Emerald City 3/5
2/5
“Hey-make sure you get a good shot of the edge over there, the soil coloration,” Daniel says, pointing to a shelf of dirt that transitions from deeply brown to slightly less deeply brown.
“I know that,” Tony snaps, irritated.
“Jack, I’m not going to apologize for being annoyed that we had to call the cops to come check out a possible vandalism scene. This is an archaeological excavation, not some sleazy back alley,” Daniel replies, voice level, and Tony keeps quiet and takes picture after picture, as thorough as if he were recording a crime scene.
The cops arrive, eventually; Daniel jogs off to meet them, and Tony remains at his job, photographing. Gibbs will be getting a copy of the report from the police as soon as they leave, and there’s no need for him to draw attention to himself. Huge, fluffy white clouds float across the sky as Tony works, and with them comes a humidity so thick it feels like hot mist floating in the air.
Daniel’s back almost an hour later, sour and annoyed. “That was uneventful,” he says, settling himself under their tent.
“They weren’t able to tell you anything?” Tony asks, finally finished recording the site. He drops into a chair next to Daniel and places the camera carefully on the table.
“Nothing,” Daniel says, voice thick with anger. “They’ll look into it but it’s doubtful they’ll find anything. They just don’t give a damn,” he finishes, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth there’s a rumble of thunder. The white clouds above have turned gray and threatening, and shadows are falling all around.
“Oh, that’s just perfect,” Daniel says, exasperated.
“Pack it up or wait it out?” Tony asks, surveying the sky. “Not a lot we can do out here while it’s raining.”
“I should have known better in the first place. The weather forecast called for afternoon thunderstorms but I was hoping they’d hold off longer-it’s not even lunchtime.” Daniel sighs. “I’m sending them home. Even if the rain does stop soon we can’t get much done in the mud. Maybe if we start packing things up now we can get everything inside before the sky drops. Break down the tent, I’ll go tell them to head home.”
Tony murmurs in agreement. Daniel’s off again, calling all the supervisors and interns to him, and Tony stares down the tent. It’s not a tent so much as a glorified awning, he thinks; four metal poles and a large square fabric covering. He’s untying the covering from the poles when he hears thunder again, louder; as he pulls down the thick orange fabric he feels the first warm drop of rain.
The camera, he thinks, and grabs it from the table, running toward the main office as the sparse raindrops turn into a downpour. He’s soaked by the time he reaches the office, panting; he darts inside and places the camera on Daniel’s desk and goes back to stand at the door, noting sourly that the other three groups have already broken down their tents and are storing them in the equipment room.
Daniel runs over to him, shirt soaked through; they watch the others scatter, running carefully for their cars, hands held over their heads in a futile attempt to escape the rain.
“So I guess you told them that we didn’t need any help breaking down our tent,” Tony says dryly, watching headlights flick on and the cars back out, one by one.
“Yeah,” Daniel drawls. “Possibly not one of my better moments.”
“We could just leave it-” Tony begins, but Daniel cuts in.
“No. What kind of example would that be? Back into the deluge for us.”
“You think this is funny, don’t you?” Tony asks. “You crazy bastard.”
But Daniel is already running back out into the thunderstorm, slipping all over the wet ground, and Tony’s right behind them. Getting the tent broken down is a complete debacle. Tony slips and nearly breaks his neck--twice--he points out to Daniel, but Daniel’s there to catch him, grinning like a lunatic. Once they’ve pulled everything down, though, they get it all inside in one trip, stumbling under the weight of the tent’s long metal poles and tripping over the covering.
They throw everything into the equipment room and lock the door, hastily running inside the complex.
“You have s-serious problems, Jackson,” Tony mutters, shivering as the cool air inside the office chills his wet body. Daniel walks over to stand next to him, but says nothing.
“I’m g-going outside, too cold in here,” Tony says. Daniel’s eyes look hungry, and he’s standing a bit too close-and of course, he follows Tony outside.
Tony crosses his arms, wrapping them around his chest to warm himself. It’s hotter outside, the thunderstorm still raging, but the chill from the air conditioner inside still sticks to his clothing.
“I’m not-” Daniel begins, and then stops, looking away. “I apologize if I was maybe a bit angry earlier-”
“You were,” Tony affirms, glancing at him.
“Yeah, I know,” Daniel replies.
“I don’t really blame you,” adds Tony. “But yeah, you were pretty angry.”
Daniel nods, and for a minute they just stand there, staring at the rain and gray skies, the wind bending branches all around. “I know we agreed to take it slow,” Daniel says, edging closer to Tony.
Tony says, “We did say that. I was there,” but his heart’s not really in it.
“I’m not really a good gauge of speed. Maybe you can let me know if I go over the limit,” Daniel replies, smiling crookedly, and then he’s leaning in quickly, kissing Tony in the Southern heat, the rain a low hush all around them.
Daniel fists his hands in Tony’s shirt, pushes him backwards until his back hits the closed office door with a thud-and Tony comes to life, opening his mouth to the kiss and pushing back, fingers tangled in Daniel’s shirt.
Too soon, Tony pulls back, a hand on Daniel’s chest to hold him in place. Daniel’s lips are swollen; he’s panting, and his glasses are slightly askew.
Tony thinks for a second, and then asks, “Your place or mine? Keep in mind that mine’s a dump.”
Daniel doesn’t really stop to think about it. “Mine works.”
Nodding quickly, Tony does a few mental calculations, and then says, “Ride with me? No sense in taking two cars.”
Pressing a quick kiss to Tony’s lips, Daniel smiles, and the two of them sprint through the rain to Tony’s truck. Daniel gives directions, and Tony pretends to follow them; he’s got the route memorized, knew it before Daniel ever got there.
Daniel rushes him into the apartment and clumsily closes and locks the door. This time, it’s Tony’s turn to lean in and initiate the kiss; he grabs Daniel’s wrists, massaging the cool skin, and kisses his way around Daniel’s lower lip.
With a groan, Daniel pushes him away and pulls the t-shirt over Tony’s head, dropping it carelessly on the floor. Daniel dips his head in and presses kisses all along Tony’s collarbone until Tony can’t stand it anymore, and he grabs Daniel’s shirt, pulling it up and over. Daniel’s glasses are crooked, resting on the edge of his nose, and Tony leans in for a kiss, teeth gnashing a bit as he presses in.
Daniel’s air conditioning kicks in and Tony shivers, wet jeans clinging to his skin. Daniel pulls away from the kiss, grinning wildly, and kneels, unbuttoning Tony’s pants and pulling them down along with his boxers. Tony nearly falls over in an attempt to toe out of his shoes and socks but manages it, discarding the pants and underwear along the floor, and then Daniel’s grabbing his lower back, pulling him forward.
Daniel licks a strip along Tony’s lower stomach, dipping into the curve of his hips, and Tony can’t help it; he groans, and then pulls back. “We have to go to-the bedroom now,” he gasps, hauling Daniel up and unbuttoning his pants.
Grabbing Tony by the hand, Daniel leads him down a hallway into the bedroom, kicking his shoes off as they reach the doorway. Tony helps pull down the pants and boxers, palming Daniel’s ass as he steps out of the clothing, and then Daniel pushes him down onto the bed.
It’s obvious from the beginning that it’s not going to last; Daniel falls on top of him, kissing the corner of his jaw, one hand working its way down and around Tony’s cock. Tony jumps with the first pull, moaning, and then wraps one hand around Daniel’s back and manages to fit the other between their bodies, running a thumb over the head of Daniel’s cock.
Their cold bodies warm up fast, and it’s not long before Tony is sweating and gasping, matching Daniel’s strokes with his own. Soon, though, the hands get in the way and Daniel shoves Tony’s hand over to the side and they thrust against each other, Daniel’s hand wrapped mostly around both of their cocks.
Unbidden, the image of Gibbs comes to Tony’s mind; the hands, the curve of the neck, and Tony groans, pushing the image away; it’s easier to believe that he doesn’t want it anymore with Daniel above him, muttering, “Yes, yes.”
Tony can feel it building, and then he comes, gasping, the edges of his vision turning white; a few seconds later, he hears Daniel’s choked, “Jack!” and then feels the hot spurt of come on his stomach.
Daniel collapses on him, pressing a kiss to the side of Tony’s lips; and Tony replays the sound of Daniel calling him a name that isn’t his over and over, feeling vaguely sick.
Daniel rolls over and off of him, breathing heavily, and they lie there for a while, ribs touching.
“Shower?” Daniel asks, breaking the silence, and Tony nods.
They shower together, still hazy from orgasm; there’s not really room enough in the small shower stall for the two of them, so while Tony washes his hair, Daniel rubs over his body with a soapy washcloth and afterward, Tony reciprocates.
They just stand together for a while after Daniel finishes rinsing the shampoo from his hair, until Daniel hesitantly says, “So it may take a little longer to get over that last not-relationship than I thought.”
“I know what you mean,” Tony says, thinking, bastard, bastard, bastard.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to try,” Daniel adds. “I don’t think this was a mistake.”
Daniel’s face is earnest, and Tony’s spirits lift, if only a little. “I agree.”
Out of the shower, they towel dry, and after Tony snaps Daniel’s ass with a wet towel Daniel bitches for a minute or two-and then stops, looking confused. “What’s that-is that your cellphone?” he asks, glancing around.
Tony hears it too, and instead of answering scrambles into the living room to find his pants, still wet, crumpled on the floor. Digging the cellphone out of a pocket, he answers, hastily, only to hear Gibbs’s voice on the other line.
“DiNozzo,” Gibbs barks. “We’re about an hour and a half away but we just ran into a thunderstorm. If it’s raining down there we’re not going to be able to tell much from the crime scene.”
“Om-no,” Tony stutters, racking his brain. “I told you to fix the air conditioning unit, the heater’s fine.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line, then Gibbs’s annoyed voice. “What the hell are you talking about, DiNozzo?”
“Yeah, fine, I’ll be right there,” Tony says, glancing at Daniel and shaking his head, a pained expression on his face.
“You better call me back and explain this very shortly,” Gibbs says, and then hangs up.
“That was my apartment super,” Tony lies. “My air conditioning’s out and instead of fixing that he’s done something to my heater. I’m really sorry but I have to get back there.”
Daniel nods, looking faintly puzzled. “That’s fine, I understand. But how am I going to get to work tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll pick you up,” Tony promises, and then rushes over, pressing a quick kiss to Daniel’s mouth. “Now help me find my clothes.”
“Your wet clothes?” Daniel asks, incredulous. “Just leave those here, you can borrow some of mine and pick yours up in the morning.”
In the end, Tony leaves in a pair of borrowed jeans and a green t-shirt; the idea of wearing borrowed boxers was just too much, and his are still wet, so he just shrugs it off and goes with it.
As soon as he’s outside in his truck-the rain still pouring down-he calls Gibbs back.
“Sorry, Boss,” he begins, pulling out of Daniel’s apartment complex. “I was talking with Dr. Jackson, couldn’t say anything in front of him.”
“Whatever, DiNozzo,” Gibbs replies. “We can come down and take a look at that ripped-up tent but I doubt it’s going to tell us much.”
“Doesn’t matter, Boss, I may have something better. Ziva knows how to get into a locked car, doesn’t she?” Tony asks.
Gibbs is quiet for a moment. “Tony, what have you got?”
“I gave Dr. Jackson a ride home from work today, his car’s still at the lot. I thought we might want to take a look inside.”
“Good work, Tony,” Gibbs says. “We’ll meet you there in about an hour.”
I’m an awful person, Tony thinks, and then drives to the office to wait on his team to get there.
*
They step out of the truck, complaining; and it’s such a welcome sight to see them that Tony grins, watching them unload equipment. Tony’s dug an umbrella out of the floorboard of his truck, but it’s not doing him much good; Ziva, McGee, and Gibbs, however, have only their jackets, and the rain soaks them as soon as they step outside.
“Have a good ride?” he asks McGee, smirking at the pained expression on the other man’s face.
“Believe me, Tony, Gibbs’s driving hasn’t changed at all,” McGee says, and Tony shudders.
“All right, let’s get to work,” Gibbs says. “McGee, you go check out that tent, take some samples for Abby,” Gibbs says, and Tony tosses him the key to the equipment bunker.
“Ziva, Tony, with me, let’s see what we have in the car,” Gibbs says.
“Is anyone else concerned that this is highly illegal?” Ziva asks, face sour.
“If you do it right, he’ll never know,” Tony replies, nudging Ziva toward the car.
“Even if we find something suspicious in the car, we can’t use it as evidence without a warrant,” Ziva argues, eyes flashing.
“As far as I’m concerned, we’re just keeping Tony safe,” Gibbs says, lips pressed into a wry smile, and it’s obvious that he’s not serious. “Just get into the car, Ziva.”
Daniel’s got a rental car that has a few years on it, and it doesn’t take Ziva long to get the driver side window down an inch and jiggle some sort of long, straight wire down into the car before the door handle clicks grudgingly.
“Here we go. Touch nothing, just look,” Gibbs warns, and pops the trunk latch, walking around to peer inside.
As Tony had expected, they find nothing, which makes him feel even more about this betrayal. Daniel’s got a few textbooks lying around and wadded up papers; they find pens galore, and a coffee mug. The trunk is full of t-shirts and a pair of sneakers.
As they’re locking the car up, McGee returns. “Nothing, Boss,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I, ah, took a couple of pictures for Abby and grabbed a sample of the cloth, but that’s about all I could do.”
“Sorry, Boss,” Tony says. “Guess I called you down here for nothing.”
“Not really,” Gibbs replies. “We’re staying for the next few days, just to make sure that we’re here if anything else happens. McGee’s going to run those pictures and the sample up to Abby; Ziva and I’ll ask around town tomorrow, see if we can dig anything up about Forson and Thomas. We’ll be staying in a hotel over on Walnut, should be in pretty close proximity to you and Jackson.”
“Yeah,” Tony affirms, but Gibbs isn’t really listening.
“Back into the truck,” Gibbs calls out, and McGee and Ziva hurriedly scamper in out of the rain.
“Your hair smells like shampoo, DiNozzo. Getting all cleaned up for us?” Gibbs asks.
“I didn’t know you cared, Gibbs,” Tony replies, dryly.
*
Tony heads straight back home and locks himself into his apartment, watching the television idly. Gibbs is in town, he thinks.
I am so screwed.
*
Tony picks up Daniel early for work the next day, and is rewarded with his clothes, now dry.
“They’re not clean,” Daniel warns, and Tony wrinkles his nose.
The day is blessedly not as hot as the previous few days have been; the rain is gone, and it’s apparently cut through the humidity a bit. The break in the weather doesn’t make the work any easier, though; the ground is still incredibly muddy, and Tony and Daniel are back at their work site, digging and sieving away.
At 5:00, the others leave, and Daniel waves them away. As soon as the last car door is shut, Daniel pushes Tony backward, palm on his chest, into a tree.
Tony blinks. “You’re really taking this up a notch, aren’t you?”
“What, am I moving too fast for you?” Daniel asks, smirking.
“Well, no, but-” Tony begins, but Daniel interrupts.
“So I’m just not allowed to be spontaneous, then?” he asks, eyes challenging. He places a finger to Tony’s lips and Tony pulls the finger down, gently.
"You’re sure that everybody's gone, right?" Tony asks.
"Jack, if you interrupt me one more time, I swear I'm going to just leave you here," Daniel said.
Jack. Right, Tony thinks, and the pang of that little lie hits especially hard as he stands pressed against the tree, Daniel's chest spread out against his. But Tony just cocks an eyebrow, challenging Daniel's threat.
Daniel draws in a breath as though he’s about to say something and then just shrugs. "Whatever. I'm lying. It was worth a try."
Tony sighs. "We just shouldn't be doing this here," he repeats. "Someone could see-"
Daniel leans forward, hands on either side of Tony's shoulders, smiling, and then swoops down, licking a trail from the skin at the edge of Tony's t-shirt, right at his collarbone, upward to his ear.
Tony shudders. "That's just-incredibly gross and dirty and oh God, that's hot," he said, as Daniel sinks down to his knees, unbuttons Tony's pants, and looks upward, eyes glinting.
“No-wait,” Tony says, putting a hand on Daniel’s shoulder as the other man begins to lean in. “Seriously, we can’t do this out here.”
Daniel sighs. “Your place, then?” he asks hopefully.
Buttoning and zipping his pants, Tony nods. “My place, now, yes.”
*
Daniel follows Tony back to his place, and Tony spends the whole ride running fingers through his hair, smoothing down his shirt. When they pull into the parking lot, Tony hops out and jogs over to the apartment door, unlocking it, and then stops short, turning to face Daniel.
“You know, my apartment’s really small,” he says, smiling as Daniel looks at him as though he’s lost it. “Maybe we should just call this off, you can go home and have an early night.”
Daniel’s eyes widen and as he opens his mouth to speak, Tony reaches out a finger to quiet him. “Or you can come inside and we can both get off. Your choice,” he finishes, and then slips inside the door, smiling to himself at Daniel’s silence.
After a couple of seconds, though, Daniel yanks the door open and steps inside, closing the door forcefully.
Daniel buries his hands in Tony's shirt, shoving the other man into the closed door with enough force to cause the doorframe to rattle. "So," he says, fisting the Tony's shirt collar and pulling forward until the two are nearly nose to nose, "if that was just some kind of joke, now would be the time to say something."
Tony just grins, and licks his lips. "As much fun as it is to play ‘rile the archaeologist,’ no, not joking."
Daniel nods. "Good." And then swiftly, before Tony even has time to blink, Daniel is kissing him, all hard lips and teeth, sucking on Tony's lower lip as Tony hurriedly unfastens the buttons on Daniel's shirt, pulling the top down on the other man's arms until it rips.
Daniel stops momentarily, eyebrow raised as he sort of smirks at Tony, but Tony just shrugs a bit and then grabs Daniel's hands, pulling them away from his collar and turning the other man so that he’s pushed back into the door. Immediately Tony latches his lips onto Daniel's neck, sucking and biting as his fingers skim Daniel's ribs.
And then Daniel plants a leg between Tony's thighs and rubs, and Tony moans a moan that he will never admit to later and says, "Bedroom good with you?"
Daniel doesn’t say anything, just steps away from the door, one hand around Tony's neck and the other rubbing circles on his hip as he walks forward, leading Tony backwards into the hallway-and before he knows it, way before he’s in the bedroom, the backs of his knees hit something hard and then he’s toppling over, Daniel on top of him, and at least one of Daniel's elbows hits him squarely in the ribs and later, Tony is pretty sure that that’s when he accidentally kicks Daniel in the knee.
Daniel grunts and there’s a crash from the vicinity of Tony’s nightstand.
“Was that my lamp?” Tony asks, looking around in the semi-darkness of the room. “I liked that lamp!”
“I’ll buy you a new lamp,” Daniel promises, leaning in for a kiss. Tony kisses back, and reaches up, pulling the glasses off of Daniel’s face and tossing them away.
Daniel pulls back, panting. “Do you know how many pairs of glasses I’ve lost in my lifetime?”
“Don’t really care,” Tony grunts, and leans in for another kiss.
*
It’s not long before they’re sweated and sated, lying in bed together, tangled in the sheets.
“I like you a lot,” Daniel mumbles, his face turned away.
“Ditto,” Tony says, and then smiles as he hears Daniel snoring.
*
The next time Tony wakes, it’s dark outside; the lights of a passing car shine through the window momentarily, illuminating Daniel’s still form beside him. Daniel’s hair is mussed, his glasses lost somewhere in the dark corners of Tony’s bedroom.
“Hey,” Daniel says, eyes opening slowly. “You’re staring.”
“You have something on your face,” Tony says, pointing to Daniel’s cheek. “Right there.”
Daniel starts wiping at his cheek, and Tony grins. “You bastard,” Daniel says, without any venom. He rolls over, and then springs upright. “Oh shit,” he says, and scrambles at the bedcovers.
“Language, Dr. Jackson,” Tony says.
“I left my cellphone at the office,” Daniel says. “I have to run out and get it.”
“Why can’t it wait until morning?”
“I’m kind of on twenty-four hour call to Colorado; if they need me I have to go in,” Daniel says, frustrated. “I’m sorry, but I have to go get the phone.”
“I’ll go with you,” Tony offers. “Nobody should be up there alone at night.”
Tony pulls on a pair of long pajama pants and t-shirt, and watches Daniel as he gets dressed, the long lines of his body in the dim apartment light. Wordless, they leave and Tony drives them to the office, yawning only a few times on the way there. They’re on their way to unlock the door when Tony spots something in the dirt just a few feet away.
Placing a hand on Daniel’s arm, Tony raises a finger to his lips and points. Daniel looks around and nods, following Tony over, and Tony toes at the lump on the ground.
As soon as Tony touches it, he knows it’s a body; leaning down, he feels for a pulse and finds the long, curly strands of Mona’s hair under his fingers. She’s got a strong pulse, and he breathes out in relief.
“Unlock the door and flick on the outside lights,” he whispers. “Do not go inside that building.”
Daniel unlocks the door slowly, reaching a hand inside to flick on the lights. The lights buzz into life, and Tony can see Mona lying on the ground, a mass of blood on the back of her head. Tony looks around quickly, but sees no movement.
“Stay with her, I’m going to check out the building,” Tony says, and then opens the office door quickly, turning on the inside lights. There’s nothing there, but papers and books are strewn around the office. Tony checks the bathroom quickly, and the lone other office room and finds nothing. He darts back outside to find Daniel sitting at Mona’s side. With only one more room to check, Tony flattens himself against the building and walks quietly around the side to the equipment bunker.
The door’s unlocked-Tony kicks it open and finds the lights on and everything in place.
He runs back around to Daniel. “Looks like there’s no one here. Go inside and call 911, I’ll stay out here with Mona.”
Daniel nods again and jumps up, running inside. Tony can hear his voice-frantic, urgently asking for the police and an ambulance, and he regrets what he’s about to do but it can’t be helped.
“They’re on their way, should be just a few minutes,” Daniel says, appearing at the doorway.
“Good,” Tony says, and stands. “I need you to stay with Mona now-I have to make a phone call.”
“Who the hell do you have to talk to right now?” Daniel snaps, leaning down to check Mona’s pulse again.
“I’m sorry,” Tony says, shaking his head. “I’ll be right back.”
Tony calls Gibbs’s cell, and of course the man isn’t asleep. Quietly, he explains the situation, and they come to an agreement; Gibbs and Ziva are on their way.
Tony hangs up and walks back outside, looking at Daniel’s concerned face. “What the hell was that about?” Daniel asks, looking up.
“I’m not-I’m sorry,” Tony finishes lamely as the sound of police sirens screams in the distance. “I’m sorry.”
And then police cars are pulling into the lot and Tony’s jogging out and waving them over. The officers pair off, a couple coming with Tony to secure the office and a couple shining flashlights over the dark ground.
The ambulance pulls up and Tony directs the paramedics to Mona, his eyes on the separate set of headlights that have pulled in behind the ambulance. Gibbs and Ziva step out and Tony’s again waving his arms, flagging them over.
“Is the victim still unconscious?” Gibbs asks, eyes glancing around the buzz of activity.
Tony nods. “As far as I know.”
“Ziva, you’ll go with her,” Gibbs says. “As soon as she’s conscious and able, you bring her in for questioning. We’ll take Dr. Jackson tonight.”
In a flash, Ziva’s heading over to Mona, flashing her NCIS badge at anyone who even looks like they may get in her way.
“Boss, he didn’t do anything,” Tony says. “I was with him the whole night. It’s not him.”
“I know that, DiNozzo,” Gibbs says.
“We were up here because he forgot his cellphone but he wasn’t lying about that, I saw it on the desk when I was checking the office out-wait,” Tony stops, flustered. “You know that?”
“We got the paperwork in today; he’s got an airtight alibi in Colorado, no reason to suspect him.”
“Then why are we taking him in for questioning?” Tony asks.
“Because we’re going to need his help to get anything done on this investigation, which means that he has to know about you,” Gibbs explains, annoyed. “That okay with you, DiNozzo?”
“Fine by me, Boss,” Tony replies, studying the trusting look in Daniel’s face before it’s erased by Gibbs’s next words.
Daniel’s standing by, watching as Mona’s loaded into a stretcher. “Dr. Jackson?” Gibbs asks, not unkindly.
Daniel looks over and nods. “Who are you?”
“Special Agent Gibbs, with NCIS,” he answers. “We need to speak with you.”
Tony’s actually surprised by how quiet Daniel is when he hears the news. Gibbs is explaining the mission; at the words “Tony DiNozzo” and “undercover” Daniel glances over, eyes flashing, but he says nothing, purses his lips into a thin line.
“We’d like to take you into NCIS headquarters for questioning and to give you a better briefing on the case,” Gibbs says, not a request.
Daniel nods. “Don’t worry about bringing anything, we’ll have you back late tomorrow, most likely,” Gibbs says; and then to Tony, “You two get in the truck, I need to make a few calls and then we’re out.”
As soon as Gibbs is gone, Daniel starts walking toward the NCIS truck and Tony reaches out, pulling on Daniel’s shoulder. “Wait,” he says, but Daniel spins out of reach.
“Don’t touch me,” he snarls, and walks away.
*
The ride back to Virginia is quiet. With Gibbs’s driving they’ll get there in a few hours, but for now Tony’s content to watch the streetlights flash by in the windows, dozing off and on.
*
When they get there, Gibbs is all motion, rushing out of the truck and inside; Tony hangs back, bars the door before they get inside.
“I can’t tell my boss-about us,” Tony whispers lamely.
Daniel laughs, humorless. “And you think he doesn’t already know?”
Tony sighs and looks away, frowning. “Daniel, you know what I mean-”
“You think you’re the only person here who has to think about his job?” Daniel cuts in, his voice cold. “You think it was just a few fucks, and I can leave, no strings attached?”
“It’s apparent that you don’t know me very well at all,” Daniel finishes, and walks in the door.
“That’s not fair,” Tony hisses, following Daniel to the elevator and punching the button angrily. “Just hear me out-” The doors open and Daniel rushes inside.
“You could have told me sooner. You should have told me sooner,” Daniel says, arms crossed over his chest as he fumes in the back corner of the elevator.
“I wanted to! You have to know that. I wanted to tell you-but we could never completely rule you out as a suspect.”
Daniel shakes his head. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You knew I had nothing to do with Forson’s death, or Sheila’s,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at Tony.
Tony sighs. “Daniel, there’s a difference in knowing and trusting a person’s character and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that they didn’t commit a felony!”
Daniel stares at Tony, scowling. “Oh, I see,” he says, his voice angrily quiet. “I was good enough for you to fuck but not good enough to know the truth.”
Tony goes numb. “Daniel-you know it wasn’t like that-”
“Just leave me the hell alone,” Daniel says, and as the elevator dings open he storms angrily away.
Tony follows Daniel-at a distance, because while he doesn’t think Daniel’s prone to physical violence Tony’s not stupid and not taking any chances. Somewhere in the back of his brain, Tony knows that Daniel’s anger is justified, but it’s late and Tony’s short on sleep and patience, and not particularly inclined to care.
Daniel stops short in the office; McGee’s slumped over on his desk, asleep, and Gibbs is nowhere to be found.
“What the hell do we do now, Tony?” Daniel snaps, and it’s like an indictment the way he spits out Tony’s name.
“We wait for Gibbs to get in here,” Tony supplies smoothly, sinking into his desk chair. Everything’s right where he left it; the pencils scattered haphazardly in his drawer, a couple of loose files stacked on the desk.
“Of course, you can continue to stand there, glaring at the wall,” he continues, leaning back and threading his hands behind his head, “or you could sit. Your choice.”
Daniel doesn’t answer and he doesn’t turn around, but places his hands on his hips, settling in. Tony shrugs, a pointless gesture since Daniel can’t see it and McGee’s still asleep, but it makes him feel better.
“Suit yourself,” he mutters.
Gibbs, fortunately, isn’t slow in showing; in just a couple of minutes he’s striding out of MTAC and throwing his empty coffee cup at McGee’s head.
“Up, Tim,” Gibbs growls, and McGee straightens up from the desk so fast Tony would swear that he heard the crackle of protesting vertebrae.
“Yes, Boss, sorry, Boss,” McGee stammers, blinking sleepily.
“Get Dr. Jackson here into Interrogation, I’ll be right after you,” Gibbs says, and McGee nods, rising and stretching quickly and then directing Daniel down the hallway.
“You know you don’t have to interrogate him,” Tony murmurs, watching Daniel’s back as he walks farther and farther away. “He has an airtight alibi. He didn’t do anything.”
“I know he didn’t do anything, DiNozzo, but where the hell else am I going to question him and brief him on the situation?” Gibbs asks angrily.
“You’re testy today,” Tony says coolly, eyes steady.
“We’re running out of time. The Director has more projects for us to do and believe me, I’d rather be doing them,” Gibbs replies. “This is our best chance at a lead in a while-we get Jackson to help us and we could get a lot closer to getting this thing wrapped up.”
“And we take the chance of getting him hurt,” Tony fires back, angry. “It’s not his job to help us-”
“It’s not your job to tell me what I can and can’t do,” Gibbs says, and there’s finality in the way he says it. “I’m going to go find out what he knows-about Forson, about the site, anything that could help us, and then I’m going to try to get him to help us once we get you two back. He was going to have to know about this sooner or later; at least now you don’t have to worry about getting him suspicious.”
I don’t have to worry about getting him anything, Tony thinks, but remains mute.
“Anyway,” Gibbs continues, “you are going to go home and get some sleep. You look like hell.”
“Gee, Boss, I never knew you cared,” Tony says, devoid of feeling.
Gibbs says nothing, but turns on his heel and heads down to Interrogation. Tony makes a show of shuffling the files on his desk and fiddling with its drawers for about a minute before heading down the path Gibbs had gone, slipping into the observation room.
McGee turns at the click of the door behind Tony, and then frowns. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here,” he says.
Tony shrugs. “I’m not leaving, so that puts us at a kind of stalemate, doesn’t it?”
McGee doesn’t say anything, just heaves an annoyed sigh. Tony stands in front of what he always thinks of as the giant looking glass, examining Daniel as he sits at the cold table, Gibbs sitting in front of him. Tony doesn’t really care what they’re saying; he just keeps staring at Daniel, tired eyes blinking under the glare of the harsh overhead lights. Tony hears the questions Gibbs is asking, but he’s not really listening.
Every time Daniel says, “Tony,” though, it’s like an accusation, an echo ringing over and over in Tony’s head.
4/5