, you bring cookies on Monday and…and…" She points accusingly at Tim. "McGee came up with the name!"
Tim looks taken aback. "Did not!"
"You did too!" She stares at him, incredulous. "We were in observation eating them and you said, 'Tony might get nookie, but at least we get cookies.' Hence, nookie cookies."
Tim glances at Tony, slack-jawed. He presses his free hand to his chest. "I never said that. It's – "
"Look, it doesn't matter," Brahe interrupts. "What I need to know is if Sasha can make sugar cookies for me. I've been dying for ones with pink icing and heart confetti and edible glitter. Does Sasha have edible glitter? If not, I'll get some."
And that's when Tim picks up the letter in Tony's inbox. The one he wasn't supposed to think about. The one that comes from Ziva David.
"Hey, what's this?" Tim asks.
Tony leaps across his desk to snatch it from Tim's hands. At his desk, Gibbs perks up with the pen poised over a report. Based on the amount of green scribbled across the page, it has to be Tony's report.
Tony shoves the letter into his suit coat, but the damage is already done.
"Why are you getting mail from a prisoner?" Tim asks.
Tony shrugs with one shoulder. "It's probably fan mail. You know how those go. I changed their life by arresting them. Now, they're no longer in a life of crime." He scratches at his chin. "They loved my smile and they think about me all the time. We're getting married as soon as they're released. Blah, blah, blah. Into the shredder it'll go with the rest of them. Say, McGee, are you still getting letters from your inmate admirer?"
Tim blanches. "Not anymore."
Brahe tilts her head. "What are you talking about?"
Tim waves his hands as if to tell Tony to drop it. If he does, they'll be right back onto his letter.
"McGee was held hostage in a women's prison once," Tony explains. "One of the inmates sent him these adorable Thinking of You cards every week for over a year."
Tim glares at Tony. "It was more like six months."
Brahe's face pinches when he turns to Tim. "Why didn't you tell me, McGee?"
"Because it isn't important, Brahe," he says.
"How could it not be important?" she continues. "I asked you if anything exciting ever happened to you and you said you were born left-handed and you like to use Macs."
"Used to." Tim holds up his index finger. "I used to like to use Macs. And you told me that you don't believe in the Easter bunny and that your plant's name is Rocky."
"Yo Adrienne!" Then, Tony begins humming the theme song to Rocky.
Looking back at her plant, Brahe pouts. "It's Roscoe."
Looking at Tim, Tony mouths Roscoe. All Tim has in response is a confused shrug. When Brahe swivels back to them, they just offer her a bright smile as if she isn't crazy. Because she isn't crazy. Not at all. Not even a little. Tony still doesn't even know whether the plant is real or not.
At the edge of the bullpen, there is movement. A familiar figure haunts the space like a lost ghost, unsure whether he should stay or go.
Schuyler Harris watches them awkwardly. His face is pulled into a slash-mark smile. While Tony used to find it off-putting, he is slowly getting used to it. Especially since Harris took a promotion at the Washington branch last month. All it took, Harris likes to joke, was arresting the agency's director. Tony knows it was Edie Shane's decision to keep the man close because she told him as much.
Harris' presence is enough to send Tim and Brahe scurrying back to their desk. While Tony and Tim socialized with Harris—on Tim's first night at Chuck's bar, he drank too much whiskey neat. Tony thought Tim would get shanked by a group of bikers for complimenting their leather jackets. Instead, the night ended with Tim doing karaoke with the group and coming home with his very own leather jacket. After that adventure, he is as much a mascot at the biker bar as Tony and Harris—they still don't want to be seen fraternizing with the enemy.
And McGee hates when I call him McEasyRider.
Harris sets his sights on Tony. "Agent DiNozzo, a word?"
Tony is nearly out of his chair when Gibbs' phone rings. He holds up his finger in a one second motion at Harris while Gibbs takes the call. Once he hangs up, Gibbs' face turns serious.
"We got a case," he says. "Grab your gear. McGee?"
Tim scoops up his laptop. ""I'll be Abby's lab, Boss."
Gibbs nods at Harris. "And DiNozzo?"
Tony stands up. "Boss?"
"Find your own ride."
And that allows Tony to slowly gather his things. It's an order to deal with Harris and join them at the crime scene. After everything, Gibbs knows not to pry in Tony's dealings with Harris. He tends to ignore Tony's secret meetings with Harris while keeping the Internal Affairs agent at arm's length. On his way out, Gibbs jerks his chin at Harris, who returns the gesture.
Once his team clears out of the bullpen, Tony stands beside his desk. Harris closes the distance between them.
Tony notices the letter in Tony's hands. It's identical to the one Tony's suit jacket.
"Ziva David sent me a letter," Harris says.
Tony removes the envelope from his pocket. The paper is cool and crisp, stiff beneath his fingers. He turns it over to check the address, but his name is still on the front.
"I got one too," Tony says.
Harris smiles again. "Can you believe it's actually over?"
"Over?" Tony repeats as though he can't quite form the word.
Harris' good brow furrows at him. "You didn't read it yet?"
"I'm not drunk enough to deal with it," Tony admits quietly.
"It says that Ziva is confessing, Tony." Harris' use of Tony's first name only happens when they're alone. "I'm not sure why she didn't believe Agent Fornell would tell me, but I suspect your letter likely says the same. Her case won't go to trial. Life will go back to normal."
Harris' expression settles into one that Tony doesn't recognize. Maybe that's what relief looks like on his scarred face. Tony doesn't have the heart to tell him that Ziva David doesn't work that way.
Needing to know exactly what his letter says, Tony rips open the envelope. He skims the words quickly while Harris watches him. They say nothing of real consequence, just that Ziva plans to confess to her crimes and remain incarcerated. She has found a place for herself among the inmates. She is happy here, she writes.
I want to believe it, but I don't know if I can.
Harris rocks back on his feet. "It sounds like things will be back to normal shortly."
"Normal." Tony likes the way the word feels on his tongue. "I forget what that even feels like."
"Do you have plans for Saturday, Tony?" Harris asks.
Tony tilts his head. "Sasha will be over, but I might be able to sneak out. It depends on what we're making. Usually, she watches Diagnosis Murder with her grandmother on Saturday night. Why?"
"Because Uncle Chuck is having another karaoke night at the bar." His smile turns rakish. "He was hoping you and McGee could come."
The thought of Tim taking shots with a group of bikers before belting out Journey in an off-key vibrato still makes him laugh. Tony chooses to ignore how it took him and Harris to nearly carry Tim to their cab. Then, the ensuing hangover they all had after they passed out on Tony's couch.
"I'm surprised McGee is allowed back after last time," Tony says.
"What are you talking about? The regulars loved him." Tony raises his eyebrows and Harris has the grace to look embarrassed. "Almost as much as they like you. They might've finally got you a jacket."
Tony grins. "With patches? Because McGee has patches."
Harris shakes his head. "You have to earn those."
And the thought of it makes Tony grin as he realizes he is finding his way back to a new kind of normal.
His gaze drops to the letter in his hand, one that promises a new kind of hope. The possibility of Ziva David confessing to the crime of espionage and allowing everyone to move on in their own way. Tony holds the letter over his trashcan, closing his eyes as he mutters a silent thank you. At least Ziva has spared them a lengthy trial that would pour salt into the slowly closing wounds. He lets it go and it lands in the metal wastebasket with a resounding plunk.
That will be the last time I think of you, Ziva.
Tony turns back to Harris, who watches him curiously. Harris just tucks his letter back into his jacket. They share a glance, a silent promise to never speak of it again.
Harris straightens his stance as if to signal that their personal time is over. Now, he is all business and Tony hates how the man shifts gears so deftly. Tony grabs his gear. As he goes through the motions, Tony feels lighter and freer than he has in months. It must be what moving on feels like.
"I'm heading out too, Agent DiNozzo," Harris says. "Why don't I give you a ride?"
"Thanks, Schuyler," Tony replies.
Harris' face pinches slightly. "You know how much I hate being called that. Alright, Tony, I call a truce.
Tony laughs. "I think that sounds fair, Harry. But actually, we need to take a detour first."
Harris raises his good eyebrow. "Oh? Where are we headed, Tony?"
"I want to stop by forensics and tell McGee that Ziva is confessing. He should know that there won't be a trial."
They're already headed to the elevators, shoulder-to-shoulder, when Tony glances over. Harris' good eye is fixed on the hallway ahead of them, but his face looks relaxed for the first time since they met. To Tony, he looks like an entirely different person. While they might not be teammates—or even friends, if you ask Harris—Tony is grateful for his help.
It's hard to believe, for the first time, everything seems to get going right. Tim nearly has his field status back. Gibbs isn't nice anymore. If anything, he is right back to being a bastard again. Brahe slid into the team as though she had been there all along. Harris comes by the bullpen as though he and Tony might be on their way to being friends. Before today, Tony can't remember the last time he even thought about Ziva.
The world might not be entirely back to normal just yet, but it's well on its way.
-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-
Author's Note: This is the last chapter of the main story. The epilogue will be up soon!