Chapter Three
I Never Promised You a Rose Garden
Tim McGee arrived at work on Monday morning feeling well-rested and ready to tackle a new work week. They'd successfully wrapped up their case Friday afternoon, so they weren't on call over the weekend. Tim had managed to get some good, uninterrupted writing time and participated in a few online video games. Best of all, Ziva had phoned and asked him to show her his favorite bookstore. They'd even gone for coffee afterwards.
Tim feared for the future of bookstores now that electronic readers were becoming so popular. He had an E-reader, but he also loved the feel of a book in his hands – hard covers with a good weight behind them. Some of his books were so heavy he thought he could use them as weapon if in a pinch.
Not that he'd ever be able to risk harm to his precious treasures.
He had a favorite store where he loved to browse and imagine what it would be like when his own books lined the shelves. He'd sent out his manuscript, and although he knew how unlikely it was that a new, unknown author would hear anything back quickly, he couldn't help eagerly checking his mail each night when he returned home.
He'd told Ziva about the shop – but not about his manuscript. That was private, and his nerves weren't quite ready for anyone else to know. She was a reader, too and was interested in seeing the shop. Tim was proud they'd made enough of a connection for her to call on a rare day off and want to spend time with him.
When she'd first joined NCIS and almost immediately began the back-and-forth sniping with Tony, Tim thought he'd forever be the third man out. He'd really liked Kate, and he missed her. Unlike Ziva, she had a soft side, and Tim's sensitive nature connected with that. Of course, she and Tony were the real partners. As much as they'd bicker and constantly try to get one up on the other, they were united against him as the newcomer. They also worked together seamlessly in the field. They could be snarking and fighting over riding shotgun on the way to a scene, but the second there was an outside threat, they became a united force.
Tim felt safer working behind them because no matter how much they teased; he was confident they would always have his back.
Not that he didn't think Ziva would, as well. She was amazing and probably knew more ways to kill a person than he even knew existed. No, she was competent – the difference was – she saw him as competent, as well. He wasn't eternally seen as a Probie to her. She respected his skills and admired his technical abilities – something neither Gibbs or Tony knew anything about. She'd frequently comment about how under-appreciated he was, and he was beginning to think she was right. The other members of the team all had larger than life personalities, so it was nice that Ziva noticed that his contributions also held weight. Tim enjoyed her company.
He knew Tony wasn't happy that Ziva had joined their team, but he suspected that had more to do with the fact that in their new dynamic, Tony was the third wheel. He didn't think Tony DiNozzo had ever experienced that awkward feeling before, and the part of him that was jealous of Tony's effortless charm with women delighted in the fact that he, dorky Tim McGee, was the one to show him how it felt.
When Ziva surprised him by suggesting they grab a coffee after visiting the bookshop, Tim eagerly accepted. She was not only new to NCIS, but new to DC, as well, and he was happy to show her little things about the city. She was very interested in the people at NCIS, and quizzed Tim about names he wasn't even sure he knew. Tony was the outgoing one who always knew everyone's name. Tim was quieter, usually waiting until people approached him. He thought Ziva would be disappointed, but she simply shared her knowledge and seemed happy to share what gossip she knew. Apparently, one of the secretaries in the typing pool had a massive crush on Tony.
Figures.
Women always tended to fawn all over him, no matter how insensitive Tony could sometimes be. Ziva had a lot of questions about both Tony and Gibbs, and although Tim knew Tony had become annoyed by how much of his past Tim had already given away, he couldn't seem to help himself. Somehow, the conversation always eventually came back to Tony. Besides, it wasn't like the guy didn't openly share every little tidbit of his life outside the office with anyone who would listen, anyway. Then, he'd turn around and pick on Tim for not having an equally engaging social life.
Ziva definitely didn't approve of Tony's pranks and clownish behavior. She said it would never be tolerated at Mossad, and she was furious that he kept checking up on her work. Tony was the Senior Field Agent, but Tim wasn't quite certain where Ziva fell in the pecking order. She wasn't really a Probie, but she wasn't an actual agent, either, and she definitely didn't want Tony to have any kind of authority over her. Tony was Gibbs second-in-command, though, so he didn't think she had much of a choice.
He'd never have the guts to outright tell her that, however. He liked all his organs right where they were.
He was so accustomed to the barbs and put downs in the office that it barely even fazed him anymore, sometimes even giving it back, which was a big change for him. The tension when they were out in the field, however, was new and growing more and more palpable. That had never happened with Kate. No matter how annoying Tony could be in the office, he was always on his game in the field, often seeing things in a way the rest of them missed. Ziva hadn't yet realized it, and Tim wasn't about to point it out. He liked being on Ziva's good side.
He wished they could keep their office dynamic, but find a way to get along and run things as smoothly as they once did in the field. Gibbs had been nearly apocalyptic over the delays during their last case. If Ziva hadn't called to make plans, Tim probably would've spent most of the weekend agonizing over what kind of mood Gibbs would be in upon their return. The nice weekend had forced it from his mind.
As he turned the corner into the bullpen, however, he felt that familiar ball of tension turning uncomfortably in his stomach. Gibbs moods were volatile on a good day. When things weren't running as smoothly as he wanted, he could make Ziva look harmless. Would Gibbs pent-up ire be directed at Tim if he was the first to arrive? Maybe he should've taken a little longer at the coffee shop where he'd picked up his breakfast.
Gibbs' desk was empty, however, although Tony was inexplicably there at this early hour. Except, he wasn't where he should be. Tim instantly became wary.
"Wh- what are you doing at Ziva's desk?" he asked, stopping in his tracks, coffee cup in one hand, a bag with a single doughnut in the other.
He couldn't stop himself from turning to look back at the elevator for Ziva – as if he was somehow involved in whatever prank Tony was pulling simply by his proximity. Ziva liked to sharpen her many knives at her desk, and she even managed to make that look lethal. He shuddered to think what she'd do if she found anyone messing with her desk.
Tony turned, grinning widely without a flicker of guilt or surprise. His blackened eye – which was now more purple in hue – somehow made the wide grin look almost macabre.
"Good morning, McPrompt. How was your weekend? Get any action? "Tony asked, standing up and slipping something into his pocket.
Tim wasn't fooled. He recognized what Tony was trying to hide – he'd been the victim too many times in the past.
"Tony! You can't be serious. She'll… she'll… She can probably kill you even with her fingers glued to that keyboard," Tim said, aghast.
"Relax, McWorrywart. I came to that very same conclusion, so I'll have to think of something else," Tony said, unabashed.
Tim thought he was crazy to even think about playing a prank on a member of the Mossad, and he wanted no part of it. He glanced surreptiously at Ziva's keyboard, but couldn't see any sign of slickness. Tim moved quickly past it, not wanting to be seen anywhere near the scene of a potential crime and settled at his own desk, carefully inspecting his keyboard for any hint of the sticky substance.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony's smirk, and he kicked himself for not being more discreet.
"Don't worry, Tim. I know Superglue is our thing. I wouldn't let anyone else interfere with that bond we share. I'll think of something new for Officer David," Tony said, straight-faced and seemingly sincere.
Tim stared back at him, wide-eyed. He didn't want Superglue to be their thing. What had he done? He should've just let Tony do it and bear the consequences. If he was lucky, and Ziva got violent, maybe Gibbs would even ban Superglue altogether. Why he hadn't done that already was beyond Tim. If he didn't know how foolish a thought it was, he almost suspected Gibbs was amused by it. He knew that was crazy though.
Gibbs wasn't amused by anything – except maybe getting one over on the bad guys.
Tony's serious expression morphed into one of his huge, killer grins, and Tim realized too late he'd been made to look foolish. Again.
"I'll just keep this for another time when it's just the two of us," Tony said, grinning wickedly, as he placed the tube back in his desk and patted the drawer fondly.
"I'll keep that in mind," Tim said dryly.
He desperately wanted to get away from Superglue and back to what he was originally worried about – Gibbs' mood.
"Did you talk to Gibbs after we left on Friday?"
The gleeful smile melted off Tony's face.
"Yeah," he said, turning to his computer and pressing various keys with a little more force than necessary. "Went over the last case."
He didn't say anything more, which was highly unusual for the loquacious DiNozzo. Tim's stomach churned even worse. This didn't bode well. He waited another few minutes to see if Tony would add anything, but the other man just kept pecking at his keyboard. The slow pace grated on his nerves and made Tim's hands twitch. He had to forcefully stop himself from going over there and just typing whatever it was Tony was trying to input himself.
Tony's silence and his hunched shoulders bothered Tim more than it should. He knew there had been a lot of tension between Gibbs and Tony recently. Tim had always been envious of the way they seemed to communicate without actually using words, but that was different now. Nothing had been right in the bullpen for months, and this was just another example. Tim didn't know what to do about it. He fell back on the one thing he was sure would make Tony act… well, more like Tony.
"Hey, I saw that film you were talking about on Saturday night. It was playing on one of those late-night movie channels," Tim said, certain that Tony would take the bait.
Sure enough, the SFA's head shot up, looking over at Tim with interest. "Which one was that? I talk about a lot of movies," he said.
"The Dirty Dozen," McGee replied. It was a war film, which really wasn't his favorite genre, but it was surprisingly enjoyable.
"Oh, 1967 classic directed by Robert Aldrich with an all-star cast. Stands up to the test of time. What did you think?" Tony asked eagerly, his earlier hint of dejection evaporating with the topic.
Tim silently patted himself on the back.
"I liked it… a lot more than I thought I would, actually. Kept picturing Gibbs as one of prisoners," Tim said, shrugging.
"Nah – he would've been the one in charge. Can you really picture him taking orders from anyone?" Tony asked, still grinning, but with a slightly harder edge to his tone.
"You're probably right. I was nearly asleep when it came on," Tim said.
"Oh, no – that's not how you watch this one. You need to have a friend or two over with a couple or more beers. This one is for a night with the guys," Tony said.
Tim shrugged again. Tony never seemed to realize that not everyone had the social circle he did. Tim would never be able to bring himself to just call someone out of the blue just to come over and watch a movie – never mind the fact he doubted any of his friends would ever rush right over, anyway.
"I'll tell you what – next time we'll get together to watch. I have a couple more you might like," Tony said, and Tim thought he might've guessed what Tim had been thinking.
No, that couldn't be right. Tony wasn't a mind reader. Much. Still, he was more pleased with the invitation than he thought he'd be.
"I'd like that," he said, returning Tony's grin.
"Like what?" Ziva interrupted as she entered the bullpen. She dropped her bag behind her desk, scowling, her dark eyes moving back and forth suspiciously between her two grinning teammates. "What are you up to?"
"Good morning to you, too," Tony said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"We're not up to anything," Tim said, slightly taken aback by the bite in her attitude. "We were just talking about our weekends."
"Oh, I see. Did you tell Tony all about our lovely time on Saturday?" Ziva asked, her tone switching from irritation to sweetness in the blink of an eye.
Tony's eyebrows raised. "Did you enjoy the movie, too?" he asked, the earlier pleasure lighting his eyes now deadened.
Ziva's brow furrowed. "Movie? What movie? Tim showed me a delightful bookstore, and I made several purchases. I know books do not interest you, Tony. They are for more serious minds. McGee and I enjoy them," Ziva said haughtily.
"Talk about your books and movies on your own time. What d'you got?" Gibbs asked, turning the corner into the bullpen from the back, steaming cup of coffee in his hand.
"Er… what do we have on what, Boss? Do we have a new case?" Tim asked, perplexed.
Gibbs turned to stare directly at him, looking as if Tim was something disgusting on the bottom of his shoe.
And Tim's goal had been to stay below Gibb's radar. Great.
"Did you go to a crime scene I don't know about, McGee?" Gibbs asked, eyebrows raised.
He had a knack for making Tim feel that all his illustrious degrees were nothing more than a waste of paper.
"Cold cases. Now," Gibbs growled.
"Ri- Right," Tim said, putting his head down. They always worked on cold cases in between the hot ones. Gibbs hated idle hands as much as Tim hated failure.
Before Gibbs had a chance to berate them any further, the elevator dinged, and the Director emerged, chatting with an older gentleman dressed in uniform with an Admirals' insignia. Tim recognized it, recalling the excitement when his father had first been promoted.
The Director and the Admiral strolled past the bullpen and went up the stairs without a word. Tim noticed Gibbs' eyes watching them intently.
"Who was that?" Ziva asked as soon as the Director's door closed, her eyes also focused on the balcony above.
"Admiral Charles Montague," Tony answered, already focused back on his computer.
"And how do you know this? Are you spying on the Director now, Tony?" Ziva asked, hackles raised that Tony was somehow in the know when she wasn't.
Tim had noticed this about her on several occasions. While they'd had coffee, she'd intimated that she was in a position of authority at Mossad, so perhaps she'd grown accustomed to knowing things. She certainly felt she was at the top of the need-to-know chain here at NCIS.
"No, I leave the sneaky spy stuff up to you, Ziva," Tony said, and although he was smiling, his words held a dangerous edge.
"DiNozzo and I worked a case on his ship," Gibbs said gruffly.
He sat at his desk and began firing up his computer. Tim knew that even though he'd turn it on, Gibbs would never use it to do more than glance at his email.
"And why is he here now? Another case? A complication from your previous one?" Ziva asked, turning her attention to Gibbs.
"Unlikely – that case was closed four years ago without complications," Tony said.
"Then why is he with the Director now?' Ziva asked. "Perhaps there were complications you missed."
"I doubt it – but if there's something we need to know, I'm sure we'll be filled in. For now – We. Don't. Need. To. Know," Tony said, biting off each word.
"Cold cases," Gibbs repeated loudly, tossing his empty coffee cup in the trash with some force.
"But if the Admiral has a new case, it will be us investigating, no?" Ziva asked.
"It wasn't a suggestion," Gibbs snapped.
Ziva looked affronted, but she pursed her lips and eventually put her head down. The sound of her angrily jabbing at her keyboard was the only sound in the bullpen for several moments before Gibbs phone rang.
"Yeah, Gibbs," he said.
All eyes turned toward him expectantly.
"Be right up," he said.
/* /* /* /*
Gibbs could feel the eyes of at least one member of his team locked on him as he climbed the stairs towards the Director's office, and it had him fuming. Had he really been favoring Ziva? And if so, was she abusing it? Usually accusations – even true ones – didn't bother him; but this one burned. He was going to have to do something about it, and he hated being backed into a corner.
He didn't get a lot of sleep the night before due to DiNozzo's angry words replaying in his mind. Not only the words, but that damned unfinished pizza. It bothered him more than he could explain. Then, on top of the rough night, he'd arrived in the bullpen to hear McGee and DiNozzo laughing over a film. The sound almost had him nostalgic for happier days before he brutally crushed that feeling. Had things really deteriorated so badly that laughter – DiNozzo's laughter even – seemed foreign and out of place?
She's been grooming him.
When Ziva arrived in the bullpen a moment later, the tension instantly returned. She'd unconsciously proved the validity of DiNozzo's accusations by immediately pitting her two teammates against one another. He'd seen it with his own eyes. DiNozzo had always trusted his judgement in the past, but he was questioning it now. The loss of that unwavering trust stung.
Despite the undeniable connection he felt to the Mossad Officer who'd saved his life and been forced to commit an unspeakable act in order to do it, he couldn't let her destroy his team.
DiNozzo said that Ziva disagreed with everyone except Gibbs, but that particular complaint proved somewhat faulty. She'd argued with his directive that morning. When had he ever tolerated a subordinate's refusal to obey? When had that changed?
Ziva had a real problem with not only taking orders, but the whole chain of command, and he needed to correct those bad habits. He hated that DiNozzo and the Director were right, but he couldn't see an alternative if he wanted the return of his smoothly-functioning team.
"Are you going to order me to trust her?"
DiNozzo's angry words were still chiming in his ears as he strode past Cynthia and right into the Director's office. Jenny was seated at the conference table with her guest. There was a pitcher of water and several glasses between the two. She looked up as he entered.
"Here he is, now. Agent Gibbs, allow me to introduce–"
"How you doing, Gunny? Good to see you," the Admiral said warmly, standing to shake Gibbs' hand.
"Admiral Montague," Gibbs said, ignoring Jenny's surprised expression.
The Admiral's thinning hair was flattened slightly from wearing his cover, but it was cut short and precise, neatly trimmed. Everything about him was rigidly in place except his grey eyebrows, which were lengthy and stuck out at odd angles. Gibbs remembered him as a genial sort who was still able to run a tight ship.
"Every once in a while, I get wind that you've ruffled a few more feathers, but you always seem to get your man," the Admiral said, sinking back into his chair. "I hope you can help me with something of a personal nature."
"A personal nature, sir?" Gibbs asked.
The Admiral winced. "Well, the personal part is that I'd like this kept as confidential as possible."
"Exactly what is it you want kept confidential, and what are you asking from us, Admiral? I'm sure you're aware that if a crime has been committed, it's our sworn duty to investigate," Jenny said.
"I'm aware of that, Director. The reason I came to you is that I believe it's become a threat to National Security," the Admiral said.
That got Gibbs' attention. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze zeroing in on the man beside him. Gibbs' sharp mind picked up on the slight tension in his body and the heaviness in the Admiral's words.
"What threat, Charlie?" he asked, switching to the Admiral's surname.
The Admiral took a deep breath as if steeling himself.
"My son, Lieutenant Eric Montague works at the Naval Surface Warfare Center – NSWC – in Philadelphia. He's a Marine Engineer, and he's been going through a rough spell in his personal life. He and his wife have separated, and I believe Eric has been drinking more that he should," the Admiral said, pausing to sip the water Jenny placed in front of him.
"You don't have to tell me that the end of a marriage is difficult, but what does this have to do with National Security?" Gibbs asked.
"Eric told me that he was approached at a bar by someone who he owes some money. He said he was intoxicated, so he couldn't remember a lot of the details, but he said this person seemed to suggest he could pay off his debt by giving him some information. The man asked a lot of questions about the weapons systems on various ships they've worked on at NSWC."
The hair on the back of Gibbs' neck stood on end. "And he didn't report it?" he asked sharply.
"Let him finish, Jethro," Jenny said, spearing him with her eyes.
There was nothing Gibbs hated more than waiting, but he knew she was right. They needed all the details, so they were going to have to go at the Admiral's pace – then he could decide when to bring his son in for questioning.
"Eric said that when he wouldn't confirm anything, the man insisted that he'd have to pay up one way or another. The place was packed, and he lost sight of him in the crowd. He said he was so drunk that he'd forgotten about it until the next time," the Admiral said, grimacing.
"The next time?" Gibbs asked, his temper slipping.
Jenny scowled at him again.
"Yes. He said that he was at the same bar, and he was approached again, but this time the man wasn't alone. He said they were very persuasive that it would be an easy way to settle his debt. When he again refused, they tried to force him to come outside the bar. Eric made a scene, and the Bouncers broke things up. He said he was going to tell me about it, but a situation arose at work, and he pushed it back again," the Admiral said, sighing.
He was clearly disappointed with his son's faulty decision making.
"He obviously told you eventually. How long ago did this happen?" Jenny asked.
"Both times were within the last two weeks, but over the weekend, things might have escalated. His roommate disappeared – simply hasn't returned to their apartment. Paul is a civilian engineer who also works at NSWC. He let Eric stay with him after Shelly threw him out, and he's the one who's dragged my son out of a bar on more than one occasion. Eric said Paul might've stayed the night with a lady friend, but he'd never just not show up for work this morning. He's convinced it's related to these men at the bar," the Admiral said gravely.
"Where is your son now?" Gibbs asked.
"He's at work in Philadelphia. He called me from there. I told him not to leave, and I came right here," the Admiral said, hanging his head.
"I'll send someone to pick him up," Gibbs said.
"Discreetly," the Admiral said, all traces of his previous vulnerability gone and the steel back in his voice. "We don't know what this is, or even if the two are connected, but it has the potential to ruin Eric's career before we're even able to find out. I'd like to avoid that if possible."
Gibbs was about to say that National Security and a missing civilian trumped a reputation, but Jenny spoke first.
"You have my word, Admiral, that we'll do what we can to keep this confidential. It's NCIS policy not to reveal the details of any current investigation. Agent Gibbs will ensure your son's safety, and we can put him into protective custody if we feel it's necessary. Isn't that right, Agent Gibbs?" Jenny asked pointedly.
Gibbs nodded tightly. "Yeah. One of my agents used to work in Philadelphia. He's familiar with the area. I'll have him meet your son at NSWC and bring him back for questioning."
"There'll be no badges or taking him into custody. If anyone notices, it'll just look like two friends meeting up after work," Jenny said, her eyes once again pinning Gibbs to stress that she meant it.
"And what about Paul?" the Admiral asked.
"Once we talk with your son, we'll know better what we're dealing with. He might turn up by then," Gibbs said, not believing a word he said. His gut was telling him there was something going on here, and he suspected the Admiral knew it, too.
"And what should I do in the meantime?" the Admiral asked.
"It's a two-and-a-half-hour drive to Philadelphia. You're going to have to give us some time and let us get to work. I promise that I'll keep you informed of our progress," Jenny said, standing up and indicating the meeting was at a close.
The Admiral's eyes were on Gibbs, however. "I'm hoping you still have that magic touch, Gunny," he said.
"No such thing as magic, but I won't stop until I get some answers."
bNOTE:/b FFN readers, the alert and messaging system is down AGAIN. It's on their end to fix, but I am responding to the reviews, so you can go to your account if you want to see them.
Melinda's NCIS Rule Number One: Always leave a comment – it keeps the author motivated. Thanks very much to all who take the time to share your thoughts.
