How To Relate: Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Back In The Swing Of Things
Mondays.
Garfield hates them.
As do many, many others.
And while there was certainly something to be said for reacting with dread toward the start of another workweek, Tony was sure he would never feel that way about this particular day again. For Monday was the day that Gibbs had said he could come back to work, provided, of course, that Ducky agree and sign off on it.
That little stipulation had slowed him down for approximately one second.
He'd gone straight into persuasive-Tony mode, begging, cajoling, and pleading, offering to prove his fitness in any of half a dozen ways, until Ducky had finally declared him fit to return back to work.
In truth, the ME had been worn down by the younger man's constant harassment, and, while he was of the opinion that Tony should not be back at work quite yet, he knew it might actually be for the best. He and Gibbs could keep a better eye on the senior field agent at the Yard, and if left alone for much longer, Tony would almost certainly drive himself-or else the rest of them-crazy.
"Stubborn man," he muttered as he signed the release forms Monday morning. "I do expect you to still take it a bit easy though. Light duties only, for at least the rest of the week."
Desk work, ugh, Tony thought, with momentary misgivings. Nevertheless, he simply smiled winningly and replied, "Sure thing, Ducky."
"And you are to take your medications until they are gone. All of them," he clarified sternly, sealing off the possible loophole before it could fully materialize. "Am I clear, Anthony?"
"Practically transparent," Tony answered promptly, barely able to hold in his anticipation as he impatiently shifted from one foot to the other and back again.
Ducky eyed him skeptically. "Yes, well, I suppose you'd best be getting these forms to Gibbs and the Director."
Tony fairly beamed. "Thanks, Ducky!" he called as he bounded out of autopsy.
On his way through the doors, he bumped into Palmer.
"Hey, Palmer!" he called cheerfully, not stopping. "How's it going? I forgot to ask, did you ever get a date with that blond babe? Well, I've got to run. Catch up with you later!"
"Um, hi, Tony. Bye, Tony." Palmer was left waving at the closing autopsy doors.
"Ah, Mr. Palmer. Right on time. We have a Petty Officer Lanaghan who requires our services this morning." Ducky went on speaking as he made his way over to the body drawers on the other side of the room and pulled one open. "His case reminds me of an incident that I came across in Singapore once. A young man was killed in a rather unfortunate and gruesome motor boating accident, or so it appeared at first."
Palmer moved to help his mentor get the body onto a cold table as he continued with his story.
"One leg had been completely severed from his torso by the blade of the motor, you see, and it seemed reasonable to assume that the poor man had bled to death. However, as it turns out, he had succumbed to the venom of a rare water snake before ever coming into contact with the motor."
"That's very interesting, Doctor Mallard."
"It was indeed. Particularly because water snakes are only mildly venomous, barely harmful to the majority of the population. It seems that this young man was allergic to the specific toxin contained in the venom, though likely he never knew it. Quite unlucky for him, in any case. Well, Petty Officer," Ducky turned to address the body in front of him, "we shall soon find out if anything so interesting was at play here. Though I rather doubt it, being that there were several witnesses to your own unlucky demise."
Tony dashed down the hall with a whoop of pure glee. Deciding to forgo the elevator, he instead took the stairs two at a time. As he stepped out of the stairwell into the squad room, he took in a deep breath and let it out audibly, effectively announcing himself to those that (unbeknownst to him) were awaiting his arrival.
"Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony, TONY!"
From the direction of the bullpen, a blur of black pigtails and white lab coat rushed out and flung itself at him, squealing in delight. Grinning, Tony dropped his bag and held out his arms for his favorite flying Goth.
"Oof!" He let out an exaggerated groan as he caught her, stumbling backwards a couple of steps to keep his balance.
"Oh no, Tony, did I hurt you?" Abby asked in alarm, pulling back slightly to see the pained expression on his face.
Tony chuckled. "No, you're fine, Abbs. Barely felt a thing."
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Honest?"
"Honest," he assured. "Cross my heart."
"Good," Abby beamed, detangling her legs from his waist and hopping down from her perch. "So, are you back now? Did you see Ducky? Are you clear for work yet?"
Picking up his bag, Tony continued toward the bullpen. "To answer your questions in their respective orders: yes I am, I most certainly did, and clear as a picture window that's been cleaned with Windex and polished till it squeaks. What the…"
Tony had rounded the corner and reached his desk. Festooned as it was with ribbons and various hand-drawn decorations, it was barely recognizable as a desk.
"Do you like it?" Abby asked hopefully.
"I'd answer that carefully, Tony," McGee chimed in as he and Ziva walked over from her desk to join them. "She came in freakishly early to do this."
Tony gently tugged one of Abby's pigtails. "I love it, Abbs," he told her sincerely.
Abby clapped her hands together. "Yay! I'm so glad! And I'm glad that you're back. I missed you, Tony!"
Tony laughed. "Abby, you just saw me yesterday."
"I know, but that doesn't count. You weren't here. I missed you being here."
"Well, I'm here now."
"You are still on desk duty though, yes?" Ziva asked.
"Yeah," he nodded. "For the week."
"That sucks, Tony. No field work for a week? Are you sure you can handle that?" McGee teased, smirking.
"What are you talking about, McSmug?" Tony scoffed. "I am absolutely fine with riding a desk for a week. I love the smell of paperwork in the morning."
McGee grinned. "Sure you do, Tony."
"Oh, come on. You didn't get that? Anyone? Come on, Robert Duvall? Apocalypse Now?" Tony shook his head sadly. "Hopeless, all of you."
McGee shrugged. "Well, if we're hopeless, what does that make you? You know what they say: birds of a feather-"
"Ooh, I know this one!" Ziva called out excitedly. "Birds of a feather can be killed with one stone?"
Tony winced. "Close, but no cigar. Kudos for the slightly disturbing imagery, though."
Ziva frowned in confusion. "Cigar? Why would I want a cigar? I find smoking to be a disgusting habit. And very unhealthy, as well." She looked around as the other three began to laugh. "What?"
As Abby explained Ziva's misunderstanding to her, McGee turned back to Tony.
"Seriously, though, it's good to have you back, man," he said quietly.
Tony smiled. "Thanks, Probie." Then suddenly he glared. "You wouldn't happen to have an ulterior motive for getting on my good side, would you?"
"Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know. Like, you liking my sister? Something like that."
McGee sighed. "Well, since you brought it up, I sort of asked Ali on a date. For this Friday. And she said yes."
Tony stared at McGee long and hard, and for a second McGee had the absurd notion that his friend was going to turn into a crazy overprotective older brother and hit him, despite the talk they'd already had about this. Then Tony relaxed, breaking into his famous DiNozzo grin.
"Took you long enough, Tim. Just promise me one thing."
"What's that?"
"I get to be the best man at your wedding."
Now it was McGee's turn to stare at Tony. His eyes gave no indication that he was kidding, but with Tony sometimes it was hard to tell.
"Neither of you are going to live long enough to have a wedding, if you don't get to work right now," Gibbs warned, suddenly standing a foot away from the two.
"On it, Boss," they chorused together, each heading for their own desk.
Gibbs stuck one arm out in front of Tony, the one he wasn't using to carry his coffee, and stopped him. "Not so fast, DiNozzo. Got those papers for me?"
"Yeah, Boss. Right here." Tony handed him the forms Ducky had signed.
"Good," Gibbs said gruffly, taking them and turning to go upstairs to give the Director his copy. "Sit. Work."
Grinning again, Tony complied. But before he began to work, he pulled out the (now framed) photo of himself with Carol Trahey and set it on the corner of his desk. Well, it was a copy of the photo, actually. He'd given the original to Ali.
Tony remembered how his sister's eyes had lit up upon seeing the picture of her mother and smiled fondly.
"Tony," Abby's voice interrupted his musings, "you have missed so much these past few weeks. I am never going to be able to catch you up on all the scuttlebutt around here."
Tony raised his eyebrows in challenge. "Try me."
"Ok, well, first of all, you know Chloe from the HR department? Well, you will not believe what happened between her and her boyfriend down in accounting last week. See, they were-"
As Abby balanced on the edge of his desk, filling him in on the latest office happenings, Tony quickly crumpled a sheet of paper into a ball and lobbed it at McGee. McGee shook his head, hiding a grin, and across from Tony, Ziva smirked as she watched out of the corner of her eye. Abby took no notice of any of this, simply swinging her legs as she chattered on, and Tony leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head with a sigh and a smile.
Gibbs watched all of this from his vantage point up on the mezzanine outside of the Director's office.
It was good to have his team back to normal.
Well, as normal as it ever was, anyway.
...
Epilogue will be posted in the next few days