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Tony found the bar tucked away into the alley between the restaurant he’d been heading towards and the main road. The rain beat down around him, rivulets running down the street gutters like tiny rivers. He hiked up the collar on his coat as he stopped, curious.
The neon sign of ‘Temporal Blues’ hanging on the front wall flashed a pale light blue it was almost white. The light flickered and blurred as the rain hit it in an endless cacophony.
Tony was intrigued. He’d lived in Washington for almost a decade, and he’d thought he’d hunted out most of the hole-in-the-wall jazz clubs.
There was no menu posted outside, no outside seating, just a plain black door.
Another gust of wind and rain had him scuttling towards it wondering at the change in weather. It had been so sunny that morning.
Tony tried the handle and the door opened easily.
He paused in the threshold.
He should turn around and head for the restaurant, Tony mused tiredly. He’d been heading there more for the fussing the owner Mama Zoli would give him then the Italian food. Almost twelve hours after landing back from Somalia, rescuing Ziva rather than avenging her (which was still something he was struggling to comprehend), and his stomach churned with nausea, maybe from the drugs Saleem Ulman had given him, maybe from the situation; he hadn’t really decided what was the cause.
He shrugged. He could always head to the restaurant if he hated the club.
He stepped inside.
The bar was tucked away at the back with small round tables filling up the space between it and the door. There was a stage to the left where a band played softly, more than background music but unobtrusive all the same. The lights were low; the ambience relaxed.
Tony spotted young couples holding hands, a table of friends enjoying cocktails, and an older couple sitting close with their arms around each other.
He headed for the bar and one of the empty stools.
“Good evening, my name is Nan. What can I get you?” asked the bartender, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.
She was a beautiful woman; African American, white hair cascading in multiple braids, and dark black eyes which assessed him with confidence.
“Surprise me, Nan,” Tony offered with a smile as he shucked off his coat and sat down.
One eyebrow rose but she set about making a drink as Tony turned back to the band. The quiet thunk of a glass beside his elbow had him turning back.
“Ginger ale, twist of lemon,” the bartender said. “Don’t think your stomach will thank you for anything else.”
Tony grinned, delighted and surprised. “How did you know?”
“Guessed,” the bartender said, swiping down the counter. “Hard for a man as pretty as you to look like ten miles of bad road.”
Tony winced. “Can’t argue with that.” He sipped his ginger ale. It was refreshing and soothing and everything he hadn’t known he needed. He put out his hand for her to shake. “Tony.”
“Good to meet you, Tony,” Nan replied.
He took another sip, tension easing out of his bones for the first time in what seemed like months, maybe years.
“You want to talk about it?” asked Nan.
Tony looked at her questioningly.
She leaned on the counter. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
Tony tapped his glass and considered what he could say, if he could say anything. He twisted back around to face her. “You ever wonder how you got to where you are? The choices you made, the forks in the road you took?”
“All the time,” Nan said. “What choice are you debating?”
“All of them,” joked Tony.
Nan chuckled.
“Or maybe lots of little choices ending up to where I am now,” Tony conceded.
“Sometimes we don’t see the mountain we’ve built out of pebbles until it’s right in front of us,” Nan murmured. “What’s the last choice you don’t regret?”
Tony frowned. “Leaving Baltimore.”
Nan waited patiently.
“I don’t regret that I left,” Tony said slowly. “I couldn’t have stayed, but I’m beginning to think the lifeline someone offered me back then isn’t one now.” He shook his head. “I can’t regret all of it,” he admitted, “we’ve done a lot of good.”
“But?” prompted Nan when he fell silent.
“But,” repeated Tony, “I think I’ve been building a mountain of pebbles since I took the lifeline.” He sipped his ginger ale.
The first pebble had been his decision to let Gibbs rescue him; to take him up on the lifeline. It had seemed like a Godsend back then. It gave him a way out of Baltimore without people asking too many questions.
Wendy would have still left him, Tony mused. Ultimately, he wasn’t what she wanted. The move to D.C., the sudden change in his employment just gave her an excuse to pull away and leave him at the altar.
But that decision to take up Gibbs’ offer had been the first pebble. He’d let himself become beholden to Gibbs; the first step towards becoming Gibbs’ loyal Saint Bernard. He’d always felt that he owed Gibbs, and because he felt that he owed Gibbs, he’d chosen decision after decision to Gibbs’ benefit and not his own.
It hadn’t happened all at once or even at the beginning.
Maybe once Morrow had insisted that they build the team out. Maybe when Gibbs had decided to offer Caitlin Todd a lifeline and simultaneously devalued Tony’s position in the team. Maybe when Gibbs allowed Abby talk him to offering McGee a place.
But maybe they would have weathered all of that. Kate had come to respect Tony. McGee had grown into a good agent. Maybe if Kate had lived, the pebbles would have stopped building. Except she’d died and Ziva…
Ah, Ziva.
Ziva wasn’t so much a pebble as she was a boulder thrown into the middle of a whirlpool. She sent out ripple after ripple, pushing pebbles into his pile without Tony seeing it for a long time.
Losing her to the whole Michael Rivkin debacle had opened his eyes. She had been loyal to Mossad, to her father. Not to NCIS, to the team, not even to Gibbs. She had acted as a foreign operative because she was a foreign operative and Tony figured she had been from the first day they’d met. He and Gibbs had lost sight of that. Gibbs because Ziva had saved him from Ari and Tony because…
Because he trusted Gibbs; because he’d gotten into the habit of sublimating his own gut for Gibbs.’
And, he pushed himself ruthlessly into honesty, he’d lost sight of it because he’d slid into caring about Ziva. He wasn’t willing to admit that he loved her – did he even know what love was? – but he was prepared to admit that he’d worried about her and her relationship with Rivkin. Maybe he had been a touch jealous that she’d found someone. Maybe.
He hadn’t enjoyed revealing Rivkin as nothing more than her father’s pawn for her sake (because otherwise he’d have enjoyed getting the better of Eli David a lot) and he’d never wanted her dead in the aftermath of everything. He’d been trying to goddamn protect her when he’d gone to her apartment and ended up having the fatal showdown with Rivkin.
Maybe Ziva did care about the team. Maybe her friendship and the camaraderie they shared as colleagues wasn’t all a lie. Maybe she even cared about Tony. He knew with certainty there was a genuine attraction, but…but Tony knew he’d ever trust her again.
And now he was at a crossroads because there was no way that Ziva wasn’t going to leverage being rescued from a terrorist camp into a play to come back, and worse – Tony figured Gibbs was going to let her get away with it.
The past year had shown him how foolish just trusting Gibbs was given how Gibbs had gone about uncovering Michelle as the traitor. He finished up the ginger ale. He so wished that he’d been able to help Michelle before she’d turned traitor. At least they had saved her sister.
Michelle.
If he could turn back time…
“What would you do?” asked Nan.
Tony startled; he hadn’t realised he had spoken out loud. “Sorry. Wool-gathering.”
Nan placed another ginger ale in front of him. “Still, it’s a good thought. If you did have one chance to go back, what would you do differently?”
Tony lifted his drink and contemplated the question seriously for a moment. What would he do differently?
He’d still leave Baltimore.
Hell, he’d probably still take up Gibbs’ offer. Joining NCIS wasn’t really the issue. Making himself Gibbs’ lapdog to the exclusion of his own dignity was the issue. Giving into Jenny's request to go undercover because he'd been missing Gibbs and crushing his own heart (and Jeanne's) in the process was the issue.
Maybe his choice was to go back and avoid that whole debacle.
He winced at the harsh thought.
Harsh, but a fair choice, Tony thought wearily. Not that it would solve the pebble mountain - he'd already been half-buried by pebbles by the time he'd fallen in love with Jeanne and he hadn't noticed.
The first couple of years hadn’t really been problematic, he reminded himself. He and Gibbs had worked as partners, and it had worked. Tony had learned a lot from Gibbs and Gibbs had respected him while honing Tony’s need for competition and improved performance. The only issue had been how they couldn’t keep a third team member.
Until Kate.
Kate.
She hadn’t deserved her fate. If he ever truly had the power to change events…he’d save Caitlin Todd.
Michelle had made mistakes; Kate had died because Haswari had wanted to screw with Gibbs.
“You ever have someone you wanted to save?” asked Tony as he took a sip of the ginger ale.
Nan cocked an eyebrow at him. “Don’t we all want to save someone some time?”
Tony huffed a laugh. “Maybe.” He stroked his glass thoughtfully. “I think that’s what I’d change. If I had to change one thing, I’d save someone.”
“And not yourself?” asked Nan seriously.
Tony grimaced. “If I had to make a choice, no. I’d take the bullet for her if I could. She deserved to live.”
“And maybe because of that you both deserve to live,” Nan patted his hand across the bar. “Drink your ginger ale and listen to the blues, Tony. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Tony smiled and realised he’d missed the band being joined by a singer; a lovely blonde in a tight red dress who reminded him of Michelle Pfeiffer in The Fabulous Baker Brothers.
“Give me a moment and I’ll turn time for you,” the blonde sang. “Take a clock and wind the hand back. Take the stars and move the heavens for you.”
Tony frowned. It felt like he’d heard the song before and yet he was sure he hadn’t heard it at all. He sipped his ginger ale and by the time he was finished, the song was over.
He glanced back and Nan was busy talking to a couple at the other end of the bar. He slid a banknote under his glass as a tip, slipped on his coat and out of the bar.
It had stopped raining.
The night air was crisp and clean like the weather had washed away the dirt and grime; the pain and suffering of the city.
Tony shook his head at his fanciful thoughts. He was tired.
He turned around and headed for his apartment. Mama Zoli’s would wait for a night. He just wanted his bed. He’d consider his options in the morning, but one thing was certain: he was done being Gibbs’ lapdog, Saint Bernard, faithful puppy.
He was going to stop adding pebbles to his pile.
o-O-o
The alarm was vibrating on top of his bedside table instead of blaring a tune horrible enough for Tony to wake up just to stop it.
The difference was enough to trigger him into action.
Tony’s hand reached out from under the comforter to slap it off and missed. He groaned, turned over in his bed and froze.
He hadn’t seen that particular model of phone for years. Not since Gibbs had thrown his last version of it into a cup of cold coffee.
Tony picked up the cell and turned off the alarm. The date had him frowning anew.
This, Tony determined, trying not to panic, was a dream. A very detailed dream. One of those where it felt exactly like someone actually had woken up and was going about their business until they woke up for real.
Tony slid out of the comforter and sat on the bed.
He wasn’t wearing what he’d been wearing when he’d gone to bed the night before. After the whole iguana incident at Gitmo, Tony had started wearing boxers instead of sleeping nude. A few years on, he generally teamed them with an old t-shirt.
The t-shirt was missing.
His bruises were missing.
His lungs ached.
Tony checked the date again.
It was the day he’d returned to work after recovering from the plague. He forced himself up and off the bed, into the bathroom. If he was dreaming, reliving the day was going to suck, but he’d had worse nightmares and dreaming of Kate’s death…
That was nothing new.
He showered, shaved, brushed his teeth like an automaton ignoring his older spiky hairstyle and the shadows under his eyes. He ignored the way his heart was racing, the sharp pain of taking a breath which he’d long gotten used to in colder mornings. He dressed in jeans, his fingers brushed over a dark shirt, and he moved past it to pull out a pale blue cotton shirt instead.
He forced himself to eat a bowl of cereal and have some coffee before he slung a jacket on and picked up his bag. His heart lifted at the sight of his Mustang.
He’d lost the Corvette, but the Mustang…
God. He loved this car.
He ran a hand over it.
If this was a dream, he was going to enjoy the experience of simply driving the Mustang once more. He set the radio to an old jazz station and let the tunes wash over him as he drove to the Navy Yard.
Gibbs was waiting for him exactly where Tony remembered. Just past the security point, ubiquitous cup of coffee in his hand.
Tony nodded to him. “Boss.”
Gibbs’ blue eyes narrowed on him, but he jerked his head at the elevator and Tony got in. He went to stand by the back wall. Truthfully getting up, getting ready and the drive had exhausted him. He wasn’t all the way recovered.
Gibbs hovered at the front of the elevator as he got in and pushed their usual floor. The elevator started to move.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” asked Gibbs.
Tony opened his mouth to answer. Even though it had been years he knew his line. But…
He lurched forward and pressed the stop button.
Gibbs turned to him, arching an eyebrow in a silent inquiry.
“OK,” Tony began, “have you ever had one of those dreams where you wake up and you’re in your past, and you think you’re awake but you’re actually dreaming?” He paused briefly to breathe because his lung function had improved but it really was crappy straight after the plague. “Because either I’m dreaming, Boss, or I’m back in the past.”
“DiNozzo,” Gibbs murmured, worry beginning to crease his expression minutely. “Maybe it’s a sign that you should take the week you still have and rest.”
“Boss, I’m serious,” Tony said, “serious, serious, which I realise isn’t usual for me, at least not now, here,” he waved a hand, “not that I get that serious in the future, but never mind, I think you know or used to know I can be serious when I need to be serious,” he breathed, “my point is that either I’m back in the past or I’m having a really, really crazy dream.”
“Or maybe you’ve just lost your mind,” Gibbs offered dryly. Concern was warming the blue in his eyes though so Tony ploughed on.
“Maybe,” Tony acknowledged, “but last night I went to this bar, a new bar, one I hadn’t seen before and the bartender asked me if I could change one thing what I do. If I am in the past then when we get the elevator started and meet up with Kate and McGee, there’s going to be an abandoned car in Shenandoah with two men shot dead, close range. One won’t have his hands. The car is wired to explode with a bomb trigger attached to the trunk lock.”
Gibbs let a sigh escape him. “DiNozzo…”
“Just…” Tony sighed. “If I’m right…this is going to be your white whale, Boss. It’s Haswari and Kate dies.” He held Gibbs’ gaze with his own, willing the former Marine to give him a chance.
Gibbs sipped his coffee as he looked at Tony. Finally, he lowered his head a touch, a scant nod of resigned acceptance. “When you’re wrong, DiNozzo, you’re going home.” He turned and pushed the button to restart the elevator.
“If I’m wrong, I hope I wake the hell up,” Tony quipped.
The elevator pinged as it reached their floor and the doors opened. Gibbs charged out in front and Tony followed in his wake.
Kate slapped a phone down, already getting to her feet. She pointedly ignored Tony. “Gibbs,” she said, “we have a case.”
Gibbs’ eyes flickered to Tony briefly. “What’ve we got?”
“Looks like a roadside robbery gone wrong,” Kate theorised, checking her notes. “Abandoned car with two bodies, both Navy.”
Gibbs slowed in putting his coffee down on the desk and looked over at Tony, but his question was directed at Kate. “Any other details?”
“Both men were shot according to the officer I spoke with,” Kate frowned, her own trajectory slowing as she took in Gibbs’ lack of urgency.
“DiNozzo?”
“Navy Lieutenant Dean Westfall and Navy Lieutenant Curtis Janssen,” Tony recited dutifully. He’d never forgotten any of the details of the days involving Kate’s death.
Gibbs turned to Kate. “Call Dispatch, get them to send the bomb squad; the car is wired.”
Kate’s face was a picture of confusion, and she threw Tony a desperate ‘what the hell is going on look’ which he ignored. He could barely look at her, the grief bubbling up raw and intense under his skin.
“What’s going on?” McGee asked, not even making an effort to hide his confusion, pausing mid-step with his bag in one hand.
“Anonymous tip, could have been a prank,” Gibbs said succinctly. He glared at Kate. “Make the call, Kate, and then you and McGee get the truck gassed and ready.” He threw her the keys.
Kate grimaced but moved back to her desk, dropping her own bag back in its usual place.
Gibbs crooked his finger at Tony. “With me, DiNozzo.”
Tony turned and followed him back into the elevator. Gibbs stopped it almost as soon as it got moving.
“This is Haswari?” Gibbs checked tersely.
Tony nodded. “Fornell turns up and tells us that Haswari is on a mission in the US and we are not to interfere. The investigation will uncover the theft of a drone using the identity of one of the pilots. He intends to use it in a terrorist attack on the Fleet homecoming at Norfolk. He’s baiting us. You.”
“But I’m not really the target,” Gibbs said.
“Oh, you are,” Tony said, “just not for Haswari.” He waved a hand. “Haswari’s Mossad handler is his half-sister, Ziva David. She’s under orders to kill her brother and ingratiate herself with you.”
Gibbs grimaced.
“I think Haswari is under orders to kill Kate to prove his loyalty to Mossad and to make room for Ziva David on our team,” Tony said quietly. “I was never certain about it, but he had to know we’d stop the Norfolk attack by his Al-Qaeda cell and he didn’t shoot you when he had the chance.”
“David joins the team?”
He felt somewhat validated by how suitably appalled Gibbs looked.
“Takes Kate’s place,” Tony confirmed.
“Morrow wouldn’t…”
“Oh, Morrow is about to be replaced with Jenny Shepard,” Tony said cheerfully. He didn’t smile at Gibbs’ quickly covered up horror, but it was a close thing. He sobered. “I’m not sure how much Jenny knows, but she initially refuses to believe you on Haswari being Kate’s killer and later she’s all on-board giving Ziva a place on the team. They worked together in Europe.”
Gibbs paced back and forth for a moment, giving away his agitation. He stopped and turned around. “What’s your play?”
His play.
Rule Thirty-Eight: your case, your lead.
This was his play.
He was the one who’d come back to his past.
His mind flittered back to the bar and his discussion with Nan. He was beginning to think it hadn’t been an innocent conversation at all.
Temporal Blues.
He almost snorted.
Time travel.
Maybe.
He was still fifty per cent convinced he was having a nightmare and hadn’t woken up.
But if this wasn’t a dream, if this was his one chance to change things. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. Hadn’t he already made his decision? The one choice he’d change for certain…
“We save Kate,” Tony said firmly. “That’s the play.”
o-O-o
Tony focused on climbing up the fire escape, one hand after the other. The sun was shining and he regretted not remembering that he’d sweated a bucket with the combination of his shirt, bulletproof vest and jacket the first time.
He kept his attention on the climb, taking shallow breaths to stop his lungs from aching, maintaining a steady pace.
With his future knowledge they’d made good time on tracking down the stolen drone and convincing Fornell that he needed to give up Haswari’s location. They’d sent McGee to the adjourning street in an armoured van to jam the drone with the team led by Mike Balboa in support. Mike’s Senior Field Agent and Probie were guarding McGee, with Mike and his remaining team member, NCIS veteran, Gina Ricci providing back up for Gibbs and Kate.
They’d arrived early enough that the Fleet wasn’t docked but he knew Haswari had already planted the locator beacon with the homecoming crowd. Tony hadn’t been able to remember the details there. He knew they’d located the beacon in the aftermath, but he didn’t know where or how or who was involved. He’d been too wrapped up with Kate’s murder.
Tony had faked seeing a guard instead of waiting for Gibbs to cause a ruckus with a fired shot.
Gibbs had ordered him to the fire escape again and he’d used his initial solitude to ‘spot’ something on a neighbouring roof.
He’d crisply informed Gibbs and received confirmation to check it out, Mike following him over to the neighbouring building as back-up while Agent Ricci was redirected to that building’s fire escape.
Tony knew Mike was making his way up through the internal staircase as Tony clambered the fire escape which would bring him up behind Haswari.
He could hear the distant sound of gunshots as Gibbs led the clearing out of the warehouse where the drone was housed. There was activity on the roof there – the men moving to launch the drone early.
“Clear in building one,” reported Kate over the comms channel. “Heading to the roof.”
“Drone has been fired!” McGee said shakily. “Moving to jam it.”
Tony slowed as he neared the edge of his roof. He slowly took out his weapon, keeping one hand locked on the escape ladder and peaked over the edge.
Haswari was already set-up. The tripod and sniper’s rifle was aimed at the roof with the drone. The double-agent was in position, scoping the roof, waiting.
Tony swallowed hard. He knew he had to take Haswari out before he had a chance to shoot Kate or Gibbs or anyone.
He really hoped that he wasn’t going to end up in an all-out fight. Hand-to-hand combat with Mossad agents never went well for him. The fight with Rivkin briefly flashed through his mind, but he remembered all too well Ziva sweeping his legs from under him, reigniting the pain from the fracture Rivkin had given him and pushing a gun into his body.
He cleared his throat and spoke in a low tone that wouldn’t carry to Haswari. “Sniper on the roof, I think it’s Haswari.” He knew it was, but he was all too aware that his words would be part of an official statement after it was over. “He’s got your roof in his sights, Boss.”
“We’ll hold in the stairwell,” Gibbs said. “Take him out, DiNozzo.”
“I’m on your six, Tony,” Mike confirmed. “At the stairwell door now. Building was clear.”
Tony pressed his lips together. “Should have taken that extra week,” he murmured. “Finding cover, Mike. Hold for now.” He slowly and carefully climbed fully onto the roof.
Haswari was fully focused on his sniping.
Tony found a handy wall. “Making a move in, three, two, one…” he took a deep breath. “NCIS! Step away from the gun, Haswari!”
Haswari froze briefly before he exploded into action. He rolled grabbing the rifle and aiming it…
Mike burst out from the stairwell door, wresting Haswari’s attention and…
Tony didn’t hesitate.
He shot Haswari.
Centre forehead.
Just like Haswari had once shot Caitlin Todd.
Justice.
Finally.
He vaguely heard Mike confirming the roof was clear to Gibbs and there was the sound of gunshots as Gibbs, Kate and Gina took their roof.
“We’ve got control of the drone!” McGee stated loudly.
It was over.
Tony hoped to God he wasn’t going to wake up.
o-O-o
Gibbs’ front door was open.
It was always open.
Tony pushed inside and stopped at the familiar sight of Gibbs’ empty den. He shook his head and headed for the basement.
Gibbs looked up from the boat. He raised his eyebrows at Tony but jerked his head at the bench.
Tony sat down on the bottom steps of the stairs and watched as Gibbs chucked nails out of jars and filled them with a shot of bourbon.
He accepted his jar, clinked it against Gibbs’ in a silent toast and downed it. He accepted a top-up. He could always leave the Mustang and grab a cab home.
Gibbs pulled up a stool. “Still asleep, DiNozzo?”
“Don’t think I’m going to waking up,” Tony admitted a little wearily. He’d finally gone to bed after the whole Haswari debacle and was getting used to the fact that he was always still in the past when he woke up.
Gibbs hummed. “I had Abs do some digging. Didn’t tell her about you specifically. She said there’s an urban myth about a bar which welcomes the soul-weary and sends them back to the past if they’re found pure-hearted.”
Tony’s fingers tightened on the jar.
“You’re not staying,” Gibbs stated.
“Can’t,” Tony said. “I…I can’t live the same life twice, can’t make the same mistakes twice.” He sipped the bourbon and avoided Gibbs’ knowing gaze. “That soul-weary thing sounds about right.”
Gibbs nodded slowly. “You leave the team and David will step right in. Jenny’s already talking of her being a fifth.”
“As in wheel?” quipped Tony. He couldn’t believe that Jenny thought it was a good idea to place Haswari’s half-sister on the same team as the agent who’d taken Haswari out.
Especially since State had been called in to ensure Tony hadn’t been flown off to Israel to face charges in the wake of Haswari’s death. It had almost been history repeating itself, but Jenny was too new in position to enforce her decision without using up a lot of favours and Gibbs had backed Tony staying out of Mossad’s reach.
Gibbs shot Tony a look.
Tony sighed. “I know, but…this time you know Ziva David is a spy.” He shook his head. “She’ll try to appeal to the father in you who would do anything to get his little girl back. Just don’t fall for her act.”
Gibbs paled. “You know…”
“I know,” Tony said softly. “You have a severe concussion following an explosion in about a year’s time. It…you lose your memory for a while and it all comes out.”
Gibbs sighed. “I figured I wouldn’t be able to keep it secret forever. Too many people know.”
Tony nodded. “Morrow has agreed to transfer me to Homeland. I contacted him earlier today and asked. I argued it might protect me more from whatever retaliation Eli David has in mind.” He waved at Gibbs. “If Jenny did end up putting Ziva in as a fifth, I’m pretty sure I’d take friendly fire at some point.”
“Hell, DiNozzo, you’re probably right,” Gibbs said sadly. He shook his head and stared into his drink. “Jenny’s…not who I remember.”
“I think she may be ill already,” Tony said simply.
Gibbs rubbed his head furiously. “What?”
“She dies in a couple of years from a disease in her brain,” Tony broke the news as gently as he could. “I’ve already thrown some hints to Ducky about it, but…” he gestured vaguely because he had no intention of explaining the Frog situation to Gibbs in person, “it compromised her judgement. We didn’t find out until after she died.”
“Ah, hell!” Gibbs downed his bourbon and poured another.
“Sorry, Gibbs,” Tony said gently.
Gibbs’ gaze snapped to his. “You know about her too?”
“No details,” Tony said hurriedly, “just…well, it’s clear even now she and you had a past.” He waggled his eyebrows comically hoping it would help lighten the discussion.
Gibbs huffed a cross between a snort and a laugh. “Right.” There was a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks.
Tony cleared his throat. “I figure I can give you a CliffsNote version of cases I remember, key events. You can refer to it if you get stuck. Maybe head a few things off at the pass, have an early warning about some things.”
Gibbs grimaced, but there was an acceptance seeping into his body language that Tony recognised from years of working with him.
“And it’s not like you can’t text or phone me,” Tony pointed out. He gestured outward. “Morrow said I’d stay based in Washington mostly.”
Gibbs raised his jar and Tony did the same.
“Fair winds and following seas, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said.
Tony smiled, bittersweet at the parting. He drank his bourbon and stood. He’d get a cab home.
Gibbs stood with him and surprised him by pulling him into a hug, a rough hand cupping the back of his head where he’d typically been Gibbs-slapped. “You’re the best young investigator I’ve ever worked with, Anthony. I’m so very proud of you.”
Tony closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the clear respect in Gibbs’ words. Respect he’d thought he’d lost when he’d sat in that mythical bar and figured out that he’d made a pebble mountain.
He hugged Gibbs back for a long moment before he stepped away.
It was time to go.
o-O-o
Five Years Later
Caitlin Todd glanced around the bullpen.
It was twilight, the desk lamps were coming on, their warm glow giving an almost cosy ambience against the pumpkin orange.
Her team’s section of the bullpen was empty. Their new Probie, Dwayne Wilson, had already disappeared for a date night to his wife, and McGee had taken advantage of Gibbs’ absence on a super-secret overseas mission and gone home early.
Well. On time.
Which was early for the MCRT since they usually didn’t work regular hours.
She should probably take advantage and go home herself, Kate mused. It wasn’t often she got the chance just to relax for an evening. Or maybe she could see if her favourite spa could fit her in for a massage and facial. Or maybe Abby would be up for going out for a cocktail…
Her inbox pinged.
Kate frowned as she clicked the latest announcement notice.
One of their most wanted, Saleem Ulman, was confirmed dead in a joint Homeland-NCIS-Navy operation storming his newly identified camp in Africa the day before. No casualties reported on their side. One hostage retrieved, a Mossad agent –
Ziva David.
Kate blinked at the name.
She read the whole notice again, narrowing her eyes as she took in the ‘joint Homeland-NCIS-Navy’ part. Her fingers rapped rapidly on the top of her desk.
Goddammit.
She’d bet her entire shoe collection on Gibbs being part of that takedown.
And Homeland.
If Tony wasn’t caught up in it all, she’d eat her shoes.
Kate pulled a face at the screen as she read back over Ziva’s name.
She’d hated working with the woman and it had only been because she had stubbornly refused to let Ziva win at chasing her off that she had stayed, especially given some of the petty tactics Ziva had employed in trying to get Kate to leave the team. Kate shook her head as she remembered the team dinner Ziva had excluded her from. The fallout for Ziva when everyone had realised Ziva had lied about Kate declining an invite and that she just hadn’t been invited had been spectacular.
It had helped that Gibbs had been cold to Ziva for a very long time, only thawing once Ziva had started to act more like a team member than a spy for Jenny Shepard.
Kate had been relieved when Shepard had stepped down as NCIS Director. She’d initially been pleased at the appointment; thrilled that a woman had been given such an important position and it had reignited her own ambition. It had disappointed her that Shepard had used her position to assign Ziva to the team and seemed mostly fixated on Gibbs. The scandal of Jenny assigning a young agent undercover without real back-up or authorisation, interfering in a CIA operation to boot, had been the death knell for her career. The news of her ill health after her passing had made sense to Kate in retrospect.
Shepard’s successor Leon Vance had his own flaws, and there had been a dick-measuring contest between him and Gibbs which had lasted far too long, but Kate could say he ran a tight ship and was a competent leader.
She read over the notice one last time and closed it.
God, but she hoped Gibbs wouldn’t invite Ziva to return. Sure, Kate had managed to create a working relationship with her before Vance had eliminated the liaison position when he’d taken over, but she’d never been comfortable working alongside the half-sister of Ari Haswari.
Still, Kate determined, she could feel a smidge of Christian compassion for whatever hell Ziva had gone through as a hostage to a man like Ulman and include her in her prayers.
She just hoped Gibbs and Tony were OK.
She frowned at the screen. Given Gibbs’ reputation and the way he’d been with Stan Burley, Tony’s predecessor, it had surprised her that Gibbs had stayed in contact with Tony, had in fact segued into a friendship with him.
Maybe the only more surprising fact was that Tony had turned into one of Kate’s own best friends. Kate liked to think they’d been friends as colleagues, and certainly they’d cared for each other, but losing their competitive working relationship had allowed them to mellow and build a real friendship beyond the professional.
There had been one night when it had looked like it might turn into more that first year after Tony left the team, Kate thought with amusement. Tony had been single; she had been single; they didn’t work together. They’d had dinner out and ended up back at her place and had been wrestling over the remote and…there had been a moment when he had been stretched out on top of her on top of the couch and their eyes had met and everything had paused…before they’d both burst out laughing instead of falling into the potential kiss.
Maybe in another universe they had kissed and they’d ended up married, Kate mused as she shut off the monitor and swept the cold case file into her bottom drawer. But in her universe, they’d ended up platonically cuddling watching an old movie and she counted Tony as another brother, one of her own choosing.
Her parents had pretty much adopted him the first time she’d dragged him to spend the holidays with them, Kate thought wryly, and God knew she thought her sister Rachel actually preferred Tony to their actual brothers. Tony always just looked bemused by the love and affection Kate’s family showered on him. If she ever met Tony’s father, Kate considered darkly…
She sighed.
She was probably going to have to break it to her family that it was unlikely Tony would be joining them for Thanksgiving that year. Brad had introduced him to a friend at his New Year’s Eve party; a doctor who worked in Emergency medicine. With a little bit of encouragement (a lot including getting Gibbs involved to talk some sense to him), Tony had started dating Jeanne and it was looking serious.
Dating.
Kate sighed. That would be nice. Being Gibbs’ Senior Field Agent really didn’t leave a lot of time for a personal life. She couldn’t remember the last time a date had turned into dating into a relationship.
She bit her lips as she belted her coat. She couldn’t deny she felt a little stuck; personally and even professionally. She was beginning to think Gibbs would never retire and she really didn’t want to stay his Senior Field Agent forever which was looking more and more likely. Maybe she’d talk to Tony about it. Even if his move to Homeland had been more than a little prompted by the whole Haswari episode, he had moved on.
Her cell phone buzzed with an incoming and she picked it up. She smiled widely at the message from Tony. Think of the Devil, she joked to herself. She quickly texted back her agreement to meet him at Mama Zoli’s. Good, Kate thought, she’d get to quiz him on what was happening with Ziva and maybe have that conversation about her career.
She slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and headed to the elevator. She almost collided with a good-looking man stepping out.
They instinctively grabbed each other’s arms to steady themselves as they began apologising.
Kate let go and took in the agent as he did the same to her. He was dressed smartly in a dark suit, a CIA badge clipped to his belt.
There was a familiar frisson of mutual attraction as they started smiling at each other, slightly sheepishly from their bumping into one another.
“Sorry, completely my fault I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he said with a smile.
Kate brushed a tendril of hair back behind her shoulder and smiled back warmly as she adjusted her purse. “Me either,” she admitted. “So no apology necessary, Agent…?”
“Cruz, Ray Cruz,” he held out his hand to shake.
Kate shook it firmly. “Caitlin Todd.”
“Good to meet you,” Ray said.
They smiled at each other. They were still holding hands. They both realised in the same moment and let go with low chuckles and ducks of heads as they grinned at each other.
Ray looked around quizzically. “I think I may have gotten off at the wrong stop, I was looking for the Director’s office.”
“Upstairs,” Kate confirmed. She smiled. “If you take the stairs there and head along the mezzanine you can’t miss it.”
Ray nodded. “Thanks.” He took a step towards the stairs and paused. “Hey, this shouldn’t take long, would you like to maybe grab a coffee once I’m done?”
Kate smiled. “I’d like that.” She had plenty of time before she was due to meet Tony. She pointed back at her desk. “Why don’t I wait at my desk and you can come find me when you’re done?”
“Deal,” Ray said. He started back towards the stairs and Kate made her way back to her desk.
She sneaked another look at him and found him sneaking a look back at her as he got to the top of the stairs.
They smiled at each other for a moment before Ray broke off and headed to the Director’s
Kate settled back in her chair and reached for her phone to text Tony.
‘I may be late to dinner. Just been invited out for coffee by a hot CIA guy.’
‘Name?’
‘Not telling you, Tony.’ Kate frowned. The last time she’d told Tony a name, he’d run a full background check on the poor guy who’d been a very normal CPA. Very normal and very boring. They had lasted two dates.
‘Just text me if you’re running late so Mama Zoli doesn’t worry,’ Tony sent back.
Kate snorted, knowing Tony was the one who would be worried.
‘Btw, heard the news on Ulman. You OK?’ Kate texted. She knew he tended to head to Mama Zoli’s when he needed comfort food and fussing.
‘Bruises.’ Tony texted back. ‘Gibbs escorting ZD home to Israel.’
‘Good.’ Kate texted back, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘Jeanne not joining us?’
‘Night shift in the ER,’ came the reply, ‘will meet up with her for breakfast.’
There was a winky face which had Kate rolling her eyes.
‘See you later, Tony. Order me a glass of Merlot.’ Kate signed off.
She glanced up and caught Ray shaking Vance’s hand in farewell. She smiled. Maybe she wasn’t as stuck as she had thought earlier.
She had a great career ahead of her whatever she decided to do next, a loving family, good friends and an interesting coffee date on her horizon.
Kate grinned and got to her feet as Ray headed down the stairs, his dark eyes already searching her out.
It was a good life, and she was going to enjoy every second of it.
fin.