NCIS Fic:Vanustas
Title: Vanustas
Fandom: NCIS
Rating: PG (three swear words)
Category: Episode tag, General
Genre: Gen
Character: Tony Dinozzo, team
Words: ~1,160
Summary: He sees faces and can't ignore them but tries to anyway. Her face. His face. Her father’s face. Their faces.
Spoilers: Tag for 'Aliyah' 6x25, general spoliers for everything up to it also.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Crash!
A bottle flew across the room breaking as it hit the far wall. Spraying champagne and bubbles all over ‘Persephone grey’ painted feature wall. Another crash as the glass being filled dropped to the tiles. Glass was everywhere the beautiful irony of its shiny looks and its harsh sharp cutting state. A pile of books suddenly flew across a table and were suspended in the air for a millisecond before dropping to the ground a couple knocking a vase with flowers off a side table and bringing it to its shattering end. More broken. But no one cared. No one stopped and took their time to pick up the flowers from the broken mess and sweep the sharp shards away and out of harm’s way. No one even swore when the first earth shattering noise had begun. No, no one cared that the house a perfect, cozy and stylish bachelor apartment had been trashed least of all the occupant. The occupant in fact only looked around the room to see if there was anything else to throw, to break to make a noise. Not that anyone would care. He was deluding himself. He lifted the closest thing, a tie rack with one arm his other held securely in a sling, and threw it across the room with all the energy and strength that he thought he had left. It smashed against a glass painting making a large crack appear in the arts surface. The man slid to the floor his energy low and hit his head back against the kitchen counter. Now his apartment was a mess. Just like his life. Just like his team. Again. He sighed and let his eyes fall closed but then opened them trying to avoid seeing faces.
Her face. His face. Her father’s face. Their faces.
They bore into his skull.
Ziva. Michael. Eli David. Abby and McGee.
It wasn’t lost on him that he never saw one of the most prominent faces relating to all of this. This huge fucking mess! He sighed again. Now he saw her face, Caitlin. This whole situation was repeating itself the team being torn apart, fate ignoring the hell assorted ramifications that it resulted in. It was happening again he accepted. He rubbed his forehead with his good hand…well apart from being badly split and torn and bleeding it was good. He had gone a little too far with the punching bag when he had gone to the gym before coming home. Not that it had done any good. He had come back took one look at his perfect place and thrown it into disarray before he could even sip his drink. He sighed and closed his eyes again. Wondering if he should just get up and fall on to his bed and sleep for the next week. Sure as hell beat cleaning this mess up didn’t it?
Time stood still. The glass scattered around the room didn’t move nor did the man responsible for the mess. He sat there staring at the picture any movie reference to the broken room dying on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t know what time it was when he came back to his sense of time and awareness but he realized what had dragged him out of his stupor.
The doorbell.
Without looking at the time he knew it was too late or was that too early for it to be anyone else other than the man whom he had easily ignored in his head all night. He didn’t know whether he had the energy mental or otherwise to open the door. To keep moving on, to turn up to Abby’s one woman monologue about why and how Tony should try to bring Ziva back, to them to the team, enough strength to wait out the loud silent discomfort that would radiate around them in the bull pen. Glancing up to see a forced smile or a real smile followed by a wave of guilt by the giver. He knew he had to though, he just wished it didn’t have to be right now. He could just imagine the look on the man’s face when he saw the childish mess he had created lying around his space. He decided then and there to get it over with he couldn’t feel much worse and maybe embarrassment or defiance would be better than this petty misery.
He took a breath and pushed himself up the side of the bench using only his legs and a small kick start from his sore hand. When he was finally standing he paused breathing deeply and surveyed his apartment. Shit. He had made a big immature freakin mess.
He moved his shoulders trying to loosen the muscles and tension and only felt marginally better. He strode to the door the way clear of glass seeing as he had thrown everything towards the middle of the room and his farthest wall. He didn’t bother looking through the peep hole even if he wasn’t sure who was standing behind the door; a burglar with a weapon could end his night and he’d be perfectly fine with that. But no burglar stood before him when he opened his door. In fact he couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or glad it wasn’t a burglar there when Gibbs stood before him, looking slightly worse for wear but still most definitely Gibbs. They looked each other over each taking in the other’s appearance before speaking. Tony tensed when he saw Gibbs’ eyes glance behind him and assess the state of his apartment. But when the eyes fell back on him once more there was no pity, anger or anything he had been expecting. In fact the look was pretty blank. Gibbs nodded inside ‘You going to let me in?’ Tony stepped aside letting Gibbs pass.
When he closed the door he expected a remark meant to bring him down but nothing came. When he looked up again he didn’t meet any gaze turned towards him but saw the other man’s gaze fixed on a pool of champagne lying against the wall parts of the pool glinting as glass caught the overhead lighting. Gibbs turned back to him ‘Where’s your broom?’. Tony stared blankly at him for a moment then hesitantly nodded towards the first cupboard in the hallway.
A little while later Tony was trying to mop up the pool of champagne one handed as Gibbs swept his kitchen floor.
Well, I’m already beginning to deal with this whole mess…let’s hope next time it can be someone transferring out to a different team or someone heading their own team, he thought. He looked at Gibbs bending over dropping glass into a bin. I don’t know if solo team leader in San Francisco is my calling in my future. But it sure isn’t in the next while. Everyone in this team need stability I’ll be here for the next few months at least.
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Feedback anyway you want to :)
Comments and constructive criticism considered ♥
Fandom: NCIS
Rating: PG (three swear words)
Category: Episode tag, General
Genre: Gen
Character: Tony Dinozzo, team
Words: ~1,160
Summary: He sees faces and can't ignore them but tries to anyway. Her face. His face. Her father’s face. Their faces.
Spoilers: Tag for 'Aliyah' 6x25, general spoliers for everything up to it also.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Crash!
A bottle flew across the room breaking as it hit the far wall. Spraying champagne and bubbles all over ‘Persephone grey’ painted feature wall. Another crash as the glass being filled dropped to the tiles. Glass was everywhere the beautiful irony of its shiny looks and its harsh sharp cutting state. A pile of books suddenly flew across a table and were suspended in the air for a millisecond before dropping to the ground a couple knocking a vase with flowers off a side table and bringing it to its shattering end. More broken. But no one cared. No one stopped and took their time to pick up the flowers from the broken mess and sweep the sharp shards away and out of harm’s way. No one even swore when the first earth shattering noise had begun. No, no one cared that the house a perfect, cozy and stylish bachelor apartment had been trashed least of all the occupant. The occupant in fact only looked around the room to see if there was anything else to throw, to break to make a noise. Not that anyone would care. He was deluding himself. He lifted the closest thing, a tie rack with one arm his other held securely in a sling, and threw it across the room with all the energy and strength that he thought he had left. It smashed against a glass painting making a large crack appear in the arts surface. The man slid to the floor his energy low and hit his head back against the kitchen counter. Now his apartment was a mess. Just like his life. Just like his team. Again. He sighed and let his eyes fall closed but then opened them trying to avoid seeing faces.
Her face. His face. Her father’s face. Their faces.
They bore into his skull.
Ziva. Michael. Eli David. Abby and McGee.
It wasn’t lost on him that he never saw one of the most prominent faces relating to all of this. This huge fucking mess! He sighed again. Now he saw her face, Caitlin. This whole situation was repeating itself the team being torn apart, fate ignoring the hell assorted ramifications that it resulted in. It was happening again he accepted. He rubbed his forehead with his good hand…well apart from being badly split and torn and bleeding it was good. He had gone a little too far with the punching bag when he had gone to the gym before coming home. Not that it had done any good. He had come back took one look at his perfect place and thrown it into disarray before he could even sip his drink. He sighed and closed his eyes again. Wondering if he should just get up and fall on to his bed and sleep for the next week. Sure as hell beat cleaning this mess up didn’t it?
Time stood still. The glass scattered around the room didn’t move nor did the man responsible for the mess. He sat there staring at the picture any movie reference to the broken room dying on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t know what time it was when he came back to his sense of time and awareness but he realized what had dragged him out of his stupor.
The doorbell.
Without looking at the time he knew it was too late or was that too early for it to be anyone else other than the man whom he had easily ignored in his head all night. He didn’t know whether he had the energy mental or otherwise to open the door. To keep moving on, to turn up to Abby’s one woman monologue about why and how Tony should try to bring Ziva back, to them to the team, enough strength to wait out the loud silent discomfort that would radiate around them in the bull pen. Glancing up to see a forced smile or a real smile followed by a wave of guilt by the giver. He knew he had to though, he just wished it didn’t have to be right now. He could just imagine the look on the man’s face when he saw the childish mess he had created lying around his space. He decided then and there to get it over with he couldn’t feel much worse and maybe embarrassment or defiance would be better than this petty misery.
He took a breath and pushed himself up the side of the bench using only his legs and a small kick start from his sore hand. When he was finally standing he paused breathing deeply and surveyed his apartment. Shit. He had made a big immature freakin mess.
He moved his shoulders trying to loosen the muscles and tension and only felt marginally better. He strode to the door the way clear of glass seeing as he had thrown everything towards the middle of the room and his farthest wall. He didn’t bother looking through the peep hole even if he wasn’t sure who was standing behind the door; a burglar with a weapon could end his night and he’d be perfectly fine with that. But no burglar stood before him when he opened his door. In fact he couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or glad it wasn’t a burglar there when Gibbs stood before him, looking slightly worse for wear but still most definitely Gibbs. They looked each other over each taking in the other’s appearance before speaking. Tony tensed when he saw Gibbs’ eyes glance behind him and assess the state of his apartment. But when the eyes fell back on him once more there was no pity, anger or anything he had been expecting. In fact the look was pretty blank. Gibbs nodded inside ‘You going to let me in?’ Tony stepped aside letting Gibbs pass.
When he closed the door he expected a remark meant to bring him down but nothing came. When he looked up again he didn’t meet any gaze turned towards him but saw the other man’s gaze fixed on a pool of champagne lying against the wall parts of the pool glinting as glass caught the overhead lighting. Gibbs turned back to him ‘Where’s your broom?’. Tony stared blankly at him for a moment then hesitantly nodded towards the first cupboard in the hallway.
A little while later Tony was trying to mop up the pool of champagne one handed as Gibbs swept his kitchen floor.
Well, I’m already beginning to deal with this whole mess…let’s hope next time it can be someone transferring out to a different team or someone heading their own team, he thought. He looked at Gibbs bending over dropping glass into a bin. I don’t know if solo team leader in San Francisco is my calling in my future. But it sure isn’t in the next while. Everyone in this team need stability I’ll be here for the next few months at least.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback anyway you want to :)
Comments and constructive criticism considered ♥