Therapy Time Part Six
Title: Therapy Time
Author: Spiceblueeyes
Pairing: None
Rating: R
Word Count: 20,010
Spoilers: None that I can see.
Warnings: Suicide of OC, violence, angst, brief mentions of child abuse.
Summary: The team gets a case that unsettles Tony more than he wants to admit.
Author's Notes: This is both my first ever NCIS story, and the longest story I've ever written, so I'm excited about it. The story was beta'd by devo79 who is awesome and really helped me make the story better.
Be sure to check out the totally cool art that kj_svala made for the story, she's very talented. You can find it here.
They got to Bethesda around 1pm, and Tony flirted with the nurse at the desk to find out where the doctor they needed was. According to Suarez’s file, his doctor was Doctor Sofia Moran. Once they knew where her office was they went straight there.
The door was closed but not locked and she wasn’t there. Tony opened it and poked his head inside. “Tony, we should probably wait outside the office.” McGee tried.
“Probably. But we’re Federal Agents, so probably doesn’t apply to us.” Tony said as he let himself all the way into the room. Tim followed him nervously. He watched as Tony started opening drawers in the desk and looking through files. “Keep a look out.” Tony told him.
So McGee pulled down the blinds and then peered through them to watch for the Doctor outside. In the background he heard rustling papers and Tony’s commentary.
“Ouch, that sounds like it hurt.” More papers rustling, “Aha, Suarez’s file. Let’s see what we have here.” The sound of papers moving around stopped as Tony sat down with the Suarez file. After a moment he said, “doesn’t look like there’s anything here that we don’t know about.” A pause, “wait. Seems our Seaman signed himself out AMA, interesting.”
“Incoming!” McGee warned. He turned from the window and sat down in one of the chairs facing the desk. Tony quickly put the file back in the drawer, closed it and headed around the desk to sit in the other chair just in time for the door to open. A woman walked in and stopped in the doorway when she saw them.
“Who are you?” She asked. Then she walked slowly to her desk, standing behind it.
“I’m Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo and this is Special Agent McGee,” Tony introduced them. “We’re from NCIS.” They both held up their badges for her to see. “Are you Doctor Moran?”
She nodded, “yes I am.” Both Tony and Tim stood up to shake her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you ma’am.” Tim said politely.
She sat down in her chair and eyed Tony, “call me Sofia.”
“Sofia,” Tony smiled at her. “We came to ask some questions about Seaman Rafael Suarez. You treated him a few months ago.”
“Rafael, I remember him. He was badly hurt when he got here, even after the medical care he received in Iraq.” She confirmed what they knew already.
“He’s a person of interest in our investigation; we’re interested in his state of mind when he left the hospital.” McGee told her. She looked at him and nodded, then looked at Tony when she answered.
“He signed himself out of the hospital against medical advice. I thought he should stay another week, but he said he was going stir crazy and needed to leave. I couldn’t convince him to stay.”
“Why did you think he needed to stay longer?” Tony asked. Tim had out the notepad this time and was taking notes.
“His wounds were healing well, but they weren’t completely healed yet. If he moved around too much I was afraid he might open some of them again.” She shook her head, “I thought he might try and push himself too hard. He kept trying to get out of bed before he was ready, and insisted the he was would be fine on his own.” Tony found that he could relate to that. There was nothing worse than lying in a hospital bed, feeling weak as a kitten and unable to do anything.
“Did you treat Petty Officer Alfred Morris as well?” McGee asked.
“Yes. He was in much better shape physically when he arrived here. He was released earlier than Seaman Suarez.” The doctor reached into her desk and pulled out two files, one of which was the same one Tony had been looking at just a minute before.
“Physically.” Tony’s eyes narrowed, “what about mentally?”
“Mentally,” Doctor Moran sighed. “I’m not a psychiatrist, or a psychologist, but I do work at a Navy hospital and I see soldiers every day. You get to recognize certain signs.” She opened the top file and looked at it. “Petty Officer Morris was having a very hard time dealing with what happened to him. I was never privy to the details, but he was very depressed and angry. When he was discharged I referred him to a therapist I know who is excellent at helping veterans. His name is Charles Timmons.” McGee wrote down the name. “I believe he did go to see him, but obviously I don’t know anything else since once he left my care it was no longer my business.”
“And Suarez? How was his mental state?”
“Rafael Suarez was a hard one to read. I could tell that he’s used to hiding his emotions. When he signed himself out I referred him to the same therapist I did Morris, but I saw him throw the paper with his information in the trashcan outside.” She shook her head. “All these men, so many of them don’t get the help they need because they feel like going to a therapist is shameful, or would make them look weak. It’s a real pity. I wish I could help them more. But once their body is healed they walk out those doors and my influence, however little it may be, ends.” The doctor looked very world weary for a moment. Tony imagined that it would be very hard to treat people every day who, while still alive, were facing severely inhibited lives with missing limbs and massive scars. It took a special kind of person to be able to do that kind of job, and Tony had a lot of respect for her.
Tony flashed Tim a look that said they were done here and it was time to go. He stood up and held out his card, “Thank You for meeting with us, if you remember anything else, don’t hesitate to call.” He let his eyes linger on certain place, indicating he wouldn’t be adverse to the idea that she call for other reasons.
Her eyes crinkled at the corners from holding in a laugh as Tony’s flirting brought her out of her reverie. “Well, I hardly had a choice with you ambushing me in my office and all.” She took the card and looked him up and down. McGee just stood in the background and waited, rolling his eyes. “Is this your personal number?”
“It has my desk number and my cell phone. I’m always reachable.” He smiled, “It’s a rule.”
“A rule hmm, I may have to see if you’re following it sometime.” She smirked at him. McGee cleared his throat loudly and Tony shot him a glare.
“And if you can’t reach me, you could always punish me for breaking the rule.” Tony waggled his eyebrows. The doctor laughed and made a shooing motion with her hands.
“Alright, enough, get out of here. Some of us have work to do.” She watched them leave her office with a look that said Tony should expect a call in the near future.
Tony ignored Tim’s whispered “Finally!” as they left. He clapped a hand on his shoulder as they walked out of the hospital. “What’s the matter Probie? Jealous?”
“Yeah Tony, I’m green with envy.” Tim’s voice was filled with sarcasm.
~*~*~*~
“I have lots of friends.” Tony answered Henry’s question.
“I didn’t ask if you have friends Tony, I asked who you feel close to. Who do you think would notice if you became depressed and withdrawn. Who do you know would care, and try to do something about it?”
“I’m not depressed.” Tony said.
“You’re being obtuse Tony.” Henry mock glared at him.
“Naw, I’m being acute, see.” Tony made his puppy dog eyes. Eyes he knew made him look irresistibly cute; many a female had said so.
Henry laughed at Tony’s antics as he shook his head wryly. “You’re certainly a challenge Tony.” He paused, considering. “Okay, you don’t have to answer out loud. But seriously, think about the question and answer it for yourself.” Tony let the puppy eyes fade away and his face became serious.
“I don’t want to.” He’d worked hard all his life to keep other people at a certain comfortable distance.
“I know. But I think you should. You might be surprised at the answer.”
~*~*~*~
When they walked into the Bull Pen McGee got a gleeful look on his face. “Boss, we spoke to the Doctor. Tony even gave her his number.” Tim’s voice was teasing and his face was smug, like he thought Gibbs would ream Tony out.
Gibbs studied both of them for a moment and then said. “DiNozzo, on your own time.” Tim looked disappointed that Gibbs didn’t say more.
“Yes Boss.” Tony replied. Gibbs turned his head back to the papers he was looking at on his desk. As soon as he looked away Tony took the opportunity to stick his tongue out at Tim, who quickly descended to his 5th grade level and made a face back at him. Ziva watched from her desk, laughing quietly. They both headed back to their desks when Gibbs barked.
“McGee.” Tim turned quickly turned around.
“Yeah Boss?”
“Do you have anything else to report?” Gibbs stared at him expectantly.
“Oh, ah, yeah. The Doctor Moran was very cooperative.” He shot another look in Tony’s direction. “She said that Seaman Suarez left the hospital early, signed himself out AMA.” Gibbs nodded at him. Released, McGee went to sit at his desk. Everyone settled in to work.
After a few minutes McGee hung up the phone. “I called the Therapist that Doctor Moran referred them to. He confirmed that Rafael Suarez was never a patient of his.”
Gibbs just grunted, while Tony sat back and thought for a moment. He’d never been to a therapist himself, except for those psych evaluations that were required for his job. But he hated those, and always bluffed his way through them. It wasn’t too hard to smile pretty and say the right words to get through those evals; he’d never had a problem with it. He couldn’t really imagine himself going to one voluntarily, even though some might say he had enough reason to. A crappy childhood, disinherited, a high stress job where he got shot at, kidnapped, and hit in the head on a fairly regular basis. That wasn’t even counting the undercover work, where he assumed another life and pretended it was his own. Yep, he had perfectly good justifications to go to therapy. There was no way in hell he was ever going to though. That voice in the back of his head, which sounded suspiciously like his father, told him it would be wrong. It would be like admitting weakness to the world, and that would be unacceptable.
Gibbs’ phone rang and he picked it up. Tony watched him tense up as he listened to the person on the other end. “Where?” He wrote down whatever the answer was on his note pad, then tore off the paper and hung up. He tossed the keys to Ziva and told her to “gas the truck.”
“What’s going on Boss?” McGee asked first.
“Someone called in a sighting of our shooter.” Gibbs grabbed his stuff and everyone followed suit. They all followed Gibbs to the elevator.
“Boss, you know, if you want I can drive.” Tony eyed the keys in Ziva’s hands. The odds of him actually being able to physically take them from her were very very low.
“She’s faster.” Gibbs answered, and Tony had to reluctantly agree that it was true. Even if her driving did make him want to vomit all over his Gucci shoes. Luckily he had a pair of sneakers in his pack, for crime scenes, but they would work as vomit shoes too.
Ziva sped them to their destination, occasionally using the sidewalk as her own lane. When they got there the destination turned out to be an abandoned warehouse. It had two floor and all the windows had one or more broken panes. Tony and Ziva went around the back while Gibbs and McGee went in the front entrance. They all had their guns out, ready for anything. They knew Suarez could still be armed with the gun he shot Mrs. Killigan with since it hadn’t been found anywhere at the scene.
The back door was metal and Tony had to tug to get it open. Once he did, he and Ziva moved inside, carefully. They stepped as quietly as possible as they moved through the rooms. In each room there was evidence of previous squatters, blankets, odds and ends, a few pieces of clothing, and the distinct smell of urine. In one room there was a man lying on the floor in the corner. Tony approached slowly, then leaned down and tapped the man in the shoulder. The man didn’t stir so he flipped him over so he could see his face. It wasn’t Suarez, just some homeless man who, Tony looked at his arm full of track marks, was completely out of it. He felt for a pulse, and upon feeling one, backed up and motioned that they should move on.
They searched the rooms methodically, working from the back to the front and met up with Gibbs and McGee in the middle. Tony caught Gibbs’ eye and shook his head to indicate that they hadn’t found anything, and Gibbs shook his head back, he and McGee hadn’t found anything either. There was a staircase leading to the second floor and Gibbs motioned them forward. Ziva took point with Tony right behind her and they climbed the stairs carefully, stepping lightly to avoid any creaking steps.
McGee and Gibbs crept up behind them as they reached the top and came into a hallway. There were three rooms, two with doors already open, and one with the door closed. Ziva checked the first open door and then signaled that it was clear. Tony went for the other open room and all it had inside was an old mattress and a grungy blanket. He met Ziva in front of the closed door. Gibbs and McGee flanked them at both sides. Gibbs gave the nod, and Tony kicked open the door. “NCIS!”
Tony backed out of the way as Gibbs, Ziva and McGee rushed into the room, guns raised. He followed them in. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot me! Please don’t shoot me!” A man shouted in fear from the other side of the room. He had his hands raised above his head and was wearing a knit hat and gloves with the fingers cut off, along with a pair of plaid pants and what looked like every shirt he owned. The rest of the room was full of newspapers, blankets, a pillow, some old pizza boxes and another dirty mattress.
“Who are you?” Gibbs asked the man. His tone said that he’d better reply, quickly.
“I’m, I’m Don, Don Williams, my friends call me Bingo, or they did, when I had friends, I don’t anymore, but I didn’t do nothin’ wrong, I mean, yeah, I’m squatting, but other than that-“ The man was babbling in fear. Gibbs reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a picture of Rafael Suarez.
“Do you know him?” He demanded.
The man shook his head without even glancing at the picture. “Nope, I don’t know nobody, nobody, no sir.” Gibbs took a couple steps toward him, and Don shrank back against the wall.
“I’m going to ask you one more time, and you’d better be sure of your answer.” He held the picture up right in front of Don’s face. “Do you know him?”
Don’s eyes flicked back and forth from the picture to Gibbs’ face. “Um, maybe.” Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, yeah I know him. That’s Jeff.”
“Where is Jeff now?” Gibbs asked; his voice deceptively reasonable.
“Ah, he left, about an hour ago. You just missed him, really.” Don nodded frantically along with his words.
Gibbs lowered his arm still holding the picture and backed up a step.
McGee stepped forward, “Do you know where he went?”
Don looked relieved to see Tim’s friendlier looking face and answered, “No, he didn’t tell me. Didn’t really talk to me at all. Just up and left without a word.” Don actually seemed a little put out by that fact. “I even offered to share my pizza, and he didn’t want any. Didn’t talk, didn’t eat, just sat in that corner and had nightmares every night.” He pointed at a corner on the side of the room with the window. Tony noted that that corner would have given Suarez a line of sight to the top of the stairs if the door was open.
Now that the tension had left the room a little, Don slowly lowered his hands, “You know,” he said, “I have a feeling that his name wasn’t really Jeff. I think it was something else, and he just told me his name was Jeff, when it really wasn’t.” Don had an expression on his face that said he was proud of himself for figuring it out. Gibbs gave Don a long assessing look, and then reached into his pocket for his wallet. Pulling out a twenty, he handed it to Don.
“You buy some real food, and then get yourself to a shelter.” Gibbs said. Don nodded eagerly, reaching for the money.
“Yeah, yeah, sure thing.” He tried to pull the money out of Gibbs’ hand but Gibbs wasn’t letting go.
“I mean it.” Gibbs stared hard at Don, who gradually settled down and saw how serious Gibbs was.
Don swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Okay.” Gibbs nodded and turned back to his team.
“He is long gone Gibbs.” Ziva appeared distressed that the lead hadn’t panned out.
“Back in the truck.” He ordered. “Ziva,” he said walking out the door, “Give the keys to Tony.”
“Yes!” Tony pumped his fist in the air. Ziva glared at him as she tossed him the keys, using slightly more force than necessary. Tony caught them, and jangled them in front of her as he walked by. “Don’t be a sore loser, Zeevah.” McGee gave Ziva a sympathetic look as he followed Tony, but privately he was very glad that Tony was driving them back.
Once all of their backs were turned, Ziva took a moment to be childish, and stuck her tongue out at Tony. Nobody saw, but it made her feel a little better.
The ride back was subdued, everyone felt frustrated by the fact that they hadn’t caught Suarez yet. Tony was struggling with something different. He realized that he was somewhat glad they hadn’t found Suarez at that warehouse. The Seaman reminded him too much of himself. He still thought the guy should be arrested and go to jail, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be the one to put the cuffs on Suarez himself. He could feel that he was no longer objective, and he knew that identifying with suspects and killers was not a good thing.
On to part Seven
Author: Spiceblueeyes
Pairing: None
Rating: R
Word Count: 20,010
Spoilers: None that I can see.
Warnings: Suicide of OC, violence, angst, brief mentions of child abuse.
Summary: The team gets a case that unsettles Tony more than he wants to admit.
Author's Notes: This is both my first ever NCIS story, and the longest story I've ever written, so I'm excited about it. The story was beta'd by devo79 who is awesome and really helped me make the story better.
Be sure to check out the totally cool art that kj_svala made for the story, she's very talented. You can find it here.
They got to Bethesda around 1pm, and Tony flirted with the nurse at the desk to find out where the doctor they needed was. According to Suarez’s file, his doctor was Doctor Sofia Moran. Once they knew where her office was they went straight there.
The door was closed but not locked and she wasn’t there. Tony opened it and poked his head inside. “Tony, we should probably wait outside the office.” McGee tried.
“Probably. But we’re Federal Agents, so probably doesn’t apply to us.” Tony said as he let himself all the way into the room. Tim followed him nervously. He watched as Tony started opening drawers in the desk and looking through files. “Keep a look out.” Tony told him.
So McGee pulled down the blinds and then peered through them to watch for the Doctor outside. In the background he heard rustling papers and Tony’s commentary.
“Ouch, that sounds like it hurt.” More papers rustling, “Aha, Suarez’s file. Let’s see what we have here.” The sound of papers moving around stopped as Tony sat down with the Suarez file. After a moment he said, “doesn’t look like there’s anything here that we don’t know about.” A pause, “wait. Seems our Seaman signed himself out AMA, interesting.”
“Incoming!” McGee warned. He turned from the window and sat down in one of the chairs facing the desk. Tony quickly put the file back in the drawer, closed it and headed around the desk to sit in the other chair just in time for the door to open. A woman walked in and stopped in the doorway when she saw them.
“Who are you?” She asked. Then she walked slowly to her desk, standing behind it.
“I’m Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo and this is Special Agent McGee,” Tony introduced them. “We’re from NCIS.” They both held up their badges for her to see. “Are you Doctor Moran?”
She nodded, “yes I am.” Both Tony and Tim stood up to shake her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you ma’am.” Tim said politely.
She sat down in her chair and eyed Tony, “call me Sofia.”
“Sofia,” Tony smiled at her. “We came to ask some questions about Seaman Rafael Suarez. You treated him a few months ago.”
“Rafael, I remember him. He was badly hurt when he got here, even after the medical care he received in Iraq.” She confirmed what they knew already.
“He’s a person of interest in our investigation; we’re interested in his state of mind when he left the hospital.” McGee told her. She looked at him and nodded, then looked at Tony when she answered.
“He signed himself out of the hospital against medical advice. I thought he should stay another week, but he said he was going stir crazy and needed to leave. I couldn’t convince him to stay.”
“Why did you think he needed to stay longer?” Tony asked. Tim had out the notepad this time and was taking notes.
“His wounds were healing well, but they weren’t completely healed yet. If he moved around too much I was afraid he might open some of them again.” She shook her head, “I thought he might try and push himself too hard. He kept trying to get out of bed before he was ready, and insisted the he was would be fine on his own.” Tony found that he could relate to that. There was nothing worse than lying in a hospital bed, feeling weak as a kitten and unable to do anything.
“Did you treat Petty Officer Alfred Morris as well?” McGee asked.
“Yes. He was in much better shape physically when he arrived here. He was released earlier than Seaman Suarez.” The doctor reached into her desk and pulled out two files, one of which was the same one Tony had been looking at just a minute before.
“Physically.” Tony’s eyes narrowed, “what about mentally?”
“Mentally,” Doctor Moran sighed. “I’m not a psychiatrist, or a psychologist, but I do work at a Navy hospital and I see soldiers every day. You get to recognize certain signs.” She opened the top file and looked at it. “Petty Officer Morris was having a very hard time dealing with what happened to him. I was never privy to the details, but he was very depressed and angry. When he was discharged I referred him to a therapist I know who is excellent at helping veterans. His name is Charles Timmons.” McGee wrote down the name. “I believe he did go to see him, but obviously I don’t know anything else since once he left my care it was no longer my business.”
“And Suarez? How was his mental state?”
“Rafael Suarez was a hard one to read. I could tell that he’s used to hiding his emotions. When he signed himself out I referred him to the same therapist I did Morris, but I saw him throw the paper with his information in the trashcan outside.” She shook her head. “All these men, so many of them don’t get the help they need because they feel like going to a therapist is shameful, or would make them look weak. It’s a real pity. I wish I could help them more. But once their body is healed they walk out those doors and my influence, however little it may be, ends.” The doctor looked very world weary for a moment. Tony imagined that it would be very hard to treat people every day who, while still alive, were facing severely inhibited lives with missing limbs and massive scars. It took a special kind of person to be able to do that kind of job, and Tony had a lot of respect for her.
Tony flashed Tim a look that said they were done here and it was time to go. He stood up and held out his card, “Thank You for meeting with us, if you remember anything else, don’t hesitate to call.” He let his eyes linger on certain place, indicating he wouldn’t be adverse to the idea that she call for other reasons.
Her eyes crinkled at the corners from holding in a laugh as Tony’s flirting brought her out of her reverie. “Well, I hardly had a choice with you ambushing me in my office and all.” She took the card and looked him up and down. McGee just stood in the background and waited, rolling his eyes. “Is this your personal number?”
“It has my desk number and my cell phone. I’m always reachable.” He smiled, “It’s a rule.”
“A rule hmm, I may have to see if you’re following it sometime.” She smirked at him. McGee cleared his throat loudly and Tony shot him a glare.
“And if you can’t reach me, you could always punish me for breaking the rule.” Tony waggled his eyebrows. The doctor laughed and made a shooing motion with her hands.
“Alright, enough, get out of here. Some of us have work to do.” She watched them leave her office with a look that said Tony should expect a call in the near future.
Tony ignored Tim’s whispered “Finally!” as they left. He clapped a hand on his shoulder as they walked out of the hospital. “What’s the matter Probie? Jealous?”
“Yeah Tony, I’m green with envy.” Tim’s voice was filled with sarcasm.
~*~*~*~
“I have lots of friends.” Tony answered Henry’s question.
“I didn’t ask if you have friends Tony, I asked who you feel close to. Who do you think would notice if you became depressed and withdrawn. Who do you know would care, and try to do something about it?”
“I’m not depressed.” Tony said.
“You’re being obtuse Tony.” Henry mock glared at him.
“Naw, I’m being acute, see.” Tony made his puppy dog eyes. Eyes he knew made him look irresistibly cute; many a female had said so.
Henry laughed at Tony’s antics as he shook his head wryly. “You’re certainly a challenge Tony.” He paused, considering. “Okay, you don’t have to answer out loud. But seriously, think about the question and answer it for yourself.” Tony let the puppy eyes fade away and his face became serious.
“I don’t want to.” He’d worked hard all his life to keep other people at a certain comfortable distance.
“I know. But I think you should. You might be surprised at the answer.”
~*~*~*~
When they walked into the Bull Pen McGee got a gleeful look on his face. “Boss, we spoke to the Doctor. Tony even gave her his number.” Tim’s voice was teasing and his face was smug, like he thought Gibbs would ream Tony out.
Gibbs studied both of them for a moment and then said. “DiNozzo, on your own time.” Tim looked disappointed that Gibbs didn’t say more.
“Yes Boss.” Tony replied. Gibbs turned his head back to the papers he was looking at on his desk. As soon as he looked away Tony took the opportunity to stick his tongue out at Tim, who quickly descended to his 5th grade level and made a face back at him. Ziva watched from her desk, laughing quietly. They both headed back to their desks when Gibbs barked.
“McGee.” Tim turned quickly turned around.
“Yeah Boss?”
“Do you have anything else to report?” Gibbs stared at him expectantly.
“Oh, ah, yeah. The Doctor Moran was very cooperative.” He shot another look in Tony’s direction. “She said that Seaman Suarez left the hospital early, signed himself out AMA.” Gibbs nodded at him. Released, McGee went to sit at his desk. Everyone settled in to work.
After a few minutes McGee hung up the phone. “I called the Therapist that Doctor Moran referred them to. He confirmed that Rafael Suarez was never a patient of his.”
Gibbs just grunted, while Tony sat back and thought for a moment. He’d never been to a therapist himself, except for those psych evaluations that were required for his job. But he hated those, and always bluffed his way through them. It wasn’t too hard to smile pretty and say the right words to get through those evals; he’d never had a problem with it. He couldn’t really imagine himself going to one voluntarily, even though some might say he had enough reason to. A crappy childhood, disinherited, a high stress job where he got shot at, kidnapped, and hit in the head on a fairly regular basis. That wasn’t even counting the undercover work, where he assumed another life and pretended it was his own. Yep, he had perfectly good justifications to go to therapy. There was no way in hell he was ever going to though. That voice in the back of his head, which sounded suspiciously like his father, told him it would be wrong. It would be like admitting weakness to the world, and that would be unacceptable.
Gibbs’ phone rang and he picked it up. Tony watched him tense up as he listened to the person on the other end. “Where?” He wrote down whatever the answer was on his note pad, then tore off the paper and hung up. He tossed the keys to Ziva and told her to “gas the truck.”
“What’s going on Boss?” McGee asked first.
“Someone called in a sighting of our shooter.” Gibbs grabbed his stuff and everyone followed suit. They all followed Gibbs to the elevator.
“Boss, you know, if you want I can drive.” Tony eyed the keys in Ziva’s hands. The odds of him actually being able to physically take them from her were very very low.
“She’s faster.” Gibbs answered, and Tony had to reluctantly agree that it was true. Even if her driving did make him want to vomit all over his Gucci shoes. Luckily he had a pair of sneakers in his pack, for crime scenes, but they would work as vomit shoes too.
Ziva sped them to their destination, occasionally using the sidewalk as her own lane. When they got there the destination turned out to be an abandoned warehouse. It had two floor and all the windows had one or more broken panes. Tony and Ziva went around the back while Gibbs and McGee went in the front entrance. They all had their guns out, ready for anything. They knew Suarez could still be armed with the gun he shot Mrs. Killigan with since it hadn’t been found anywhere at the scene.
The back door was metal and Tony had to tug to get it open. Once he did, he and Ziva moved inside, carefully. They stepped as quietly as possible as they moved through the rooms. In each room there was evidence of previous squatters, blankets, odds and ends, a few pieces of clothing, and the distinct smell of urine. In one room there was a man lying on the floor in the corner. Tony approached slowly, then leaned down and tapped the man in the shoulder. The man didn’t stir so he flipped him over so he could see his face. It wasn’t Suarez, just some homeless man who, Tony looked at his arm full of track marks, was completely out of it. He felt for a pulse, and upon feeling one, backed up and motioned that they should move on.
They searched the rooms methodically, working from the back to the front and met up with Gibbs and McGee in the middle. Tony caught Gibbs’ eye and shook his head to indicate that they hadn’t found anything, and Gibbs shook his head back, he and McGee hadn’t found anything either. There was a staircase leading to the second floor and Gibbs motioned them forward. Ziva took point with Tony right behind her and they climbed the stairs carefully, stepping lightly to avoid any creaking steps.
McGee and Gibbs crept up behind them as they reached the top and came into a hallway. There were three rooms, two with doors already open, and one with the door closed. Ziva checked the first open door and then signaled that it was clear. Tony went for the other open room and all it had inside was an old mattress and a grungy blanket. He met Ziva in front of the closed door. Gibbs and McGee flanked them at both sides. Gibbs gave the nod, and Tony kicked open the door. “NCIS!”
Tony backed out of the way as Gibbs, Ziva and McGee rushed into the room, guns raised. He followed them in. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot me! Please don’t shoot me!” A man shouted in fear from the other side of the room. He had his hands raised above his head and was wearing a knit hat and gloves with the fingers cut off, along with a pair of plaid pants and what looked like every shirt he owned. The rest of the room was full of newspapers, blankets, a pillow, some old pizza boxes and another dirty mattress.
“Who are you?” Gibbs asked the man. His tone said that he’d better reply, quickly.
“I’m, I’m Don, Don Williams, my friends call me Bingo, or they did, when I had friends, I don’t anymore, but I didn’t do nothin’ wrong, I mean, yeah, I’m squatting, but other than that-“ The man was babbling in fear. Gibbs reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a picture of Rafael Suarez.
“Do you know him?” He demanded.
The man shook his head without even glancing at the picture. “Nope, I don’t know nobody, nobody, no sir.” Gibbs took a couple steps toward him, and Don shrank back against the wall.
“I’m going to ask you one more time, and you’d better be sure of your answer.” He held the picture up right in front of Don’s face. “Do you know him?”
Don’s eyes flicked back and forth from the picture to Gibbs’ face. “Um, maybe.” Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, yeah I know him. That’s Jeff.”
“Where is Jeff now?” Gibbs asked; his voice deceptively reasonable.
“Ah, he left, about an hour ago. You just missed him, really.” Don nodded frantically along with his words.
Gibbs lowered his arm still holding the picture and backed up a step.
McGee stepped forward, “Do you know where he went?”
Don looked relieved to see Tim’s friendlier looking face and answered, “No, he didn’t tell me. Didn’t really talk to me at all. Just up and left without a word.” Don actually seemed a little put out by that fact. “I even offered to share my pizza, and he didn’t want any. Didn’t talk, didn’t eat, just sat in that corner and had nightmares every night.” He pointed at a corner on the side of the room with the window. Tony noted that that corner would have given Suarez a line of sight to the top of the stairs if the door was open.
Now that the tension had left the room a little, Don slowly lowered his hands, “You know,” he said, “I have a feeling that his name wasn’t really Jeff. I think it was something else, and he just told me his name was Jeff, when it really wasn’t.” Don had an expression on his face that said he was proud of himself for figuring it out. Gibbs gave Don a long assessing look, and then reached into his pocket for his wallet. Pulling out a twenty, he handed it to Don.
“You buy some real food, and then get yourself to a shelter.” Gibbs said. Don nodded eagerly, reaching for the money.
“Yeah, yeah, sure thing.” He tried to pull the money out of Gibbs’ hand but Gibbs wasn’t letting go.
“I mean it.” Gibbs stared hard at Don, who gradually settled down and saw how serious Gibbs was.
Don swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Okay.” Gibbs nodded and turned back to his team.
“He is long gone Gibbs.” Ziva appeared distressed that the lead hadn’t panned out.
“Back in the truck.” He ordered. “Ziva,” he said walking out the door, “Give the keys to Tony.”
“Yes!” Tony pumped his fist in the air. Ziva glared at him as she tossed him the keys, using slightly more force than necessary. Tony caught them, and jangled them in front of her as he walked by. “Don’t be a sore loser, Zeevah.” McGee gave Ziva a sympathetic look as he followed Tony, but privately he was very glad that Tony was driving them back.
Once all of their backs were turned, Ziva took a moment to be childish, and stuck her tongue out at Tony. Nobody saw, but it made her feel a little better.
The ride back was subdued, everyone felt frustrated by the fact that they hadn’t caught Suarez yet. Tony was struggling with something different. He realized that he was somewhat glad they hadn’t found Suarez at that warehouse. The Seaman reminded him too much of himself. He still thought the guy should be arrested and go to jail, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be the one to put the cuffs on Suarez himself. He could feel that he was no longer objective, and he knew that identifying with suspects and killers was not a good thing.
On to part Seven