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Tony's head snaps up when Gibbs reveals that he was at the party too. Grabbing his backpack in his uninjured arm, he stands albeit a bit wobbly. "Ya know, I think I'll take a rain check on dinner. Night all." Without looking back, he bolts for the elevator.
Abby looks at Tony's retreating back and then toward Gibbs. "Gibbs?" she asks, worried instantly for her friend.
Jethro shakes his head. "Go home, people. It's been a long day." Moving around his desk, he sits down to power down his computer.
One by one, the others leave. Gibbs quickly reviews the reports on his desk then checks the clock. The others have been gone more than thirty minutes so he shuts down his computer, grabs his gun, and heads for the garage.
Pulling out of the garage, Jethro scans the area carefully. NCIS headquarters was not located in one of the better parts of town. Sure they had plenty of security at the office but the surrounding neighborhood was another matter altogether. Several staff members had been attacked over the years for coming and going at this time of night. Despite that, the street lights were few and far in between and he almost missed the lone figure walking along the darkened sidewalk. Pulling over to the curb, he rolls down the passenger side window. "Get in, DiNozzo," he growls.
Tony keeps walking, not sparing a glance at the car keeping pace with him.
"Dammit, DiNozzo. Get the damned car," Jethro growls louder.
"Thanks, boss," Tony says, his eyes straight ahead as he skirts the debris on the sidewalk. "Called a cab and they didn't show. The Metro will work fine for me."
"It's quarter to one. The last train has come and gone. Get your ass in here now."
Resigned, Tony reluctantly turns toward the government issued sedan. Awkwardly opening the door with his left hand, he finally manages to seat himself in the car. He hisses when he pulls the seatbelt across his injured arm.
"You take your pain meds?" Jethro asks as he pulls away from the curb.
"Wanted to wait until I got home," Tony admits as he leans back in the seat, closing his eyes. "They knock me on my ass. I think I've had more than enough surprises for today."
"I read your report," Jethro admits. "Ducking into the storage container was your idea."
"Not much of a choice there, boss," Tony says. "It was that or stand out in the open like sitting ducks."
Tony feels the car pull to a stop, assuming they are at a traffic light. He opens his eyes when he feels Jethro nudge him slightly on his good arm. He sees Jethro holding a small electronic sensor which is glowing brightly in the dimly lit car interior. With a barely perceptible nod, he leans back in his seat, his eyes only open a crack as he watches Jethro scan the car interior. Years of training keep him from stiffening when Jethro's little toy discovers a bug hidden in the collar of his jacket.
Jethro drops the electronic detector into Tony's lap as the light changes to green. Carefully palming the device, Tony slips it into his sling. Even that slight movement sent his arm to throbbing again. It wasn't the small gash in his arm that was causing his discomfort. It was the transdermal GPS chip that Ducky had implanted that was the primary source of his discomfort.
Jethro turns the car onto the beltway and Tony has to brace himself since he can grab the "Oh Shit" handle. He looks up when he feels the car slowing again almost immediately after reaching full speed.
"How in the hell can people manage to have an accident at this time of the damn morning?" Jethro says, glaring through the snarled traffic at the flashing lights in front of them. "Dammit, DiNozzo. No matter where you go lately, you get into trouble."
Tony looks down at the Jethro's hands, resting just at the base of the steering wheel. When he sees Jethro sign I love you, he returns the gesture.
//You scared the shit out of me today// Jethro signs.
//Me too, boss. But we know I'm more valuable to them alive than dead.// Tony responds, his movements jerky due to one arm being in a sling. "Hey, don't go blaming me for idiots who don't know how to drive. I was simply walking down the street when they decided to lock fenders. Not everything in the world that is screwed up is my fault, boss."
//You learn anything useful?// Jethro asks, his fingers flying. "Seems that way lately. You break a mirror or something?"
//Slow down// Tony urges. //Not so fast. Ziva was definitely in on it, boss. She played it well but she was in on it. How come none of her bullets struck the bad guys? She could have easily taken a kill shot more than once today. How did she know where the restroom was in the warehouse?// "No broken mirrors, no black cats, no lost rabbit foot." His tone is sour.
//I caught that too// Jethro admits, proud of his lover for being on the ball. //Anything else// "I swear I'm gonna lock you in a cell somewhere just to protect the rest of us."
//She got really pissed when I mentioned dear old daddy// "Somebody has already tried that, boss," Tony reminds him, his tone ice cold.
//She make any other move?// "I swear, DiNozzo... Get your sorry asses out of the way, you damned idiots."
//Just made sure to rub it in about the fact that I was not invited last night. Guess she's going for the isolation gambit. Poor me, nobody loves or wants Tony DiNozzo.// "Temper, temper, boss."
//I love you and don't you forget it. Want nothing more than to take you home with me and cuddle in our bed all night.// "Shut up, DiNozzo."
//Just cuddle? I'm hurt.// "Traffic's moving, boss. Wake me when we get there."
Jethro reaches over and squeezes Tony's hand gently.
Less than ten minutes later, Jethro pulls up in front of Tony's apartment building. "Out, DiNozzo," he growls at the dozing man. "Taxi service is over. Get out."
Tony turns to look at the man next to him. "Gee, I love you too, boss."
Jethro reaches to undo Tony's seat belt. "Don't bother coming in tomorrow," he says sarcasm dripping off of every word. "I think we can manage one day without the great DiNozzo around."
Tony smiles. "Great a three day weekend. Thanks, boss."
Jethro shakes his head. "You've got weekend call this weekend. I gave McGee the weekend off. Be in the office Saturday by 0700. Don't be fucking late."
"You're all heart, boss," Tony says as he levers himself out of the car, slamming the door as best he can. He doesn't even watch as Jethro speeds out of the parking lot.
Going upstairs to his apartment, he dumps his backpack inside the front door. Moving around inconspicuously, he scans his apartment with the bug detector, noting that none of the electronic surveillance devices have been moved since they were placed more than two weeks ago. Knowing that video surveillance is also in place, he makes a show of yawning and heading for bed.
No sooner has he stripped and crawled beneath the sheets does his cell phone ring. Not the least bit surprised to see Ziva's name on the caller ID, he turns off the light and answers the phone. "This had better be good," he says. "I just got home."
"I just wanted to be sure you were alright," Ziva says, her tone contrite. "By the time I got to the parking lot, you were gone."
Tony shifts in the bed to find a comfortable position. "I called a cab," he explains. "Kinda hard to get one to show up in that part of town after midnight. I was hiking toward the Metro station when Gibbs picked me up."
"And you're just now making it home?" Ziva asks.
"There was an accident on the beltway," Tony explains. "I got to listen to Gibbs chew my ass and rant about the other drivers." He yawns loudly.
"Lucky you," Ziva chuckles softly.
"Yeah, I'm just one lucky SOB," he says, deliberately putting himself down.
"Look, the whole reason I didn't invite you to dinner last night is because I was hoping we could have dinner, just the two of us," Ziva says. "Perhaps you'd come for dinner tomorrow night? After work?"
"Gibbs gave me the day off and weekend call," he explains. "His version of a reprimand."
"How about I call you around three and let you know if we'll be off on time," Ziva suggests. "Gibbs will be in a meeting with the Director all afternoon tomorrow."
Tony picks up on the smugness in her voice and makes a mental note to mention it to Gibbs. "Sure," he says, his words slightly slurred. "Night, Ziva."
When Tony hangs up the phone, it is a long time before he is able to sleep in his too lonely bed.
****
Jethro was fuming as he came back downstairs to the bullpen. Tony had been right when he warned him that the Director was going to spring a last minute meeting on him. She had managed to keep him trapped in her office for hours, supposedly debriefing him on the events at the dock yesterday. While she put on a good performance, supposedly directing her anger toward Tony for getting trapped in the shipping container in the first place, she deliberately overlooked several key points. Points that even a day one Probie would have picked up. What was the source of the sudden new intel that forced Tony and Ziva to switch search zones to lead them directly into the ambush? Why didn't the terrorists kill Tony and Ziva outright at their first of many opportunities? How could so many of Ziva's shots fail to hit their mark? There was definitely something fishy going on and the fish stunk from the head down. The fact that she insisted on a two week suspension for Tony only confirmed his suspicions.
By the time he made it back downstairs, it was well after six. McGee was turning from placing something on his desk when Gibbs walked up.
"I just finished those reports you wanted and put them on your desk, boss," McGee says nervously.
"Where's David?" Jethro asks.
"She left about an hour ago. Said she had a date tonight and since we didn't have any cases, she was taking off early," McGee explains, looking almost guilty.
"Don't sweat it, McGee," Jethro says, waving the other man off. "Go home. Enjoy your weekend."
Shutting down his computer, he checked the PDA in his pocket, then headed out himself.
****
Tony pressed the doorbell of Ziva's apartment. Dressed in a gray sweater over charcoal colored pants, he looked the image of a perfect gentleman. Carrying two bottles of wine and flowers, he looked like a man coming to court a lady. Of course, he knew inside that nothing about this evening was going to be that simple.
When Ziva opened the door, she was all smiles. "Perfect timing, Tony," she all but purred at him. "Come in, please."
Tony entered the small apartment and handed her his gifts. He was surprised when she reached up to kiss his cheek and give him a very thorough hug. "You are so very thoughtful," she says. "Thank you."
"We might as well enjoy the evening," Tony says as he scans her apartment with a trained eye.
"Two bottles?" Ziva says, holding up the wine. "I thought you were working tomorrow."
Tony follows her into the small kitchen area. "Gibbs called to let me know that I've been suspended for two weeks over what happened yesterday. I think it came from Madame Director."
"Really," Ziva says as she reaches for the corkscrew. "Gibbs called me to tell me a commendation had been put in my file."
As Ziva turns around to face him as she makes her smug comment, Tony steps back a bit as if the revelation physically hurt him. "Really?"
Turning back toward the counter to grab the wine glasses, Ziva hides her smug smile. "Let's not talk shop now. I'm sure there are other things... we can discuss."
Moving into playboy mode, Tony takes the glasses from her. "Whatever the lady wants," he says with a charming, and totally fake, smile.
Over dinner, Ziva had managed to maintain the focus of conversation on Tony. She had skillfully drawn him out, getting him to reveal his totally unsupportive family and his need to feel as if he belonged somewhere, anywhere. As she cleared the table of the main course, Tony opened the second bottle of wine, pouring them each a glass.
"I have to ask you a question, Tony," Ziva says as she returns carrying a plate of fresh strawberries. "Why do you put up with the physical abuse from Gibbs? I mean those headslaps hurt."
"Gibbs gave you a headslap," he asks, his eyes instantly raising from where he was pouring wine into Ziva's glass.
Bingo! Ziva brings a plate of sugar to the table for the strawberries. "You might like this with the strawberries," she says as she takes her seat opposite from Tony.
"After you," Tony offers graciously, sliding the plate toward her. He watches as she delicately swipes the tip of the strawberry through the crystals then bites delicately into the unsweetened portion of her strawberry.
Tony reaches inside the pocket of his sport coat and brings out a small bottle of pills. "Time for the antibiotics," he sighs. "I have to take them on a full stomach."
"Have you been sick again?" Ziva asks.
Tony shakes his head. "Ducky gave them to me this afternoon. After being in the cold for so long, he was afraid I might develop something so these are just a precaution," he explains as he downs two of the capsules.
Ziva urges the strawberries toward Tony again. "So tell me more about your family," she coaxes.
Tony shakes his head. "Not much more to tell. They kicked me out as soon as they could. Haven't seen or heard from them in person since. I get some meaning less Christmas gift each year and that's about it. The only family I have is at NCIS." He takes a bite out of his second strawberries. "These have a unique taste, Ziva."
"And now you've been suspended from NCIS," Ziva reminds him.
Tony allows his entire body to relax in the chair. "Yeah. Thinking it may be time to move on again."
"You looking to do something more perhaps?" Ziva suggests.
"I just want to make a difference," Tony says, almost boneless in his chair.
"Let's get more comfortable, Tony," Ziva urges, standing and extending a hand to Tony.
Tony follows her to the couch, lying down at her suggestion with his head in her lap. As she runs her fingers through his short hair, he sighs, closing his eyes in apparent contentment.
"Do you ever want more, Tony?" she asks softly, feeling him relax totally against her.
"What kind of more?" he asks, his words slow and thick.
"Do you ever want to work for someone who will really appreciate who and what you are?" she asks.
"Gibbs appreciates... me," he says, his brow slightly furrowed.
"Yes, that's why you are on a two week suspension," Ziva reminds him, her voice warm and soothing.
"Nobody cares," Tony sighs, his eyes drifting closed.
"I care," Ziva says.
"That's cuz you don't know me."
Ziva continues to run her hands through his hair, brushing it back from his forehead. "I know you are brave and strong. You've got more street smarts than the rest of them put together. I know you are good at getting intel from people."
"All part of the act," Tony admits, his voice barely loud enough to be heard.
"Come work with me, Tony," she urges. "You can make a difference with us. We need you."
He stumbles over the words several times before he can get them out. "What work?"
"Making a difference. Serving justice to those in the world who are ruining it. Help us bring justice, Tony."
"Us?"
"Jen and I," Ziva says. "She'll transfer you to a post where you'll lead not only your own team but the whole division. You'll be in charge. You'll have the power."
"Jen?"
"The Director, Tony," Ziva says. "She's a powerful woman who works for the right cause."
"Right cause?" Tony asks, his eyes open only to slits.
"Trust me, Tony," Ziva says as she leans over him. "Trust us."
Tony works to open his eyes a fraction more. Seeing a movement out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly rolls off of Ziva lap and with catlike grace rolls to his feet. "I don't think so," he says, his voice suddenly clear and his eyes bright.
Ziva glares at Jenny Shepard standing with a syringe in her hand. "Damn Jen, I told you to wait," she hisses.
Jen gives Tony a quick once over. "Good thing I didn't, sweet Ziva," she says. "Looks like Special Agent DiNozzo was playing possum."
"I wouldn't exactly call it playing possum," Tony says as he eyes the two women critically.
"Look, we can either do this the hard way or the easy way," Jen says. "Believe me, you'll have a much longer life expectancy if we do it the easy way."
"And just what do you want from me, Madame Director?" Tony asks, knowing how much she hates that name.
Jen holds up the syringe in her hand. "First off, a blood sample. Those Y Pestis antibodies you're harboring will help us develop a vaccine to protect our troops."
"Why do I get the feeling you aren't talking about US or even Allied Troops?" Tony says mockingly.
"I knew you weren't as dumb as you looked," Jen says.
"Shut up, Jen," Ziva snarls. "He's probably wired."
"Moi?" Tony asks, disbelievingly. He turns his head toward the front door. "Boss, would I do something like that?"
****
Tony sits on the edge of the autopsy table, squirming slightly. "Ducky, you've got to get a more comfortable table if we are going to keep meeting like this."
"Sorry, lad," Ducky says as he carefully unwraps Tony's bandaged arm. "They weren't exactly designed for patient comfort.
Tony glances down at the stitched area on his arm. "How's it look, Doc? Will I live?"
"To a ripe old age," Ducky promises. "There is no sign of infection. Do you want me to remove the GPS chip?"
Tony shakes his head. "I've got no secrets, Ducky," he assures the other man. "Besides, it will probably come in handy sometime in the future. I'm good with it."
"It's one way for me to keep tabs on your sexy ass," Jethro says as he crosses the room and steps up to the table to lace his fingers with Tony's. He leans forward to give Tony a kiss on the cheek.
"You both need to work on keeping your asses out of trouble," Tom Morrow says as he stands at the end of the table.
"Director," Tony says, suddenly straightening and trying to disengage his hand from Jethro's.
"Don't worry about it, DiNozzo," Tom says, waving off Tony's obvious concerns. "Just keep it out of the office and remember I'll be doing your quarterly reviews personally."
"Thank you, sir," Tony says, meeting eyes with his lover.
"I'm the one who owes you the thanks," Tom says, "You put it all on the line this time. Good job."
"Did Shepard crack yet, sir?" Jethro asks.
"She knows her goose is cooked. Ziva's dead. Shepard knows we have a stack of irrefutable evidence against her for murder, attempted murder, espionage, treason, and a shitload of other stuff. DiNozzo, I also want you to know that she was the one who found and hired Chip with the exact purpose of framing you. He was just another pawn in their game to wear down your self-esteem to get you on their side."
"She said they needed the antibodies from the Y Pestis," Tony says. "Think Al Quaada are planning another biological attack?"
"We're working on that," Tom says. "For now, go home and get some rest."
Tony looks at the clock on the wall. "I just have to be back here in an hour," he sighs. "I've got desk duty this weekend."
Jethro smacks him on the back of the head as everyone else laughs.
"Take him home, Jethro," Tom says. "And make sure when you do bring him back here, he knows exactly how valuable and needed he is. We good guys need all the help we can get."
Jethro cups Tony's face in his hands. "Trust me, he'll know."