Dry My Dreaming
Dry My Dreaming
Dead my old fine hopes
And dry my dreaming but still...
Iris, blue each spring ― Bashō Matsuo
NCIS / Aberrant Magic
Tony angst
Eventually Tony/Gibbs
Before Bishop's breakup
The new team does not exist
Life is normal for Tony-Gibbs is a bastard, Bishop is annoyingly enthusiastic, Senior is playing the part of a good father, and Tim is Tim. Their newest case even seems normal-a marine shot in the head three times. Only it turns out the victim is a shaman, and the case gets tangled in the Talent community. Tony has avoided magic since he turned twelve and his shaman father kicked him out of the house, not that Senior wants anyone to know he’s a shaman. No, that would damage his reputation. As the case gets more complicated, Tony’s masks and his history start to unravel.
Gibbs has always cared about Tony, but his patience is at an end. No matter what Gibbs says or does, Tony will not pull his head out of his ass and take care of himself. Gibbs feels helpless-like he’s on the front lines with a fellow Marine self-destructing in slow motion, and there’s nothing he can do. The fact that it’s Tony falling apart just makes it all worse. All he can do is push on and hope that Tony is strong enough to survive. Gibbs can’t do anything else because there’s no way to protect Tony, at least that’s what he assumes until a new shaman pushes into his case and changes everything-including how Gibbs sees Tony.
Previous chapters HERE
Chapters Four - Seven
Tony was riding the ragged edge of a serious crash when the whole floor went silent. That was ominous. When he looked up, two men were getting off the elevator and asking for directions, both wearing guest passes.
The older one had a shaved head and off the rack suit. It was a nice one, but it lacked tailored details and his side holster made a horrible bulge. The younger one was in his late thirties, maybe. He wore a tailored suit, a mid-price American if Tony was judging right. He wasn’t wealthy, but he did like to look good. Feds.
Tony could smell them from a mile away. Hopefully these two would be more interested in Carl Shaffer than in framing Tony for another murder. Since Gibbs was still talking to legal, Tony stood and waited for the feds to make their way to the MCRT.
Tim stood and moved to Tony’s side. “Is that them?” he asked in a loud whisper.
“Do you know any other fibbies coming today, McLoud?”
Tim sighed even louder. Ellie stood and sat on her desk without coming around to the center aisle, and about that same time, Agent Spiller pointed them toward the MCRT. The younger one took lead while the senior agent followed.
“Hi. I’m Agent Oberton from the Talent unit. I was looking for Special Agent Gibbs.”
“He’s busy,” Tony said, “I’m Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, and these are Agents McGee and Bishop. I hate to break it to you, but you’re a little late to solve the case.” Tony’s smile invited them to turn around and get the hell out, and he trusted these two were smart enough to get the message.
The older agent narrowed his eyes, so the message got through loud and clear.
Oberton spoke up, which probably meant the partners were playing good-fed, bad-fed. “This is Supervisory Agent Boucher, and I understand the suspect you’re questioning has Talent.”
“Yep.” Tony figured neither Marine knew what the hell they were doing with magic, but they had it. And Richards had blackmailed Carl Shaffer, not understanding the depths the other man would go to in order to hide his status. The Marines wouldn’t have cared if he had Talent, but they sure as hell didn’t appreciate a Marine who murdered another. “He already confessed.”
Boucher took a step forward. Okay, so if the hardass wanted to take a swing, Tony could handle it. He’d worked for Gibbs for a decade, so he had immunity to the sort of dark glares this one was leveling at him. “Did he?”
“Yep. We caught the bad guy, so that’s when we have high fives and go out for celebratory drinks.” Tony figured he was laying it on a little thick, but he was tired and he didn’t want to put up with the bullshit.
“You didn’t do anything to encourage that confession, did you?” Boucher asked.
Oberton gave his partner a strange look, and Tony looked over at Tim. Okay, maybe these guys were friends with Agent Slacks, but if they wanted to question his professionalism, that seemed like a strange place to start.
“Actually, yes. I did encourage him to confess since he was guilty,” Tony said slowly, making it clear that he thought Boucher was a little slow in the head. Oberton flinched at the insult, but Boucher just glared more.
Tim said, “Maybe I should get Gibbs.” He hesitated a few seconds, before he turned and fled. Ellie moved to take his place, standing shoulder to shoulder with Tony.
Tony didn’t need anyone to save him. “This was about money more than magic,” he told the FBI agents. “Neither the victim or the suspect was a working shaman. They had Talent, but neither really used it, and it was dumb luck they ended up in the same unit.” That coincidence made Tony wonder how many people had Talent and didn’t know it. His own father had become a shaman by accident after a tonsillectomy had gone wrong when he’d been in his early teens. He’d nearly died on the operating table, and that had allowed him to slip onto the spirit plane. More than once Senior had told that story to try to impress on Tony that a man made use of any opportunity life presented him.
Boucher took another step forward, and Tony had to admit he felt a little intimidated. The fed was huge. However, that didn’t mean Tony intended to back down. Ellie gave Tony a concerned look, but held her ground at his side. “How much encouragement did you give him?”
Tony looked at Oberton since he seemed to be the sane fibbie. “Does your partner have a problem with me doing my job?”
Boucher responded. “Agent DiNozzo, why aren’t you registered as a shaman with the prosecutor or JAG?”
Tony’s mouth fell open. He prided himself on being able to handle any situation, but this was so out of the blue that he couldn’t come up with an answer. Ellie actually spoke first.
“Tony’s not a shaman. You must be mistaken.”
“I’m not,” Boucher said firmly.
Tony’s brain slowly came back online, and he could only figure out one reason why he would hit a shaman’s radar, and it would mean that Senior was up to his old tricks. “Agent Boucher, you are out of line,” Tony said as firmly as he could, but the anger was boiling inside, and he was having trouble staying calm. As a child, Senior would use Talent-based charm on Tony to keep him from telling people at school about the drinking or the neglect, and if Tony had shamanic cooties on him, there was only one good reason. The bastard was using his magic against Tony again.
Senior wanted back in Tony’s good graces and instead of being a decent human being and proving that he cared about Tony, he was taking a shortcut and trying to make Tony like him.
“If you’re using shamanic powers against suspects, I won’t let that slide,” Boucher warned darkly.
Tony really didn’t want to get into this here, but the situation was getting out of hand. “Any shamanic vibes you’re getting are from my father-not me.”
“Your father?” Ellie’s voice rose a good octave.
He gave her a weary look. “Yes, and he doesn’t want people to know. As a civilian, he has no obligation to tell anyone his Talent status.” Tony turned and gave Boucher a cold glare.
Instead of looking chagrined, Boucher looked confused. “Your father?”
“Yes, my father. I’ve spent several nights with him this week.” Tony lied to try and give a plausible excuse for having shamanic fingerprints all over him. But there was no way he was going to tell the fibbies that he was trying to keep his father at arm’s length by limiting their interaction to one dinner per week, and any excess magic clinging to Tony came from the fact that his father was a narcissist who thought he had a right to manipulate the world any way he wanted it.
When Tony spotted Gibbs striding across the room, he was relieved. Gibbs was about to make a huge interagency stink, and Tony would be more than happy to take advantage of that distraction to get the hell out of Dodge. He was going to track down his father and rip him a new one.
Maybe.
Faced with Senior’s charm and lack of genuine malice, Tony did have a history of caving. But this time, Senior’s stunt had endangered Tony’s career. A member of law enforcement who didn’t reveal his Talent status would have all his work reviewed to determine if he’d used magic to induce confessions. That would lead to sanctions and termination and criminals being released from prison. Senior couldn’t do anything that might make Tony show up on shamanic radar.
“Agent Boucher,” Gibbs said, completely ignoring the junior agent. “The case is closed, and I appreciate you coming, but you aren’t needed.”
“Aren’t wanted, perhaps,” Boucher said. If Tony had been giving someone advice on how to piss Gibbs off, that would have been near the top of the list of things to say. McGee was following one step behind Gibbs, and he froze. Gibbs leaned in, his lips pressed together as he radiated fury and danger. Boucher didn’t even flinch.
Surprisingly, Agent Oberton got in the middle. “We just have a few questions about how you handle Talent cases, Agent Gibbs.”
“I don’t care about your questions.” Gibbs gave Oberton a cold stare.
“Then we’ll take our concerns to Director Vance,” Boucher said.
Tony could just imagine how that would go. Vance didn’t like him to begin with, and if there was any reason to believe that Tony had failed to register a Talent as a law enforcement agent, the lawyers and Vance would race for shovels to bury Tony. It would be a bloodbath, and even after everything got sorted, Tony doubted he would have much of a career left. Reputation was everything.
“Knock yourself out,” Gibbs said.
“Gibbs, no. I can explain this,” Tony said quickly.
“They think he’s a shaman,” Tim said in a voice caught between horror and disbelief.
Immediately Gibbs turned on Tony. Tony felt a flash of anger that sputtered and died before it could really take root. He didn’t know why he expected anything else from Gibbs. Of course the man would put the blame for this on Tony.
“It’s his dad that’s a shaman,” Ellie said softly.
Gibbs looked over at her, and now the anger vanished under confusion. This was not a conversation Tony wanted to have in the open. “Could we find a conference room?” Tony asked. He looked at Gibbs, silently begging the man to not air all Tony’s dirty laundry in public. For a second, Gibbs appeared implacable, and panic climbed up Tony’s throat. Then something shifted, and Gibbs turned.
“This way,” he said as he strode away. McGee fell back rather than get run over, and Tony froze, not sure how the FBI guys would react to Gibbs’ style. Boucher looked particularly unamused, but Oberton followed Gibbs, and after a pause, Boucher followed Oberton. Tony came up the rear, signaling Tim to stay behind and hoping he would keep Ellie out of this. The fewer people privy to this meeting the better, because Tony really did not want to admit that his father was so unethical as to try and magic his son into loving him.
And he didn’t want to admit that despite whatever magic Senior had used, Tony didn’t want to give that love.
Chapter Five
Jethro’s gut was tied in knots by the time he found an empty conference room. If Tony had hidden his Talent status, Jethro would have backed him. Hell, Ziva had told him about her Talent and her fear of American prejudice surrounding Talent, and he’d protected her. He’d kept her away from any witnesses they would need to later put on the stand and never told a soul. Jethro would have done no less for Tony. But letting himself get caught by one of the top shamans in the area was just stupid. Was Tony’s head up his ass so far that he couldn’t come up with a good excuse to get out of the office?
The other alternative was that Agent Boucher was either wrong or pulling some sort of prank. Considering the man was not only an FBI agent but one of the three shamans who controlled the local Djedi center, Jethro doubted it was the first, and Boucher’s reputation made the second pretty damn unlikely.
And if any of this hit Vance’s desk, DiNozzo was going to be out on his ass. And once defense lawyers caught wind of it and their cases started getting reversed, Tony would eat his own gun. The whole fucked up mess made Jethro want to shoot someone, and Tony might be at the head of the line. Jethro stood aside and let the other three enter the conference room before he slammed the door.
“Okay, talk,” he ordered Tony. He braced himself for the shit and the fan to have a spectacular meeting.
“I’m not a shaman,” Tony said.
Boucher crossed his arms and Oberton grimaced. Jethro didn’t know much about the junior agent, but Boucher had a reputation as a straight shooter, so Jethro decided to put his cards on the table. At this point it couldn’t do much more damage.
“In ten years I’ve never seen him do anything that would have included Talent.”
“And would you recognize it?” Boucher demanded.
That was a direct hit. Jethro hadn’t been around much magic, and it wouldn’t take much digging to uncover that fact. When Jethro lied, he preferred to make sure he couldn’t get caught, so he pressed his lips together. Boucher raised his eyebrows and stared back. Jethro was quickly learning to hate this bastard. Like usual, DiNozzo jumped in to smooth issues over.
“My father is a shaman, and he has a questionable history of using his Talent to manipulate others.” DiNozzo cringed, no doubt wishing he didn’t have to share this detail. Jethro fought to keep a neutral expression on his face, but if he had a chance to tell Senior what he thought of that sort of manipulation, he wouldn’t pass it up.
The worst part was that Jethro had tried to smooth the way for that reconciliation. Jethro had lost so many years with his father that he had hoped Tony could avoid making the same mistakes. But it had never occurred to him that Senior’s bad behavior had continued to the present day.
Agent Boucher seemed interested in this topic. “Manipulate how?” His voice carried a dangerous edge that Jethro approved of, assuming Tony didn’t get caught in the middle.
Tony shrugged. “I’m not a shaman, so I don’t know. But he has always been charming-able to talk people into investing in his projects or forgiving him. If I have magic around me, it’s probably him, and this is a topic I would rather avoid discussing in public.”
“Has anyone filed a complaint with the Djedi center?” Oberton asked.
Tony gave another shrug. “I have no idea. Our relationship is usually strained to the point of not speaking.”
Jethro could confirm that. “He didn’t show up when DiNozzo contracted the plague.”
Oberton grimaced, and Jethro had to stomp down an urge to tell the man to shove his sympathy where the sun didn’t shine. Tony didn’t need some fed’s sympathy.
“Yeah, not a great relationship there,” Tony admitted. “Which is why I would not be surprised if he was trying to ‘encourage’ me to forgive him.” Tony used air quotes around the word ‘encourage.’ “So you can see why I might have some shamanic energy around me.”
“That wouldn’t explain what I’m sensing,” Boucher said.
Tony did have a temper, although he rarely let it show. However, it came out now as he snapped, “Well I don’t have another explanation. Maybe you didn’t have your Wheaties this morning and you’re just off your game.”
Boucher stiffened, and Jethro started calculating how many favors he would have to call in to try and minimize the fallout from this disaster. As soon as they were alone, Jethro was going to head smack DiNozzo into the middle of next week.
“That’s possible,” Oberton said. He looked at his partner, but Boucher didn’t seem to think so, and he was the senior partner. “If we were on the spirit plane, it’d be easy to tell, right?”
Jethro could see the trap, and Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you think I can get to the spirit plane, which would be possible only if I’m a shaman, but two problems. First, I’m not a shaman. Second, if I were a shaman, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for bullshit like that.”
“I don’t know. You’re lying to my face,” Boucher said, and Jethro couldn’t take it anymore.
He stepped right into Boucher’s personal space. “My agents don’t lie. My team. My rules. Back off.” Jethro had to look up at Boucher, but that also meant that Jethro was right at Boucher’s unprotected stomach. Boucher clenched his fists, clearly uncomfortable with the tight quarters, which is exactly what Jethro wanted. Jethro waited for him to back off a step, but after a second, Boucher seemed to lean in. Jethro mirrored his posture, and they stared each other down. Jethro had gone nose to nose with terrorists and mass murderers-he sure as hell wasn’t going to back down to a fed, not when Tony’s neck was on the line.
“Okay, this is not going the way I expected,” Oberton said softly.
“Funny. I actually did expect feds to accuse me of something. It’s like a pilgrimage for you guys over at the Hoover building,” Tony snapped back. “Are you playing some weird version of Bingo where framing Tony DiNozzo is the center square? Because that would explain a lot.” Tony had his best devil-may-care voice going, which usually meant he was feeling pretty damn insecure.
Boucher turned his stare on Tony, which Jethro did not approve of. Jethro growled, “DiNozzo.” Hopefully the self-destructive idiot would shut up.
Oberton stepped into the breach. “Actually, we can get anyone to the spirit plane, so you wouldn’t need to be a shaman. Agent Gibbs could even come, and if you say you’re not a shaman while you’re there, Agent Boucher will be able to see that you’re telling the truth, and then this is all cleared up.” Oberton’s voice trailed off, and he looked at Boucher. Clearly the supervisory agent has his junior partner well in line. Gibbs had very little respect for that sort of partnership. He preferred DiNozzo standing up to him. Not that he did often these days, and when Tony did take a stand, it was inevitably for the worst damn reason in the world-like when he’d gone haring off after Ziva. DiNozzo’s loyalty led him to do some pretty stupid shit lately.
Boucher took a step backward. “If you come to the spirit plane, we can clear this up quickly.”
Jethro was not ready to let this asshole off the hook that easily. If he was backing down, it was because he knew he was in the wrong, and he was. “I thought the spirit plane was dangerous-that people got lost and never came back to their bodies,” Jethro said.
“Happens to some people,” Boucher agreed with a cold stare in Jethro’s direction.
Oberton quickly jumped in with, “But not us. If you’re with us, we can easily navigate the spirit plane.” He had his good cop routine going to balance out Boucher’s bad cop. “Where’s your meditation room?”
“Don’t have one,” Jethro said.
“What?” Oberton appeared alarmed by that, and if NCIS had any shamans, there would probably be a good reason for that, not that Jethro understood the reason shamans needed a room to take a time out in.
“NCIS doesn’t have any Talent on staff, so it’s a waste of space,” Jethro explained.
“No shamans will work for you? Shocking given your interagency cooperation skills,” Boucher said dryly.
Jethro narrowed his eyes. “Don’t like it, file a complaint.”
“I might,” Boucher answered.
Oberton put his hand on Boucher’s arm. It was a familiar gesture, and Jethro wondered how close the partners were. “Let’s not burn any bridges,” Oberton suggested. “Agent DiNozzo, if you could lock the doors, we could get comfortable in the chairs, and that will work.”
“Assuming we’re doing this little spirit plane journey,” Jethro said. This sounded like a Talent version of a lie detector, and the only suspects who submitted to those were idiots. If they showed a person was telling the truth, an investigator could accuse the suspect of faking the test. If the person failed, even for unrelated reasons, and the investigator would never stop hounding them. It was a lose-lose situation.
“Boss, it’s fine,” Tony said, that same horrible timing showing up again.
Jethro glared at DiNozzo, silently ordering him to back off, but now Tony dug in his heels and stared right back. Jethro was going to head slap him into the next century.
Boucher went around Jethro to lock the door before he headed for the chairs. “Let’s get this over with. The best way out is to just tell the truth, DiNozzo.”
“Yeah, I keep trying, but you suck at listening,” Tony said, and again, Boucher’s whole body stiffened. The man did not like being disrespected, and he was biting back more than one nasty response. Well as far as Jethro was concerned, Boucher needed to keep his opinions to himself, especially when it came to Jethro’s senior field agent. DiNozzo was off limits.
Chapter Six
Tony had no idea what bug had crawled up Gibbs’ ass and died, but he was too damn tired to fight Gibbs and Boucher at once, especially when he would just have to hunt down Senior and fight him later. Tony’s anger had dulled from a fire to nothing more than dull embers. It hurt so damn much to know his own father would manipulate him, but that was an old pain. Tony still bore the scars of that pain.
“How do we do this?” he asked Agent Oberton. The man was definitely the reasonable one in the partnership, although that might just be his professional persona. Tony certainly found he got more done when he was less of an asshole. He looked over at Gibbs.
Yep, he was still a bear with a sore paw. And Boucher didn’t look much happier, although he was settling himself into a chair.
“Boss?” Tony asked. He wasn’t sure what he wanted-either Gibbs to volunteer to go with him or to stay here and guard their bodies. However, after a second, Gibbs sank into the chair next to Tony, so Tony figured they were going to the spirit plane together.
“So, how-” Tony fell silent. In the blink of an eye he’d gone from the NCIS conference room to a version of the Providence Performing Art Center. The red and blue scrollwork along the curved ceilings, the gilding, the ornate chandelier set in the gold circle, the high arches and intricate carvings were all exact replicas from Tony’s memory. But the seats went farther back than Tony remembered. They stretched on for at least a half mile, and the sea of red seats was broken by irregular lines of gold, like someone had splashed rivers of gaudy paint across the fabric.
“What the hell?” Gibbs stared at the stage. When Tony turned all the way around, the wide performance area had been replaced by an archway that led to a rich forest. A dusting of snow gave everything a storybook quality, and red swoops of curtains blocked the view of the tree tops.
The first and last time Tony had been at the Providence Performing Art Center, his mother had brought him to a dance performance. Tony couldn’t even remember who had been on stage. He’d been too young to really appreciate the performance, but he remembered holding his mother’s hand tightly. He remembered all the bright coats and the wonder of having his mother bring him.
Her evenings out were her escape from the family home, and she had always left Tony behind with a nanny up to that point, but the art center was the first time he became part of her inner circle. It was him and his mom against the world, and it had all started in this building, although back then, the forest had definitely not been there. The theater, movies, art-this was the secret world Tony shared with his mom.
As a child, Tony had simply wanted to avoid his father’s mood swings. When a deal went well, Senior would promise ponies and trips to Australia and pet kangaroos. When some business venture tanked, Tony hid from the screaming and drinking. Going out with his mother was a chance to enjoy the world without always having to watch for his father’s mood. He remembered asking his mother why his father didn’t seem to love him, and his mother had told him that all fathers had trouble talking to their children. Maybe that’s where Tony had gotten his fear of having children of his own.
“What do you see?” Boucher asked, but then Oberton put a hand on Boucher’s arm, and he nodded as though he had his answer. “Oh.”
Tony turned to Boucher. He didn’t want the fibbies here one second longer than required because this place felt sacred to him. “So, ask your damn question.”
Boucher raised his eyebrows.
After clearing his throat, Oberton asked, “Are you a shaman?”
“No,” Tony said firmly. If he was, he would have ripped the charm right out of his father.
Oberton turned to Boucher. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Gibbs practically growled the words. Tony wished he could believe that Gibbs was getting protective and territorial over Tony, but the more likely answer was that he resented the hell out of losing so much time to a wild goose chase. Maybe Tony could sic Gibbs on Senior. Gibbs’ famous gut and Marine stare against Senior’s charm and Talent. Tony would bet on Gibbs.
Boucher tilted his head. “Agent DiNozzo believes that.”
Tony threw up his hands. “Because it’s true.”
“But it’s not,” Boucher said. “Words have a reality here, and your words are truth to you, but untrue of reality.”
“You mean he doesn’t know he’s a shaman?” Oberton clarified.
Tony turned his back and started walking up the aisle of the theater. “Where’s the exit because I am not going to stand here while you accuse me of being stupid.”
“Whoa! Wait! Don’t wander too far or you might actually get lost,” Oberton called.
“I thought you said this was safe,” Gibbs snapped.
“Because I assumed he wouldn’t wander away,” Oberton defended himself. “Agent DiNozzo, I was a mundane up to a couple of months ago when I found out I had shamanic powers I didn’t know about. It’s impossibly rare, but it does happen.” Oberton exchanged a concerned look with his partner, and Tony headed back toward them. His gut might not be as well developed as Gibbs’, but he knew when someone was trying to hide information.
“What aren’t you saying?”
“Excuse me?” Boucher demanded. Having him speak instead of the less threatening Oberton was definitely an attempt to get Tony to back off. Tough shit. Tony didn’t do what anyone expected.
“You know something you aren’t saying.”
Boucher crossed his arms. “I know a lot of things I have no intention of telling you, Agent. Darren, find Agent DiNozzo’s guide.”
“On it,” Agent Oberton agreed.
Tony sighed. “Look, you clearly confused. Possibly well-intentioned, but definitely confused because I don’t have a guide. I don’t have Talent, I’m not a shaman or a magic user. You have gotten all your wires mixed up somewhere, and I’m just the poor guy standing center stage when you did.” Tony spread his arms out to gesture at the stage they were standing on.
“DiNozzo, shut up,” Gibbs said. That was unusually direct.
“Boss?”
“Words have a reality here.” Gibbs repeated Boucher’s early words, and the light bulb came on so fast that it hurt. Words. Boucher wanted words, and Tony was the huge schmuck who kept talking. Tony was giving Boucher some version of Tony’s reality, and as a shaman, he had all the power. Tony pressed his lips together and Gibbs gave a tight nod.
“Let’s go back,” Gibbs said. Tony regretted coming, not that it helped much after the fact. All Tony could do was keep his mouth shut and wait for Boucher to get them back to the real world.
“I found it,” Oberton said even though he hadn’t done anything except stare up at the sky. Tony had assumed Oberton had ignored his partner’s order to find Tony’s guide, but apparently not.
Boucher turned to him. “Where?”
“That way,” Obertson gestured toward the forest.
“Found what?” Gibbs asked with a growl.
“DiNozzo’s guide,” Boucher said.
“Oh for the love of-” Gibbs cut himself off, and Tony didn’t know what to say. Shamans ran this world, and he never should have come. Worse, Gibbs would never forgive him for dragging Gibbs down with him.
Boucher took a step closer to Gibbs. “Agent Gibbs, give us ten minutes, and then maybe you will understand why your agent reads as a shaman. I promise you, I’m not the only shaman to notice DiNozzo’s status. I do, however, find it disturbing that I’m the first to mention it to him.” With that, Agent Boucher turned and headed into the woods, following the footsteps Oberton had left in the snow.
“Boss?” Tony asked. He had no idea what to do at this point, and they were trapped on the spirit plane with mentally disturbed shamans.
Gibbs didn’t answer, but he did stride into the forest after Boucher. With a sigh, Tony followed. This was the strangest day he’d ever had, and coming from someone with his history of serial killers, plagues, and ghost ships, that was saying something.
Chapter Seven
Jethro’s gut churned as he followed Boucher’s back. Other shaman would have recognized Tony. Something told Jethro that the fed was telling the truth about that, but Jethro didn’t want to believe it. Maybe Ziva had a good reason.
When she’d started with the team, Jethro would expect her to hide that sort of information. She’d been insecure about her place, and more than once she’d pushed too damn hard, like with that damn dinner. Looking back, Jethro shouldn’t have gone along with that, but she’d felt so isolated. Several days she’d come to his house and sat on his steps to watch him sand the boat because she’d had nothing else to do. It seemed like such a small joke and a good way to make Ziva feel at home.
And when Jethro wasn’t being a coward, he could admit that he had to push Tony away because his feelings for Tony were not fatherly, and Jethro would not make that mistake again. Jenny had taught him the folly of having feelings for a teammate, and Jethro did not like to repeat the same mistakes. Pushing Tony away had been the best way to avoid future disaster.
But if she knew Tony was a shaman, why wouldn’t she address it with Tony or with Jethro later-after her place on the team was more secure? Jethro knew she had feelings for Tony. Her attraction was equal to the guilt she felt for letting her personal feelings affect her so much when her father expected her to be the perfect Mossad agent.
After Ziva left Mossad, Jethro had resigned himself to the two of them starting a relationship. He’d drunk more than ever and started to really hate Tony and his heterosexuality, but he’d resigned himself to seeing Tony make a commitment to Ziva. But even after renouncing her ties to Mossad, Ziva had still continued the same dysfunctional relationship, pulling at Tony’s loyalties one second and pushing him away hard the next day. Despite loving Ziva like a daughter, Jethro had started to hate her for the way she screwed with Tony’s head.
He’d been relieved when she left, only to have Tony go chasing after her. And now all those unhappy and uncomfortable made even less sense because if Agent Boucher was right, she’d known all along that Tony was a shaman, and she’d never told anyone… including Tony. What the hell had she been thinking? Some days Jethro could not figure out what passed for logic in other people’s minds.
Ahead Boucher stopped, and Jethro took a slight step to the side so that he would be between DiNozzo and Boucher, but the second he saw the animal beside a large boulder, he forget all about the two shamans. The grey wolf was large, at least his bone structure was, but he was starved down until skin stretched across bone. He had a huge wound on the back of his neck and some sort of disease or parasite had clearly set in. Jethro reached for his sidearm to put the wolf out of its misery, but apparently his gun hadn’t come to the spirit plane with him.
Then before Jethro could figure out what to do about the suffering animal, DiNozzo threw himself forward. Jethro grabbed for him, but missed, and for a second, fear ripped at Jethro’s guts as he waited for the badly injured and dying wolf to gut Tony. If it had the strength to lift its head, that was the only possible outcome.
Instead, Tony put his head on the wolf’s shoulder, and the wolf moved its muzzle just enough to lick Tony’s arm. With a sob, Tony wrapped his arms around the wolf, running his fingers through the patchy fur. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know,” Tony whispered. Someone else might take that as an apology to Boucher for lying about his Talent, but Jethro had the feeling Tony was apologizing to the wolf. That would be more like Tony-to feel bad for his inability to protect everyone.
“He’s in so much pain,” Oberton said softly. “All he can do is suffer.”
“That’s why DiNozzo didn’t have access to his Talent. Fuck.” Boucher growled the last word, his anger making the air feel heavy. Jethro couldn’t deny what his eyes were telling him, so he that meant he had to shift gears.
“Who did this?” Jethro looked at Boucher for answers.
Boucher stared back at him without saying anything.
“Is there any way to know?” Oberton asked.
Boucher looked over to where Tony had his arms wrapped around the dying wolf. “The scars look old, and the guides tend to follow the rules of the physical world. At least when they feel like it. But my guess would be that the wolf has been injured for years or even decades.”
Jethro gritted his teeth. He wanted to rage, but no one here had done the damage. Right now, Jethro knew that Tony would blame his father, but Jethro wasn’t as sure. His gut told him Ziva was involved somehow, but that wasn’t a conversation he would have in front of this FBI agents. Ziva was his mistake and his responsibility. And if she had done this much damage to Tony, he was going to find her and kick her ass so hard she’d feel it when she was eighty. What the hell had she been thinking?
“Can you help him?” Jethro asked.
“I could,” Oberton said, but he looked at Boucher as if asking for permission. To hell with that.
“Then fix it!” Jethro snapped. Oberton didn’t do anything until Boucher nodded, and Jethro was starting to have homicidal feelings toward these two. But then Oberton looked up and a white bird swooped down out of the sky and landed on the wolf’s shoulder near Tony’s head.
The wolf whined, and Tony picked his head up. “Don’t hurt him.” Tony growled the words.
Oberton knelt down next to Tony. “He won’t. He’s going to give your guide enough energy to heal. He’s been hurt for too long to heal himself.”
Tony looked at Oberton with suspicion. Good. Jethro disliked these two enough that he didn’t want his second to like them. Finally Tony said, “Okay.”
The bird started combing through the wolf’s hair, picking out the parasites and worms that infected the nasty wound.
Tony stroked the wolf’s head, and he had such a smitten expression that Jethro was jealous of a damn wolf that wasn’t even real. “How could I have forgotten him?” Tony asked in a pained voice.
“Enough,” Jethro said before anyone could answer. “We’ll discuss this back in the conference room.” Jethro stared at Boucher and dared him to contradict the order. There was no way that he or Tony would talk while the shamans had a magical version of a polygraph going. The damn PR department hadn’t managed to get Jethro to take a polygraph, and Boucher wouldn’t either. Boucher stared at him without moving. Bastard. They might have kept staring at each other, but Tony’s voice distracted Jethro.
“He’s healing.”
Jethro looked over and the wolf’s wounds were closed and he had more meat on him. However, he wasn’t fully healed. He struggled up onto wobbly legs, and Jethro’s gut screamed about having a predator so close to DiNozzo. With Tony sitting on the forest floor, the wolf was taller than him. It was a huge creature that must have been a good 180 pounds when healthy. It still wasn’t there yet. The bird had flown off when the wolf got to its feet, but now it settled on the wolf’s shoulders. The wolf should have treated the cattle egret like prey, but instead it ignored the bird as the wolf’s hair began to grow back. Mangy clumps fell out, replaced with healthy fur.
Before long, a solid gray wolf stood in the forest. He shoved his head forward, burying it in DiNozzo’s lap, but then it looked up and with the grace of its species, leapt away and vanished into the shadows.
“Wait!” Tony cried out. He bolted to his feet, but Jethro hadn’t forgotten what Oberton had said about getting lost, so he caught Tony by the arm before he could go running off into the woods. Tony jerked his arm. “Let go!”
“No,” Jethro said firmly.
“Damn it.” Tony shoved at Jethro’s chest, and this was the most aggressive Jethro had seen Tony in years.
“Your guide is still there,” Oberton said. “But wolves are private. He’ll want to get to know you alone, not with all of us standing around.”
“Then leave,” Tony said. His head was so twisted around that he clearly thought that was a good idea.
“You don’t know how to navigate on the spirit plane. Shamans get lost and die here,” Boucher said. “We’re going back to the conference room.”
Jethro tightened his grip on Tony’s arm and was about to agree when the world vanished in a blink and they were back in the conference room.
Tony shot out of his chair. “You bastard. You had no right to drag me back here.” He closed in on Boucher. The fed stood, and Jethro scrambled to catch Tony before he could assault a federal agent. Tony was faster and he shoved at Boucher’s chest before Jethro could stop him.
“DiNozzo!” Gibbs snapped, and when he reached Tony a second later, he head slapped him.
Tony whirled around, and for a second, he seemed confused. He stared at Jethro like he’d never seen him.
“Okay, let’s all calm down.” Oberton moved between Boucher and DiNozzo, and Jethro pulled Tony away from both shamans.
“It’s okay.” Boucher put his hand on Oberton’s shoulder. “DiNozzo’s guide has been severely attacked, and his own reactions have been compromised by that assault. It’s evident that while he is a shaman, he has had no access to shamanic powers. Agent Gibbs, your agent will need to go on stand down until legal can sort this, and I would recommend you get him to the Djedi center for training on how to access the spirit plane. He’s been damaged enough that he needs a better connection to his spirit guide.
“I’ll take care of DiNozzo,” Jethro said. Even if he had to drag him to the Djedi center kicking and screaming. “But if you tell people he’s been a shaman all this time, he’s going to lose his job.”
Up until now, Tony had been straining against Jethro’s hold, but now he sank into the nearest chair and put his hands over his face. “Oh fuck.” Tony’s words cut through Jethro. Once again, Jethro hadn’t protected someone he cared about. The failure tasted like ash in his mouth.
“I’ll have the FBI legal team call NCIS,” Boucher said. He gave Oberton a fond look. “We just had to complete the same review for Oberton who showed signs of shamanism pretty late in life.”
“Near drowning when I was in high school, but I didn’t have enough power to trip anyone’s shaman alarm until much later,” Oberton said with a shrug. “Look at the bright side, Agent DiNozzo. Even horribly wounded and near death, your guide had enough power for Agent Boucher to recognize the Talent. You could develop into a significant shaman, and law enforcement is always looking for shamans to work Talent cases.”
Jethro glared at the man. If Oberton was trying to recruit Tony, Jethro was going to break the man into small pieces.
“We will need to identify when you became a shaman,” Boucher said. With that and my testimony that your guide was damaged enough to prevent you from using Talent, that should suffice. It would help if there were other shamans who could testify that in the past you were also unable to access your magic.”
Jethro appreciated Boucher’s professional tone, but they couldn’t afford to have Boucher go digging into that mystery. It would be too easy for someone to mention Ziva, and Jethro was almost sure that Abby knew Ziva had talent. Before Jethro could figure out what to say to get them off this track, Tony offered another name.
“The Djedi center in Baltimore. I was working a serial rape case, and all the guys told me the center would kick me out on my ass, but they didn’t. They were a huge help in catching the rapist.”
Boucher nodded. “They probably knew you had Talent, so I’ll contact them and see what sort of impression you made. DiNozzo, you’re one of the few shamans in law enforcement. I will always have your back if I can.”
Tony gave a dismissive snort. Jethro moved to Tony’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. Tony needed to know he had someone he could trust in his corner, and he could trust Jethro. A shiver went through Tony’s frame and then he leaned forward, breaking contact. “As for near-death experiences, you can have your pick. My first vote would be the plague,” Tony said.
“I heard that story,” Oberton said. “That one gets told over at the Hoover building like a campfire horror story. But you were an agent by then.”
“So?” Jethro asked.
Boucher answered. “If someone has Talent, if they don’t seek a guide on the spirit plane, the ability to perceive living magic fades, and their Talent focuses on inanimate magic like crystals or incantations. The travel to the spirit plane has to happen during adolescence, so we’re looking for a near death experience somewhere around fourteen, maybe as late as twenty-two or three.”
Tony lost most of the color out of his face. “Subpoena my records from the Long Island Jewish Medical Center from February when I was twelve.” And with that, he stood and stalked out of the room, his back stiff. Jethro was grateful that neither shaman tried to follow because Tony was acting as prickly as a porcupine, not that Jethro would let that deter him. With a nod at the two feds, Jethro got up and followed Tony out of the room.
At some point, he’d need to talk to Vance, but right now Jethro really only cared about DiNozzo.