Chapter Text
"Kate, let's go!" Gibbs barked from behind him, startling Tim. He did his best not to jump when Gibbs turned to him and tossed him a set of keys. "McGee, you're in the truck!"
"Y— yes Boss!" Tim said, hoping he looked confident and not terrified as he managed to catch the keys without fumbling too badly. He had no idea how Kate and Tony didn't jump a mile every time Gibbs snuck up and yelled like that. Well, sometimes Tony did, but it didn't seem like he was scared, more like… like he was happy? Tim shook his head. He'd given up on understanding Tony, who was honestly more confusing than Gibbs, most days.
As Tim reached the truck, he did his best to push thoughts of Tony out of his mind. This was the first time that Gibbs had let him drive the evidence truck, and he was going to savor it. He didn't envy Tony and Kate, being stuck with Gibbs' insane driving, but he wasn't going to offer to drive them. No, he was going to enjoy the entire two hour trip back to NCIS at his own pace, without getting carsick, or fighting with Tony over the radio, or getting elbowed by Kate. This was going to be great.
Tim double checked that the evidence was locked down properly, and wouldn't fall over and spill or break during the trip. Not because Tony had told him that horror story about the tarantula that escaped its badly secured tank, or anything, but because he was a responsible field agent. There weren't even any animals in today's evidence, despite them being deep in Shenandoah National Park today. He heard the Challenger kick up rocks as Gibbs took off and ducked behind the truck's back door to avoid them. Then he quickly closed it, double checked the latch, and climbed into the cab.
There was no way he could possibly beat Gibbs back to the Naval Yard, so Tim settled in to drive at his own pace, enjoying the lovely day and savoring the fact that Gibbs trusted him enough to drive the truck solo now.
Too busy admiring the dense trees, Tim never looked in the rearview mirror, and never noticed Tony emerging from the restroom behind him.
oOo
Tony heard Gibbs shout as he headed towards the restroom and was grateful for once to pull truck duty with the probie. Gibbs had been more of a bastard than usual today — Tony knew why, of course, though he kept his knowledge of that particular anniversary to himself — and Kate was the least likely to get her head bitten off during the ride back.
Tony had already taken several metaphorical hits for her and the probie today — and two physical ones — and he was actually looking forward to a nice, sedate drive back in the evidence truck. He might even be nice and pick some music that McGee wouldn't hate to listen to for the whole ride.
Tony winced as the Challenger's engine roared. Soft music, in deference to the headache that Gibbs had slapped into existence. It wasn't totally McGee's fault: Tony hadn't had a chance to cover animal tracks in the probie's training yet. He hadn't deserved to face Gibbs' wrath for not realizing that the scuffs on the tree were from a local black bear, and not the killer. And in McGee's defense, Tony had intended to get around to it, but this was only their second callout to Shenandoah since he'd joined the team, and last time they'd been much closer to civilization.
Still, it was one thing to know that the probie hadn't deserved a slap, and another to take it for him, and Tony's head currently wasn't appreciating his protective attitude. Nor was his wrist. Gibbs was usually much better about reserving his more severe slaps for when Tony wasn't precariously balanced, attempting to catch the right angle to properly show the height of the damage, when the jolt wouldn't overbalance him and cause him to fall. Tony was pretty sure his wrist was just sprained, not broken, since he'd managed to continue using it gingerly for the rest of the morning, but it did make him slower — at everything — which didn't help Gibbs's growing attitude. His hip was definitely only bruised, and Tony had done a decent job of hiding his limp. Gibbs had noticed, of course, but he was fairly certain that the other two hadn't.
Nope, a nice, slow, quiet ride back to the Navy Yard was exactly what Tony needed right now. He might even let McGee drive the truck, to spare his wrist from having to handle all those hairpin turns and switchbacks on the way out of the Park.
As Tony shut off the water, he realized he was hearing the truck's engine, and not just idling, but moving away. Tony broke out into a jog, bursting out of the bathroom just in time to see the truck disappear around the first turn.
Tony waited a beat, wondering if this was finally McGee's idea of a prank, proof that he was growing the kind of spine he'd need to survive on Gibbs's team. But the truck didn't stop and hold out of sight, nor did it turn around. The engine noise grew fainter and fainter, proving unmistakably that this wasn't a prank. Or, at least, not a short one.
Huffing, Tony fumbled to pull his phone out of his back pocket. It was on the side he'd fallen on, so his wrist wasn't very cooperative, but he finally managed it with a minimum of pain.
Only to find a giant crack across the darkened screen and a distinctly smushed look to the casing. Apparently Tony's phone hadn't appreciated slamming down into those rocks anymore than his aching wrist or bruised hip had.
Tony stared down at his broken phone, his ears filled with birdsong and not the faintest hint of a truck engine, and groaned. "Well Anthony, now what?"