How To Relate: Chapter 4
Title: How To Relate
Author: justhowthisgoes
Fandom: NCIS
Category: Hurt/Comfort/Family
Pairing: None
Rating: T
Spoilers: Up to Season 7
Summary: Tony has been getting threatening letters and the team is worried, but Tony isn't taking them seriously. Then come the attempts on his life. Could the new girl at NCIS be involved? And what secrets from Tony's past will be revealed in the search?
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter 4
Friends Don't Let Friends Mope
McGee sat at his desk, only half focused on the computer screen in front of him. The rest of his attention was on Ziva, as the agitated Israeli was currently pacing back and forth through the bullpen.
"What is it about Tony?" she burst out suddenly. "I mean, he always seems to have someone trying to kill him, or kidnap him, or frame him for murder, or else some sort of giant secret is threatening to blow up in his face. And he is always getting hurt. It is like he is some sort of… of danger glue."
"I think you mean danger magnet, Ziva."
Ziva glared. "Does it really matter? What I want to know is who could possibly be after Tony this time?"
McGee shrugged. "Who knows? Like you said, Tony always manages to get himself in some sort of trouble."
"Yes," Ziva conceded with a nod, "well, I find it somewhat… admirable that he has made so many enemies."
"Admirable?" McGee repeated, incredulous. "Really?"
"Well," Ziva defended, "if no one disliked him, he would not be doing his job."
"Ok, I agree with that to a certain point, but I think Tony just has a special talent for infuriating people."
Ziva chuckled. "That is true McGee. But he is a good friend, and we would not have him any other way. Usually."
"Jack Nicholson impersonations and all?"
"Yes, even that."
McGee smiled slowly. "Wow Ziva. You're really worried about Tony, aren't you?"
"What? I- No. I am merely showing concern for a teammate. That is all." Ziva sniffed.
"Uh-huh. Ok, sure. Whatever you say."
"And just what do you mean by that, McGee?" Ziva asked in a dangerous voice, leaning over his desk and narrowing her eyes menacingly.
"Um, nothing, just-"
McGee was spared from answering as Gibbs strode out of the elevator toward them.
Ziva straightened up immediately. "Gibbs, how is Tony?" she inquired.
"His wrist's broken." Gibbs answered tersely. "Did-"
Ziva interrupted him, surprised. "Broken?"
"Slight fracture," he amended. "He'll be fine. Ducky fixed him up."
Ziva opened her mouth as if to question Gibbs further, but he turned away.
"McGee, you run those plates yet?"
"Yeah, Boss."
"And?" Gibbs demanded, impatiently.
"They, uh, came back stolen."
"Put out a-"
"BOLO on the SUV?" McGee answered, anticipating Gibbs' next words. "Already done Boss, and I got a hit. DC Metro found it abandoned about half an hour ago."
"Have it brought in for Abby."
"On it Boss."
"I'm going for coffee."
As Gibbs walked out, McGee began making calls while Ziva resumed her frenetic pacing.
Ding.
"Hey guys!" Abby skipped out of the elevator toward them, towing a slightly less than enthusiastic Tony.
Ziva appraised him, raising an eyebrow. "You do not look so bad."
"Gee, thanks Zee-vah." Tony slumped into his chair with a groan. "I'll have you know that I would not be standing, well, sitting here right now if not for my sharply tuned reflexes and uncanny instincts."
Hanging up his phone, McGee scoffed teasingly. "Sure, Tony. Are these the same 'instincts' that had you standing in the street in the first place?"
Tony frowned. "Well, at least I'm not afraid to talk to women."
"Oh yeah, well-" McGee's retort was cut off as Abby stepped in between their desks.
"Hey! Cut it out." Abby glared at them in turn until they each mumbled an apology. "That's better. Now, we are all going out tonight. We're going to get a drink, maybe go dancing. So plan on it."
"How do you know we don't already have plans?" McGee argued.
"It's Monday night, Tim. What could you possibly be doing?"
"Well-"
"That was rhetorical. If you already have plans; cancel them. Tony needs cheering up and we could all use some fun."
At this McGee got a strange look in his eye, then suddenly got up and began carefully opening his desk drawers.
"So, where are we going?" Ziva asked.
"Well, I thought we could go check out that new place up on 16th." Abby replied, watching McGee curiously as he grabbed a pencil and poked warily at his keyboard.
"Ooh, that sounds like fun. I heard they have a great band."
McGee looked under his chair. Then he got on the floor and crawled underneath his desk. By this time Abby, Ziva, and Tony were all staring, bemused.
"McGee!" Abby yelled.
There was a loud bump and a muffled exclamation and then McGee emerged from under the desk, red-faced.
"What are you doing?"
"Uh, well, it's just that, the last time Tony needed to be cheered up, I wound up superglued to my keyboard," McGee explained. "So I thought I'd check to make sure nothing was, uh, booby-trapped."
Tony snickered, shaking his head. "You give me too much credit, Probie. I just got here."
"Yeah, but you always seem to do these things without anyone noticing."
"Ha. So true." Tony reached into his desk, pulling out a bottle of aspirin. "Actually, no. Gibbs always knows."
Ziva watched as Tony struggled one-handed with the bottle for a minute before taking it from him and deftly twisting off the lid.
"What, no crack about me not being able to open a childproof cap?" Tony asked as she handed the aspirin back. "I've got a few handy if you can't come up with one."
Rolling her eyes, Ziva turned back to Abby. "So, what time are we meeting?"
"I guess we should all just head there after Gibbs lets you off."
"Fine with me."
"I'll let Jimmy know." Abby waved as she headed back into the elevator.
At that moment, Ali walked past their desks.
"Look who it is, Tony. I bet she would like it if you asked her to come with us tonight," Ziva teased, an ever-so-slight edge to her voice.
Tony glanced over at McGee. "Yeah, I don't really think that would be a great idea, Ziva," he hedged.
McGee met his eyes. "Look Tony, if you want to ask her, it's fine. Don't let me stop you."
Tony made a derisive noise in his throat. "You're not stopping me."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. If I wanted to ask her, I would."
"Yeah?"
"But I already said I didn't."
"Fine then, don't."
"Ok. I won't."
The room was silent for an uncomfortable moment until Tony spoke up. "So… have you seen Ninja Assassin yet?"
"No, not yet. I was thinking of maybe seeing it next weekend. Is it any good?" McGee asked.
"Well, the plot's a little clichéd, not too bad though, and not really unexpected in a film like this. But the action... was wicked awesome. I mean, they are ninjas."
McGee grinned. "Sweet."
Ziva watched this exchange, slightly baffled.
How those two could go from such petty bickering to friendly discussion was beyond her understanding.The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully with the team catching up on desk work. At least, McGee and Ziva worked while Tony practiced shooting paper balls at an assortment of targets.
Ziva sighed at his antics. "Tony, we are supposed to be doing paperwork."
"Ziva, Ziva, Ziva. This is paper." Tony held up a sheet and made a big show of crumpling it up. He tossed it straight at McGee's wastebasket, pumping a fist in the air as it went in. "Oh! And I am working on my left-handed shot. See? Look at that! This is the extent of the paperwork I can do Zee-vah, since I can't write."
Tony closed his eyes and flung another paper ball, this time missing the bin and hitting McGee square in the forehead, causing him to look up, affronted.
"You know Tony, I don't really think your handwriting could get any worse than the illegible scrawl that it normally is. I have a feeling that a broken wrist would actually improve your writing," McGee smirked.
"Ha ha. Very funny," Tony replied sourly.
They all straightened up as Gibbs came down from MTAC.
He considered them over the top of his coffee for a moment. "It's been a long day. Go home."
After the team gathered up their things and left, the lack of their teasing banter made the squad-room suddenly feel very quiet. Gibbs leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, lost in thought. It had been a long day.
His stomach clenched as he recalled that morning.
From the second he'd heard the screeching tires he'd known in his gut that something was wrong. Then he'd seen Tony hit the ground. He didn't even remember rushing to his side, but he definitely remembered the pure relief that coursed through his veins as he grasped the fact that the only injuries Tony had incurred were from his impact with the pavement.
All in all, it could have been much worse.
He shook his head, angry. It could've been worse and it could still be worse if they didn't figure out who was gunning for Tony soon and stop them before something else happened. Gibbs picked up a file from a tall stack next to his desk. After the incident that day, he had requested files on Tony's old cases from Peoria, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. Since they had no leads he needed somewhere to start looking, to feel as if he was doing something useful.
An outside observer may not have known it to look at him, but Gibbs had a fiercely protective side that never failed to surface when a member of his team was in danger. Today he'd had to work hard not to show his team how worried and upset he was behind his impassive exterior.
And the fact that it was Tony, yet again, who was being menaced by some unseen threat, troubled Gibbs more than he liked to admit. At times it seemed as though there was some collective universal conspiracy against his senior agent.
Gibbs had been so relieved when he realized that Tony wasn't badly hurt that he could have hugged him. He didn't, of course. The ex-Marine wasn't particularly demonstrative as a rule, and headslaps were generally the only type of physical affection he displayed toward the man he considered practically a son.
Of course, Tony had ended up with a fractured wrist, but again, it could have been worse. Tony might whine and grumble about having to wear a splint, but the injury wouldn't affect his field performance.
Smiling ruefully, Gibbs shook his head. He was one of the few people who knew that while Tony was an excellent shot with his right hand, he was also virtually as good with his left. Tony played the juvenile prankster to a T, but underneath he was as good an agent as Gibbs had ever known, and there was no one he would rather to have his six out in the field.
Gibbs lifted his coffee cup, annoyed to find it empty, as Director Vance walked into the bullpen.
"Agent Gibbs. You're working late."
"Director." Gibbs acknowledged.
"Where's your team?"
"Sent 'em home."
"So I assume you aren't working a case."
"Not exactly. Just looking for a lead."
"Hm. Does this have anything to do with the threatening letters your agent has been receiving?"
"It could."
"Find anything?"
"Not yet."
"Well, keep me updated." Gibbs gave a cursory nod as Vance left.Tony signaled to the bartender for another beer. He downed half of it in a gulp and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Tony!" Abby suddenly appeared next to him. "Come dance with us."
He grinned and allowed her to lead him out onto the floor with the others. The music pulsed loudly as multicolored lights flashed. It was easy to tell why Abby had suggested they come here.
"So Tony," Abby practically shouted to be heard over the music, "is this place great or what?"
Tony laughed. "Yeah, Abbs. It's your kind of place."
"Hey, isn't that Ali over there?"
Tony looked in the direction Abby had indicated. Ali was sitting alone at a table, apparently texting, an untouched drink in front of her.
"Yeah, I think so."
"We should invite her to come hang out with us."
"Abby, you aren't still on that whole thing about how we would make a cute couple, are you?"
"Nah, I changed my mind about that. You guys shouldn't date. And anyway, I know you wouldn't go after a girl that McGee likes." Abby's eyes suddenly sparkled. "I think we should set the two of them up."
"Really? You want to set McGee up? And you're not gonna be jealous?"
"Jealous, moi?" Abby looked almost hurt at the suggestion. "McGee deserves to be happy, and I really like Ali."
"Well, that's very mature of you, Abbs."
"Besides, I kind of have an online thing right now with Eric, you know, from LA?"
"Right, right." Tony nodded. He remembered hearing something about that.
"Alright, so here's the plan." Abby grinned excitedly. "We'll invite her over here, and then you go convince McGee to ask her to dance while I'm talking him up."
"Ok, sure. Let's do it."
As they walked over to the table Ali didn't appear to have noticed them, still engrossed in what they could now see was a game of Tetris.
"Hey Ali!" Abby called.
Ali looked up from her phone and gave a start as she saw them, knocking over her drink.
"Shoot!" Ali exclaimed, quickly standing up before the liquid could run off the table onto her lap.
Tony grabbed a napkin off a nearby empty table and offered it to her helpfully.
Blushing profusely, Ali took it and quickly mopped up the worst of the spill.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Abby said. "Tony and I were just wondering if you wanted to come and hang out with us."
"McGee's here too. And Ziva and Palmer." Tony put in. "If you haven't met Palmer yet, he's the autopsy grem--er, he's the ME's assistant."
Ali stared at him. "Um actually, I, uh, have to go, actually. Sorry." She hurriedly picked up her coat and rushed out the door.
Abby looked at Tony. "Ok, that was definitely hinky. Right?"
Tony shrugged. "I don't pretend to understand women, Abbs. Come on, let's just go back and dance, ok?"
Abby frowned in the direction of the door for a moment. "Ok, I'm coming."
As they made their way back to the dance floor, Ziva joined them.
"Was that Ali you were talking to?" she asked.
"Yeah," replied Tony. "She was here. What a coincidence, huh?"
"Yes," Ziva answered dubiously. "It is quite a coincidence." She sounded as if she thought it was anything but.
The music suddenly changed to a slower song. Tony and Ziva found themselves facing each other.
Tony smiled and extended his hand. "Would you care to dance ma'am?" he drawled.
Ziva raised her eyebrows.
"Oh, come on. Look, McGee's dancing with Abby. And Palmer's dancing with… some blond I've never seen before. Huh. Way to go Palmer!" He grinned mischievously. "Come on Zee-vah."
She tried to hide her amusement, but the corner of her mouth quirked involuntarily. She took Tony's hand.
"So, are you gonna let me lead?" he asked.
"Well, I do like to lead." Ziva confessed.
"Yeah, I kinda had a feeling you did." Tony gave her a roguish grin.
"But--" she clarified. "I will allow you to try. This time. It is entirely possible that your sense of masculinity would suffer if I did not."
Tony smirked as he pulled her closer and they slowly began to dance.
He was a very good dancer. But of course Ziva would never admit that out loud.
"So, have we succeeded tonight?" Ziva asked. "Are you cheery again?"
"Well, I'm having a good time, if that's what you mean. But the alcohol may have had something to do with that," he joked.
Ziva laughed. "Sure."
As the music ended they stopped dancing and stood, suddenly awkward.
Tony dropped his hands and stepped back, clearing his throat. "Ok. Good dance."
Ziva smiled. "It was alright."
Just then Abby came up to them, leading Palmer and McGee.
"Doesn't this place rock?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yeah Abbs, but you know, it is getting kind of late," McGee hinted.
"And we do have to work tomorrow," Palmer put in.
"Yeah, you guys are right. We should probably go soon. Is everyone ok to drive?" She turned to Tony as she said this.
"What are you looking at me for? I'm not drunk."
"No, but you have had a couple drinks and you probably shouldn't be driving with your arm like that anyway," Abby pointed out.
"Hey, I made it up here didn't I?"
"Yeah, how did you do that? Isn't your Camaro a stick?"
"Well, naturally. Do I look like the kind of guy who would drive an automatic?" Tony shook his head, scornful.
"So how did you shift?" McGee asked.
"Trade secret." Tony winked impishly.
"Tony, you are a crash waiting to happen!" Ziva proclaimed in disbelief.
"It's 'accident,' Ziva, and you're one to talk."
"She's right either way, Tony." McGee plucked Tony's keys out of his hand. "You're not driving tonight."
"I'm pretty sure I drive better than Ziva even with a broken wrist." Tony protested. "Probie, wait. I don't let anyone drive my baby."
"Tony, I know how to drive a Camaro. I used to have one, remember?"
"Yeah. I also remember you crashed it. Into a bus. The first time you drove it."
"Gimme a break," McGee objected. "I was 16."
"Tony, McGee is driving you home and I will follow and drive him home. And that's final." Abby ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Fine," Tony pouted, giving in.
As they headed out into the parking lot, Tony suddenly stopped.
"McGee, you're not driving my car."
McGee sighed. "Tony, we just went over this-"
"Look, McGee."
"Look what? I promise to be careful, ok?"
"No, Tim. Look." Tony pointed. McGee looked.
The Camaro's tires had been slashed.
...
Chapter 5
Author: justhowthisgoes
Fandom: NCIS
Category: Hurt/Comfort/Family
Pairing: None
Rating: T
Spoilers: Up to Season 7
Summary: Tony has been getting threatening letters and the team is worried, but Tony isn't taking them seriously. Then come the attempts on his life. Could the new girl at NCIS be involved? And what secrets from Tony's past will be revealed in the search?
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter 4
Friends Don't Let Friends Mope
McGee sat at his desk, only half focused on the computer screen in front of him. The rest of his attention was on Ziva, as the agitated Israeli was currently pacing back and forth through the bullpen.
"What is it about Tony?" she burst out suddenly. "I mean, he always seems to have someone trying to kill him, or kidnap him, or frame him for murder, or else some sort of giant secret is threatening to blow up in his face. And he is always getting hurt. It is like he is some sort of… of danger glue."
"I think you mean danger magnet, Ziva."
Ziva glared. "Does it really matter? What I want to know is who could possibly be after Tony this time?"
McGee shrugged. "Who knows? Like you said, Tony always manages to get himself in some sort of trouble."
"Yes," Ziva conceded with a nod, "well, I find it somewhat… admirable that he has made so many enemies."
"Admirable?" McGee repeated, incredulous. "Really?"
"Well," Ziva defended, "if no one disliked him, he would not be doing his job."
"Ok, I agree with that to a certain point, but I think Tony just has a special talent for infuriating people."
Ziva chuckled. "That is true McGee. But he is a good friend, and we would not have him any other way. Usually."
"Jack Nicholson impersonations and all?"
"Yes, even that."
McGee smiled slowly. "Wow Ziva. You're really worried about Tony, aren't you?"
"What? I- No. I am merely showing concern for a teammate. That is all." Ziva sniffed.
"Uh-huh. Ok, sure. Whatever you say."
"And just what do you mean by that, McGee?" Ziva asked in a dangerous voice, leaning over his desk and narrowing her eyes menacingly.
"Um, nothing, just-"
McGee was spared from answering as Gibbs strode out of the elevator toward them.
Ziva straightened up immediately. "Gibbs, how is Tony?" she inquired.
"His wrist's broken." Gibbs answered tersely. "Did-"
Ziva interrupted him, surprised. "Broken?"
"Slight fracture," he amended. "He'll be fine. Ducky fixed him up."
Ziva opened her mouth as if to question Gibbs further, but he turned away.
"McGee, you run those plates yet?"
"Yeah, Boss."
"And?" Gibbs demanded, impatiently.
"They, uh, came back stolen."
"Put out a-"
"BOLO on the SUV?" McGee answered, anticipating Gibbs' next words. "Already done Boss, and I got a hit. DC Metro found it abandoned about half an hour ago."
"Have it brought in for Abby."
"On it Boss."
"I'm going for coffee."
As Gibbs walked out, McGee began making calls while Ziva resumed her frenetic pacing.
Ding.
"Hey guys!" Abby skipped out of the elevator toward them, towing a slightly less than enthusiastic Tony.
Ziva appraised him, raising an eyebrow. "You do not look so bad."
"Gee, thanks Zee-vah." Tony slumped into his chair with a groan. "I'll have you know that I would not be standing, well, sitting here right now if not for my sharply tuned reflexes and uncanny instincts."
Hanging up his phone, McGee scoffed teasingly. "Sure, Tony. Are these the same 'instincts' that had you standing in the street in the first place?"
Tony frowned. "Well, at least I'm not afraid to talk to women."
"Oh yeah, well-" McGee's retort was cut off as Abby stepped in between their desks.
"Hey! Cut it out." Abby glared at them in turn until they each mumbled an apology. "That's better. Now, we are all going out tonight. We're going to get a drink, maybe go dancing. So plan on it."
"How do you know we don't already have plans?" McGee argued.
"It's Monday night, Tim. What could you possibly be doing?"
"Well-"
"That was rhetorical. If you already have plans; cancel them. Tony needs cheering up and we could all use some fun."
At this McGee got a strange look in his eye, then suddenly got up and began carefully opening his desk drawers.
"So, where are we going?" Ziva asked.
"Well, I thought we could go check out that new place up on 16th." Abby replied, watching McGee curiously as he grabbed a pencil and poked warily at his keyboard.
"Ooh, that sounds like fun. I heard they have a great band."
McGee looked under his chair. Then he got on the floor and crawled underneath his desk. By this time Abby, Ziva, and Tony were all staring, bemused.
"McGee!" Abby yelled.
There was a loud bump and a muffled exclamation and then McGee emerged from under the desk, red-faced.
"What are you doing?"
"Uh, well, it's just that, the last time Tony needed to be cheered up, I wound up superglued to my keyboard," McGee explained. "So I thought I'd check to make sure nothing was, uh, booby-trapped."
Tony snickered, shaking his head. "You give me too much credit, Probie. I just got here."
"Yeah, but you always seem to do these things without anyone noticing."
"Ha. So true." Tony reached into his desk, pulling out a bottle of aspirin. "Actually, no. Gibbs always knows."
Ziva watched as Tony struggled one-handed with the bottle for a minute before taking it from him and deftly twisting off the lid.
"What, no crack about me not being able to open a childproof cap?" Tony asked as she handed the aspirin back. "I've got a few handy if you can't come up with one."
Rolling her eyes, Ziva turned back to Abby. "So, what time are we meeting?"
"I guess we should all just head there after Gibbs lets you off."
"Fine with me."
"I'll let Jimmy know." Abby waved as she headed back into the elevator.
At that moment, Ali walked past their desks.
"Look who it is, Tony. I bet she would like it if you asked her to come with us tonight," Ziva teased, an ever-so-slight edge to her voice.
Tony glanced over at McGee. "Yeah, I don't really think that would be a great idea, Ziva," he hedged.
McGee met his eyes. "Look Tony, if you want to ask her, it's fine. Don't let me stop you."
Tony made a derisive noise in his throat. "You're not stopping me."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. If I wanted to ask her, I would."
"Yeah?"
"But I already said I didn't."
"Fine then, don't."
"Ok. I won't."
The room was silent for an uncomfortable moment until Tony spoke up. "So… have you seen Ninja Assassin yet?"
"No, not yet. I was thinking of maybe seeing it next weekend. Is it any good?" McGee asked.
"Well, the plot's a little clichéd, not too bad though, and not really unexpected in a film like this. But the action... was wicked awesome. I mean, they are ninjas."
McGee grinned. "Sweet."
Ziva watched this exchange, slightly baffled.
How those two could go from such petty bickering to friendly discussion was beyond her understanding.The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully with the team catching up on desk work. At least, McGee and Ziva worked while Tony practiced shooting paper balls at an assortment of targets.
Ziva sighed at his antics. "Tony, we are supposed to be doing paperwork."
"Ziva, Ziva, Ziva. This is paper." Tony held up a sheet and made a big show of crumpling it up. He tossed it straight at McGee's wastebasket, pumping a fist in the air as it went in. "Oh! And I am working on my left-handed shot. See? Look at that! This is the extent of the paperwork I can do Zee-vah, since I can't write."
Tony closed his eyes and flung another paper ball, this time missing the bin and hitting McGee square in the forehead, causing him to look up, affronted.
"You know Tony, I don't really think your handwriting could get any worse than the illegible scrawl that it normally is. I have a feeling that a broken wrist would actually improve your writing," McGee smirked.
"Ha ha. Very funny," Tony replied sourly.
They all straightened up as Gibbs came down from MTAC.
He considered them over the top of his coffee for a moment. "It's been a long day. Go home."
After the team gathered up their things and left, the lack of their teasing banter made the squad-room suddenly feel very quiet. Gibbs leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, lost in thought. It had been a long day.
His stomach clenched as he recalled that morning.
From the second he'd heard the screeching tires he'd known in his gut that something was wrong. Then he'd seen Tony hit the ground. He didn't even remember rushing to his side, but he definitely remembered the pure relief that coursed through his veins as he grasped the fact that the only injuries Tony had incurred were from his impact with the pavement.
All in all, it could have been much worse.
He shook his head, angry. It could've been worse and it could still be worse if they didn't figure out who was gunning for Tony soon and stop them before something else happened. Gibbs picked up a file from a tall stack next to his desk. After the incident that day, he had requested files on Tony's old cases from Peoria, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. Since they had no leads he needed somewhere to start looking, to feel as if he was doing something useful.
An outside observer may not have known it to look at him, but Gibbs had a fiercely protective side that never failed to surface when a member of his team was in danger. Today he'd had to work hard not to show his team how worried and upset he was behind his impassive exterior.
And the fact that it was Tony, yet again, who was being menaced by some unseen threat, troubled Gibbs more than he liked to admit. At times it seemed as though there was some collective universal conspiracy against his senior agent.
Gibbs had been so relieved when he realized that Tony wasn't badly hurt that he could have hugged him. He didn't, of course. The ex-Marine wasn't particularly demonstrative as a rule, and headslaps were generally the only type of physical affection he displayed toward the man he considered practically a son.
Of course, Tony had ended up with a fractured wrist, but again, it could have been worse. Tony might whine and grumble about having to wear a splint, but the injury wouldn't affect his field performance.
Smiling ruefully, Gibbs shook his head. He was one of the few people who knew that while Tony was an excellent shot with his right hand, he was also virtually as good with his left. Tony played the juvenile prankster to a T, but underneath he was as good an agent as Gibbs had ever known, and there was no one he would rather to have his six out in the field.
Gibbs lifted his coffee cup, annoyed to find it empty, as Director Vance walked into the bullpen.
"Agent Gibbs. You're working late."
"Director." Gibbs acknowledged.
"Where's your team?"
"Sent 'em home."
"So I assume you aren't working a case."
"Not exactly. Just looking for a lead."
"Hm. Does this have anything to do with the threatening letters your agent has been receiving?"
"It could."
"Find anything?"
"Not yet."
"Well, keep me updated." Gibbs gave a cursory nod as Vance left.Tony signaled to the bartender for another beer. He downed half of it in a gulp and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Tony!" Abby suddenly appeared next to him. "Come dance with us."
He grinned and allowed her to lead him out onto the floor with the others. The music pulsed loudly as multicolored lights flashed. It was easy to tell why Abby had suggested they come here.
"So Tony," Abby practically shouted to be heard over the music, "is this place great or what?"
Tony laughed. "Yeah, Abbs. It's your kind of place."
"Hey, isn't that Ali over there?"
Tony looked in the direction Abby had indicated. Ali was sitting alone at a table, apparently texting, an untouched drink in front of her.
"Yeah, I think so."
"We should invite her to come hang out with us."
"Abby, you aren't still on that whole thing about how we would make a cute couple, are you?"
"Nah, I changed my mind about that. You guys shouldn't date. And anyway, I know you wouldn't go after a girl that McGee likes." Abby's eyes suddenly sparkled. "I think we should set the two of them up."
"Really? You want to set McGee up? And you're not gonna be jealous?"
"Jealous, moi?" Abby looked almost hurt at the suggestion. "McGee deserves to be happy, and I really like Ali."
"Well, that's very mature of you, Abbs."
"Besides, I kind of have an online thing right now with Eric, you know, from LA?"
"Right, right." Tony nodded. He remembered hearing something about that.
"Alright, so here's the plan." Abby grinned excitedly. "We'll invite her over here, and then you go convince McGee to ask her to dance while I'm talking him up."
"Ok, sure. Let's do it."
As they walked over to the table Ali didn't appear to have noticed them, still engrossed in what they could now see was a game of Tetris.
"Hey Ali!" Abby called.
Ali looked up from her phone and gave a start as she saw them, knocking over her drink.
"Shoot!" Ali exclaimed, quickly standing up before the liquid could run off the table onto her lap.
Tony grabbed a napkin off a nearby empty table and offered it to her helpfully.
Blushing profusely, Ali took it and quickly mopped up the worst of the spill.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Abby said. "Tony and I were just wondering if you wanted to come and hang out with us."
"McGee's here too. And Ziva and Palmer." Tony put in. "If you haven't met Palmer yet, he's the autopsy grem--er, he's the ME's assistant."
Ali stared at him. "Um actually, I, uh, have to go, actually. Sorry." She hurriedly picked up her coat and rushed out the door.
Abby looked at Tony. "Ok, that was definitely hinky. Right?"
Tony shrugged. "I don't pretend to understand women, Abbs. Come on, let's just go back and dance, ok?"
Abby frowned in the direction of the door for a moment. "Ok, I'm coming."
As they made their way back to the dance floor, Ziva joined them.
"Was that Ali you were talking to?" she asked.
"Yeah," replied Tony. "She was here. What a coincidence, huh?"
"Yes," Ziva answered dubiously. "It is quite a coincidence." She sounded as if she thought it was anything but.
The music suddenly changed to a slower song. Tony and Ziva found themselves facing each other.
Tony smiled and extended his hand. "Would you care to dance ma'am?" he drawled.
Ziva raised her eyebrows.
"Oh, come on. Look, McGee's dancing with Abby. And Palmer's dancing with… some blond I've never seen before. Huh. Way to go Palmer!" He grinned mischievously. "Come on Zee-vah."
She tried to hide her amusement, but the corner of her mouth quirked involuntarily. She took Tony's hand.
"So, are you gonna let me lead?" he asked.
"Well, I do like to lead." Ziva confessed.
"Yeah, I kinda had a feeling you did." Tony gave her a roguish grin.
"But--" she clarified. "I will allow you to try. This time. It is entirely possible that your sense of masculinity would suffer if I did not."
Tony smirked as he pulled her closer and they slowly began to dance.
He was a very good dancer. But of course Ziva would never admit that out loud.
"So, have we succeeded tonight?" Ziva asked. "Are you cheery again?"
"Well, I'm having a good time, if that's what you mean. But the alcohol may have had something to do with that," he joked.
Ziva laughed. "Sure."
As the music ended they stopped dancing and stood, suddenly awkward.
Tony dropped his hands and stepped back, clearing his throat. "Ok. Good dance."
Ziva smiled. "It was alright."
Just then Abby came up to them, leading Palmer and McGee.
"Doesn't this place rock?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yeah Abbs, but you know, it is getting kind of late," McGee hinted.
"And we do have to work tomorrow," Palmer put in.
"Yeah, you guys are right. We should probably go soon. Is everyone ok to drive?" She turned to Tony as she said this.
"What are you looking at me for? I'm not drunk."
"No, but you have had a couple drinks and you probably shouldn't be driving with your arm like that anyway," Abby pointed out.
"Hey, I made it up here didn't I?"
"Yeah, how did you do that? Isn't your Camaro a stick?"
"Well, naturally. Do I look like the kind of guy who would drive an automatic?" Tony shook his head, scornful.
"So how did you shift?" McGee asked.
"Trade secret." Tony winked impishly.
"Tony, you are a crash waiting to happen!" Ziva proclaimed in disbelief.
"It's 'accident,' Ziva, and you're one to talk."
"She's right either way, Tony." McGee plucked Tony's keys out of his hand. "You're not driving tonight."
"I'm pretty sure I drive better than Ziva even with a broken wrist." Tony protested. "Probie, wait. I don't let anyone drive my baby."
"Tony, I know how to drive a Camaro. I used to have one, remember?"
"Yeah. I also remember you crashed it. Into a bus. The first time you drove it."
"Gimme a break," McGee objected. "I was 16."
"Tony, McGee is driving you home and I will follow and drive him home. And that's final." Abby ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Fine," Tony pouted, giving in.
As they headed out into the parking lot, Tony suddenly stopped.
"McGee, you're not driving my car."
McGee sighed. "Tony, we just went over this-"
"Look, McGee."
"Look what? I promise to be careful, ok?"
"No, Tim. Look." Tony pointed. McGee looked.
The Camaro's tires had been slashed.
...
Chapter 5