perpetual_motion (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
perpetual_motion) wrote2010-07-02 07:25 pm
perpetual_motion) wrote2010-07-02 07:25 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Love in the Aftermath [1/2] Gibbs/DiNozzo (NCIS)
Title: Love in the Aftermath
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: R
Summary: Season 4 didn't happen. Or it did, but it started a completely different way. (AKA Gibbs, DiNozzo, the team, and a merry chase.)
Disclaimer: Lies and bullshit, of course.
Author's Notes: This was supposed to be a little bit of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic fun. Then it exploded and got everywhere. Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
catheral_junki for awesome betaing. Much love to shoshannagold and lasergirl for keeping me company while I wrote.
Dedication: Fortigriswolf, who put up the prompt and let me run away with it, with no guarantee that I would actually finish what I started. I hope you like it.
Love in the Aftermath
By Perpetual Motion
"You fired him for WHAT?!"
"Insubordination." Jenny's voice is scratchy due to static, but Gibbs can clearly hear the pissed-off edge in her voice. "I needed him to take a case. He refused."
"What was it?"
"That's not--"
"What the hell was it?"
"Ask as much as you want, Jethro," Jenny's voice is pure steel. "It's still not your concern."
"And you're calling to tell me, because?"
"Because I figure your former team is about five minutes away from making claims and calling you to come back and play Team Dad, and I wanted you to hear it from the horse's mouth."
"Not the words I'd use," Gibbs growls and disconnects the call before Jenny can respond.
Forty minutes and three phone calls to McGee and Abby later, Gibbs has the information. Jenny wanted Tony to pretend to fall in love with a woman whose father Jenny's been trying to snare for years.
"You confused Tony's image with Tony's actual personality," he snaps in greeting when he calls Jenny back. "And now you've lost the best investigator you've got."
"He's not--"
"No, he is, Jen. And you fucked it up." Gibbs claps his phone shut, weighs it in the palm of his hand, considers throwing it into the ocean. Before he can lift his arm, it rings again. "What?" he growls without checking the ID.
"Oooh, cranky Boss-Man," Abby laughs a little when Gibbs growls, but not as much as she would normally laugh.
"Abs? What's wrong?"
"Um...Tony's gone Splitsville, boss. He didn't come in today to try and get hired back, so I tried to call his cell to tell him you were on the case, and the cell went straight to voice mail. I got concerned, so I bribed McGee to go by his place after you called the last time, and McGee says the place is cleaned out. Like, in a Tony-packed-all-his-stuff-and-left way, not in a Tony's-been-captured-and-possibly-horribly-murdered, way. Ziva and McGee have been arguing over whether or not to go over and treat the place like a scene."
"Shit." Gibbs grinds his teeth, runs a hand over his mustache. "Who doesn't want to go over there?"
"McGee."
"Remind McGee that it's bad form to accept the sudden disappearance of a fellow agent, no matter how certain he is that said fellow agent left of his own free will. And find me a flight."
"Already booked you. You leave in three hours. Also, it's kind of chilly here, so pack a sweatshirt."
Gibbs grins despite his anger. "Tell me this isn't some freaky plan to drag me back in."
"Just when you think you're out," Abby quips, but her voice wavers. "It's not," she promises. "It's really, totally not."
Gibbs sighs. "Didn't think so."
"He's okay, right?"
"He's fine, Abs. He's just gone to ground to lick his wounds."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely."
*
The flight is cramped, and the plane smells weird, and Gibbs can't get his ears to pop. When he lands in DC, Abby's there to greet him, waving her arms like he's not going to spot her. "McGee and Ziva are at Tony's place now. I called them while you were landing, and they said the only thing that's weird so far is that he left a couple of movies and his dining room table. Otherwise, it just looks like he moved out. No signs of anything hinky."
"When'd he split?"
"Last time anyone saw him was Friday night after he talked with Madame Director. Ziva saw him storm out of her office, and he left without saying goodnight. They talked to the neighbors. Everyone remembers seeing someone moving, but no one could confirm it was Tony. Ziva said one of the neighbors couldn't even recognize a picture of him. They say he didn't really talk to them much."
"We work crazy hours. It's not surprising."
"It's a little sad, though."
Gibbs gives her a quick, one-armed hug as they walk to the baggage claim. "What else?"
"I checked his bank account and credit cards, but he must have done this with cash, because there's no charges to any movers or anything."
"The place is cleaned out, no one saw him go, and the last you all saw of him was him storming out of Jenny's office."
Abby nods. "Yup."
Gibbs shakes his head. "Jenny pissed him off good, then, if he moved this fast to get lost."
"Yeah." Abby reaches into her bag, pulls out a file. "It's everything McGee and I could pull on the La Grenouille case. It's pretty hinky."
Gibbs flips through the file as they wait at baggage claim. La Grenouille is an arms dealer, a big one, and he has a smart, hard-working, dark-haired daughter who's just Tony's type. Except, Gibbs thinks and bites back a smirk, when it's not. "How long has Jenny been working on this guy?"
"Long. Like, super-long. Like, obsessively creepy long. Imagine your boat was an arms dealer." Abby grins when Gibbs glares. "I'm just saying."
"What else do we know?" Gibbs asks as he grabs his duffle from the baggage carousel.
"Not much," Abby admits. "Ducky's calling the local hospitals just to double-check, and we're not asking the Director for help because…well, it's kind of her fault."
"It's entirely her fault," Gibbs snaps. He hands the file back to Abby, holds out his hand for the car keys. "What's the number one way to get Tony to quit a job?"
"Take away his mousse?"
"Abs."
She grins, bumping Gibbs' shoulder. "Sorry. Trying the whole, be-cheerful-in-the-face-of-bad-news thing."
"I get it, but I need Serious Abs."
Abby gives him a little salute. "You got it, Gibbs."
"So name me the one thing that'll make Tony quit a job."
"Assume his general skankho-ness means he's willing to fake being in love with someone."
"And this is bad, because?"
"Because for all his skankho-ness Tony actually wants all the white picket fence and kitchen curtains stuff."
"Exactly."
They fall into silence, cutting through the terminal to the exit, Abby leading the way to the car in short-term parking. "Also," she adds after they put Gibbs' bag in the trunk and settle into their seats, "it probably wasn’t a good idea to hit him up for the assignment when his boyfriend had just totally abandoned him and moved to Mexico and grown a creepy mustache."
"Abs—"
"You did, too."
Gibbs sighs and flexes his hands on the wheel. "I had—"
"Shut up." She leans back in her seat and crosses her arms.
Gibbs considers how to argue his way out of it, how to explain to Abby that he hadn't actually meant to walk away from Tony, how the whole thing had been spur of the moment and kind of stupid and probably slightly post-traumatic, and once he'd come out of his shock, he was already in Mexico, had been for a month, and Tony hadn't called. "My moustache is not creepy."
"You're right. It's not. As long as you don't drive around in a windowless van or talk to any kids."
To be fair, Gibbs thinks as he pays the parking attendant and merges into the exiting traffic, he didn't call either.
*
Gibbs has to stop outside of Tony's apartment and take a deep breath before going inside. It's still a shock to see the bare walls and empty shelves. All the furniture is gone, save the dining room table, and on it are three DVDs. There are no books, no magazines, no random socks. Even the little shredder Tony kept by the door to get rid of junk mail is gone.
"Boss," McGee greets Gibbs with a nod. "We've been combing the place for the last four hours. There's nothing. Ziva's even pulled out the u-pipes from under the sinks."
"They're clean as a thistle," Ziva adds. The two seconds of silence after she says it, Gibbs realizes, is the rest of them waiting for Tony to correct her.
"Whistle, Ziva," McGee finally says, but there's no humor in his voice, no grin on his face. His shoulders slump for just a second. "It's 'clean as a whistle.'"
"Gloves, McGee," Gibbs orders before the atmosphere could get worse. McGee hands him an extra pair from his pocket, and Gibbs snaps them on before laying out the three DVDs on the table. "Sabrina, Love in the Afternoon, and An Affair to Remember."
"Two of them star Audrey Hepburn," McGee says at Gibbs' look.
"They are all in black and white," Ziva adds.
"Most of his collection is," Gibbs tells them. "When was the last time you heard Tony mention a movie that came in color?"
"Speed," Abby says, "but I think that's because I made him watch it."
"I don't remember the last time Tony mentioned a movie," Ziva admits, and her matter-of-fact tone makes Gibbs' shoulder twitch. Tony's movies quotations have always been one of the barometers Gibbs could use to gauge his mood. The more quotes and trivia, the happier Tony was.
"Abs, take these back to the lab. Watch them. Find me a theme." Gibbs holds out a hand, and Ziva hands him an evidence bag. "And double-check them for any hints."
"On it." Abby takes the evidence bag and starts to leave. She stops, turns back to Gibbs, and kicks him in the ankle.
"Abs!"
"I couldn't do it in the car. I'll call you when I have something," she says and flounces off.
Ziva and McGee exchange a look that Gibbs can't read. They have a conversation with their eyebrows before playing a game of rock-paper-scissors. Ziva loses and curses.
"What?" Gibbs snaps.
"We know you and Tony had sex." Ziva states.
"Were in a relationship," McGee rushes to correct. "And we don't know," he jabs Ziva in the ribs with his elbow. "We just kind of…guessed." McGee presses his mouth closed, and Gibbs can tell he's fighting the urge to babble uncontrollably on the topic.
"What made you guess?"
"You left," Ziva says, because McGee now has a hand over his mouth and is blushing bright pink, "and Tony got very quiet. And serious. It was…" she purses her lips. "…uneasy."
"It was weird," McGee blurts out. "It was really weird. And we thought something had happened, so we—"
"He and Abby pulled Tony's phone logs from his personal cell." Ziva interrupts. "You learned how to text."
"And we read some of his e-mails—"
"All right," Gibbs says before they can keep listing privacy violations they've committed. "That gets that out of the way." He thinks for a moment, watching McGee and Ziva as they try not to fidget. "Get back to headquarters," he orders. "McGee, tell Director Sheppard what's going on. Tell her I'm in town to help."
"I—"
"You don't rifle through your boss' personal life, McGee."
McGee shuts his mouth. "Yes, Boss," he mutters.
"Ziva, you get back and start making calls. Get Tony's description out to the locals, the airports, the bus stations, the train stations, and the rental car places, then stretch it out two hundred miles for every hour you don't hear back."
"Got it."
"And once McGee finishes getting yelled at by the Director, go in there and calm her the hell down."
Ziva's mouth quirks, but she nods and starts to lead McGee from the apartment.
"Question," McGee says as Ziva opens the door. Gibbs raises his eyebrows in encouragement. "Everything we're seeing says that Tony left of his own free will. All the evidence paints a picture that shows that Tony chose to take all his stuff and leave town because he was fired. Why—"
"You don't leave a man behind, McGee. Especially a man who leaves his movies."
"You think he wants us to find him," McGee says.
"Yes."
"What if he just left enough stuff behind so we knew he was okay?"
"Then he shouldn't have left anything." Gibbs watches McGee mull that over.
"All right," McGee says after a pause. He and Ziva turn to leave. "You coming?" he calls over his shoulder.
"I'll catch a cab back. I'm going to have a look around."
"We'll call when we have something," McGee promises and waits for Gibbs' nod before closing the door behind them.
Gibbs walks from the dining area, across the living room, and down the hall to the master bedroom. He stands in the middle of the room, right about where Tony's bed had ended. There aren't even dents in the carpet from the bed frame. Gibbs gets down on his knees, takes off his gloves, and runs his hand over the carpet. It's dry on the top, but still damp down near the carpet mat. Gibbs pulls out his phone and dials McGee's number.
"McGee," he answers, his voice shaking; Gibbs guesses that McGee lost the coin toss and is currently at the mercy of Ziva's driving.
"Did you pull carpet samples?"
"Yes, Boss."
"Did you notice the carpet was still damp near the bottom?"
The ten seconds of silence answer the question before McGee says, "No." Gibbs waits for the stuttering apology, but McGee just sounds competent. "We didn't want to take off our gloves and contaminate the scene in case we found something that pointed to Tony being taken."
"Good job, McGee. Get the samples to Abs. Have her run whatever gizmo tells us what stuff is made of. See if we can track down who shampooed the carpet."
"Got it, Boss."
Gibbs closes the phone and stands up, walking from the master bedroom to the master bathroom, checking the medicine cabinet and under the sink. He walks back down the hallway, through the living room, and into the kitchen, opens all the cabinets, the fridge, reaches his hand down the disposal. Nothing. He stares at the table for a long moment. The table he'd made for Tony after Tony had teased him about spending so much time with the boat. Everything else is gone, Gibbs thinks, but the table is there. Those three movies were there. It's a message for him. He's certain. He wonders what it means.
*
Ducky is pacing back and forth in front of the building when Gibbs gets out of the cab. "Oh, there you are," he says like Gibbs has just been a little late getting back from a crime scene, rather than mostly out-of-touch for close to three months. "I was sent to warn you."
"About what?"
"Young Timothy has been getting—as Ziva succinctly put it—"bitched out" for the past ten minutes. She thought you would care for some warning, and I am the person Director Sheppard can't watch from her office window."
"She should be pissed," Gibbs mutters. "She lost DiNozzo. She'll be lucky to find two agents who can do his level of work."
"Yes, of course," Ducky replies, tone mild. "You came back from Mexico to help find Anthony because he's such a fine agent."
Gibbs tries to glare. Ducky merely looks back, a placid, unaffected air about him. "All right. Fine. I deserved that."
"And so much more, but we'll concern ourselves with that later."
Gibbs grins in spite of his mood. "Thanks, Duck. Anything from your phone calls?"
"No, and I won't pretend to be glad of the lack of news. I called every emergency room and urgent care center within a hundred miles, and no one has an Anthony DiNozzo on their records, nor any name similar, nor a description that matters."
"That matters?"
"There were some tall John Does with similar builds, but comparison of identifying marks were not a match."
Gibbs claps Ducky on the shoulder, turns him towards the building. "Thanks, Duck."
"It is my pleasure and my duty, Jethro." Ducky pushes the button for the elevator. "Although it should have been yours."
Gibbs sighs. "We're doing this now?"
"Of course not." Ducky leads the way into the elevator, pushes the button for third floor. He presses the emergency button halfway between the first and second floors. "We're doing this now, where no one is around to hear it."
Gibbs sighs again. "Go ahead," he prompts.
"No defense of your actions, Jethro?"
"Like you'll listen if I go first."
"I would listen," Ducky promises, "but not for very long."
Gibbs chuckles dryly. "That's what I figured."
There's silence for a moment, Ducky sizing up Gibbs, Gibbs standing still and letting him. "You left him, Jethro," Ducky says. "He was a very nonchalant wreck for weeks. "
"Duck—"
Ducky doesn't raise his voice. "I am not finished." He waits for Gibbs' nod. "Director Sheppard offered him the chance to run a team in Spain. He turned her down. It would have been better pay, a new country, and a chance to truly use his skills without your shadow hanging on him. I think he stayed here because he didn't want the team disbanded. If he went away and the team disbanded, then you were actually gone." Ducky pauses for a beat. "And you didn't call."
"He didn't call me."
"Because you are such an approachable fellow, Jethro." Before Gibbs can respond, Ducky pushes the emergency button again, and the elevator jerks as it restarts. "While he did not storm out because of you, do remember that he's had a very hard few months because of you."
Gibbs has the urge to shuffle his feet and look embarrassed. He meets Ducky's eyes instead. "I will," he promises. "But let me go get yelled at first, okay?"
"Of course." Ducky smiles, all benign good humor. "Best of luck."
The door opens before Gibbs can grumble at him. Ziva is standing in front of the elevator, arms crossed, her stance wide and her hips thrust like she's ready to throw a punch.
"The Director has been yelling at him for seventeen minutes," she says. "I would interrupt, but you said I should wait until after she had finished with McGee."
Ducky chuckles unrepentantly as Gibbs steps off the elevator. "I am going to call some of the local general practitioners," he says when Gibbs turns to glare at him. "I shall keep you updated."
"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs says through clenched teeth. He turns towards Ziva again when the elevator doors close. "Any hits from the description?"
"Not yet. I have nine minutes before I send it out the first two hundred miles."
"Keep me updated." Gibbs pauses at the bottom of the stairs. The blinds are drawn on Jenny's outer office. "I'm going to go rescue McGee."
"Do not die." Ziva orders as she turns and walks to her desk.
Gibbs takes the stairs two at a time and ignores Jenny's assistant when she yelps his name in surprise.
"Agent Gi—" is as far as she gets before Gibbs throws open Jenny's office door.
"There you are," Jenny says, sarcasm dripping off her words. "Agent McGee, you may go."
"I'd rather—" McGee starts to say.
"McGee. Out." Gibbs orders.
McGee's eyes widen a fraction. "No."
"Excuse me?" Jenny snaps at the same time Gibbs says, "What?"
"I'm the senior agent in charge at the moment," McGee explains. "Letting you into this investigation is my responsibility."
Before Gibbs can respond, Jenny cuts in. "You are not the senior agent in charge, Agent McGee. Agent David—"
"Is technically on loan from Mossad and only has a year's experience with NCIS," McGee interrupts. He straightens his shoulders. "I have more field experience as an NCIS field agent than Agent David, and I will take responsibility for my actions."
Gibbs grabs McGee by the shoulder. "McGee—"
"Mr. Gibbs," McGee interrupts, "the team is my responsibility."
Under his hand, Gibbs can feel the controlled tremor running through McGee's body. He shakes McGee's shoulder and lets go. "Sorry, Agent McGee," he says sincerely. "Didn't mean to step on your toes."
"My toes, on the other hand," Jenny interjects, "You're not worried about at all."
"No," Gibbs agrees, "not really."
Jenny rolls her eyes and slaps her palms onto her desk. "You're retired, Jethro," she says, tone clipped. "You don't get to show up just for spite."
"This isn't spite. This is correcting a mistake."
Jenny arches her eyebrows. "Oh?"
"DiNozzo's one of the best agents who's ever walked into headquarters—"
"I've got plenty of other good agents, thank you."
"Good agents, yes. But not DiNozzo-level agents. McGee comes close, but he's still got a few tricks to learn." Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs see McGee stand up a little straighter. "He's one the best undercover agents NCIS has ever had, and you sent him packing."
"I didn't send him packing," Jenny says. "He disobeyed a direct order from a supervisor, which is insubordination. I gave him the chance to reconsider, and he said he wouldn't."
"Because you asked him to whore himself out, and he said no."
Jenny's eyes flash anger. "I asked him to fulfill his duties as an agent, and you—"
"Shouldn't know about the assignment," Gibbs interrupts. "I know this part pretty well by now. The point is, you shouldn't have asked DiNozzo to fake a long-term relationship."
"And why not?"
Because he's already kept one a secret, Gibbs thinks. "Because he actually takes relationships seriously."
"Agent DiNozzo is notorious—"
"Yeah, yeah," Gibbs overrides her. "Good undercover agents are always notorious for something."
Jenny clenches her jaw, scrapes her fingernails across her desk. "If you're implying—"
"I'm not. It's a statement of fact. I was known as a womanizer, too, if you recall."
Jenny stands up straight, plants her hands on her hips. "Whatever Agent DiNozzo was known for, and whatever you think I did wrong in handling him, you're still retired, Jethro. And I won't allow you to storm in and steamroll over me to start an unnecessary investigation."
"Tony's been missing for two days," McGee interjects.
"Agent Dinozzo has been fired," Jenny snaps, "and it is not the concern of this office where he is now."
"His apartment was empty," McGee interrupts. "Except—"
"I don't care, Agent McGee," Jenny says. "If there's no sign of foul play, there's no reason for an investigation. I will not waste the time and resources of this department so you can hunt down a teammate who has decided to run away and sulk."
Gibbs says nothing, watching the way McGee shifts his weight from foot to foot. "Director Sheppard," McGee says, and the respect in his voice is undermined by the disgust that rides beneath it. "I have six weeks leave saved up. I have been informed by one of the on-staff psychologists that as soon as I wish to take this leave, it will be granted immediately for the benefit of my mental health."
Jenny's eyebrows arch again. "Are you threatening me, Agent McGee?"
"No, Ma'am," and the disgust is gone from McGee's voice. He's a perfect, composed agent. "It's simply notice for when I don't show up tomorrow. I'm feeling a bit…unbalanced."
"I'm sure you are." Jenny glares at Jethro. "Agent McGee, you're dismissed."
"Yes, Ma'am." McGee turns on his heel and leaves the office.
"I'll get out of your hair," Gibbs says before Jenny can use the deep breath she's just pulled in. "I'm just a retired agent, after all."
"That's a very good idea," she hisses.
Jethro makes tracks, slamming both doors as he leaves. At the bottom of the stairs, Ziva and McGee are both waiting for him. "Impressive, McGee," Gibbs says.
"Thanks, Boss."
Gibbs wants to ask where McGee learned to be so forthright, but he knows the answer. Tony's brand of teasing, insulting respect has shored up more than one agent. "What about you?" he asks Ziva.
"I also have vacation time and a worried psychologist," she says.
Gibbs checks his watch, then looks over his shoulder up the stairs. "We've got ten minutes, tops, before she comes to check that you made good on your threat, McGee."
"Six," Ziva corrects. "Her temper always shortens when you show up."
"Your moustache probably isn't helping," McGee adds.
Gibbs smacks him on the back of the head. "Rule 24," he reminds McGee and leads the way to the elevator.
"Rule 24?" Ziva asks.
"There's a distinct difference between bravery, courage, and smartass remarks," McGee supplies as they load into the elevator and ride to the basement in silence, McGee rubbing the back of his head.
"Nothing yet!" Abby yells over the music when they walk in. "Except, of course, for one little thing."
"Atta girl," Gibbs says, and Abby beams at him. "What've you got?"
"I did a little research on those movies—"
"You were supposed to watch them."
"I know, Gibbs, but Wikipedia is so much faster."
"Wiki-what?"
Abby waves a hand. "Never mind. The point is, I found out some stuff on those movies."
"Which you were supposed—"
"To watch, yeah. But you need information now, right?"
Gibbs sighs and nods. "All right. Let me hear it."
Abby holds up a fist and pokes out her index finger. "One, two of them are based in New York, and the other is based in Paris. Two, two of the movies have Audrey Hepburn. Three—and I think this is the one that matters—they all share a theme." She beams.
"Which is?" Gibbs prompts her, and she beams a little more.
"They're all May-December romances."
Gibbs blinks. He hears McGee choke and Ziva stifle a laugh. "And?" he asks.
Abby rolls her eyes. "And they were left on a table that looked really well-made, but also looks really similar to the wood you—"
"Thanks, Abs," Gibbs cuts her off. "When can we get the carpet samples?"
"The centrifuge needs another twenty minutes."
"Call McGee when you have it. We should be kicked out by then."
"Have fun!" Abby calls as they exit. "If anyone asks, I haven't seen you!"
Ducky meets them at the door of the morgue. "I have nothing new," he says, "and I've received an official e-mail from the Director to pass along no information."
"Unofficially?" Gibbs prompts.
"Mr. Palmer informs me he can continue to send out Anthony's descriptions in your two-hundred mile pattern."
"Thanks, Duck."
"Do you think he's gone overseas?" Ducky asks. "Abigail mentioned one of the films was set in Paris."
Gibbs considers the question for a moment. He glances at McGee and Ziva. They both shrug. "No," Gibbs says. "He didn't."
"Why not?" McGee asks.
"Because two of the movies are in New York."
"And?" Ziva prompts as Gibbs leads the way out of the building.
"And the other one he just likes," Gibbs replies, thinking about the night they watched it, the first night he'd gone to Tony's, and the next morning, when Tony had put his feet up at work and showed off an anklet made of a silver ball key chain like Hepburn had worn to tease Gary Cooper. How he'd compared Gibbs to Gary Cooper and how Kate had told him to quit being weird. At the end of the day, as they took the elevator to the parking garage, Tony had offered to whisk him away to New York, take the train like Audrey Hepburn and Gary Cooper.
"Without the voice over," he'd added with a grin. "Which had to be dubbed in later because the decency council didn't want people to think Audrey Hepburn and Gary Cooper were living in sin."
"Decency council wouldn't like us much, then."
Tony had shrugged and beamed. "We'll make our own voice over."
"Gibbs?" Ziva asks, and the way she says it tells Gibbs she's had to say it more than once.
"And the third movie ends in New York," Gibbs says, pulling himself back to the task at hand."
"We're going to New York?" McGee asks.
"We're going to New York." Gibbs confirms.
"Where in New York?" Ziva asks.
"I'll know when I get there."
"Train?" McGee asks.
"We'll drive. You two make whatever calls you need to get your leave. If we do this, we're doing it so you still have jobs when we come back."
"You don’t have a car, Boss."
"We'll rent one. There's a company up on Barnett." When he's met with silence, Gibbs turns around. "What?" he barks.
"They let you rent cars?" Ziva asks.
"Yes," Gibbs growls. "I don't crash."
"I don't either," Ziva replies, and Gibbs leaves she and McGee to debate the definition of "crash"—McGee says it includes shrubs, Ziva says it doesn't—as Gibbs flags down another cab and shoves them into it ahead of him.
*
The man at the rental company is overly-polite, calling Gibbs and McGee "Sir" and going so far as to refer to Ziva as "Miss." She raises and eyebrow and rests her hand on the butt of her gun. The man stutters once and stops talking to her completely.
"If you'll just sign where I've highlighted," he requests. Gibbs scrawls his signature as McGee's phone rings.
"McGee." He pulls out his notebook and tosses it on the counter, scrawling a name and number. "Thanks, Abs." He closes his phone. "The chemicals in the carpet are high-grade. Abby called around. There are two local places that use them."
"Either of them a chain?"
"In New York?" McGee guesses. He starts dialing before Gibbs can confirm, following behind Gibbs and Ziva as they walk into the parking lot and load into the SUV. "First one's completely local," he says. "The second is originally based in Long Island, owned by a woman named Susanne Paddington. She's expanded the business southward in the last few years."
"Paddington…" Gibbs mutters as he pulls into traffic. He's heard it, he knows.
"It is a bear," Ziva says from the backseat. "He wears a coat and hat."
"It's DiNozzo's mother's maiden name," Gibbs says as the information slides into place. "I bet it's a family business."
"He doesn't talk to his family," McGee says. "Why would he use their business?"
"To clue us in," Gibbs explains. "Because he's pissed off, but he wants us to know he's okay."
"The same way he left the movies and the table?"
"Yeah," Gibbs answers, but he's not sure he believes it. Tony may have just been in a hurry and had to call in a favor from some cousin or aunt. McGee and Ziva don't ask any more questions, and they travel in silence until Ziva's phone goes off.
"Agent David."
Gibbs can't hear the other side of the conversation, but he sees the way Ziva goes tense. He spots an exit sign with gas station logos and cuts off two lanes of traffic to get on the ramp. Ziva's still on the phone when he pulls up to the pump, and Gibbs points to McGee. "Coffees all around and snacks."
"What—"
"Doesn't matter."
McGee glances over his shoulder at Ziva, gives Gibbs a nod. "Honk twice if I take too long," he says, and he scrambles out of the car.
Gibbs turns in his seat to watch Ziva finish the call. "I see," she says. "I understand." She disconnects the call with a jab of her finger and glares past Gibbs. "Director Sheppard is displeased," she says, voice even. "I am," Ziva purses her lips like she's sucked a lemon, "defecting."
"We can leave you here," Gibbs offers. "You can get back to headquarters, tell her you were trying to ferret out information."
"She will not believe it."
"You could make her believe you."
Ziva looks Gibbs in the eyes. "No. I have built my bed. I will lie in it."
The two-second pause happens again, and Gibbs can't bring himself to correct her. "I'll do what I can to keep you on the team," he promises.
"You're coming back?" she asks. "If you do not come back, you can't do much."
"Maybe."
"And you will shave the moustache when you return?"
Gibbs rolls his eyes. "Shut up." He turns around to face forward again, catches Ziva's smile in the rearview. He taps the horn twice, and after exactly ten seconds, McGee comes out of the gas station, coffees in a carrying tray, a plastic bag of snacks in his other hand.
"Ready then?" McGee asks as he passes out the coffee.
"Ready," Ziva says.
"Ready," Gibbs confirms. He takes a long draw of his coffee and pulls out of the gas station, merging back into traffic at a hard enough angle that even Ziva looks a little fearful when he glances in the mirror.
*
Abby calls again as they start seeing exits for New York City. "I've been checking for Tony's phone signal since the other day," she says, her voice echoing when McGee turns on speakerphone. "It blipped about an hour ago. He's at a hotel in Long Island. It's called Danfords. It's pretty swanky, and they say they don't have an Anthony DiNozzo in their records. Permission to hack."
"Denied." Gibbs switches lanes to take the exit towards Long Island. "We'll handle it in person. Let Ducky know you got the signal. Have him cancel the search."
"Already done. Also, the Director's been circulating a memo that says you're not allowed at headquarters, Gibbs, and anyone caught assisting you in any type of investigation is going to get suspended without pay."
"Abs—"
"Got it covered. I had to run out for another Caf Pow, anyway. Seemed like a good time to make a phone call."
"Good job, Abs."
"Aww, Gibbs, you're so sweet."
"Abs."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going. Anyone asks, you're a double-agent, and I'm selling secrets."
"Abs."
"Kidding! And I'm nowhere near headquarters, so don't worry about me. Just get Tony back here. McGee won't bring me Caf Pows."
"Because you start to vibrate," McGee interjects.
"And babble more," Ziva adds.
"We're on it, Abs," Gibbs tells her. "We'll call you when we know something."
"You'd better. I still know more about computers than you, even if you have figured out texting. Hey, do you know about sexting?"
"Goodbye, Abs," Gibbs says, and McGee disconnects the call. "Don't define it," he orders as Ziva starts to smirk. "I can figure it out on my own. Stay on task."
The rest of the ride to Long Island is silent. Gibbs parks a block and a half from the hotel and holds up his hand before they all pile out. "We're civilians," he says. "We're three people looking for a friend."
"You want us to take our guns off?" McGee asks.
"No. Just make sure they can't be seen." Gibbs waits for them to rearrange their jackets, then he nods. "All right. Let's go. Follow my lead."
The front desk clerk is a man in his forties or fifties. His tie is perfectly centered, the color matching the tiles on the lobby floor, and his hair is slicked back from his forehead. He eyes Gibbs, McGee, and Ziva as they walk up to the desk, looks down his nose when Gibbs puts his arms on the counter. "How may I help you," he pauses for a sharp second, "Sir?"
Gibbs reaches into his pocket, pulls out his wallet. He flips through it and pulls out the picture of Tony he's been keeping behind his credit cards. "Looking for this man. He's a personal friend."
The clerk flicks his eyes at the photograph. "I don’t recognize him. Perhaps you should try a," the sharp second pause again, "different hotel."
Gibbs gives the man a long, hard look. "All right," he says. He tucks away the photo. "We're looking for Anthony DiNozzo. We know he's here. We're concerned for him, and she—" he jerks a thumb in Ziva's direction, "will break your thumbs if I ask. So, let's try this again. What's the room number from Anthony DiNozzo?"
"No one by that name is registered at this hotel."
"Ziva." Gibbs steps back. Ziva steps up. She smiles. The clerk goes pale. She curls her fingers around his left thumb.
"No one—" the clerk starts to say. Ziva bends his thumb back half an inch. "He's here!" the clerk almost yells. "He promised a very generous tip if I didn't release his information."
"You just took his word?" McGee asks. "You didn't demand the money up front?"
"He's been here before," Gibbs states.
"He comes in every few years. He stays a week or two, and then he leaves."
"And his family?"
The clerk straightens his tie. "Have never been by."
"So you know them as well," Ziva says.
"He's a DiNozzo," the clerk replies, his tone a shade from horribly shocked.
"Room number," Gibbs barks.
"327."
"McGee, call Abby and tell her we've found him. Ziva, let go of the man's thumb. Both of you stay down here."
"Boss—" McGee starts, but Gibbs glares him into submission. "Calling Abby, Boss."
Gibbs strides to the elevator, jams his thumb against the call button, and breathes a sigh of relief when the door opens immediately. He flexes his hands as the elevator climbs to the third floor and nearly knocks down a family as he hustles off the elevator.
324. 325. 326. 327.
Gibbs stands in front of the door for a moment and listens. There's a murmur of noise in the room, either the television or the radio, but no other sounds. Gibbs lifts his hand, pauses, and knocks. He concentrates on the sounds behind the door. They're almost muffled to silence, but Gibbs can make out the squeak of a set of springs and the shuffle of Tony's feet across the floor.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: R
Summary: Season 4 didn't happen. Or it did, but it started a completely different way. (AKA Gibbs, DiNozzo, the team, and a merry chase.)
Disclaimer: Lies and bullshit, of course.
Author's Notes: This was supposed to be a little bit of
comment_fic fun. Then it exploded and got everywhere. Many thanks to catheral_junki for awesome betaing. Much love to shoshannagold and lasergirl for keeping me company while I wrote.Dedication: For
tigriswolf, who put up the prompt and let me run away with it, with no guarantee that I would actually finish what I started. I hope you like it. Love in the Aftermath
By Perpetual Motion
"You fired him for WHAT?!"
"Insubordination." Jenny's voice is scratchy due to static, but Gibbs can clearly hear the pissed-off edge in her voice. "I needed him to take a case. He refused."
"What was it?"
"That's not--"
"What the hell was it?"
"Ask as much as you want, Jethro," Jenny's voice is pure steel. "It's still not your concern."
"And you're calling to tell me, because?"
"Because I figure your former team is about five minutes away from making claims and calling you to come back and play Team Dad, and I wanted you to hear it from the horse's mouth."
"Not the words I'd use," Gibbs growls and disconnects the call before Jenny can respond.
Forty minutes and three phone calls to McGee and Abby later, Gibbs has the information. Jenny wanted Tony to pretend to fall in love with a woman whose father Jenny's been trying to snare for years.
"You confused Tony's image with Tony's actual personality," he snaps in greeting when he calls Jenny back. "And now you've lost the best investigator you've got."
"He's not--"
"No, he is, Jen. And you fucked it up." Gibbs claps his phone shut, weighs it in the palm of his hand, considers throwing it into the ocean. Before he can lift his arm, it rings again. "What?" he growls without checking the ID.
"Oooh, cranky Boss-Man," Abby laughs a little when Gibbs growls, but not as much as she would normally laugh.
"Abs? What's wrong?"
"Um...Tony's gone Splitsville, boss. He didn't come in today to try and get hired back, so I tried to call his cell to tell him you were on the case, and the cell went straight to voice mail. I got concerned, so I bribed McGee to go by his place after you called the last time, and McGee says the place is cleaned out. Like, in a Tony-packed-all-his-stuff-and-left way, not in a Tony's-been-captured-and-possibly-horribly-murdered, way. Ziva and McGee have been arguing over whether or not to go over and treat the place like a scene."
"Shit." Gibbs grinds his teeth, runs a hand over his mustache. "Who doesn't want to go over there?"
"McGee."
"Remind McGee that it's bad form to accept the sudden disappearance of a fellow agent, no matter how certain he is that said fellow agent left of his own free will. And find me a flight."
"Already booked you. You leave in three hours. Also, it's kind of chilly here, so pack a sweatshirt."
Gibbs grins despite his anger. "Tell me this isn't some freaky plan to drag me back in."
"Just when you think you're out," Abby quips, but her voice wavers. "It's not," she promises. "It's really, totally not."
Gibbs sighs. "Didn't think so."
"He's okay, right?"
"He's fine, Abs. He's just gone to ground to lick his wounds."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely."
*
The flight is cramped, and the plane smells weird, and Gibbs can't get his ears to pop. When he lands in DC, Abby's there to greet him, waving her arms like he's not going to spot her. "McGee and Ziva are at Tony's place now. I called them while you were landing, and they said the only thing that's weird so far is that he left a couple of movies and his dining room table. Otherwise, it just looks like he moved out. No signs of anything hinky."
"When'd he split?"
"Last time anyone saw him was Friday night after he talked with Madame Director. Ziva saw him storm out of her office, and he left without saying goodnight. They talked to the neighbors. Everyone remembers seeing someone moving, but no one could confirm it was Tony. Ziva said one of the neighbors couldn't even recognize a picture of him. They say he didn't really talk to them much."
"We work crazy hours. It's not surprising."
"It's a little sad, though."
Gibbs gives her a quick, one-armed hug as they walk to the baggage claim. "What else?"
"I checked his bank account and credit cards, but he must have done this with cash, because there's no charges to any movers or anything."
"The place is cleaned out, no one saw him go, and the last you all saw of him was him storming out of Jenny's office."
Abby nods. "Yup."
Gibbs shakes his head. "Jenny pissed him off good, then, if he moved this fast to get lost."
"Yeah." Abby reaches into her bag, pulls out a file. "It's everything McGee and I could pull on the La Grenouille case. It's pretty hinky."
Gibbs flips through the file as they wait at baggage claim. La Grenouille is an arms dealer, a big one, and he has a smart, hard-working, dark-haired daughter who's just Tony's type. Except, Gibbs thinks and bites back a smirk, when it's not. "How long has Jenny been working on this guy?"
"Long. Like, super-long. Like, obsessively creepy long. Imagine your boat was an arms dealer." Abby grins when Gibbs glares. "I'm just saying."
"What else do we know?" Gibbs asks as he grabs his duffle from the baggage carousel.
"Not much," Abby admits. "Ducky's calling the local hospitals just to double-check, and we're not asking the Director for help because…well, it's kind of her fault."
"It's entirely her fault," Gibbs snaps. He hands the file back to Abby, holds out his hand for the car keys. "What's the number one way to get Tony to quit a job?"
"Take away his mousse?"
"Abs."
She grins, bumping Gibbs' shoulder. "Sorry. Trying the whole, be-cheerful-in-the-face-of-bad-news thing."
"I get it, but I need Serious Abs."
Abby gives him a little salute. "You got it, Gibbs."
"So name me the one thing that'll make Tony quit a job."
"Assume his general skankho-ness means he's willing to fake being in love with someone."
"And this is bad, because?"
"Because for all his skankho-ness Tony actually wants all the white picket fence and kitchen curtains stuff."
"Exactly."
They fall into silence, cutting through the terminal to the exit, Abby leading the way to the car in short-term parking. "Also," she adds after they put Gibbs' bag in the trunk and settle into their seats, "it probably wasn’t a good idea to hit him up for the assignment when his boyfriend had just totally abandoned him and moved to Mexico and grown a creepy mustache."
"Abs—"
"You did, too."
Gibbs sighs and flexes his hands on the wheel. "I had—"
"Shut up." She leans back in her seat and crosses her arms.
Gibbs considers how to argue his way out of it, how to explain to Abby that he hadn't actually meant to walk away from Tony, how the whole thing had been spur of the moment and kind of stupid and probably slightly post-traumatic, and once he'd come out of his shock, he was already in Mexico, had been for a month, and Tony hadn't called. "My moustache is not creepy."
"You're right. It's not. As long as you don't drive around in a windowless van or talk to any kids."
To be fair, Gibbs thinks as he pays the parking attendant and merges into the exiting traffic, he didn't call either.
*
Gibbs has to stop outside of Tony's apartment and take a deep breath before going inside. It's still a shock to see the bare walls and empty shelves. All the furniture is gone, save the dining room table, and on it are three DVDs. There are no books, no magazines, no random socks. Even the little shredder Tony kept by the door to get rid of junk mail is gone.
"Boss," McGee greets Gibbs with a nod. "We've been combing the place for the last four hours. There's nothing. Ziva's even pulled out the u-pipes from under the sinks."
"They're clean as a thistle," Ziva adds. The two seconds of silence after she says it, Gibbs realizes, is the rest of them waiting for Tony to correct her.
"Whistle, Ziva," McGee finally says, but there's no humor in his voice, no grin on his face. His shoulders slump for just a second. "It's 'clean as a whistle.'"
"Gloves, McGee," Gibbs orders before the atmosphere could get worse. McGee hands him an extra pair from his pocket, and Gibbs snaps them on before laying out the three DVDs on the table. "Sabrina, Love in the Afternoon, and An Affair to Remember."
"Two of them star Audrey Hepburn," McGee says at Gibbs' look.
"They are all in black and white," Ziva adds.
"Most of his collection is," Gibbs tells them. "When was the last time you heard Tony mention a movie that came in color?"
"Speed," Abby says, "but I think that's because I made him watch it."
"I don't remember the last time Tony mentioned a movie," Ziva admits, and her matter-of-fact tone makes Gibbs' shoulder twitch. Tony's movies quotations have always been one of the barometers Gibbs could use to gauge his mood. The more quotes and trivia, the happier Tony was.
"Abs, take these back to the lab. Watch them. Find me a theme." Gibbs holds out a hand, and Ziva hands him an evidence bag. "And double-check them for any hints."
"On it." Abby takes the evidence bag and starts to leave. She stops, turns back to Gibbs, and kicks him in the ankle.
"Abs!"
"I couldn't do it in the car. I'll call you when I have something," she says and flounces off.
Ziva and McGee exchange a look that Gibbs can't read. They have a conversation with their eyebrows before playing a game of rock-paper-scissors. Ziva loses and curses.
"What?" Gibbs snaps.
"We know you and Tony had sex." Ziva states.
"Were in a relationship," McGee rushes to correct. "And we don't know," he jabs Ziva in the ribs with his elbow. "We just kind of…guessed." McGee presses his mouth closed, and Gibbs can tell he's fighting the urge to babble uncontrollably on the topic.
"What made you guess?"
"You left," Ziva says, because McGee now has a hand over his mouth and is blushing bright pink, "and Tony got very quiet. And serious. It was…" she purses her lips. "…uneasy."
"It was weird," McGee blurts out. "It was really weird. And we thought something had happened, so we—"
"He and Abby pulled Tony's phone logs from his personal cell." Ziva interrupts. "You learned how to text."
"And we read some of his e-mails—"
"All right," Gibbs says before they can keep listing privacy violations they've committed. "That gets that out of the way." He thinks for a moment, watching McGee and Ziva as they try not to fidget. "Get back to headquarters," he orders. "McGee, tell Director Sheppard what's going on. Tell her I'm in town to help."
"I—"
"You don't rifle through your boss' personal life, McGee."
McGee shuts his mouth. "Yes, Boss," he mutters.
"Ziva, you get back and start making calls. Get Tony's description out to the locals, the airports, the bus stations, the train stations, and the rental car places, then stretch it out two hundred miles for every hour you don't hear back."
"Got it."
"And once McGee finishes getting yelled at by the Director, go in there and calm her the hell down."
Ziva's mouth quirks, but she nods and starts to lead McGee from the apartment.
"Question," McGee says as Ziva opens the door. Gibbs raises his eyebrows in encouragement. "Everything we're seeing says that Tony left of his own free will. All the evidence paints a picture that shows that Tony chose to take all his stuff and leave town because he was fired. Why—"
"You don't leave a man behind, McGee. Especially a man who leaves his movies."
"You think he wants us to find him," McGee says.
"Yes."
"What if he just left enough stuff behind so we knew he was okay?"
"Then he shouldn't have left anything." Gibbs watches McGee mull that over.
"All right," McGee says after a pause. He and Ziva turn to leave. "You coming?" he calls over his shoulder.
"I'll catch a cab back. I'm going to have a look around."
"We'll call when we have something," McGee promises and waits for Gibbs' nod before closing the door behind them.
Gibbs walks from the dining area, across the living room, and down the hall to the master bedroom. He stands in the middle of the room, right about where Tony's bed had ended. There aren't even dents in the carpet from the bed frame. Gibbs gets down on his knees, takes off his gloves, and runs his hand over the carpet. It's dry on the top, but still damp down near the carpet mat. Gibbs pulls out his phone and dials McGee's number.
"McGee," he answers, his voice shaking; Gibbs guesses that McGee lost the coin toss and is currently at the mercy of Ziva's driving.
"Did you pull carpet samples?"
"Yes, Boss."
"Did you notice the carpet was still damp near the bottom?"
The ten seconds of silence answer the question before McGee says, "No." Gibbs waits for the stuttering apology, but McGee just sounds competent. "We didn't want to take off our gloves and contaminate the scene in case we found something that pointed to Tony being taken."
"Good job, McGee. Get the samples to Abs. Have her run whatever gizmo tells us what stuff is made of. See if we can track down who shampooed the carpet."
"Got it, Boss."
Gibbs closes the phone and stands up, walking from the master bedroom to the master bathroom, checking the medicine cabinet and under the sink. He walks back down the hallway, through the living room, and into the kitchen, opens all the cabinets, the fridge, reaches his hand down the disposal. Nothing. He stares at the table for a long moment. The table he'd made for Tony after Tony had teased him about spending so much time with the boat. Everything else is gone, Gibbs thinks, but the table is there. Those three movies were there. It's a message for him. He's certain. He wonders what it means.
*
Ducky is pacing back and forth in front of the building when Gibbs gets out of the cab. "Oh, there you are," he says like Gibbs has just been a little late getting back from a crime scene, rather than mostly out-of-touch for close to three months. "I was sent to warn you."
"About what?"
"Young Timothy has been getting—as Ziva succinctly put it—"bitched out" for the past ten minutes. She thought you would care for some warning, and I am the person Director Sheppard can't watch from her office window."
"She should be pissed," Gibbs mutters. "She lost DiNozzo. She'll be lucky to find two agents who can do his level of work."
"Yes, of course," Ducky replies, tone mild. "You came back from Mexico to help find Anthony because he's such a fine agent."
Gibbs tries to glare. Ducky merely looks back, a placid, unaffected air about him. "All right. Fine. I deserved that."
"And so much more, but we'll concern ourselves with that later."
Gibbs grins in spite of his mood. "Thanks, Duck. Anything from your phone calls?"
"No, and I won't pretend to be glad of the lack of news. I called every emergency room and urgent care center within a hundred miles, and no one has an Anthony DiNozzo on their records, nor any name similar, nor a description that matters."
"That matters?"
"There were some tall John Does with similar builds, but comparison of identifying marks were not a match."
Gibbs claps Ducky on the shoulder, turns him towards the building. "Thanks, Duck."
"It is my pleasure and my duty, Jethro." Ducky pushes the button for the elevator. "Although it should have been yours."
Gibbs sighs. "We're doing this now?"
"Of course not." Ducky leads the way into the elevator, pushes the button for third floor. He presses the emergency button halfway between the first and second floors. "We're doing this now, where no one is around to hear it."
Gibbs sighs again. "Go ahead," he prompts.
"No defense of your actions, Jethro?"
"Like you'll listen if I go first."
"I would listen," Ducky promises, "but not for very long."
Gibbs chuckles dryly. "That's what I figured."
There's silence for a moment, Ducky sizing up Gibbs, Gibbs standing still and letting him. "You left him, Jethro," Ducky says. "He was a very nonchalant wreck for weeks. "
"Duck—"
Ducky doesn't raise his voice. "I am not finished." He waits for Gibbs' nod. "Director Sheppard offered him the chance to run a team in Spain. He turned her down. It would have been better pay, a new country, and a chance to truly use his skills without your shadow hanging on him. I think he stayed here because he didn't want the team disbanded. If he went away and the team disbanded, then you were actually gone." Ducky pauses for a beat. "And you didn't call."
"He didn't call me."
"Because you are such an approachable fellow, Jethro." Before Gibbs can respond, Ducky pushes the emergency button again, and the elevator jerks as it restarts. "While he did not storm out because of you, do remember that he's had a very hard few months because of you."
Gibbs has the urge to shuffle his feet and look embarrassed. He meets Ducky's eyes instead. "I will," he promises. "But let me go get yelled at first, okay?"
"Of course." Ducky smiles, all benign good humor. "Best of luck."
The door opens before Gibbs can grumble at him. Ziva is standing in front of the elevator, arms crossed, her stance wide and her hips thrust like she's ready to throw a punch.
"The Director has been yelling at him for seventeen minutes," she says. "I would interrupt, but you said I should wait until after she had finished with McGee."
Ducky chuckles unrepentantly as Gibbs steps off the elevator. "I am going to call some of the local general practitioners," he says when Gibbs turns to glare at him. "I shall keep you updated."
"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs says through clenched teeth. He turns towards Ziva again when the elevator doors close. "Any hits from the description?"
"Not yet. I have nine minutes before I send it out the first two hundred miles."
"Keep me updated." Gibbs pauses at the bottom of the stairs. The blinds are drawn on Jenny's outer office. "I'm going to go rescue McGee."
"Do not die." Ziva orders as she turns and walks to her desk.
Gibbs takes the stairs two at a time and ignores Jenny's assistant when she yelps his name in surprise.
"Agent Gi—" is as far as she gets before Gibbs throws open Jenny's office door.
"There you are," Jenny says, sarcasm dripping off her words. "Agent McGee, you may go."
"I'd rather—" McGee starts to say.
"McGee. Out." Gibbs orders.
McGee's eyes widen a fraction. "No."
"Excuse me?" Jenny snaps at the same time Gibbs says, "What?"
"I'm the senior agent in charge at the moment," McGee explains. "Letting you into this investigation is my responsibility."
Before Gibbs can respond, Jenny cuts in. "You are not the senior agent in charge, Agent McGee. Agent David—"
"Is technically on loan from Mossad and only has a year's experience with NCIS," McGee interrupts. He straightens his shoulders. "I have more field experience as an NCIS field agent than Agent David, and I will take responsibility for my actions."
Gibbs grabs McGee by the shoulder. "McGee—"
"Mr. Gibbs," McGee interrupts, "the team is my responsibility."
Under his hand, Gibbs can feel the controlled tremor running through McGee's body. He shakes McGee's shoulder and lets go. "Sorry, Agent McGee," he says sincerely. "Didn't mean to step on your toes."
"My toes, on the other hand," Jenny interjects, "You're not worried about at all."
"No," Gibbs agrees, "not really."
Jenny rolls her eyes and slaps her palms onto her desk. "You're retired, Jethro," she says, tone clipped. "You don't get to show up just for spite."
"This isn't spite. This is correcting a mistake."
Jenny arches her eyebrows. "Oh?"
"DiNozzo's one of the best agents who's ever walked into headquarters—"
"I've got plenty of other good agents, thank you."
"Good agents, yes. But not DiNozzo-level agents. McGee comes close, but he's still got a few tricks to learn." Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs see McGee stand up a little straighter. "He's one the best undercover agents NCIS has ever had, and you sent him packing."
"I didn't send him packing," Jenny says. "He disobeyed a direct order from a supervisor, which is insubordination. I gave him the chance to reconsider, and he said he wouldn't."
"Because you asked him to whore himself out, and he said no."
Jenny's eyes flash anger. "I asked him to fulfill his duties as an agent, and you—"
"Shouldn't know about the assignment," Gibbs interrupts. "I know this part pretty well by now. The point is, you shouldn't have asked DiNozzo to fake a long-term relationship."
"And why not?"
Because he's already kept one a secret, Gibbs thinks. "Because he actually takes relationships seriously."
"Agent DiNozzo is notorious—"
"Yeah, yeah," Gibbs overrides her. "Good undercover agents are always notorious for something."
Jenny clenches her jaw, scrapes her fingernails across her desk. "If you're implying—"
"I'm not. It's a statement of fact. I was known as a womanizer, too, if you recall."
Jenny stands up straight, plants her hands on her hips. "Whatever Agent DiNozzo was known for, and whatever you think I did wrong in handling him, you're still retired, Jethro. And I won't allow you to storm in and steamroll over me to start an unnecessary investigation."
"Tony's been missing for two days," McGee interjects.
"Agent Dinozzo has been fired," Jenny snaps, "and it is not the concern of this office where he is now."
"His apartment was empty," McGee interrupts. "Except—"
"I don't care, Agent McGee," Jenny says. "If there's no sign of foul play, there's no reason for an investigation. I will not waste the time and resources of this department so you can hunt down a teammate who has decided to run away and sulk."
Gibbs says nothing, watching the way McGee shifts his weight from foot to foot. "Director Sheppard," McGee says, and the respect in his voice is undermined by the disgust that rides beneath it. "I have six weeks leave saved up. I have been informed by one of the on-staff psychologists that as soon as I wish to take this leave, it will be granted immediately for the benefit of my mental health."
Jenny's eyebrows arch again. "Are you threatening me, Agent McGee?"
"No, Ma'am," and the disgust is gone from McGee's voice. He's a perfect, composed agent. "It's simply notice for when I don't show up tomorrow. I'm feeling a bit…unbalanced."
"I'm sure you are." Jenny glares at Jethro. "Agent McGee, you're dismissed."
"Yes, Ma'am." McGee turns on his heel and leaves the office.
"I'll get out of your hair," Gibbs says before Jenny can use the deep breath she's just pulled in. "I'm just a retired agent, after all."
"That's a very good idea," she hisses.
Jethro makes tracks, slamming both doors as he leaves. At the bottom of the stairs, Ziva and McGee are both waiting for him. "Impressive, McGee," Gibbs says.
"Thanks, Boss."
Gibbs wants to ask where McGee learned to be so forthright, but he knows the answer. Tony's brand of teasing, insulting respect has shored up more than one agent. "What about you?" he asks Ziva.
"I also have vacation time and a worried psychologist," she says.
Gibbs checks his watch, then looks over his shoulder up the stairs. "We've got ten minutes, tops, before she comes to check that you made good on your threat, McGee."
"Six," Ziva corrects. "Her temper always shortens when you show up."
"Your moustache probably isn't helping," McGee adds.
Gibbs smacks him on the back of the head. "Rule 24," he reminds McGee and leads the way to the elevator.
"Rule 24?" Ziva asks.
"There's a distinct difference between bravery, courage, and smartass remarks," McGee supplies as they load into the elevator and ride to the basement in silence, McGee rubbing the back of his head.
"Nothing yet!" Abby yells over the music when they walk in. "Except, of course, for one little thing."
"Atta girl," Gibbs says, and Abby beams at him. "What've you got?"
"I did a little research on those movies—"
"You were supposed to watch them."
"I know, Gibbs, but Wikipedia is so much faster."
"Wiki-what?"
Abby waves a hand. "Never mind. The point is, I found out some stuff on those movies."
"Which you were supposed—"
"To watch, yeah. But you need information now, right?"
Gibbs sighs and nods. "All right. Let me hear it."
Abby holds up a fist and pokes out her index finger. "One, two of them are based in New York, and the other is based in Paris. Two, two of the movies have Audrey Hepburn. Three—and I think this is the one that matters—they all share a theme." She beams.
"Which is?" Gibbs prompts her, and she beams a little more.
"They're all May-December romances."
Gibbs blinks. He hears McGee choke and Ziva stifle a laugh. "And?" he asks.
Abby rolls her eyes. "And they were left on a table that looked really well-made, but also looks really similar to the wood you—"
"Thanks, Abs," Gibbs cuts her off. "When can we get the carpet samples?"
"The centrifuge needs another twenty minutes."
"Call McGee when you have it. We should be kicked out by then."
"Have fun!" Abby calls as they exit. "If anyone asks, I haven't seen you!"
Ducky meets them at the door of the morgue. "I have nothing new," he says, "and I've received an official e-mail from the Director to pass along no information."
"Unofficially?" Gibbs prompts.
"Mr. Palmer informs me he can continue to send out Anthony's descriptions in your two-hundred mile pattern."
"Thanks, Duck."
"Do you think he's gone overseas?" Ducky asks. "Abigail mentioned one of the films was set in Paris."
Gibbs considers the question for a moment. He glances at McGee and Ziva. They both shrug. "No," Gibbs says. "He didn't."
"Why not?" McGee asks.
"Because two of the movies are in New York."
"And?" Ziva prompts as Gibbs leads the way out of the building.
"And the other one he just likes," Gibbs replies, thinking about the night they watched it, the first night he'd gone to Tony's, and the next morning, when Tony had put his feet up at work and showed off an anklet made of a silver ball key chain like Hepburn had worn to tease Gary Cooper. How he'd compared Gibbs to Gary Cooper and how Kate had told him to quit being weird. At the end of the day, as they took the elevator to the parking garage, Tony had offered to whisk him away to New York, take the train like Audrey Hepburn and Gary Cooper.
"Without the voice over," he'd added with a grin. "Which had to be dubbed in later because the decency council didn't want people to think Audrey Hepburn and Gary Cooper were living in sin."
"Decency council wouldn't like us much, then."
Tony had shrugged and beamed. "We'll make our own voice over."
"Gibbs?" Ziva asks, and the way she says it tells Gibbs she's had to say it more than once.
"And the third movie ends in New York," Gibbs says, pulling himself back to the task at hand."
"We're going to New York?" McGee asks.
"We're going to New York." Gibbs confirms.
"Where in New York?" Ziva asks.
"I'll know when I get there."
"Train?" McGee asks.
"We'll drive. You two make whatever calls you need to get your leave. If we do this, we're doing it so you still have jobs when we come back."
"You don’t have a car, Boss."
"We'll rent one. There's a company up on Barnett." When he's met with silence, Gibbs turns around. "What?" he barks.
"They let you rent cars?" Ziva asks.
"Yes," Gibbs growls. "I don't crash."
"I don't either," Ziva replies, and Gibbs leaves she and McGee to debate the definition of "crash"—McGee says it includes shrubs, Ziva says it doesn't—as Gibbs flags down another cab and shoves them into it ahead of him.
*
The man at the rental company is overly-polite, calling Gibbs and McGee "Sir" and going so far as to refer to Ziva as "Miss." She raises and eyebrow and rests her hand on the butt of her gun. The man stutters once and stops talking to her completely.
"If you'll just sign where I've highlighted," he requests. Gibbs scrawls his signature as McGee's phone rings.
"McGee." He pulls out his notebook and tosses it on the counter, scrawling a name and number. "Thanks, Abs." He closes his phone. "The chemicals in the carpet are high-grade. Abby called around. There are two local places that use them."
"Either of them a chain?"
"In New York?" McGee guesses. He starts dialing before Gibbs can confirm, following behind Gibbs and Ziva as they walk into the parking lot and load into the SUV. "First one's completely local," he says. "The second is originally based in Long Island, owned by a woman named Susanne Paddington. She's expanded the business southward in the last few years."
"Paddington…" Gibbs mutters as he pulls into traffic. He's heard it, he knows.
"It is a bear," Ziva says from the backseat. "He wears a coat and hat."
"It's DiNozzo's mother's maiden name," Gibbs says as the information slides into place. "I bet it's a family business."
"He doesn't talk to his family," McGee says. "Why would he use their business?"
"To clue us in," Gibbs explains. "Because he's pissed off, but he wants us to know he's okay."
"The same way he left the movies and the table?"
"Yeah," Gibbs answers, but he's not sure he believes it. Tony may have just been in a hurry and had to call in a favor from some cousin or aunt. McGee and Ziva don't ask any more questions, and they travel in silence until Ziva's phone goes off.
"Agent David."
Gibbs can't hear the other side of the conversation, but he sees the way Ziva goes tense. He spots an exit sign with gas station logos and cuts off two lanes of traffic to get on the ramp. Ziva's still on the phone when he pulls up to the pump, and Gibbs points to McGee. "Coffees all around and snacks."
"What—"
"Doesn't matter."
McGee glances over his shoulder at Ziva, gives Gibbs a nod. "Honk twice if I take too long," he says, and he scrambles out of the car.
Gibbs turns in his seat to watch Ziva finish the call. "I see," she says. "I understand." She disconnects the call with a jab of her finger and glares past Gibbs. "Director Sheppard is displeased," she says, voice even. "I am," Ziva purses her lips like she's sucked a lemon, "defecting."
"We can leave you here," Gibbs offers. "You can get back to headquarters, tell her you were trying to ferret out information."
"She will not believe it."
"You could make her believe you."
Ziva looks Gibbs in the eyes. "No. I have built my bed. I will lie in it."
The two-second pause happens again, and Gibbs can't bring himself to correct her. "I'll do what I can to keep you on the team," he promises.
"You're coming back?" she asks. "If you do not come back, you can't do much."
"Maybe."
"And you will shave the moustache when you return?"
Gibbs rolls his eyes. "Shut up." He turns around to face forward again, catches Ziva's smile in the rearview. He taps the horn twice, and after exactly ten seconds, McGee comes out of the gas station, coffees in a carrying tray, a plastic bag of snacks in his other hand.
"Ready then?" McGee asks as he passes out the coffee.
"Ready," Ziva says.
"Ready," Gibbs confirms. He takes a long draw of his coffee and pulls out of the gas station, merging back into traffic at a hard enough angle that even Ziva looks a little fearful when he glances in the mirror.
*
Abby calls again as they start seeing exits for New York City. "I've been checking for Tony's phone signal since the other day," she says, her voice echoing when McGee turns on speakerphone. "It blipped about an hour ago. He's at a hotel in Long Island. It's called Danfords. It's pretty swanky, and they say they don't have an Anthony DiNozzo in their records. Permission to hack."
"Denied." Gibbs switches lanes to take the exit towards Long Island. "We'll handle it in person. Let Ducky know you got the signal. Have him cancel the search."
"Already done. Also, the Director's been circulating a memo that says you're not allowed at headquarters, Gibbs, and anyone caught assisting you in any type of investigation is going to get suspended without pay."
"Abs—"
"Got it covered. I had to run out for another Caf Pow, anyway. Seemed like a good time to make a phone call."
"Good job, Abs."
"Aww, Gibbs, you're so sweet."
"Abs."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going. Anyone asks, you're a double-agent, and I'm selling secrets."
"Abs."
"Kidding! And I'm nowhere near headquarters, so don't worry about me. Just get Tony back here. McGee won't bring me Caf Pows."
"Because you start to vibrate," McGee interjects.
"And babble more," Ziva adds.
"We're on it, Abs," Gibbs tells her. "We'll call you when we know something."
"You'd better. I still know more about computers than you, even if you have figured out texting. Hey, do you know about sexting?"
"Goodbye, Abs," Gibbs says, and McGee disconnects the call. "Don't define it," he orders as Ziva starts to smirk. "I can figure it out on my own. Stay on task."
The rest of the ride to Long Island is silent. Gibbs parks a block and a half from the hotel and holds up his hand before they all pile out. "We're civilians," he says. "We're three people looking for a friend."
"You want us to take our guns off?" McGee asks.
"No. Just make sure they can't be seen." Gibbs waits for them to rearrange their jackets, then he nods. "All right. Let's go. Follow my lead."
The front desk clerk is a man in his forties or fifties. His tie is perfectly centered, the color matching the tiles on the lobby floor, and his hair is slicked back from his forehead. He eyes Gibbs, McGee, and Ziva as they walk up to the desk, looks down his nose when Gibbs puts his arms on the counter. "How may I help you," he pauses for a sharp second, "Sir?"
Gibbs reaches into his pocket, pulls out his wallet. He flips through it and pulls out the picture of Tony he's been keeping behind his credit cards. "Looking for this man. He's a personal friend."
The clerk flicks his eyes at the photograph. "I don’t recognize him. Perhaps you should try a," the sharp second pause again, "different hotel."
Gibbs gives the man a long, hard look. "All right," he says. He tucks away the photo. "We're looking for Anthony DiNozzo. We know he's here. We're concerned for him, and she—" he jerks a thumb in Ziva's direction, "will break your thumbs if I ask. So, let's try this again. What's the room number from Anthony DiNozzo?"
"No one by that name is registered at this hotel."
"Ziva." Gibbs steps back. Ziva steps up. She smiles. The clerk goes pale. She curls her fingers around his left thumb.
"No one—" the clerk starts to say. Ziva bends his thumb back half an inch. "He's here!" the clerk almost yells. "He promised a very generous tip if I didn't release his information."
"You just took his word?" McGee asks. "You didn't demand the money up front?"
"He's been here before," Gibbs states.
"He comes in every few years. He stays a week or two, and then he leaves."
"And his family?"
The clerk straightens his tie. "Have never been by."
"So you know them as well," Ziva says.
"He's a DiNozzo," the clerk replies, his tone a shade from horribly shocked.
"Room number," Gibbs barks.
"327."
"McGee, call Abby and tell her we've found him. Ziva, let go of the man's thumb. Both of you stay down here."
"Boss—" McGee starts, but Gibbs glares him into submission. "Calling Abby, Boss."
Gibbs strides to the elevator, jams his thumb against the call button, and breathes a sigh of relief when the door opens immediately. He flexes his hands as the elevator climbs to the third floor and nearly knocks down a family as he hustles off the elevator.
324. 325. 326. 327.
Gibbs stands in front of the door for a moment and listens. There's a murmur of noise in the room, either the television or the radio, but no other sounds. Gibbs lifts his hand, pauses, and knocks. He concentrates on the sounds behind the door. They're almost muffled to silence, but Gibbs can make out the squeak of a set of springs and the shuffle of Tony's feet across the floor.