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Chapter Text

Tony gazed into the interview room and bit back a sigh. He really really didn't want to do this, but PO Shane Michaels wasn't really giving him a choice. Shane hadn't connected with Ziva, obviously, because she couldn't do sympathetic and caring to save a life. Gibbs was too much like Shane's Marine husband, and thus the root of the problem. Normally, when the battered spouse didn't want help, there wasn't a whole lot they could do, but Michaels had a kid involved, and Tony was going to swallow his pride before he left a kid in that situation.

Finally gathering his strength, and thankful that only McGee was watching, Tony straightened his shoulders and entered the room. Shane Michaels was sitting ramrod straight, looking dead ahead and refusing to acknowledge anyone in the room, just as he had when Ziva and Gibbs had tried talking to him earlier, before deciding to go sit on the husband and wait for him to screw up.

Tony walked over and sat gently in the chair, taking in the black eye, the sweat on his neck, the slight tremor in his leg that said he wanted to be tapping it. "Do you want a tylenol or something, Petty Officer Michaels?" he asked quietly.

Michaels shook his head, and Tony bit back another sigh. "I was told your son will be released from the hospital tonight or tomorrow."

"Is he alright?" Shane asked quickly.

"He'll heal, physically," Tony allowed.

"Will I be out of here by then, Sir?"

Tony shrugged. "No idea. That's up to my boss. But I'm sure your husband will be able to pick him up, if not." They now knew it was the husband doing the abusing, but with Shane refusing to admit it, they had no way to arrest him unless he lost his cool in front of them.

Shane's expression tightened, and Tony knew that he was upset. "You here to tell me to leave him?"

"Get that alot, huh?" Tony asked. "Well, nope, not my job."

Shane's mouth quirked slightly in a hint of a smirk. "You here to tell me to turn on him?"

"In theory," Tony shrugged. "That's at least closer to my job description."

"He loves me," Shane insisted.

"Probably," Tony agreed. "They aren't mutually exclusive."

"I love him," Shane protested.

"Not sure I believe that," Tony said, entering the rocky waters he had been so hoping to avoid. Shane gaped at him, and Tony pressed on. "It's different for law enforcement and military types than for regular people. You spend months in the Academy or Basic having someone abuse you verbally and physically, and all 'for your own good'." He deliberately used air quotes. "Then you're told by society that you're a big strong warrior man who shouldn't take abuse from anyone, or else you're weak. It's a mindfuck. And one that deliberately teaches you to accept abuse and say 'thank you sir, can I have another.'"

Shane finally stopped gaping, but he looked confused, which Tony hoped meant that he was finally willing to listen. Time to put his cards on the table. "Look, I'm sure you've heard this before too, but I get where you're coming from. Someone I loved and respected used to do that to me."

He didn't say anything, but Shane's expression was entirely skeptical.

Tony scoffed gently. "Yeah, I know, that's always the line on TV, but I'm not here to blow smoke. When it happened to me… At first I protested, but eventually I stopped. It crept up on me, you know? Until I didn't see anything wrong with it anymore either. He kept telling me I deserved it and I believed him. Everyone around us seemed to agree, or saw it as no big deal." Tony shrugged.

Shane was scowling, but Tony got the distinct impression that he was finally listening, at least. After a while, deliberately not looking Tony in the eye, he asked, "What happened?"

"To me and him?" Tony clarified. "Eventually it became too much. A friend I trusted got me to see the light. Reset my scale of things that were okay and things that weren't."

"So you left him."

"No," Tony sighed. "I stayed."

"Why?" Shane was openly staring at Tony.

"I had reasons and excuses to stay, and I kept telling myself that they were true and important. But something did break: I stopped loving and respecting him. That's why I said earlier I'm not so sure I believe you still love him. Though maybe that's not completely broken for you just yet; I don't know." Tony shrugged again.

Shane thought about that for a long moment, the silence stretching between them, before quietly asking, "Does he still hit you?"

Tony quirked one brow. "When he wants to."

"But you still haven't left?" Shane pressed.

"Haven't found a reason to leave that's stronger than my excuses to stay," Tony admitted. After a short pause, he added, "He doesn't hurt anyone else as badly, though I'm sure he'd lay into someone new if I left."

"You're staying to protect them?"

"It's one factor," Tony agreed. They both knew, without him saying, that it wasn't the only reason.

Shane was quiet for a few minutes, then, finally, he said, "This was the first time Ethan went after Jake."

"Hitting you isn't enough to satisfy him anymore," Tony said. "Or he doesn't care enough to reign in his temper around Jake. Or he thinks that Jake deserves it the same way he thinks you do."

Shane's head snapped up, fury in his eyes. "Jake doesn't deserve this at all," he growled.

"I agree," Tony said gently. "But you taking hits for him isn't enough anymore. So what are you going to do to protect Jake now?"

With a massive sigh, Shane sank back into his seat. "Alright, I'll make a statement."

Tony quickly walked him through the process, then pulled out his phone. Once Gibbs answered, Tony gave him the go ahead to pick up Ethan Michaels, and to bring Jake here to join Shane in protective custody once he was released from the hospital.

Once that was done, Tony started to leave the room, but Shane's quiet voice pulled him back. "What are you going to do now?"

Offering him a small smile, Tony told the truth. "For now? Nothing. Get back to work. But maybe one day I'll be as strong as you."

Tony left the interview room, walked past McGee, who was halfway out of the door to Observation, and looked like he was about to cry, and quickly slipped into the elevator. As he reached for the usual button for the bullpen, Tony made a snap decision and chose the parking garage instead. They'd been in the office for over 72 hours, and he didn't feel like forcing himself to do paperwork at his desk right now. With Gibbs and Ziva picking up the husband and Cassie's team already at the hospital with Jake, there was nothing left for him to do.

Tony made fairly good time getting home, despite the rush hour traffic, and was just walking into his apartment when Gibbs called. "Husband's in a holding cell," he said gruffly.

"Great," Tony said. He had been waiting to hear that the other two were back safely. "You'll have my paperwork first thing after I've gotten some sleep and the words stop swimming on the screen, Boss."

Gibbs hung up, but Tony knew from experience that that meant he approved. If he'd wanted Tony back he would have complained or given an order. Tony stared at his phone and then, deliberately, turned it off.

Dropping his phone, keys, and badge on the table, Tony quickly locked his gun in the safe. Then he headed to his room, intent on a quick shower. While there, he assessed his options. Turning off his phone was a temporary measure at best: everyone knew where he lived and had no compunctions about dropping by. If he really wanted to drop off the radar for the night, he couldn't stay here.

Fortunately, Tony knew where he could go.

As soon as he felt clean, he climbed out of his shower and grabbed his personal cell. Dressing in jeans and a t-shirt while he talked, he quickly struck a deal. Then, after tossing his laptop and a few things into his duffle and grabbing his last bag of frozen homemade pasta from the freezer, Tony slipped back out of his apartment.

Chapter Text

"Hey Bree! Hey Tony!" Jimmy called as he entered.

Tony shot a look at Breena, and she smirked over her wineglass at him. "Did you tell him I was coming?"

"Nope."

"You turned off your phone," Jimmy explained as he came into the kitchen. "That means you didn't want to be found, and you wouldn't stay at your apartment if that was the case."

Tony pouted, but turned back to the tomatoes he was slicing up for the sauce. "So I'm guessing the whole building knows, huh?"

"Uh, McGee made Abby pull up the footage from the room, and then she showed it to Doctor Mallard and I, and then Ziva and Agent Gibbs once they came," Jimmy explained. Breena poured him a glass of wine as well and then patted the barstool beside her. It was a familiar, comfortable routine, as they tried to get together for dinner at least once a month. Usually Tony or Breena cooked, but Tony was too tired to go all out, and too wired to sit and watch. Hence, the pre-frozen pasta and only making the sauce from scratch.

"In other words, yes," Tony sighed. "Was it in her lab, at least, or…" Jimmy shook his head. So in the middle of the bullpen, then. Fabulous. Yet another example of how no one on his team gave a shit about his privacy.

"So what's the rumor mill say?" Breena asked. Tony had filled her in on the basics of what had happened while they waited for Jimmy.

"Oh, um, McGee and Ziva don't believe you're gay," Jimmy ticked off on his fingers. "She thinks you were just lying to get Shane to talk. McGee isn't sure what to think about that part." Tony snorted. "I guess Abby knew you were bisexual, but Agent Gibbs and Doctor Mallard didn't say anything either way about your orientation."

"Abby also thinks you were lying about being abused. Doctor Mallard said something about you identifying with the son, Jake, not Shane, and suspected you were talking about your dad, Senior. Agent Gibbs didn't say much of anything, really," he concluded.

"That sounds about right on all counts," Tony sighed. Ducky was close to the mark, though wrong about who specifically Tony had been talking about. If Tony had needed to talk to the son, Jake, he would have pulled more on his experiences with Senior. He really wasn't looking forward to going into the office on Monday.

"Everyone else who talked to me seemed split into three groups. The smallest group thinks you were lying entirely. The second group thinks you were talking about a girlfriend and changed the gender, or about a parent or teacher or something. Not a male lover, at any rate. A few think you saw it happen to a friend, or it was an old case, or you know… something. The last group thinks you were talking about a boyfriend. Amy in HR actually figured out that you were talking about Gibbs hitting you, but she thought you were in love with him."

Tony shuddered lightly. He had loved Gibbs like a surrogate father once: there was absolutely nothing sexual going on there.

"Yeah, I told her you didn't love Gibbs that way, but she just kept saying it was romantic," Jimmy wrinkled his nose.

"They were talking about him being abused," Breena scowled. "What's romantic about that?"

"I have no idea," Jimmy admitted quickly.

Tony finished his slicing and began adding ingredients to the preheated pan. "So who's running the book? Hanford or Barnes?"

"I didn't stick around long enough to find out," Jimmy frowned. "I don't like the idea." Tony knew that was a holdover from the betting pools about when Ducky would figure out that Jimmy and Michelle were together, and didn't exactly blame him for that. Having come through several police precincts, however, Tony was used to that kind of thing.

"Well, hopefully something new and exciting will happen tomorrow, and they'll forget about me by Monday," Tony shrugged. It wouldn't happen, but a guy could wish.

"I understand curiosity, but I think running a betting pool on whether or not one of your coworkers was abused is ghoulish, and that's coming from someone who handles dead bodies for a living," Jimmy insisted.

Tony sighed. "I mean, you're not wrong," he allowed. "But you're a minority in that."

Jimmy huffed, but let it go. Breena stepped up and distracted them both with stories from her own job as Tony finished the sauce and then prepped the noodles. Just as they were taking everything to the table, Tony's cell phone buzzed.

Since very few people — none of them on the MCRT — had the number, he pulled it out of his pocket and checked. It was a text from Cassie, in the poker night group chat shared with Matt Balboa, Tina Larsen, and Jimmy. You can get justice for victims anywhere. That isn't reason enough to stay.

Tony exhaled slowly: trust Cassie to read between the lines. And either someone had called her at the hospital to gossip, or she and her partner had brought Jake Michaels back to the yard already. They shouldn't have come off protection duty otherwise until midnight when a new team swapped in.

As he was looking, the three dots popped up, and soon Balboa had added, As for McUppity and David, fuck protecting them. Especially after they aired this all over the bullpen. They more than don't deserve it, after what they did to you last month.

Tony had tried very hard to forget about McGee and Ziva leaving him in the field without backup during the Military at Home case, but Balboa had been incensed over it. And of course both of them would cut right to the heart of why he stayed, despite him never having said a word to either of them about it. He went back and forth on a few different replies, but finally settled on Well that was fast. Thought you were still on protection detail, Cass.

Oh, the word has spread Tina added. And more people than you might think have guessed that you were talking about Gibbs. He's not exactly subtle.

I don't know how I've survived undercover all these years, if you three can read me so easily, Tony finally replied. Then he set his phone aside for the moment to focus on finishing up the pasta.

When he brought the pot to the table, he saw Breena looking at Jimmy's phone, and realized that he had probably shared the group chat with her.

"Rocky told dispatch that if they want you, they're to call him instead," Jimmy said as Tony set the pot down.

"Gibbs isn't gonna like that," Tony snorted.

"Well considering that you've taken cases the last five weekends, and weren't even supposed to be on call this week, and were in the office for three days straight, I think he abused his authority to ensure that you actually have the weekend off duty for once," Jimmy explained sourly.

Tony couldn't blame him for his attitude — Ducky and Jimmy were the only M.E.s they had, and while there were a few Forensics techs, both Gibbs and Abby got upset if the MCRT used anyone but her. Because of that, if the MCRT were working crazy hours, so was everyone else that Gibbs thought of as 'his'.

"It's about time," Breena added. "They really need more people at NCIS. Jimmy's told me about how the workload has steadily increased since he started; one M.E. and assistant isn't enough anymore. And Agent Gibbs runs your team into the ground."

Again, Tony couldn't argue with her. He used to be able to take vacations with his frat brothers, but he hadn't left DC for a non-work reason in three years. He went back for the last dish and then placed it on the table. "Dinner is served!" he said with a flourish.

Jimmy put his phone down and he and Breena took in the table. "It looks wonderful, Tony," Breena said with a smile. "Even if you didn't have the energy for a full, proper, Italian spread," she teased. Tony had complained before that he was cutting corners on the meal, but she swore that she and Jimmy wouldn't mind.

Just as everyone had finished dishing up their food, Tony's phone pinged another message. With a small sigh, he checked it. Scrolling past the messages Jimmy had already relayed, he found the last one from Tina. Take the night off and get some rest, Tony. We'll drag you out for lunch tomorrow.

That sounded like just about as much as he could handle tonight, so Tony gratefully muted his phone and slipped it into his pocket. If Rocky really was going to cover for the MCRT, and Tony could still be reached by Jimmy, Cassie, and the others, then he might be able to truly relax tonight.

The idea of absolutely ignoring his phone and just eating dinner, watching something light-hearted, and then crashing out for an undisturbed night's sleep sounded like heaven. The Tony from his early twenties would be appalled at such an 'old man' way to spend the evening, but current Tony was too burnt out to bemoan his loss of cool-ness.

From that point on, he did exactly as he planned, enjoying his dinner with the Palmers, laughing at some of Breena's bizarre work stories. Then they watched Dirty Rotten Scoundrels together. It was one of Breena's favorites, and the trio had watched it several times before, so Tony didn't need to dredge through his mind for new facts to impress, he could simply laugh as Steve Martin tried to maneuver his wheelchair down the stairs. Later, Tony would realize that he had fallen asleep before the movie ended, but at the time he was too warm, comfortable, and relaxed to notice.

When Tony's alarm woke him the next morning, it took a minute for his sleep-fuzzed brain to figure out where he was. Once he realized that he was asleep on Jimmy's couch, it took him another long moment to realize why the sun was coming through the windows at such an odd angle — it had to be after 1000! Looking at his phone, which he had silenced on autopilot, Tony found that he was right: his alarm had been set for 1000. Also on the coffee table, beneath his phone, was a note.

Tony, you needed the sleep. You've got just enough time now to type up your reports from yesterday and then Jimmy will swing by and pick you up for lunch at 11:30. My laptop is charging on the kitchen table for you to use, if you need the internet. Login is on the post-it. See you later! ~Breena

"Huh," Tony said, when he finished it. He wasn't positive when he'd fallen asleep, but it was likely that he'd had about twelve hours. It wasn't enough to cancel months of sleep debt, but he actually felt good this morning, and not like he was dragging himself out on another call while feeling like roadkill.

It only took a few minutes for him to retrieve his go bag and complete his usual morning routine. Then, with a glass of orange-mango juice, (Breena had stuck another post-it note on the fridge door telling him to help himself) Tony settled down at her laptop. Since he had been able to get a bit of work done while Ziva and Gibbs were interrogating Shane the first time around, Tony wasn't starting from scratch. It only took him about twenty minutes to finish his case report.

He checked the system, but McGee and Ziva hadn't submitted their own case reports yet, so he couldn't complete the SFA's case summary. Tony submitted his own report, and then sent an email to Gibbs noting that the other two were still missing, which would delay the summary. Tony could already see that he had a dozen emails waiting in his inbox from the team, and he resolutely ignored them all. Gibbs probably wouldn't check his own email until Monday, preferring phone calls, but it covered Tony's rear.

Glancing at the clock, Tony saw that he still had about forty minutes to kill. He really should get ahead on the end-of-month paperwork, but he was loath to do so. He was already playing hooky; the last thing he wanted to do was escape the NCIS bullpen just to work on NCIS paperwork on a different screen.

So, resolutely, he logged out of the system, shut down Breena's laptop, and stretched. Then, he padded around the living room. Tony had been here many times before, so he already knew the basics, but he enjoyed poking through their movie and book selections and trying to guess which ones belonged to Jimmy and which to Breena.

Finally, Tony ended up settling down in an oversized armchair by the window, bathed in warm sunlight, attempting to read a book on historical medical oddities, but mostly dozing like a cat. He was still there when Jimmy got home half an hour later and woke him.

Tony was just grateful that Jimmy had been the one to find him, rather than someone who would be inclined to mention it to Gibbs. There was no way he would approve of the kind of lazy morning that Tony had just indulged in! With Jimmy's instruction to leave his bag — since he'd need to be back later for his car, at the least — Tony allowed the younger man to chivy him into his little sedan. Tony always gave Jimmy a hard time for his soccer mom taste in rides, but he couldn't deny that the extra legroom was nice, once in a while. His Camaro, like his Corvette and Mustang before, was long on style and short on footwells.

The drive wasn't long, though Tony noticed that they were heading in the opposite direction of the Navy Yard. Anyone coming from there was going to be stretching their lunch break to the max, but on the other hand Tony probably wouldn't accidentally run into anyone he didn't want to see. It was a kind gesture, and he appreciated his friends even more for it.

They pulled up at the small sushi joint, and Tony and Jimmy entered, easily spotting Tina and Cassie at a table by the window. After the greetings were out of the way, and Tina had informed them that Rocky was going to be late, they quickly placed their orders, and then got down to business.

"You know I love you like a brother," Cassie started.

"Oh god," Tony groaned. "This sounds like the bad start of every TV intervention."

"I mean, you're not wrong," Tina chuckled. "You're our friend, Tony, and we want what's best for you."

"But we know that you're a trained investigator, and a federal agent with over a decade of experience. You're not an idiot, or an innocent," Cassie said bluntly.

"But we do think you're too close to the situation," Jimmy added quietly.

"So look at this like you would the Michaels case," Cassie persisted. "Look at what you said to Shane. If you were investigating a federal agent who's friends had reported he was in a toxic relationship, what would Agent DiNozzo do?"

Tony sighed. They weren't wrong, and he did know better. He had known better for a long time, or he wouldn't have been able to reach Shane Michaels last night. Tony rubbed his forehead.

"When did it start, Tony?" Jimmy asked. "Because it was pretty well established by the time I started here."

With another sigh, Tony told them. "We worked a case together in Baltimore. Gibbs blustered in, undercover, and we busted him. He was using us to establish his credibility. Together we solved the case, and…" he'd never told anyone this part before — hadn't needed to, since Gibbs witnessed it himself.

"In the course of the investigation, I found out my partner — Danny — was dirty," Tony finally said. He resolutely didn't make eye contact with the other three as he pushed on.

"I confronted him — didn't know Gibbs was listening outside — and he basically challenged me to turn him in. Danny was acting like I was the one who betrayed him, not the other way around. Still, I couldn't do it; all I could do was leave. Gibbs understood, told me to come to NCIS to fill out some paperwork, then escorted me to HR."

"I was saying something self deprecating — I don't even remember now what it was — and he gave me a gentle head-slap. I even asked if he was assaulting me, and he told me Rule 5; he framed it as a wake up call, as a way to get my attention, and as a reprimand for doubting myself."

"All positives," Cassie noted after a beat.

"Jesus, I didn't even realize it went back so far," Tina burst out. "I mean, before you'd even started here!"

"Makes me seem pretty stupid for joining, doesn't it?" Tony asked, bitterness creeping into his tone. "I mean, I knew exactly what I was letting myself in for."

"It isn't the same thing, and you know it," Rick "Rocky" Balboa said, sliding into the empty seat. "A one-time thing to help ground you after a major shock is very different from regular abuse for no good reason. Did someone order my Dragon Rolls?"

"And your Scallop Gunkan," Cassie confirmed. The others quickly greeted him as he slipped off his coat and squeezed into the booth beside Tina.

"When was the next time? Do you remember?" Tina asked, once they were settled again.

Tony hummed noncommittally and thought back. "The first few times are blurred together a little, but as a rule I had either made a self-deprecating joke, or I was rambling. Those were originally the only reasons. I might have gotten a handful over my first six to eight months. Over the next year, the rate stayed about the same, but he stopped using them when I put myself down, and started using them when he was annoyed by my chatter, or I was looking too long at a female witness, or something along those lines."

"Still infrequent, but the reasoning had completely shifted," Cassie noted. "They went from reassuring to disciplinary."

"Yup," Tony confirmed. "After Kate joined, he started doing it more often, maybe a few times a month, and more in public. They started getting painful, too. He did it to Kate maybe twice? In two years. By the time Ziva joined, it had become a pretty regular thing. She and Tim got them here or there; a combination of wake up call and discipline. It didn't get really bad until he came back from Mexico."

God, laying it all out like that made him feel sick to his stomach. It was a textbook abuser cycle, and Tony knew it. He'd pushed the thoughts away for so long; as long as he didn't think about it — didn't realize what it meant — then he wouldn't have to deal with his own reaction. And now there was no putting it off any longer.

"How did it change?" Jimmy asked quietly. No one had a notepad out, but Tony was under no delusions that they weren't internally recording every word.

He sighed again. "Frequency, intensity, intent. He was so full of bottled up emotions back then, and I knew the holes in his memory were frustrating the hell out of him. I'm still not sure how much of his memories of us actually came back, versus how much he just faked it until he had new memories. I know for certain of a handful of things that are still missing to this day, and it's been three years. But that was the major shift; some days it felt like he was using the head-slaps as a pressure valve, a way to express his anger at us, himself, and the world. Instead of going down and beating up a punching bag for a few hours, he'd wallop us — me."

"A few times it felt like… like there was no provocation. If you'd asked, I'm sure he would have said I wasn't concentrating or something like that, but I was. It was like he'd just walk in with his coffee, decide I wasn't working hard enough and slap me. And they were almost always a full-on, stinging, painful slap after that, not just a tap or barely a brush, like the early ones. I was honestly tempted to ask Ducky to run a concussion check some days when I got more than one," he tried to make it a joke, but he knew it would fall flat.

None of the others smiled, let alone laughed, but Tina did pat his arm sympathetically.

"So what's your conclusion, Special Agents?" Tony tried to tease again.

"I'd say we've got a pretty clear timeline of incidents," Cassie said with a small, wry smirk. "And I know I'm not the only one who sees a textbook case of abusive grooming. So now let's talk about you."

"I'm an open book," Tony offered. That got him four amused snorts; they really did know him too well.

"When did you realize it was a problem, Tony?" Tina asked.

Tony cast his mind back, but he wasn't sure he knew the answer. "It crossed my mind a few times… definitely after Mexico, but Shepard was pulling me in so many different directions back then that it was all I could do to keep my head above water. I'd noticed it beforehand, but more of a vague unease than an outright revelation. It wasn't until… God, after the Ch— fuck."

He took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. "After a heavily classified case." Tony shared a look with Jimmy. "I was talking to Jimmy about a health scare that had happened during it, and the rest of the team's utter disregard for my history with the plague. Gibbs had been a bit of a bastard, and I said something about 'at least he didn't head slap me for it'."

"That was the first time you'd ever brought it up," Jimmy said, looking a little embarrassed. "I always felt so awkward around the Agents, and I thought it was odd, at first, but we weren't really friends, and there were a lot of dynamics I just didn't understand when I started. After that case; it was the first time you brought it up, so it was the first time I felt comfortable asking about it."

Tony smirked. "Yep, so ol' Jimmy here asks why I let Agent Gibbs head smack me, and I said something along the lines of, 'if it was you, would you want to be the one to ask him to stop?'"

"And I dropped it," Jimmy said bitterly. "I shouldn't have."

"I probably would have just shut you down harder, back then," Tony admitted. "But that evening, when I was talking to Brad about my lungs, we had an almost identical conversation, and he said something about me deserving better coworkers, and how at least my friends cared. And I realized that I didn't really have friends outside of NCIS and the Y — and most all of those are agents too — and it flashed through my mind. Brad thought I had friends who cared, but if my coworkers didn't, and they were my only friends…"

"Between that, the lack of care about my health, and the questions about the head-slaps, it all just sort of fell into focus. I spent the weekend recovering from a mild chest infection, and doing a lot of thinking. And amidst all that I was watching a Donna Mills marathon on TV: The Bait, The Haunted Lady, and then Dangerous Intentions comes on. 1995, directed by Michael Toshiyuki Uno. Stars Corbin Bernsen from L.A. Law as her abusive husband. And suddenly I realized that I was using the same excuses she was. That's when it really came into focus."

"And yet you stayed," Cassie prodded after a moment of silence.

"Well, yeah," Tony shrugged. "I told myself that it wasn't that bad; a slap on the head every few days is a far cry from a black eye, or getting shoved down the stairs, or what have you. I still had a job to do, and our team was the best at what we did. And I thought that, now that I recognized it for what it was, I wouldn't put up with it any more. I'd find a way to stop it, or revert it back to how it had been. Or I'd just do better and not earn as many…"

He glanced around the group and saw his own thoughts mirrored in their expressions. "I know, I know, — spousal abuse excuses 101. Believe me, I see it myself now. I had another mini-revelation last month. If he's doing it because he's angry and I'm a convenient release valve, then it doesn't matter how good I am at my job, or how much I stay focused."

"And yet you stayed," Balboa repeated.

"What the hell was I supposed to do?" Tony burst out. "Quit? Walk away from NCIS? I already told you, my entire life is wrapped up in the agency. Even my friends — you all work there too! The last person I seriously dated was an undercover mark! I've got nothing outside of NCIS. And even if I did, what would I do? Gossip travels through all the Alphabets around here; last night was proof of that."

"If I started looking around for another job, it would get back to Gibbs and Vance by the end of the day. Gibbs would give his usual 'you quit when I say you can' bull, Vance would say 'don't let the door hit you on the way out', and Abby would have a meltdown because she can't accept change. And what would I say at my job interviews? 'Yes, I'm a fully trained federal agent and I'm leaving a good job where I've got experience and seniority because my big bad boss hits me sometimes.' I'd be a laughingstock!"

"Damn it, Tony!" Cassie reached over to smack his arm, then froze, stopping several inches shy. She recoiled as though he was on fire.

They were all silent for a few minutes, until Cassie managed to shake off her reaction. "I hate that something that apparently started as a way to make you stop thinking badly about yourself has become so mutated it makes you think even more badly about yourself," she growled. "I could kill Gibbs."

The group was silent for another long minute, and this time Jimmy was the one to break it. "You're not a laughingstock, Tony. No one's laughing about this. Just like no one is laughing at Shane or Jake Michaels."

Tony scowled, but he couldn't dispute the truth of his words.

"So the question is, what are you going to do now?" Balboa asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. Tony could only turn off his phone and hole up with Jimmy and Breena for so long, after all. He knew he had to figure something out before Monday. By Sunday, actually, if he wanted to head Gibbs off early and avoid a blow up in the bullpen.

"We said it last night, but it bears repeating," Tina said. "You can get justice for victims anywhere. Even without leaving DC, you could join Metro, the FBI, ATF…"

Tony sighed. "Is it so wrong to not want to have to start all over again? I've been the new guy at three different precincts before NCIS. I kinda like being the voice of experience."

"You wouldn't be coming in as a rookie," Balboa chided him gently. "I know Metro made you an offer that started at Lieutenant."

"How'd you know that, Rocky?" Tony gaped. He hadn't shared that offer with anyone.

"I have my sources," Balboa said smugly. "And I also know that the FBI has been trying to poach you for years. The lowest they'd possibly offer you is what you are right now: Senior Field Agent."

"Didn't you say that the former director, Tom Morrow, offered you a position when he moved to Homeland?" Jimmy piped up.

"I was drunk when I told you that," Tony protested.

"That doesn't make it less true," Jimmy said, rolling his eyes. "Knowing you, that actually makes it more true."

"I have my own sources, who tell me you have standing offers from CGIS and the DEA, after the cases you've worked with them," Tina added.

Tony flushed, but had no good comeback.

"My friend at the NSA told me the same, and I know you impressed whatsherface at ATF," Cassie added her two cents. "I bet if they knew you were looking, you'd get offers from half a dozen other police precincts and federal agencies. You've done basically all the liaising for Gibbs for the last decade, and you almost always leave a good impression. About the only place you probably couldn't work would be the CIA, and that's only because you keep telling them how much you hate them," she chuckled.

"I still haven't forgiven Kort for that," Tony said, eyes gleaming, but he couldn't refute the rest. And what did it say about how screwed up his thinking had become, that his friends had to remind him of these things he already knew? Had working for Gibbs really left him so lacking in self-confidence? Stupid question: of course it had. Tony sighed again. "You aren't wrong…"

"And there's nothing to say that you have to leave NCIS," Jimmy added. "I know we've been talking as though you would remain in DC but change agencies, but the opposite could be true."

"And before you say it, no, that is not an attempt by us to get rid of you," Cassie gave him the look and Tony hurriedly snapped his mouth shut. He had been about to joke exactly that. "Don't forget, I spent a few years in Norfolk, which is just a few hours south of here. You could leave Gibbs but stay at the Naval Yard, or you could leave the Yard but stay in the greater DMV area. You could go to Bethesda, Annapolis, Richmond… even up the road a little to Pennsylvania or New York. You'd have to promise to come back and visit at least once a month, but it isn't like you'd have to go to Washington state or Afloat or something just to get away from Gibbs."

"Vance isn't exactly my biggest fan," Tony admitted quietly, rather than directly addressing her point. "I'm sure if I asked to transfer off the MCRT he'd use it as a chance to send me as far away as possible."

"You really think he'd waste your talent and position just because he didn't like you?" Tina asked, and from her tone Tony could tell she was genuinely confused and curious.

"I mean, he forced me to take an Afloat position his first week here, never mind that those are supposed to be voluntary, and when he finally let Gibbs have his team back, I was the last one to be recalled. The official reason was that Gibbs was supposed to be investigating hints of a mole in the Yard, and the rest of us would get in the way of that."

"Ignoring, of course, the fact that you're the best investigator in the Yard," Balboa growled. He'd been on the periphery of that clusterfuck, and had speculated often whether it could have ended without loss of life if Tony had been kept around.

Tony squirmed at his praise and didn't comment.

"If Vance wasn't an issue, where else at NCIS would you want to go?" Tina asked curiously.

"I'm not sure," Tony hesitated. In truth, he'd thought a lot about this while stuck Afloat, and his answers hadn't changed much in the last few years. "My first preference is to stay in the DC area, because that is where all my friends are. There's something to be said for location — Rota, in Spain, Pearl Harbor, southern California… — if you're in paradise, then even the worst job isn't as bad as it could be. But there are other places… who wouldn't want to spend some time in New Orleans, or Manhattan, or Orlando? And there are plenty of gorgeous locations abroad. The problem is, if I was on a team as busy as the MCRT is, then I might as well be in Oklahoma for all that I'd get to enjoy it. And I'm sure those kinds of postings have a dozen agents clamoring for them. Vance would never move me to the head of the line."

"It all comes back to him, doesn't it?" Jimmy said. "Do you know why he dislikes you so much?"

Tony shrugged. "He hasn't come right out and said it, so I'm not positive, but I can make a guess. He's repeatedly made comments about how agents like McGee, with computer smarts, are the future of the Agency. He seems to have the typical federal agent hangup about cops — or former cops — being beneath him. He's also possibly got the same weird thing as Hetty Lange about how Shepard died — how it should have been me instead of her, if I'd disobeyed my orders — so that's probably a factor. Hell, for all I know I remind him of someone from his past that he didn't like and I'm just damned by association!" Tony threw his hands up in frustration.

"I've heard him make those comments about McGee," Balboa nodded. "And you're not the only one who's rubbed the wrong way by them. Most of the teams outsource their computer work down to Cyber; the only reason you've got the edge with McGee is because he wanted to become a field agent. But Kevin in Cyber has told me in confidence that because he spends all his time in the field or working on his writing career, McGee's not keeping up with the newest advancements in the cyber field."

"You might have a leg up on the rest of us in terms of never having to wait for results, but as time passes, he's going to fall further and further behind in his methods. Something I don't think Vance has realized, because he hasn't looked deeper — he's not savvy enough with Cybercrime himself to recognize that McGee just talks a big game, but can't always back it up."

"Most of the rest of the teams don't have a McGee, and are just made up of a bunch of regular agents — including several former cops. None of them are thrilled with Vance's attitude, Keller and Foster included." He named two of the agents on his team. Thinking back, Tony realized that Lori Keller and Jim Foster on Rocky's team had both gotten their start as police officers, like himself.

"He's a former Marine, isn't he?" Tina asked. "I'd think with their 'leave no man behind' thing he'd be outraged at what McGee and David did to you last month. There's a chance you could leverage that for getting the posting you want. You could threaten to bring them up on charges for dereliction of duty and wilful endangerment unless he met your demands. You'd probably permanently burn your bridges with him, but it's an option."

"It's a possibility," Tony agreed. He'd resisted making waves about the incident, mostly because he didn't think Gibbs would do anything but yell at them, which wouldn't make a difference. But it was true that, from a political standpoint, Tony could make a lot of waves if he took the matter up the chain, and Vance was a political beast. "You're right that I could only use it once, and I'd better use the opportunity to get as far away as possible, if I go that route, but it is a possibility."

"I still think you should press the issue regardless of what you do," Jimmy huffed. "They could have gotten you killed, and there's no excuse for that."

There were nods of agreement around the table — none of them had liked the idea of Tony going back into the field with McGee or David after that, and none of them were too pleased with Abby for covering it up, either. But if Tony was determined not to make waves, they couldn't make them on his behalf. That didn't stop them from bringing it up every so often, if they thought he might finally cave.

"So Tony, what it comes down to is you," Cassie finally broke the silence. "Do you want to leave NCIS, or not?"

Chapter Text

"And whether you do decide to leave NCIS or not, where do you want to be, geographically?" Tina added quickly.

Tony sighed. "I— I'm afraid I have too much of a reputation at NCIS. Everyone knows someone, and no matter what new persona I adopt, all it takes is one person from the DC office to come through TAD and make a few pointed comments before I'm back in this mess." He'd been trying for years to drop the masks he'd put up during Kate's training, and then as a defense against Shepard's bizarre behavior, but it was slow going.

"Unfortunately, I don't see that changing if I stay in DC, even if I go to another agency. We've all got friends throughout the Alphabet — hell, you all knew about the job offers I'd been given — so it's stupid to think that the rest of NCIS doesn't have friends like that too. Again, all it takes are a few comments, and poof."

They all considered that for a moment before Tina spoke up. "I think you're slightly overestimating the effect, but within NCIS you're not completely wrong. I say that, though, because you're also combating the reputations of Gibbs, Vance, McGee, etc within the Agency. If what McGee's said about you to his friend is wrong, then that means their friend McGee has to be wrong, too."

The others nodded in agreement as Tina continued. "The legend of Gibbs is strong throughout the Agency, and if you're telling people he's a bastard, sure, that's not even a question. But if you're telling them that he's a bad leader for ignoring chain of command, or that he's physically abusive despite his Corps values or whatever, then that's chipping away at the pedestal people have put him on, and that's harder."

"On the other hand, outside of NCIS, you're talking about a lot fewer impressions in general, and less positive ones. Especially somewhere like Metro, where they have a universally bad opinion of Gibbs — and David — because of the way they look down on them. If you go in there and say, 'Gibbs is a bastard with feet of clay, and I'm awesome, and anyone who tells you differently is just a case of sour grapes', they'll be the first in line to agree. Outside of NCIS, a certain amount of rumors against you will be automatically discounted," Tina concluded.

Tony looked skeptical, so Cassie jumped in. "Tony, imagine that Ziva is gone tomorrow, and you get a TAD agent who started at another agency. They've got years of experience, they're good at the job. There might be a bit of a learning curve for NCIS-specific policies and paperwork, but they catch on pretty quickly. They're a good, solid, agent, with a sense of humor, but an overall professional manner."

"Okay," Tony agreed easily, having little trouble picturing that. He'd fantasized about replacing Ziva or McGee more than once over the years, and had always imagined a stable, responsible replacement.

"Then let's say you work a joint op with their old agency. And you hear through the grapevine that they were a bad agent, and they were the problem on their team. Generally negative stuff that doesn't mesh with the agent you've been working with for the last few months. How do you interpret that?"

With dawning realization, Tony replied, "I'd assume that there was an element of bias — he's our agent now, and they're realizing what they're missing — or that maybe this was just — like you said before — sour grapes, or something blown out of proportion or misconstrued. Or maybe yeah, there was a problem, and now he's playing us all like some kind of genius undercover mole," he smirked.

That brought a chuckle from Cassie and Jimmy.

"If you take this chance to finally drop the masks, and be the professional we all know you are, then any griping from NCIS will be weighed against the person they've been working with and come to know, and you'll come out on top in that comparison," Cassie concluded.

"So you think I should leave NCIS," Tony asked hesitantly.

"We think you should do what you want," Balboa said quickly. "There are pros and cons to both. If you stayed with NCIS, you wouldn't have to adjust to a new agency with new policies, but you'd be dogged by your old reputation. You might be able to force Vance to transfer you to the posting of your choice, but you'll always have problems with him, and you might burn your bridge permanently."

"On the other hand, if you went to a different agency, there would be a bit of adjustment and a learning curve, but you could get out from under the Very Special Agent Frat Boy mask. Only you can say how the pros and cons add up," he concluded.

Tony scowled, but considered it. Rocky had a way of summarizing things that made the options clear and neatly defined, without nudging you in any direction. Ultimately, it was up to him to determine which pros outweighed which cons, and vice versa. Could he give up NCIS? Sure. Yes, he had enjoyed doing something to help, not just the community, but the armed forces in particular, but Tony could get roughly the same pride in being any other kind of federal agent or police officer.

He had no particular attachment to the Navy in particular either, so even if he wanted to stick with the military, well, like Tina had said, he did have an open offer from the Coasties, and he hadn't made any enemies at AFOSI or Army CID. Veterans' Affairs even had their own investigative division! It would probably be more of a desk job than he was used to, but he wasn't in his twenties anymore either. Tony wasn't ready to leave the field entirely, but he could do with a more regular schedule. And there had been a certain amount of pride in helping Corporal Yost, all those years ago: Veterans' Affairs might be more rewarding than he first thought.

"You should talk to Booth and Morgan, and get their take on it," Balboa suggested suddenly. "They're not NCIS, so they've got an outsider perspective."

"Aw Rocky, you want me to become a Feeb?" Tony protested automatically.

Balboa looked down his nose at him. "You know that's Gibbs talking, not you. I know you've got no problem with any of the Bureau gang at the Y."

Tony pouted, but he was right. Gibbs had the hang up about the FBI, which over the years Tony had figured was about two about parts annoyance due to NCIS's little brother syndrome, one part annoyance at jurisdictional squabbles and bitchiness about 'need to know' information impacting his investigations, one part annoyance at any organization that wasn't military, and four parts his rivalry with Fornell. None of which Tony actually gave a damn about.

Well, there was the part where they'd tried to arrest him for murder a couple of times, and Slacks seemed intent to piss him off on principle, but other than that… Tony liked them better than the CIA, at any rate. And he did have fun hanging out with Booth, Morgan, and the rest down at the Y when he had the time.

"Alright, alright, I'll talk to them. And I'll keep an open mind," Tony agreed, throwing his hands up in defeat. "If Gibbs is going to hate me for leaving his team without permission, and letting all this blow up in his face, he might as well hate me for becoming a Feeb, too."

"That's the spirit," Balboa murmured with a smirk.

"Good boy," Cassie said, patting his hand.

Before Tony could make a snarky comment, Balboa's phone alarm went off. "With that, some of us have to get back to work," he said.

The others joked good naturedly for a moment, mostly along the lines of how grateful they were to have the day off, and Balboa took it in stride as he counted cash out of his wallet. It struck Tony — and wasn't this the day for revelations — that even though they were teasing Rocky, it was entirely in good fun.

There was no sharp edge, no comments designed to cut deeper, no maliciousness behind supposed innocence. All the things that characterized Tony's interactions with Ziva and McGee. This is what joking with friends was supposed to feel like, not something that required he maintain a perfect mask so that no one could see how much their words actually hurt him.

With a soft groan, Tony leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. Jimmy and Cassie both immediately placed comforting hands on his back. "Just another shift in my perceptions; I'm fine," Tony assured them without looking up. His voice was probably muffled, but his meaning had clearly gotten through, because Jimmy patted him and then removed his hand, while Cassie slid hers further to give his shoulders a quick squeeze before letting go.

After another moment to gather himself, Tony sat back up. Tina was digging through her own wallet, as they had all long since finished eating. "Well, how about it, Jimmy? Able to drop me off before you head back?"

"I've got the rest of the afternoon off, unless we get a new body," Jimmy said. "But sure, I'll drop you wherever you want. I've got to run some errands, anyways, while I've got the chance."

"Give Derek my love," Cassie said cheerfully. "And Penelope, if she's there."

"I'm sure he can pass it on," Tony chuckled. Garcia had that effect on people. "Any message for Booth?"

Cassie gave him a look. "I have no desire to have my cousin prying into my life, thank you."

Tony laughed. Cassie's family was quite competitive, especially the female cousins. Finding out that Camille had transferred to DC and was working at the prestigious Jeffersonian Institute, helping the FBI, had pushed her ahead of mere Federal Agent Cassie in the family hierarchy. That Cam worked with their childhood friend Booth had put a slight damper on Cassie's own relationship with the FBI agent, who was apparently supposed to be on her side, in agent to agent solidarity. Tony had a policy of avoiding their family drama and just standing on the sidelines to laugh.

"You still in line for the SSA position in Narco?" he asked instead. Cassie had transferred back to the Yard to take the SFA position on their Narco squad four years ago, and her Senior agent, Greene, was due to retire in a few months. Tony wasn't sure if becoming the team's Supervisory Special Agent would put her back on top in the family stakes, but it couldn't hurt.

"I am, but don't tell Seely that," Cassie warned him.

"Scout's honor," Tony promised, zipping his lips. He might play pickup basketball at the Y with Booth, but Cassie was one of his best friends: even if he became a Feeb, Tony would be on her side in any contest.

"I've got to finish my laundry before I go on shift tonight," Tina said, standing up. Her team was working a case that had had them doing night surveillance for the last two weeks.

The group quickly exchanged handshakes and hugs, paid for their meal, and split up outside for their respective rides.

Tony had dragged Jimmy to the Y before, though sports were not the M.E.'s forte. This particular location was centrally located to both the Navy Yard and the Hoover building, and as such it was popular with NCIS and naval personnel, as well as FBI agents.

Most of the agents that Tony was friends with didn't work anything approaching a 9 to 5 job, so you never knew who would be around at any given time, but Saturday and Sunday afternoons were the best bet to find someone.

To his good luck, Morgan and Booth were both there, stretching out on the basketball court with a handful of others. Tony recognized at least two FBI agents he was less familiar with and one person he recognized from the Yard, though he was one of their MPs, not an NCIS agent. "Look who it is!" Booth said as Tony entered.

"Man, I thought you fell off the face of the earth," Derek said, getting up to clasp Tony's hand. He pulled him in tight and gave him a hearty backslap. "I haven't seen you here in a couple of months!"

"You know how it is on Gibbs's team: sleeping and eating are for people with less work to do," Tony joked.

"Yeah, man, about that…" Derek trailed off.

"Oh god, don't tell me you've already heard too?" Tony groaned.

"We've heard a lot of things," Booth said with a smirk. "And some of them are pretty outrageous."

"Man, you know how agents love to gossip," Derek added.

"So come on, give us the inside scoop," Booth said, drawing closer. "Did you really punch Gibbs?"

"What? No!" Tony's jaw dropped. "Who on earth had told them that?

"Damn. Did you at least punch David?"

"No!" Tony yelped. "What are you talking about? Are they putting something in the water over at the Hoover building?"

"You know how scuttlebutt is, DiNotezo," a voice said from behind them, "half of it's wrong and the other half ain't right."

Tony groaned again and dropped his head into his palms. "Fornell. Just what I needed."

"Aww, I'm happy to see you too," Fornell chuckled.

"What're you doing here?" Tony asked, looking up through his spread fingers. "You aren't part of the basketball crowd?"

"Emily's got a dance class. I'd rather come out here and watch these chumps than see her rolling her eyes at me in the mirror," Fornell said easily, sliding onto the bleachers next to Booth. "So, care to share?"

"I thought your source would've given you the inside track already," Tony said snippily, finally pulling his head out of his hands. If Gibbs hadn't called Fornell yet to bitch about it all, Tony would eat his favorite NCIS cap.

"He did, and I'm having trouble believing it," Fornell admitted.

"Okay man, you've gotta level with us," Derek said. "What the hell happened over at the Navy Yard last night? The rumors are pretty shocking."

Tony sighed, but caved. "We had a domestic abuse case: Marine Lance Corporal abusing his Petty Officer husband. Finally moved on to their son. With both the kid and the Naval husband — Shane — sporting injuries, CPS assumed the two of them had gotten into a fight and called us. It became obvious pretty quickly that the Marine husband was doling it out to the both of them, but if Shane refused to talk, he was gonna go down for it."

"Man that's rough," Derek said, shaking his head.

"How old's the kid?" Booth asked. Tony knew he was thinking of his own son, Parker, who Tony had met a few times.

"Seven. When I got Shane to talk, he admitted that this was the first time the husband had gone after the kid. Between deployments and sacrificing himself he'd managed to protect him until now."

Booth whistled.

"Anyway," Tony continued. "At first, when we thought it was Shane, Gibbs was in there doing his usual bad cop impression, throwing around his Marine background and how as a Navy guy Shane probably couldn't cut it in the Marines, was that why he was so angry, etc."

"Once we figured out it was the other way around, there was no way in hell he was going to say one word to Gibbs. Ziva tried, but that wasn't happening either. So while they were gone, I decided to try my hand. I shared my own story about being abused by someone, and built rapport. He decided to make a statement, we were able to bring in and charge the husband, end of story."

"Except that wasn't the end of the story," Derek said quietly.

"It was as far as I was concerned," Tony said stubbornly. "I went home. And then to a friend's house for dinner. I have no control over what assumptions people made, or accusations were tossed around, or videos shared with the whole damn world in the bullpen, in my absence."

"Damn man," Derek shook his head. Booth scowled, but Tony could tell it wasn't directed at him.

"Well that's worse than I expected," Fornell admitted, shocking Tony again.

"How could that be worse?" Tony was shocked. He jerked a thumb at Derek and Booth. "They thought I punched him!"

"Gibbs came stomping over to my place last night, bitching that you were complaining about his treatment of you, and how people who couldn't handle a little contact now and then didn't belong in a federal agency. I thought you'd finally gotten the guts to call him on those headslaps, but I knew you'd never make a scene in public, so I figured this was something you two could work out privately. If some idiot shared that video in the bullpen, then the news is all over the Yard. You'll never be able to put the lid back on it."

"Okay, I can see how that's worse," Tony agreed. "But I never used any names or identifying information, other than that it was a 'he.' Last night the books seemed an even split between people who thought I was entirely lying, people who thought I had an abusive boyfriend in the past, and people who thought I was lying about the gender, or the relationship, or that it was me and not a friend or whatever. No one was blaming Gibbs, last I heard."

"Well that's changed," Booth said. "Just about every rumor I heard today was about you and Gibbs. I don't know about NCIS, but whoever spread the news to the FBI had made the connection. I heard a couple variations: he gave you a black eye—"

"That was our vic," Tony interjected.

Booth nodded and continued ticking the rumors off on his fingers. "— you gave him a black eye, you two got into it in the bullpen, you sicced HR on him, and he got upset because you left him and are seeing a new guy."

Tony shuddered again. "That's just wrong. I saw him as a mentor — a father figure at the most! Yes, I'm bisexual, but he is so not my type! Why is everyone assuming that we were dating?"

"I don't know, man, but I heard most of the same," Derek admitted. "Though Garcia has a fast track to your interrogation techs, so she knew that it was something that came up there. She had heard that you called Gibbs out for abusing you in interrogation. It sounds like that was the closest to the truth."

Tony huffed. "I said someone used to hit me. How does that instantly translate to Gibbs in everyone's mind?"

"They've seen the headslaps, kid," Fornell said brusquely. "No one ever saw you protest, so they didn't say anything, or they didn't make the connection. But as soon as you said something, it wasn't that big of a leap."

There was no good way to answer that, so Tony groaned again. "Well, now that my private life is gossip fodder for all the agencies in DC, this might be a moot point, but I suppose I'll ask anyway. I anticipate not having a job come Monday. Or at least, not one worth going to. Are any of your job offers still open?"

Fornell grinned, and Tony immediately jabbed a finger at him. "I'm telling you right now, I refused to work with Slacks." That dimmed Fornell's smile, but didn't banish it completely.

"I'm sure he'd say the same," he snarked. "And yes, I have an opening on a different team that's yours if you want it."

"Hey, aren't you the one who threw him out of a moving van while restrained and dislocated his shoulder that one time?" Booth said suddenly. "You really think he should work for you, given the reason he's leaving?"

Fornell's smile vanished, and he looked a little chagrined. "I forgot about that," he admitted.

"I know you were doing it just to piss off Gibbs," Tony waved him off, preempting any apology. "And wasn't my shoulder the reason you both got called on the carpet and told to stop playing the 'I don't know him' game at crime scenes after that?"

"Yeah," Fornell said. "I got docked a month's pay because of that, too. Booth's right, though. And not just because of that. If you're on one of my teams, you'll be running into Gibbs regularly, because I'm the NCIS liaison. You really want to see him in the field every month or two? You want to fight against him over jurisdiction?"

Tony shuddered. "Nope. Not even slightly."

"Look, I'm also a liaison, and though I have a team under me, you're at least at the same level as me," Booth said. "I'll talk to my boss, and see what openings he's got, but he'd probably have something that would fit you. You've got experience with a bunch of other agencies, right? He wouldn't turn that down."

"Man, I told you the day you walked that you'd always be welcome at the BAU," Derek said simply. Tony flushed at the memory. He hadn't expected his offhand excuse for missing the next week's game to result in Derek and Garcia coming to his graduation. He hadn't expected anyone to come see him get his Criminal Psychology Masters, and he'd almost tripped with shock when they'd started wildly cheering when his name was read. At the time, Tony had thought that the offer was a bit of an empty promise, but maybe not.

"After your work on the Somalia thing last year, Counter-terrorism would love to have you too," Fornell jumped back in. "In fact, as soon as you make it known that you're looking, I'm sure a handful of supervisors at the FBI will be making you an offer. Hell, Charlie will probably just have you come over for a general interview and then let you pick your position."

It took Tony a minute to realize that he meant Assistant Director Charlie Miller, and when he figured it out, his jaw dropped.

"Don't look so surprised, DiNotezo," Fornell teased him. "He's had his eye on you since that Air Force One incident. Frankly at the time I think he was just wondering why you weren't filing a formal complaint against us. But he's known Gibbs since their Marine days, so he's had a good idea of what you've been putting up with for the last decade, and he's kept an eye on you. Who do you think approved all those job offers I gave you?"

"I— I assumed they weren't real," Tony stammered, revealing more than he intended to. "Just a— a way to annoy Gibbs."

Fornell sighed. "Well he's certainly done a good job of breaking you down. You weren't nearly this modest when we first met on that Hoyle case."

Tony thought back to that — it was one of his first cases out of FLETC, and Gibbs and Fornell were fighting over jurisdiction. At the time, Tony didn't realize that they knew each other, and just saw the FBI trying to take their case. He had quoted one of the legal precedents he'd just finished memorizing and testing on, and then smugly told Fornell that he'd personally ensure they got a copy of the relevant parts of the case file.

Then he'd done as promised, delivering them via a duly notarized courier who had started out his career as a male strip-o-gram. "Those were good times," Tony reminisced with a smirk. "It took me three hours to find the perfect courier." And it had been worth every second of effort.

"Okay, that smirk means that's a story I wanna hear," Booth said eagerly.

"Me too," Derek agreed. "But right now I gotta ask, are we here to talk, or play ball?"

Laughing, Tony accepted his hand and let the other agent pull him to his feet. Booth followed a moment later. "I'm just watching," Fornell resisted. As the other two headed for the court, Tony stripped off his light sweatshirt to drop on the bleachers. He hadn't intended to come here today, but he'd played in jeans before, so it wasn't worth saying no and going home to change.

"Hey DiNotezo, send me that resume tonight. I'll make sure Charlie sees it ASAP," Fornell said quietly once the others were out of earshot. "If you want, we can rush it, and your transfer paperwork can be on Vance's desk first thing Monday morning."

Tony wasn't sure how to respond: the others were taking it as a given that he was joining the FBI, which was a little off-putting, but also weirdly flattering. Fornell was willing to drag an Assistant Director in on the weekend to interview him and start his paperwork, which also fell neatly into the terrifying but flattering category. This morning, Tony wasn't even sure if he was leaving Gibbs's team, and now he was conspiring with a bunch of Fibbies to be gone by Monday!

"I'll let you know when I email you," Tony decided. He always thought better when his hands were occupied, and this basketball game might be just what he needed to wrap his brain around everything. And if not, at least it would buy him a little time to get his head on straight and figure out what he wanted to do.

By the time the gang felt like calling it quits, Fornell had long since gone. Emily had finished her dance class and come out to watch for a few minutes, accepting a quick hug from Tony while he took a water break, but they had other plans for their day and left soon after. Throughout the afternoon about a dozen different players cycled through, while a core of seven stayed, including Tony, Derek, and Booth. Finally, though, evening started to fall, and players began begging off. Derek was off to get ready for a date, and left to catcalls from the others.

"You need a ride, Tony?" Booth asked.

"Sure," Tony agreed. "What, no hot date for the night?"

"Nah," Booth shrugged. "Gotta find a replacement babysitter who'll work Sunday morning. I'm hoping one of the squints at the Jeffersonian will be willing to watch him in their office — without letting him play with dead bones or something."

"All bones are dead," Tony teased. "But seriously, what's the problem?"

"Oh, Parker's nanny is sick. Last night he had a sleepover with a friend, so it didn't matter that I had work this morning. But I can't impose on them a second night, so I've gotta find someone who'll watch him tomorrow."

"Well, if you don't mind me using your couch for the night, I can do it," Tony offered. He'd only hung out with Parker a handful of times, but he'd already found that he wasn't as nervous around Parker as he was around most children. And Parker was a lot more forgiving of his mistakes, because apparently he was less dopey than Zach and Bones.

Tony hadn't met either of them, though he knew from context that they worked with Booth. But if they were worse around kids than him, he wasn't sure they should all three be getting together in Parker's presence. With his luck, their awkwardness would multiply to disastrous proportions.

"Wait, seriously?" Booth asked as they approached his car.

Tony shrugged. "I'm avoiding going home where people can find me. I spent last night at Jimmy's, and was gonna do the same tonight. If you don't mind me coming over, I'll even make breakfast tomorrow. Does Parker still like animal shapes?" Tony and Parker had bonded over animals, before, and Tony's cooking. Combining the two into animal shaped pancakes was Tony's most successful interaction with a child to date.

"You are a lifesaver, man," Booth said fervently. "If you could bring him by the office for a late lunch, it'd be my treat."

"You got yourself a deal," Tony agreed. He rattled off Jimmy's address, which Booth programmed into his car's GPS. The ride was short, and Tony quickly made his excuses to Jimmy and Breena, who were just glad that he had someone else to hang out with. Then, he gathered his things and his own car, and was soon following Booth's directions back to his place. He'd been there twice before, but never coming from Jimmy's, and the route was almost entirely different.

Booth had to pick up Parker first, but Tony was only waiting on the corner for about ten minutes when they pulled up. After following them into the apartment's underground parking garage and into a visitor space, Tony quickly parked and grabbed his go bag.

"Uncle Tony!" Parker cheered as he climbed out of the car.

"Hey Parker," Tony greeted him cheerfully. "I heard you got to hang out at a friend's house last night?" That was a safe topic to bring up, right? Teenagers — and especially preteens — had so many minefields in conversation that would make their emotions flip on a dime, but Parker wasn't that age yet, Tony was pretty sure. Friends were relatively safe, uncomplicated topics still, right?

"Yeah! It was Jason's birthday!" As Booth gathered Parker's bag and Tony hefted his own, Parker detailed all of the events of the weekend. Apparently Jason was in his class at school, and had had six friends over for the night and then a slightly larger party today. Tony spared a few thoughts of sympathy for Jason's parents, having to interact with so many children!

Once they got inside, Booth said, "Hey Parker, you remember Uncle Tony loves movies? Why don't you two pick a movie to watch with dinner?"

Grateful for the suggestion — movies, like food, were one of the things Tony liked that were the least likely to upset a kid — Tony let Parker grab his hand and drag him over to several shelves packed with animated movies. "You're the guest, so you get to pick, Uncle Tony," Parker offered magnanimously.

Skimming the shelves, Tony found several classics, and several that he hadn't had time to see yet. Figuring that he might as well take advantage, Tony pulled out three new releases that he had wanted to catch. "I haven't had a chance to see any of these," he said, holding them out to Parker. "Which one do you think I'll like the most?"

Parker took the question very seriously, examining the three boxes with a contemplative expression. "Which do you like better, dragons, or dogs?"

"Uh, I'm a fan of both, but I guess dragons," Tony said.

"Do you like scary movies?" Parker asked.

"Sometimes," Tony said.

"Nothing scary so close to bedtime!" Booth yelled from the other room.

"Why don't we watch the scary one tomorrow morning with breakfast?" Tony suggested quickly. He had no idea what would be considered scary by a seven? nine? twelve? year old, especially in an animated movie, but he didn't want to get in trouble for showing Parker something he shouldn't see.

"You're making breakfast?" Parker asked, excited.

"I am," Tony agreed.

"Can you make me a dragon pancake?"

"I can try," Tony hedged. He had learned not to promise things outright to children: that way led to madness and shouting from parents.

"Okay, we'll watch How to Train Your Dragon tonight, and 9 tomorrow," Parker decided. "You'll have to come back some other time to watch Up."

"I'll look forward to it," Tony agreed.

Parker was at least old enough to set up the DVD player himself, so he did so while Tony headed into the kitchen to check on Booth. "We've got leftover lasagna," Booth explained, when Tony found him pulling a tinfoil-covered dish out of the fridge.

"That sounds great, but you know I can cook too," Tony offered. Tony tended to offer to cook for people — he enjoyed it and it was a good way to repay them for whatever he was asking from them.

"Nah, Parker's had all kinds of cake and candy and crap today, so he'll barely eat anything. I wouldn't want you to go to all the trouble and have it be underappreciated." Booth said easily.

"I don't mind," Tony assured him, "but I bow to your wisdom when it comes to… how old is Parker again, anyway?"

Booth laughed. "He's nine. God, you're almost as bad with kids as Bones. I'd forgotten."

"Hey, I thought he was between seven and twelve, so I was in the right ballpark!" Tony protested weakly. He knew kids were his kryptonite, and was used to being ribbed about it.

"How have you never interacted with kids? Booth pressed. "I mean, you've got to encounter them at work all the time. And you were a kid! I mean, I doubt that sometimes, when it comes to Zach and Bones, who act like they were grown in a lab, but you're a normal person!"

Tony laughed at the description; he'd met one or two scientists he'd been sure were vat-bred, in his time: Abby was comparatively normal as forensics techs went. "Honestly, I didn't actually interact with other children except at boarding school, and when I was 14 I was sent to Rhode Island Military Academy, where they expect you to act like a little soldier, rather than a kid. And there weren't exactly a lot of kids at my frat house, or there would have been some really awkward questions asked, you know?" They both chuckled at that.

Tony continued, "Most of the kids I encountered for work after that were either teens we were picking up for vice, which I've been informed are not a reliable example of the species, or part of a family I was breaking bad news to. I'm really used to seeing them cry, but no one ever teaches you what to do about it — you're focused on giving information to the adults. Most of the kids I've met at NCIS are handled by the bossman, because he's good with them. I stick to flirting with people who are legal."

Booth snorted. "Alright, I guess you get a pass. At least you're not as bad as the squints. And you do alright with Parker, even if you can't tell his age."

"Hey there is wide variation between kids' appearances at every age. I can tell you if a perp is late twenties or early thirties, but a twelve year old who was blessed with growth spurts is indistinguishable from a fifteen year old." Tony protested. They were trained at the academy in estimating ages, and his instructor had warned them that kids were particularly tricky in that respect.

"That's fair," Booth allowed.

"Uncle Tony! The previews are over!" Parker called from the other room.

"Go on; I'll have this ready in a few minutes," Booth nodded at the microwave. "Diet Coke okay? Or you want milk, like Parker?"

"Coke's fine!" Tony assured him, then headed back to the living room. Parker had pulled a large beanbag chair from somewhere, and was plopped on it. Tony detoured to the front hall to grab his bag, and then settled in on the far side of the couch with his laptop, where he could easily glance between the TV and Parker. "Alright, I'm here!" he said, and Parker promptly un-paused the movie.

As he watched, keeping one eye on the screen, Tony booted up his laptop. He kept a copy of his resume and updated it every few months, which he'd done a few weeks ago, after the Royal Woods incident. All he needed to do was tweak the dates, change the phone number from his NCIS one to his personal cell, and it was ready.

Using his phone's hotspot, Tony quickly saved a PDF version and emailed it to Fornell with the simple message, I'm in. Soon as you can fix it.. The basketball game had given him the time to clear his mind, and the easy camaraderie with Booth had sealed the decision. He was starting his job search at the FBI.

Tony wanted a job where he was appreciated, and where he had time to do things like hang out with friends, see a movie, or catch a game without needing to leave ten minutes in because Gibbs couldn't not take a case, or be forced to use a vacation day just to make sure he couldn't be called in on what should already be his mandated day off. The FBI could give him that, as well as getting him out of the physical line of fire when Hurricane Gibbs found out. So if Fornell was right about the job and not jerking his chain, then Tony was ready to give it a shot. Worst case scenario, he could always turn down the offer and look elsewhere.

He finished just as Booth brought in the first dinner tray for Parker, and Tony quickly shut his laptop back down and tucked it away. When Booth returned with their meals, he dug in, and let himself get lost in the story of the vikings of Berk.

Chapter Text

True to Fornell's word, Tony had woken up to an email, asking him to meet with Assistant Director Charlie Miller at noon. Tony had spent a quiet morning with Parker, making pancakes and watching 9 — and now he understood why that was not a bedtime movie — and then they'd headed off to the Hoover building. While Parker amused himself in Booth's office for a short while, Tony had met with A.D. Miller.

They'd gone over the resume Tony had sent out on Saturday night, and then reviewed several jobs that Miller thought he would be a good fit for. In the end, Tony had been torn between leading his own team in Counter-terrorism, or the SFA spot in the BAU. Miller had also offered him the Section Chief of the BAU, but it was a desk position, and Tony wasn't quite ready just yet to leave the field entirely, even if it did mean a substantial promotion. In the end, though, Tony wasn't that interested in counter-terrorism, and so, even though it wasn't a promotion, he'd picked the spot in the BAU.

Miller had assured Tony that he would process the paperwork ASAP, as he had an in at NCIS. After he made a quick call, Tony had a 0700 meeting with Delores Bromstead, a name he vaguely recognized from the HR department. She would handle his transfer paperwork, including the legal business surrounding Tony's ongoing lung health, since that was directly the fault of NCIS's negligence. It also gave him a chance to clean out his desk without running into anyone in the bullpen that he'd rather avoid.

Assuming there were no complications — and Tony imagined that Gibbs, Vance, and Abby would all present complications in this matter — he would be able to start at 0900 at the FBI on Monday. Miller then let Tony in on a secret; exactly what he would be doing. Tony couldn't wait for that reveal tomorrow. His meeting over, Tony had reconvened with Parker and Booth, who treated them to lunch.

Then, Tony had brought Parker to the park to play. After warning the child that they may have to leave in a rush, and setting a pre-arranged signal, Tony sent him off to the swings and staked out a nearby picnic table where he could keep one eye on the parking lot and one eye on Parker. Tony had checked with Booth in advance, and gotten permission to promise Parker ice cream in exchange for his obedience if they had to make a quick exit. One thing he did know about children (through painful experience) was not to make them promises without checking with their parents first!

Tony settled down at the park bench and popped open his laptop. Then, he booted up his work phone and enabled it's hotspot. He'd used his personal cell last night to contact Fornell, and had resisted using his work phone all day. He knew that, though it was totally illegal, either McGee or Abby would have no compunctions tracking his signal, and Gibbs would have no problem ordering them to do it. That was why he was doing this now, sitting in a park, working remotely, instead of home in his apartment or at Booth's. If anyone wanted to track him down and yell at him, Tony wanted it done in neutral territory that he could walk away from, instead of his personal space.

There were a dozen emails, and he read through them first. There was one, shockingly, from Ziva, congratulating him on getting Petty Officer Michaels to talk, but suggesting he use a more believable ruse in the future. It was her way of calling him a liar and daring him to prove her wrong, so he deleted it.

There were three from the Probie, in various stages of disbelief and panic, all attempting to ask him about what he had said without coming out and doing it. There was also a fair bit of ass-covering, as McGee attempted not to reveal that he was the one to share the video with everyone, yet still clarify things that other people had said, such as Abby's claim that Tony was bisexual. Tony didn't feel like answering any of it, and there was nothing important or work-related, so he deleted them too.

Another seven were from Abby — four from Friday night, two from Saturday, and one from today. She vacillated between being upset that he had claimed to be abused, worried he actually had been, upset that he might have lied to Petty Officer Michaels, worried that he hadn't contacted her and had turned his phone off, — proof that she'd already tried to track his location — and on Saturday and today, worried that he wasn't at his apartment — proof that she'd gone over there to confront him in person, as he'd suspected.

Tony was more grateful than ever that he'd had friends willing to give him a spot on their couch so he could avoid that kind of thing until he was ready. Abby's final email was a bit of a stumper, as she told him off for getting Gibbs in trouble, but Tony had no idea what she was talking about. He hadn't said a word about Gibbs, and he hadn't done a thing about work all weekend, let alone submit any kind of official complaint to NCIS. Tony finally decided that she had probably heard some of the gossip or scuttlebutt that connected his abuse claims to the headslaps, and decided that Tony was behind the rumors.

Tony debated for several minutes whether to reply to Abby's emails, but finally decided to hold off until he had listened to her voicemails. His first inclination was to tell her to call before coming over, but he was fairly certain she had done that, and he needed to figure out a better way to phrase "stay the hell out of it." He deleted all but the last one that he intended to reply to.

Surprisingly, there were three other emails from NCIS. One on Friday night from Gina the interview tech, one on Saturday from Gene Huntley in IA, and one on Sunday from Delores Bromstead. Gina was apologizing for the fact that McGee and Abby had shared the video around the bullpen — it wasn't her responsibility, but Tony appreciated the thought nonetheless — and also thanking him for being so brave to share his story with Petty Officer Michaels in order to protect him and his son.

Tony sent her a quick reply letting her know that he didn't blame her for the video leaking, and thanking her for her thoughts. He hadn't felt particularly brave at the time — or since, to be honest — but he hadn't felt comfortable walking away from the case without doing everything he could to protect Shane and Jake, even if that meant revealing his own secrets.

Gene Huntley was informing him that IA had received several complaints on Friday night and Saturday morning, ranging in topic and severity from the sharing of the video about him, to Gibbs's headslaps, to one who thought that Tony was in a romantic relationship with Gibbs and was reporting both that Tony was sleeping his way up the ladder, and that Gibbs was abusing him. Gene wanted to talk to Tony at his earliest convenience, even on the weekend, and would work around Tony's availability.

Seeing the advantage in getting everything down officially before leaving NCIS on Monday, Tony quickly called the cell number Gene had provided, and arranged to meet him at 1700 in an Italian restaurant near the Yard that Tony loved. Booth was off work at 1600, so Tony would have plenty of time to drop Parker with him and get there. And if anyone managed to track him down, they'd have to answer to Gene. Tony would love to see Abby's or McGee's face if they came to yell at him and walked themselves into an IA investigation.

The last email, from Delores Bromstead, was regarding both the complaints and his decision to transfer from NCIS to the FBI. Assistant Director Miller had already called her and established that she would meet Tony at the Yard regarding his transfer to the FBI, and she was confirming their appointment for 0700 — long before anyone would expect him in the office — to take care of everything. However, the email clarified that she also wanted to discuss his complaint from last month, any future complaints he intended to file as a result of Friday night, and the ongoing harassment from Gibbs.

Tony quickly replied to her email and agreed to discuss all of it tomorrow morning, confirming the time, and thanking her for being willing to meet so early.

With that taken care of, Tony checked on Parker, who was cheerfully swinging with a brunette girl about his age. They exchanged waves, and then Tony turned to his phone. It had been vibrating madly when he first turned it on, registering all of the texts, missed calls, and voicemail messages that had built up over the weekend. Now it was quiet, but the little message indicators were scarily high.

Tony had two missed calls from Ziva, but no voicemails, and only one text, basically reiterating the same thing as her email. He easily ignored them all. McGee had called a couple of times, and left two voicemails, as well as a half dozen carefully worded texts. Tony skimmed the texts as he listened to the voicemails, but they were all along the same lines as the probie's emails, and not worth responding to.

Abby, of course, had called him a dozen times, leaving a voicemail almost every time, and had sent twice as many texts. Most of those were from yesterday and today, asking where he was with an ever increasing number of question marks and exclamation points. Finally, Tony decided to send her one blanket reply. He composed a short text that just said Sorry to worry you; we're not on call so I was visiting friends. I'm fine. Talk to you later.

Tony had no delusions that he'd get through the rest of the night without talking to her, and he didn't want to make any promises about tomorrow, so he refrained from saying anything about work. He firmly intended to ignore all references to the video or the personal information he had shared with Petty Officer Michaels, in the hopes that those things would eventually die down.

Finally, Tony turned to the messages from Gibbs. He didn't email or text, as Tony had expected, but he made up for it in calls. The first dozen or so had voicemails attached, but as the weekend had dragged on, they'd gotten shorter, until Gibbs stopped leaving messages at all. He'd called five times on Friday — three times right after midnight, which Tony assumed coincided with a trip to his empty apartment — and another half dozen times each, yesterday and today.

There were no calls from Dispatch, so Tony knew that they hadn't gotten a case — Jimmy and Rocky would have told him if that was the case anyways, but it was still nice to get confirmation — which meant that Gibbs was just angry that he was unreachable, not that he had missed a crime scene. In a normal world, Tony wouldn't have to worry about his boss being able to reach him 24/7 even on their weekend off, but Gibbs didn't live in the normal world. A large part of Tony was eager to experience such things himself again, as he grew more and more excited about his new position.

After listening to the first few messages, which were long — for Gibbs — and full of ranting about 'what did he think he was doing' and 'where the hell was he and why wasn't he answering his phone! Rule 3, damn it!', Tony skipped to the last few, which tended to just be a simple 'answer the damn phone, DiNozzo!' In other words, nothing important — not that he had thought there would be anything important, but he still felt compelled to check.

Tony deleted them all.

Then, Tony composed a quick text message for Gibbs. He knew that Gibbs was capable of reading text messages, though he refused to send any, and also that he would singularly hate to receive one from Tony, instead of a phone call. Tony felt a little thrill of perverse pleasure at baiting Gibbs like that. After sending the message — Had plans for the weekend off, Boss. Staying with friends. Talk to you later. — Tony scrolled through the rest of his messages.

Gene and Mrs. Bromstead had each left a message, essentially repeating the information in their emails. Two more people — Gill on night shift security, and Jennifer the baggie bunny — had called him to apologize for the way his private life had been intruded upon, and to offer their own sympathies. Tony had texts along the same lines from two other security guards, four agents, and a handful of support staff from evidence, records, payroll, and HR.

He even had one from John, one of the other forensics technicians who Tony only dealt with on cold cases! Gibbs' preference for Abby — and vice versa — meant that the MCRT literally never used the man, and Tony had purposely cultivated a relationship by consulting him on cold cases, just in case he ever needed to bypass Abby.

Tony sent short, generic Thank you for your kindness. The gossip is unfortunate, but I'm handling it. messages to all of them, including Gill and Jennifer. Tony was surprised at the volume of messages, though he supposed he shouldn't be. He'd even gotten two similar messages on his personal cell from Kurt with Metro, and a bomb squad officer nicknamed 'Tank' that he'd befriended at the Y. Neither of them had been there yesterday, so all Tony could figure was that the gossip had expanded out past NCIS's and even the FBI's borders, to Metro.

Finally finished with the deluge, Tony went back to his laptop, and saw that he had auto-generated calendar emails for his meetings with Gene and Mrs. Bromstead, and a new message from the FBI's HR department, containing scanned copies of the contracts he'd signed today, with a note that they'd been faxed to NCIS as well. Tony had just finished cleaning up his inbox yet again when his phone rang.

Busy checking on Parker again, and knowing it would be Gibbs, Tony didn't even glance at the caller ID before he answered, "DiNozzo."

"Rule 3, DiNozzo!" Gibbs growled.

"Rule 18," Tony snapped back. It's better to ask forgiveness than permission. "It's our weekend off, Boss, and dispatch had a way to reach me. We aren't indentured servants of NCIS: we're allowed to take down time on our days off."

Gibbs paused for about two heartbeats, which meant that Tony had shocked him, before he came back with "Rule 45." You left a mess, you gotta clean it up.

"It wasn't my mess, Boss," Tony replied easily. "I followed Rule 11." When the job is done, walk away "Maybe you should be talking to whoever created the mess by sharing a conversation that I had the right to expect would remain relatively confidential — on account of the fact that it was part of an open case and all — with the whole damned bullpen."

"Seems that they need a refresher at FLETC on case procedure, not to mention a Gibbs-style refresher on Rules 1 and 21." Never screw over your partner, and Don't air someone else's dirty laundry unless you're willing to hang out your own. "Hell, probably 14, too, with the open case thing." Bend the line, don’t break it

"DiNozzo—" Gibbs growled, but Tony cut him off again. He knew Gibbs hated being cut off almost as much as he hated having his own rules thrown back in his face, but right now Tony was past caring.

"You might want to tell them to stop calling and emailing me while you're at it, Boss. I'm pretty firmly obeying Rule 42 right now." Never accept an apology from somebody who just sucker-punched you.

Tony counted the silence for eight heartbeats before Gibbs sighed. "Answer one question."

"Alright," Tony agreed. He figured Gibbs would want to know if this was about him, and Tony wasn't sure exactly what he was going to say, but he at least wanted to hear how Gibbs phrased it.

"Is this just Rule 7?" Always be specific when you lie

Well, that was one way of asking, Tony supposed. Try to see if Tony was lying, without Gibbs having to outright admit that what he did could be considered abuse. Very tricky. And very easy to deflect.

"Well if it wasn't, then I'd be breaking Rule 4 pretty badly, saying something like that on tape and where a gossip like Probie could hear me," Tony said lightly. Best way to keep a secret. Keep it to yourself. Second-best, tell one other person — if you must. There is no third best.

"Of course, he should have remembered Rule 7 himself, and then practiced a little of Rule 8 before sharing that video with everyone and their brother." Never assume, or take anything for granted. "That's the kind of thing that can make people a laughingstock, if they leap to conclusions without checking their facts."

And that should do it. Tony hadn't outright denied anything, but turned Gibbs's focus squarely back to the perpetrators who had spread the video through the bullpen. Regardless of Tony's feelings about Gibbs, he was still pretty pissed at McGee and Abby for doing that. Something he intended to mention offhand in his meeting with HR tomorrow.

Though Gibbs's rules weren't NCIS policy by any means, Tony wasn't wrong about the video being evidence in an open case. Nor about the massive invasion of his privacy that they'd committed by sharing it, whether they suspected that he was lying or not. He was even tempted to officially write them up for the breach in protocol — something he'd discuss the pros and cons of with Mrs. Bromstead when they met in the morning.

This time Tony counted to twenty — and watched Parker laughingly go down the tall slide — before Gibbs replied. He was clearly thinking through what Tony had and hadn't said, and deciding what he was going to let slide for now.

If Tony showed up at NCIS tomorrow for work, he had no doubt he'd be seeing the inside of the elevator as soon as Gibbs saw him. He also had no doubt that he'd be the recipient of the biggest ever headslap, but only where no one could see. Because, honestly, Tony knew there were only two outcomes to an investigation into the headslaps. He couldn't even say which one was the best case scenario.

On the one hand, Gibbs was reprimanded, and started hitting him in private. They'd be harder, and more frequent, in that scenario, because Gibbs would be pissed as hell about the whole thing. Or, alternatively, Vance did nothing, and Gibbs had tacit permission to continue, in which case nothing changed, except for him possibly increasing their frequency, as punishment or in defiance.

Either way resulted in Tony's head pounding — one of the reasons he'd kept quiet for so long, actually. He didn't need even more damned headslaps, thank you very much.

Finally, Gibbs grunted, "Don't turn off your phone like that again."

"I'm allowed to have time to myself, as long as dispatch can reach me," Tony replied. He had no intention of making such promises, and in theory they'd be moot by tomorrow morning anyway.

"You gonna refuse to work a case, next?" Gibbs growled.

"Maybe. You ever going to admit that other agents are capable of solving a case and let your team actually have their time off without dragging them back into the office?" Tony shot back.

"If you don't like the way I handle my team, DiNozzo, you know where the door is!" Gibbs shouted.

Tony smirked, despite knowing that Gibbs couldn't see it. "You're right; I do," he replied, then pulled a Gibbs and hung up. Tony glanced at his alerts — he had a missed call from Abby, and then she had sent him a text telling him to stay put — before shutting off his phone once again.

On the off chance that things with the FBI fell through tomorrow, Tony would still be quitting, so he had no need to subject himself to Gibbs's anger. Tony would probably need to jam a chair beneath his door to keep the Marine from picking his lock and breaking into his apartment tonight to yell at him in person, but he didn't care. Tony was tempted to ask Jimmy and Breena if he could crash on their couch again, but he had to go home sometime, and he wanted to be at his best tomorrow, which meant his own bed, closet, and bathroom.

Tony heard the squeal of tires before he saw Abby's car, but within minutes she was striding down the short path to the shaded picnic table he'd commandeered. Tony caught a faint, "—I'll tell him!" on the breeze, which told him she was talking to either Gibbs or McGee on her phone. She'd probably told McGee she was coming earlier; Tony suspected that, after calling him back and going straight to voicemail, Gibbs had called on Abby to ask her to track him down. He figured the odds were 50-50 Gibbs would be racing here himself, versus letting Abby have her crack and just waiting until Tony got home later.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, Mister!" Abby said, stomping up to him.

"So do you, Abigail Scuito!" Tony fired back. He'd already decided to fight fire with fire, and he'd given Gibbs a taste of the tactics he intended to use.

As Abby faltered to a halt, looking shocked, Tony rose from the table and loomed over her. With her platforms on he only had about three or four inches on her, but he was using all of it to his advantage right now.

"How dare you take footage from an interview with a victim — not a suspect; a victim — in an ongoing case and air it in the middle of the bullpen for everyone from the mailboy to the janitor to see! We'll be lucky not to get the case thrown out of court because of your and McGee's negligence! Do you want Ethan Michaels to go free on a technicality, back home so he can beat up his husband and son again? Maybe put them on Ducky's table this time?"

Abby looked stricken, but Tony didn't give her any time to recover. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Second of all, Petty Officer Michaels is an innocent victim who deserved our sympathy and respect, and you aired his private heartbreak to the whole building! You showed a blatant disregard for his privacy, and disrespected all of NCIS in your treatment of him."

"We'll be lucky if he doesn't sue us — or worse, recant the statement he made against his husband, which I worked damned hard to convince him to give! If he did that, we wouldn't need to wait for a judge to grant a mistrial, Ethan Michaels would walk free before it even got far enough for a mistrial! Is that what you wanted, Miss Sciuto?"

"And if that wasn't bad enough, you took a video of an agent saying he had been abused, and shared that with everyone in NCIS. It doesn't matter that the agent in question was myself. As the Senior Field Agent of the MCRT, I'd be having this conversation with you if you had done this to anyone in that building! You took video of them sharing something intensely private and delicate, which may or may not have been true, and you shared it indiscriminately."

"If, on the off chance that the story wasn't true, you are putting the agent on the spot and forcing them to admit that. That could damage their credibility with the witness, Petty Officer Michaels, if it got back to him. That could also damage that agent's reputation, as people assumed that they were a liar, since most of the people in the building aren't familiar with the tactic of using half-truths to build rapport in interrogation. Anyone who didn't understand what the agent was intending could assume that they were a general liar, and you'd destroy the trust they share with their coworkers."

"But, on the other hand," Tony let his voice get low and dangerous. He hadn't been shouting before, but his new tone was distinctly quieter and colder. "Let's say that the agent was not lying to build rapport, or even telling a half truth. Let's say that the agent was telling the whole truth."

"You've just shared an incredibly personal and incredibly intimate detail of this agent's private life with the entire building. You have changed the way that every single one of his coworkers looks at him, from fellow agents he has to trust his life to in the field, to even the support staff who control his paycheck, equipment, and test results."

"You've tainted his relationships with every single one of those people, and he'd be well within his rights to sue for defamation of character. For that matter, with every single person he works with now looking at him completely differently, NCIS would be lucky if he didn't quit to go somewhere where his coworkers would respect his privacy."

"Furthermore, I heard from a trusted witness that, in the course of this gross breach of privacy committed by McGee and yourself, that you, Abigail Scuito, also took it upon yourself to out this agent as being bisexual. Something — need I remind you — that is grounds for filing a complaint with HR, which could see you faced with disciplinary action! NCIS policies were created in the era of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, and though the military has repealed that edict, our HR still values the privacy of the individual."

"And yet, without anyone Asking, you, Miss Scuito, not only Told the secret of another employee to their supervisor — removing their own choice in the matter — you again did it in such a way that literally every employee could find out, not just the agent's supervisor or an HR rep. If you had done this to any — any — NCIS employee, I'd be appalled and disgusted with you, Miss Scuito." Tony concluded soberly.

Shifting his tone to something more formal, Tony said, "All of that, I said to you as the Senior Field Agent on the Major Case Response Team. This official verbal reprimand for conduct unbecoming an employee of NCIS will be logged with HR, as I am required to do."

"On a personal note, Miss Scuito, I consider what you did unconscionable, and consider our friendship irreparably broken. You have lost the right to chastise me for not answering my phone, or avoiding you. You have lost the right to harangue me about anything I said or did on that tape. And you have lost the right to illegally use NCIS resources to track my location. Which you'd better believe will also be in my personal complaint about this incident."

"I'd tell you to go home and think about what you did, but I'm not your mother. What I will tell you is that actions have consequences, and I'd advise you to pull on your big girl panties and accept yours."

Ignoring the tears streaming down Abby's cheeks, Tony spun, grabbed his laptop and bag, and stalked away. A sharp double whistle had Parker bolting to his side, after scowling back at Abby, obviously recognizing her as the reason they had to leave.

Tony had meant every word — though he hadn't initially thought he would say so much — and he felt lighter for having done it. Of course, he'd made Abby cry, which meant that a visit from Gibbs was now guaranteed. As he and Parker climbed into his Camaro and sped out of the lot to get their agreed upon ice cream, Tony wondered if moving to a new apartment was too extreme a reaction. Because right now, he was seriously inclined to consider it!

In the end, Tony weighed his options and decided to see what happened when Gibbs arrived. If he tried to break the door down, then Tony fully intended to spend the night in a hotel. He wasn't particularly attached to his apartment, and the more he thought about it, the more he kind of liked the idea of a clean break from his old life. The people that he wanted to keep in contact with, like Jimmy, Rocky, and the others, would all be invited to his new place, and maybe Tony could get a space with more room to set up the poker table when they played.

No one had interrupted his dinner with Gene Huntley from IA, and they had spent almost two hours covering all the topics and issues that arose from Tony's time at NCIS. Gene had also assured Tony that he had an 0800 meeting with Mrs. Bromstead, to make sure that all of their ducks were in a row regarding which of his complaints would go through HR and which through IA — or both!

Now, Tony felt a little like he was preparing for a siege, as he parked two blocks away and walked home. It would make for a slower getaway if needed, but it also had the advantage of leaving his parking space empty, suggesting that he wasn't there. It was just after 1900, and the summer hours meant that it was still plenty light out.

As a precaution, Tony threw both deadbolts and the chain, and then jammed a chair beneath the knob for good measure. Then, bypassing the large TV in his living room, Tony grabbed his Magnum PI box set and took it to his bedroom with his go bag. After taking a hot, soothing shower, Tony restocked the toiletries in his go bag, and then turned off the lights.

With luck, no one — meaning Gibbs — surveilling his apartment would have noticed the lights on with the sun not yet set. Then he pulled the dirty clothes out of his bag and replaced them, and finally hung out the suit he intended to wear tomorrow. The BAU tended towards slightly more casual clothing, he'd been warned, but Tony wanted to make a good impression on his first day. Finally, everything was ready for a quick escape.

It was just edging towards dusk, and he made sure that everything was off except his bedroom light. Tony occasionally got migraines, and had long considered a set of blackout curtains an essential. They were also good for when he had a rare morning off and wanted to watch TV, but couldn't because of the sunny glare coming in the windows.

Making sure his blackout curtains were securely fastened, — bringing back memories of a variety of European WWII movies and doing nothing to lessen the impression of a siege — Tony doused the lights and settled into bed with his laptop to indulge in a little Magnum therapy.

Tony had actually dozed off, and was awoken later by pounding on his door. Glancing at his bedside table, his alarm clock showed that it was just past midnight. Recognizing the angry barrage as most likely coming from Gibbs, Tony closed his laptop, plunging his bedroom into darkness. Tony still had his gun and badge — he'd be turning them over to HR tomorrow during his meeting with Mrs. Bromstead — so he gathered them and crept towards his bedroom door. Unlocking it and opening it just a crack, Tony crouched and listened to the assault.

The pounding stopped, and Tony thought he heard Gibbs's voice, but it was too muffled to make out any specific words. Perversely, he hoped one of his neighbors called the police on him for disturbing the peace. Unfortunately, most of them would be cowed if Gibbs flashed his badge, knowing that Tony was a federal agent too. Things weren't quite bad enough that Tony felt like calling in the complaint to 911 himself, but he'd have no regrets if one of his neighbors did it.

Something rattled — Tony thought his chain — and then the pounding resumed. It sounded like Gibbs had tried to pick the lock and run into Tony's extra security measures. There was a decent chance that they would hold up, but Tony wasn't about to count out a Marine — especially a pissed off one like Gibbs. The noise continued sporadically for another fifteen minutes, before Tony heard something splinter. He wasn't sure if it was the door or the chair, but it didn't bode well for him getting out of this without being confronted by Gibbs.

To his surprise, the next thing he heard was deep voices shouting "Metro PD, freeze!" Tony smirked and resisted the urge to chuckle. One of his neighbors had called the police after all. The ensuing confrontation — because with Gibbs it wouldn't be anything but a confrontation — went on for several minutes before a voice raised enough for Tony to catch a few words.

"— Federal Agent, damnit!" Gibbs was shouting.

Tony didn't hear whatever Metro said in response, but there was one more sharp thud, and he could imagine Gibbs kicking his door. A few more minutes passed, and Tony heard what sounded like muffled footsteps. Closing his bedroom door again and re-locking it, Tony slipped over to his window.

Tony nudged his blackout curtains aside slightly, creating the smallest gap to look through. Down on the street he saw three cruisers; their sirens were off, but their lights lit up the block in an eerie dance of red and blue. Tony thought he saw Kurt, one of his friends on Metro, but he was distracted by the sight of Gibbs being frogmarched out of the building.

Scrambling back to his bed, Tony pulled out his personal cell. He dialed as he made his way back to the window. As soon as Kurt answered, he asked, "Are you putting Gibbs in the back of a car!?"

Kurt snorted. "He's only being detained, not arrested. Until we can convince him to stop beating down what I assume is your door?"

"I'm moving ASAP," Tony promised, his earlier hesitation evaporating in the face of this mess. "Do you know who called?"

"We got three different complaints about the noise, and one specified that the apartment in question belonged to a federal agent, thus the speedy rollout. She thought Gibbs was a criminal looking for revenge for you putting him in jail," Kurt laughed sourly.

Tony knew immediately who had made that call — old Mrs. Tanaka, who lived two doors down, by the elevator, was always worrying that he'd be killed by some criminal out for revenge. He couldn't blame her, as her nephew had been with Metro PD many years back and had been paralyzed by an ex-con in that exact scenario. Tony made a mental note to talk to her as soon as possible, to assure her that he was alright and thank her for her vigilance.

"I take it you're at home but playing possum?" Kurt asked.

"I thought keeping the lights off and parking my car around the corner would be enough of a decoy," Tony admitted. "I spent the last two nights couch surfing: anyone would assume the same tonight. Except Gibbs, apparently."

"Oh, we've had prowler complaints in your building for the last two nights," Kurt assured him. "Including a noise complaint on Friday. When I came out on Saturday, there were scratches on your lock like it had been picked, but we were too late to catch him. Hence the large, fast, rollout tonight. I'm guessing that you did something extra tonight to keep him out, and that's what let the cat out of the bag."

"Damn, hadn't thought of that," Tony admitted. "Should have known I'd miss something. I guess it was an almost perfect plan."

Kurt chuckled. "Almost. Well, since Martinez actually witnessed him trying to pick your lock, and the whole crew saw him kick your door, we've got probable cause to haul him in for a few hours. Not that it would be any use to throw him into interrogation unless we wanted a master course in scowling…"

"Looks like I'll be heading to a hotel after all," Tony sighed. "If you can buy me half an hour I can get out of here. I'm starting a new job with the FBI tomorr— ugh, no, in just a few hours — so if I can keep him out of my private space I won't have to see him again."

"It's yours, Tony," Kurt agreed easily. "And good luck, man. I thought working under him was pretty hazardous before, but it sounds like leaving is just as bad, if not worse."

Tony sighed again. "You're not wrong. Of course, I'm not exactly leaving in the best of circumstances."

"No you're not, if even half of what I've heard is true," Kurt agreed.

"Oh, if it's anything like what I've heard, I'd say ninety-five percent is wrong," Tony countered. "But you know as well as anyone that even that five percent is more than enough to push Gibbs's buttons."

"Ain't that the truth," Kurt agreed. "Alright man, looks like Chin's ready to take off. We'll give you an hour before we turn him loose."

Tony saw that two of the cars had closed their doors and started moving. "You're a lifesaver, Kurt. I'll owe you and your squad a round for this."

"I'll hold you to that," Kurt agreed with a chuckle, then hung up.

Tony watched for a moment as they left, and once the last car had turned off its lights and was rounding the corner, he strode to his bedside table and turned on the lamp. It took less than five minutes for Tony to gather the things he'd prepped in advance, and to pack up his laptop, cable, and phone charger. Giving his room a quick once over, Tony turned off the light and headed to survey the damage to his front door.

The chair appeared to have scooted back an inch, from the scuff marks on the floor, but it had done its job. The lock and deadbolt had been picked, and the door was open an inch. The chain was still across, though the wood had splintered slightly around it's base. The second deadbolt — the internal one that couldn't be picked from the outside — had been partially forced, and was also surrounded by splintered wood. Shaking his head at Gibb's handiwork, Tony removed the chair and opened the door properly.

His neighbors had all finished gawking and closed their doors, so Tony was able to lock up and slip out of the building without anyone the wiser. As he hiked the two blocks to his car, Tony made a mental note to talk to his landlord about the damage when he gave his notice. Metro had Gibbs's name, so if Tony gave his landlord a copy of the police report, maybe he could try to sue for the damages instead of taking them out of Tony's security deposit.

That thought made Tony laugh halfway down the block, before he finally pulled out his personal cell and made a call to the hotel he'd used when his power last went out. If he was lucky, he'd miss the weekend crowd and be able to get a room for the night at a reasonable price. Hell, he might as well see if he could stay for the week!

Chapter Text

Tony relaxed at his new desk, waiting for A.D. Miller to come in. It had been a whirlwind morning — a whirlwind weekend, for that matter! — but this morning's whirlwind was of a far nicer variety. After his 0700 meeting with Mrs. Bromstead, which ended up going fifteen minutes late as they coordinated a few things with Gene from IA, Tony had taken the time to get a leisurely cup of coffee before reporting fifteen minutes early to the FBI building.

Since he'd already gotten his ID and badge the day before, Tony was able to go through Security without a problem. A quick stop at the armory saw him issued his new service and backup ankle weapons, and Tony was a fully fledged FBI Agent by 0900!

Since A.D. Miller had clued Tony in to the big surprise, he made his way, not to the BAU, but to the bullpen next door. He then spent the morning helping to shift around desks, unpack boxes of files, and generally making himself useful.

For Tony, who had always prided himself on knowing people like security, maintenance, and the paperwork crunchers that made everything run behind the scenes, this morning was an excellent foot in the door. First, he had a chance to get to know the weekend security shift when he was being outfitted with his pass and temporary credentials yesterday, and this morning, he spent a few hours getting down and dirty with several personnel from maintenance, records, and IT as they set up the new bullpen. They were exactly the kind of contacts that Tony liked to make, and he was fairly certain his willingness to pitch in had won him a few new friends.

Now, though, his office was all set up, as were the Unit Chief's office and the team bullpen. Tony had also managed to go through the files of the current BAU to learn their names and faces, and about two thirds of the potential agent files, and already had a few he would suggest they pick up.

He'd especially be recommending Dr. Blake, to fill their brain trust quotient, if she could be pulled away from her classroom. Tony also liked the look of Stephen Walker, who had worked with Rossi and the others back when the BAU was still called the BAP. Hopefully his decades of experience would balance out Tony's inexperience. Of course, there were still a dozen files left, and he didn't have the final say, but Tony was ready to support his picks.

Tony was continuing to browse through the files, just waiting for A.D. Miller to show up, and then they'd head next door to the BAU right before lunch. Almost as though his thoughts had summoned the man, there was a knock on Tony's office door. Since his door was already propped open, it was a courtesy, and Tony smiled brightly at A.D. Miller. "Sir!"

"Settling in, DiNozzo?"

I've got to tell you, the wall color here is very soothing," Tony quipped. He knew from their talk yesterday that Miller had been to NCIS several times, and would know exactly what he was talking about.

"NCIS is an eyesore, isn't it?" Miller chuckled. "Always made me feel like Cinderella after midnight, squashed inside a pumpkin."

Tony laughed as well. "I tried to convince myself it was the inside of a basketball, Sir, for just that reason. I liked the metaphor much better."

"I'll try that the next time I've got to go see Leon. Which will probably be this week, given the stir you're causing." he winked.

"I'm not trying to cause any stirs, Sir, despite your best efforts to the contrary," Tony joked. Despite the jab, he was excited for today's announcement, and the ruckus it would cause at the BAU. It was definitely the good kind of stir, however, unlike what Tony was leaving behind at NCIS. Though Tony wasn't the direct cause of it, he was something of a precipitating event, and he was enjoying the anticipation of seeing the reaction on certain people's faces.

"On that note, shall we be off?" Miller asked.

"Of course, Sir," Tony slipped out from behind his desk, and followed Miller next door to the original BAU office. The team was between cases, which was why the Assistant Director wanted to meet with them before lunch, rather than risk them taking off before the big reveal.

Their entrance gathered quite a bit of notice, and Tony quickly caught Morgan's eye and gave him a small smile. Derek probably assumed that Tony was being introduced as their new teammate, but that wasn't the case. Well, not exactly.

"If I could have everyone's attention?" Miller called out. The team quickly gathered around, including the two who had been in their offices. Tony had been given basic files on each existing team member, so he was now able to put names and headshots to actual people. Unit Chief Hotchner and Media Liaison Jareau came out of their offices and stood at the railing. Derek, Dr. Reid, Agent Rossi — who had an office, as the Unit SFA, but who had been out with the team — and Agent Prentiss were clustered around the team desks.

A moment later, Garcia rushed in, followed by another blonde woman from Tony's many files. "I'm here! I'm here! I'm sorry I'm late, Sir, but I ran into Agent Seaver in the hall—" Garcia cut herself off with a small squeal and threw herself at Tony. "Tony! Derek said you were thinking of joining us here on the dark side! Are you coming in for an interview?"

A.D. Miller cleared his throat, and Garcia flushed and let go of Tony so quickly his head spun. "I am so sorry, Sir. Analyst Garcia, reporting, Sir." Tony gently grabbed her hand and dragged her to his side, so she wouldn't block everyone's view. Then he gave it a comforting squeeze, which she returned.

"Not a problem, Analyst Garcia," Miller said with a smile. Tony had been surprised to learn that he really had a sense of humor — most of the Brass at NCIS seemed to have traded theirs away for promotions long before Tony met them.

"Now, I have a bit of an announcement to make, which is why I gathered you all here together," Miller continued. "I have heard reports from more than one agent in this unit that there is more work than they can handle." As everyone bristled, he held up a staying hand.

"I don't mean that you aren't doing your jobs. But the best case scenario is that your team directly handles what, 50 cases a year? And as Agent Jareau has told me more than once, you get dozens of requests a week. Sometimes you are able to work up a written profile and forward it back to the requesting precinct or agency, but that isn't the case for every request, and it isn't always adequate. With this in mind, it has been decided to create a second unit under the crimes against adults Section, which will be known as Unit 4B."

That shifted everyone's perspective, and Tony could feel the anticipation building. Miller, though, was a natural, and knew how to keep them hanging. "For the time being, we will continue to have Agent Jareau as the press liaison for the team led by SSA Hotchner, but she will be picking and training a second agent to handle the other half of the load. After a short probationary period, it will be up to her and the second liaison agent to determine which of them will continue with SSA Hotchner, and which will transition fully to the new team. The same will be true of Analyst Garcia, who will train a second analyst and then have her pick of the two teams."

"That said, though I am not breaking up SSA Hotchner's team, I will be stealing one agent. SSA Morgan, since you did such a good job as the Unit Chief in SSA Hotchner's absence, the new team is yours." Miller paused for their reactions, and Tony finally stopped suppressing his huge smile. Miller had warned him yesterday that Morgan would be his new boss, and he couldn't be happier.

Tony also gave Garcia's hand another squeeze, knowing that she was now reviewing the offer to let her pick a team. Despite her closeness with all of the BAU members, she and Derek had a very unique friendship, and Tony actually had a side bet going with A.D. Miller about whether she would jump ship. Tony thought there was no way she could resist the double charm of himself and Derek, and would be theirs long before the two month deadline.

Once everyone had finished slapping the shell-shocked Morgan on the back, and the noise had died down a little, Miller continued. "You're not starting with a completely empty bullpen, SSA Morgan, and in fact your Senior Field Agent has spent the morning getting it ready for you."

"Tony?" Garcia gasped, clearly taking in Tony's megawatt grin and connecting the dots.

"I trust you won't give me half as hard a time as Gibbs did, Boss," Tony joked.

"Not even, man," Morgan said, grabbing his hand for a quick shake and backslap.

"For those who don't know, Agent Tony DiNozzo comes to us from the Major Case Response Team at NCIS," Miller continued. "He's been the Senior Field Agent of that team since its inception eight years ago, and was partnered with Special Agent LJ Gibbs for two years before that." Tony saw several reactions that meant the person knew who Gibbs was — notably from Jareau and Rossi — and he could tell that his bona fides impressed them.

"Before that, he spent six years with the police, four as a Detective," Miller continued. "He has a Master's in criminal psychology and is… one?" Tony nodded. "One semester away from completing his Doctorate in the same. What Tony lacks in profiling experience, he makes up for in undercover and paperwork experience, having done practically all of Gibbs's supervisory paperwork for years," Miller teased, though it was actually the truth.

"I'm not doing yours," Tony warned Derek with a smirk.

"Eh, we'll negotiate on that," he quickly joked back.

"Undercover? You're that DiNozzo?" Rossi interrupted.

"Probably," Tony grinned. "Which one are you thinking of?"

"The one who survived the Macaluso family?"

"Ah yes, Big Mike still sends me Christmas cards every year from prison," Tony confirmed sagely. "I have a standing offer to join La Famiglia any time I want to give up this lawman lark."

That got him more stares, but Rossi just grinned. "You may not officially have profiling experience the way the BAU thinks of it, but undercover agents do their own kind of profiling — you all can learn something from him." The last was directed with a wagging finger at his own agents, who were shifting from shock and amazement to impressment.

"Before I let you break for lunch and share the news," Miller brought them back on topic. "SSA Morgan, you will also be gaining Agent Seaver, who is returning to the BAU." Seaver, the blonde who had come in with Garcia, offered a half wave at everyone. "SSA Hotchner, you'll have one vacancy to fill, but SSA Morgan will have the priority, since he has two slots. Agent DiNozzo already has the files, and once he and SSA Morgan have made their choices, they will be passed on to you."

"I understand sir," Hotcher said formally.

"Agents Jareau and Garcia, personnel files will be waiting for you at your desks by the end of lunch, and I expect your choices by the end of the week. I presume that in the course of training, you'll both be switching between the two teams, and I'll expect your permanent placements to be decided in two months' time."

"Yes, sir," They both quickly replied.

"Then I think that's everything! Congratulations on your new positions, Morgan, DiNozzo." A.D. Miller quickly shook their hands, and then excused himself from the bullpen.

"Surprise!" Tony sheepishly said as soon as the doors were closed behind him.

Garcia immediately lobbed herself at him, talking a mile a minute. "Sweetie, I was so worried when Derek told me, and I wanted to call you, but I also didn't want to be pushy, and he warned me that you might be in meetings, or interviews, I guess, which it looks like you were! And I didn't want to come across as fishing for gossip, but I can't believe those jerks! And after what happened last month! I just, grrrr—"

"Garcia!" Tony cut her off, laughing. "I understand why you didn't call, and that's fine. My weekend was a little crazy, and yes, I spent yesterday afternoon pretty busy. Those jerks don't deserve your time, but I'll always be happy to gossip with you, O Font of Wisdom. And I've promised not to pressure you, but I'm pleased that I'm going to get to liaise with you, at least for the first two months, Darlin'."

"Oh Hot Stuff, you can liaise with me any time," she purred, her anxiety for him melting away.

"Great, now there's two of him," Agent Prentiss groaned, gesturing at Derek.

That set all of them off laughing, and it was quickly decided that they would troop next door to check out Morgan's new digs before going out to lunch together. Seaver was also welcomed back, and Tony remembered from her file that she had spent time in the Unit a year ago, though she had most recently been in the Domestic Trafficking Unit.

Tony suspected that Miller was trying to stack the deck a little in his favor, since Tony had no official profiling training, but was being handed the SFA job. Having an agent below him who was experienced with the way the BAU ran could only help him, even if she was still a junior agent and not a supervisory — FBI for senior — one.

Tony ended up sitting between Garcia and Rossi at lunch, and the latter grilled him about his days in Philadelphia, while Prentiss eagerly listened in. It turned out that Rossi had actually interviewed Mike Macaluso for one of his books that included a chapter on the mafia mindset as it related to hitmen and serial killers.

Prentiss, on the other hand, had undercover experience, including, if he was reading their allusions and hints correctly, a big deep cover stint recently, on par with his assignment with Jeanne, that had created a similar rift between her and the team.

Tony made a mental note to find the time to talk to her about it soon, and compare details. Tony wasn't sure how helpful his coping strategies would be, since his relationship with his team had just blown up in his face, but if nothing else he could probably serve as an excellent warning of what not to do.

Morgan was on Garcia's other side, deep in conversation with Hotchner, on the end, and Jareau, and Tony assumed that was focused on his leaving the team, which he hadn't known about in advance. Whether Morgan was reassuring them of that fact — that he hadn't been hiding his intention to leave or something — or just getting advice and coordinating the double liaison and analyst positions, Tony wasn't sure. Possibly both.

Seaver and Reid were across from Garcia, and the veterans seemed to be catching up with the junior agent, from what Tony overheard.

All told, it was a very pleasant lunch, and Tony thought it was an auspicious start to his first day at the BAU. He'd made some good connections that morning, and some more at lunch, and so far no one had seemed especially inclined to object to his presence or qualifications. He'd even somehow earned Rossi's stamp of approval, which was an incredible boon.

Garcia had apparently taken it upon herself to fill most of his free hours, his first week at the BAU. The first step was apartment hunting, as she somehow knew that Tony had moved it to his highest priority. When they were sent home at five his first day, Tony found Garcia waiting in his office doorway.

"Okay, so I called my friend Shelley at NCIS dispatch, and she says that Gibbs and his team got a case this morning. So then she texted her friend Gina, who confirmed it, and added that Gibbs just started interrogating his suspect. According to the lovely Gina, McGee and David are both in observation, and are making bets about how many hours this will take, because apparently this bad guy is like the epitome of unflappable."

"And another friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, pulled up the video feed in Scuito's lab, and said that she's neck deep in evidence bags. Which means, my poor bedraggled baby, that it should be safe to return to your apartment and fetch some more of your things," she declared.

"Someday I will figure out how you know these things," Tony said, shaking his head in awe. He hadn't told anyone that he had finished out the weekend in a hotel, unless Garcia had lifted his wallet and found the keycard. Automatically, Tony's hand moved for his pocket, before he reminded himself that, unlike Ziva, Garcia didn't know how to pick pockets.

"I'm magic, of course," Garcia replied with a wide smile. "Also, while you were meeting with Derek and JJ this afternoon, a very yummy police officer named Kurt stopped by with an incident report for you, which we put in your inbox. He told me all about your late night visitor."

Tony glanced at his inbox tray, which had been growing steadily all day, and couldn't even hope to guess where exactly that report would be in the stack. "I'm sure I'll find it eventually," he sighed.

Garcia giggled. "Hunky Kurt also said to tell you that they'll be keeping an eye on the place tonight, and they also made a point of sincerely thanking the concerned citizens who called the previous nights when they went back to get statements today. He said he wouldn't be surprised if they jumped to call at the first sign of Gibbs the next time."

Tony sighed again. That was both exactly what Gibbs deserved and also so not what Tony needed in his attempt to make a quiet exit from NCIS. But at least between Kurt's actions and Garcia's gossip chain, he was fairly certain that he could go pick up some supplies for the week, and also that Gibbs wouldn't make it inside his apartment scott free again. "Alright, I'm convinced. Let's go pack me up a bag for the week before anyone wises up."

Tony and Garcia had successfully completed their operation, with four minor detours to chat with concerned neighbors. Angie, the single mother in the unit beneath Tony's, actually caught him in the parking lot to express her concern; she was the first to wave off his apologies and tell him that she had always felt safer with a federal agent in the building. She wasn't the last, as Shelia — one of the newlyweds from down the hall — caught him in the elevator and said most of the same things.

Old Mrs. Tanaka, as Tony expected, had her door opened almost before he got out of the elevator, eager to check on him. Garcia was quite happy to be regaled with stories about Mrs. Tanaka's late husband, her nephew the police officer, their various neighbors, and Tony himself, while Tony puttered around his living room picking out movies to take with him.

His open door was apparently an invitation, because he came out of his bedroom with a suitcase full of clothes for work only to find that Mr. Ramirez, his elderly neighbor from the apartment across the way, had joined Garcia and Mrs. Tanaka. Tony had again thanked them for their vigilance, and assured them that Gibbs wasn't a criminal, just a federal agent with an overinflated ego who didn't want Tony to quit his job.

He also warned them that Gibbs was likely to try again, and urged them to call the police instead of confronting him themselves. The last thing Tony needed was for one of them to get into a shouting match with Gibbs and get themselves into trouble on Tony's behalf!

Finally, Tony had everything he could possibly need for a week and a half — just in case — and he and Garcia were able to make their escape.

The next day at lunch, which came with another visit from Kurt and a second police report, Garcia delivered to Tony a stack of listings for apartments and condos. In the end, though, it was Booth — who popped into his office at lunch on his third day, just as Tony was debating installing a revolving door — who provided him with the best option.

Tony's new apartment was two floors above Booth and Parker's, and laid out in the same way. It was also a two bedroom unit, which meant that Tony had a space for his baby grand piano, and the modern elevator was large enough to fit his baby without having to crane her through a window or something.

The parking area, as he had seen, was underground and restricted, perfect for protecting Tony's other baby — his Camaro. After what had happened to his Corvette and his Mustang, he was justifiably paranoid about that kind of thing. Booth had already done all the research into security and safety before allowing Parker there, and Tony trusted his opinion on that front.

But what really sold Tony was the updated kitchen. He loved to cook, though he had had less and less time for it while working for Gibbs. Just as with everything else, Tony's diet and his exercise regime had slipped away under Gibbs's demands for more of his time.

After seeing the large kitchen and all of the counter space, Tony had fallen in love with his new apartment, and signed a lease before the end of the week. With Gibbs' team on call the next weekend, Tony was free to shanghai Balboa, Cassie, Tina, Booth, Morgan, and Garcia to come help him pack up his old apartment and move everything to the new one. Jimmy was excused when Dispatch called them out at the crack of dawn, but Breena came after her shift bearing lunch for everyone.

With so many hands, they were done packing and loading the truck by four, and, with the exception of the piano, had everything shifted into his new apartment by six. Tony had already arranged to take Monday morning off to coordinate with the piano movers, and he knew he would be unpacking for weeks, but escaping from the looming burden of Gibbs' regular visits was like a weight lifting off his chest. It was hard to believe that his life had changed so much in just two weeks!

It didn't take long for the scuttlebutt to flow in the other direction, though Tony thought that his slight reprieve was due to how many people supported his escape from NCIS, and had no desire to be the one who sold him out to Gibbs. Still, his third Tuesday at the BAU, just a few days after he moved into his new apartment, and the day after the piano movers had finished him off, Tony received a call from Security in his office. They alerted him that a Special Agent Gibbs from NCIS was there to see him, but hadn't been cleared in advance.

Tony took great delight in telling Mark with Security that there must be some mistake, as Agent Fornell was the NCIS liaison, and then hanging up. He knew he'd pay for his snark when Gibbs finally browbeat someone — probably Fornell — into letting him inside, but it gave Tony time to warn Morgan and the rest of their fledgling team what was headed their way. Tony knew that the soundproofing on his office wouldn't be able to withstand a furious Gibbs, and he wanted to give them a heads up that he would be fine before anyone panicked.

Derek just gave him a look and said, "I'd like to see you stop me from sitting in on that meeting."

Tony sighed and gave in graciously; he didn't mind having a witness present, though he had no illusions that Morgan's presence would cool Gibbs' temper at all.

Barely half an hour later, hurricane Gibbs blew into the Unit, Fornell trailing along behind him with a mixture of amusement and apology in his expression. When Tony refused Gibbs's initial demands for Fornell and Derek to leave, Gibbs finally got up in his face, leaning across his desk.

"You're still mine, DiNozzo! You don't get to quit until I say you can!" he growled.

"That's not how it works in the real world, Gibbs," Tony said evenly. "You aren't my father, and I'm not a teenager living under your roof. I'm the only one who decides when I quit a job."

Gibbs reeled back at the word 'father,' and then came back swinging. "Never figured you for a quitter, DiNozzo."

"Funnily enough, 'quit' isn't a dirty word in the professional world. This isn't little league T-ball, Gibbs: I didn't give up before completing my turn. The FBI made me a better offer than NCIS, and I took it. Incidentally, Gibbs, quitting is something you might want to do, at least when it comes to breaking and entering." Tony picked up the folder he'd prepared with copies of each of the police reports for his old apartment and handed it to Gibbs. Gibbs glanced at the first page, then scowled and threw it back down on the desk.

"I thought you would have gotten the message by now, and you're just lucky I didn't decide to press charges," Tony informed him. "There have been plenty of witnesses willing to testify if I did. And, in case you didn't pay attention the last time you illegally entered it, I've completely moved out of that apartment. I'd suggest you 'quit' your little night time excursions over there, before a new tenant moves in who isn't quite so forgiving of someone breaking down their door at oh-dark-thirty."

"I was trying to have an adult conversation with you," Gibbs snarled. "Didn't figure you for one to sneak out in the middle of the night like a coward."

"As it happens, I moved during perfectly normal daylight hours, just as most people do," Tony said, deliberately misinterpreting the slur. "And I wouldn't have needed to move at all if you, David, or Scuito understood the meaning of the word 'boundary,'" he added sharply.

"Out of curiosity, did either of them report to Daddy dearest that they have their own police reports in that file?" he asked in a sickly sweet tone. "Because they do. I believe my landlord is talking about having to replace the door, due to repeated lockpick damage, you ripping the deadbolt out of the frame, and someone making several platform-boot-high dents in it. I'm tempted to send the bill to NCIS, though Metro tells me he's thinking of suing for damages?"

Gibbs had a good poker face, but Tony had spent years studying him, and the small swallow was a tell. Apparently Tony's former landlord had access to some excellent lawyers — or someone had helped him — and Gibbs had already been served with papers regarding the damages. Excellent.

"Any other points you'd like to raise?" Tony taunted.

"I didn't take you for one to leave someone else to clean up his messes," Gibbs immediately growled.

"I already told you, Gibbs, it wasn't my mess to clean up," Tony said with exaggerated patience. He'd said that during their phone call in the park, that first Sunday. "You should be talking to McGee and Scuito if you want the perpetrators."

"One bad day and you went running to hide behind Fornell's skirts?" Gibbs sneered. Fornell just rolled his eyes mildly at the insult. "Calling down HR and IA on everyone? You call that not a mess? Or are you going to claim you had nothing to do with it?"

Tony had been preparing for this conversation for two weeks, and indulging in the occasional fantasy version for several years. And now, finally, he had been given the perfect set up for something that had been pissing him off for almost half a decade. Tony didn't bother to hide his smirk, knowing it had a sharp edge. "IA and HR both contacted me after several other people reported what your precious team did. Again, I didn't start this."

He took a deep breath and then calmly delivered the coup de grace. "And, if you really want to talk running away, Gibbs, I'll point out that ten minutes across town to the Hoover building is a hell of a lot closer than Mexico."

Gibbs jerked back as sharply as if Tony had hit him, and Derek and Fornell both looked shocked. Tony's smirk deepened as he pressed his advantage. "You wanna compare me, here in DC, still answering my NCIS email, to you, leaving the damn country, without even a phone number we could call in emergencies and just a vague idea of your location?"

"You really wanna compare us, Gibbs? How about me going over to your house to collect your mail, calling the utility company to explain why I needed them to transfer their automatic payments to my credit card, and tossing out the food you left in the fridge to spoil? Compare that to a dozen 911 calls, B & E charges, and damages to my door and tell me who left a fucking mess behind, Gibbs."

"Oh, and if you were thinking of complaining that I didn't give two weeks notice, I had three months of vacation and sick days saved up because you can't take a fucking weekend off. I was able to trade in my two weeks from that, and still get a substantial amount paid into my last paycheck from the other two and a half months."

"Compare that to Vance sending me Afloat without even 24 hours notice, or you bringing me back to DC from the Seahawk with barely fifteen minutes notice. I know for a fact that HR had a TAD replacement for me in a day when Vance booted me out, while it took Jenny over a week to give me a probie after you walked off the job without notice. If you wanna compare, that is."

Gibbs was getting angrier by the word, and Tony had known him long enough to know that at least part of that rage was because Gibbs couldn't refute a word that Tony said. More than anything else, Gibbs hated to be wrong. And he was really, really gonna hate what Tony had coming.

"I could make a list, Gibbs, starting with Rule 1: Never screw over your partner, and then 5: Don't waste good, and then scroll through a handful of others. But really, there's just one that covers all that needs to be said. Rule 51, Gibbs. I'm done with you ignoring it at my expense. Don't let the door hit you on your way out."

Tony had taken a bit of the wind out of Gibbs's sails, and Fornell took the opportunity to begin tugging him towards the door. As it opened, Tony saw two beefy security guards waiting, and a glance at Derek told him who had put them on call. Before Gibbs could start yelling and make them earn their keep, Tony called after him.

"Oh, and whatever McGee or Abby are planning to do to me, or my credit score, or my fake dating profile, or whatever the hell she's decided I deserve as punishment for being my own person… you might want to warn them off. I know someone a hell of a lot better at that game than them, and they won't get away with it. If you could actually get through to them first, Gibbs, they could save themselves the time and hassle of federal charges for their highly illegal vengeance. Just a suggestion."

Tony had already told Garcia about the gay cowboy photoshop job, and the time he was declared dead, and the fake dating profile, and a dozen other things that Abby had threatened to do with her hacking skills over the years. Garcia had assured him that she was on top of things, and had set up her own program protecting all of his digital footprint that she could. If Abby or McGee went after him, Garcia could catch them in the act and get proof of them abusing their positions.

Combined with the two of them spreading that video and outing him in the bullpen, and the pending complaints regarding his apartment, any judge would see the pattern of harassment. Tony's frat buddy — Jake the lawyer — already had restraining orders drawn up, awaiting Tony's signature. He hadn't decided if he wanted to file them just yet, but after today he thought it would be a good idea.

Derek firmly shut the door to Tony's office just as the yelling began. Ignoring it, Derek retook his seat beside the desk and cocked an eyebrow. "So, I've gotta ask…"

"Rule 51: Sometimes Gibbs is wrong" Tony immediately replied.

"More often than not," Garcia's voice suddenly piped up.

"Baby Girl?" Derek looked around in confusion.

Tony pointed at his desk phone, and the speaker light he had noticed flick on just before the meeting. "Big Sister's been keeping an ear on us, a la 1984," he teased.

"Aw, you say the nicest things, Sugar," Garcia cooed. "But it's also so cute that you think I've only been listening in."

"I stand corrected, Big Brother only wishes he had the kind of power that our Technical Goddess commands," Tony joked, briefly wondering if she was using the security cameras, his computer's webcam, or both.

Probably both, he decided, doing his best to distance his mind from the faint yelling he could still hear. Clearly Security hadn't managed to get Gibbs out of the bullpen yet, and Tony could only hope that Seaver and Blake had chosen to be elsewhere right now. He hated that his time at NCIS was ending on this note, but at other moments he didn't see how it could have gone any other way.

Chapter Text

Tony finished rolling out the pasta dough and began cutting it into long, thin sheets. Once he had a stack of them, he would use his gnocchi board to shape the edges before blanching them. It was a familiar, repetitive task that allowed his mind to wander.

It had been six months since his life at NCIS blew up, and honestly he couldn't be happier. Tony had been warmly welcomed at the FBI, and in particular at the BAU. Good natured joking about stealing their agents aside, Hotch's 4A Unit were all friendly with Tony and the other newcomers in 4B. David Rossi had even taken Tony under his wing, SFA to SFA, for the first month as he got a handle on the differences in paperwork between NCIS and the FBI.

Tony found that having a supervisor who had been a cop himself also did wonders for his self esteem. Ten years at NCIS, where Gibbs treated Metro and other agencies like the enemy, and where people like Ziva and McGee made their opinions clear about people who were "just" cops, had been harder than Tony realized until he was free of them.

Even Kate tended to discount his past, acting like her five years with the Secret Service made her better than him, since he had only been at NCIS for two years — as though he hadn't been a police officer and Detective for the six years before that!

Morgan was proud of his police past, and working as his second reminded Tony of his own pride in his position before NCIS. It also helped that JJ's husband was a detective with Metro, and both teams respected him and his partner Jodi as well. Will and Jodi both played at Tony's Y, and recognized him, though he had never had full names to put to the faces before. Will even knew Booth, as he and JJ had a son a few years younger than Parker and they had all met at some FBI family events.

Other than his initial help with the paperwork, Dave never treated Tony as anything less than an equal, counting his combined sixteen years experience as though they had all been earned at the BAU. Tony quickly discovered that Dave was right to think of undercover work as another kind of profiling, and that Tony wasn't as far behind the others as he had feared he would be.

Prentiss and Tony shared many an undercover story over drinks, and Tony had guessed right that the team was feeling a little fractured after her last op. Reid — the person he thought he would have the least in common with — actually declared it easier to talk to Tony about his problems with Prentiss, since he was a neutral party who understood both sides of the issue. Tony had no problem with that, provided he could also pick Reid's brain about some of the papers he had written that Tony had studied for class.

Being surrounded by profilers and living the subject, Tony found his last semester the easiest he had taken, though it also helped that he had more time to devote to it, and wasn't cramming in study sessions in five minute increments at work. Reid even volunteered to proofread his thesis for him when Tony wrote it.

It was — with Dave's encouragement — a treatise on the similarities and differences between the kind of profiling the BAU did and the kind that undercover agents did. To Tony's surprise, since it had taken him so long to complete his classwork while at NCIS, his thesis had come easily, and he was already almost halfway finished writing it.

JJ had also quickly become a friend. Unlike Dave, who knew Gibbs first as a Marine, and then as an agent at their respective infant agencies, JJ had a very different impression of him. As the Unit's media liaison, she did all the things that Tony had done for Gibbs — coordinating with locals and sibling agencies, tempering his blunt edges, and keeping him from burning bridges.

Tony always made a point of avoiding the cameras — it was impossible to go undercover when your face, sandwiched between an NCIS windbreaker and ball cap, was plastered all over the news — but the rest of her job was very similar to what he had been doing.

JJ had heard several horror stories about Gibbs' inability to play nice, and had also seen the few clips floating around of him going off on an annoying member of the press. Without even trying to, Tony found that he had all of JJ's sympathy for what he'd put up with for the last decade.

They also had a few contacts in common, both locally, and from times that the BAU team had gone to Peoria, Baltimore, or Philly. They also, oddly enough, had a common contact in Texas, where one of Tony's old Sergeants had moved.

SSA Hotchner and the new agent — Markham — were the only two that Tony didn't grow close to. Though he did have permission to call the former Hotch, the Unit Chief was reserved by nature, and busy training replacements, so their lack of connection was natural, and something Tony didn't mind at all. Markham was new, trying to find his footing with his own team, and had no time for anyone else. Tony figured that in a year or so they'd probably finally connect at one of the bi-Unit get-togethers, and he was fine with waiting it out.

Derek had been on the same page as Tony, regarding the new agents to fill out their team, and Dr. Blake and Stephen Walker had both accepted their offers. Just like Dave, neither of them were inclined to discount Tony's years at other agencies, and Walker also had experienced the Gibbs effect in the past. Blake had been out of the field for a while, while Seaver was still fresh out of training, so they had a wide mix of experiences that balanced well.

As Tony had known, Derek was a natural leader, and took to the big chair with relative ease. Despite his teasing, he didn't foist his paperwork off on Tony, though it became a running joke in their bullpen. Derek also managed to walk the line of being the boss in the office, but remaining friends with Tony and the others off the clock without the standoffishness that Hotch projected — Tony suspected Garcia was somehow behind that, though he wasn't sure if she was the one prodding Derek to be more boss-like, or more relaxed. Maybe both.

Derek had also privately confessed, a few weeks in, that he was relieved to have such an experienced SFA like Tony, who was able to keep the team humming along without needing him to hover. Having taken over Hotch's readymade team in his prior stint as Lead, Derek hadn't had to build a crew from the ground up before, and recognized the ways that Tony made his job easier. Derek even said straight out that if it wasn't for the fact he'd never worked as a profiler before, Tony easily could have taken the Team Lead position.

For Tony, who sometimes wondered if Gibbs had forgotten a lot more about Tony's workload than he let on after that explosion, Derek's gratitude was like a soothing balm for the Marine-issued bruise on his ego. Tony also confessed that Miller had offered him the Section Chief position, but that he'd wanted to stay in the field. With everything said between them, and the way their skills complemented each other, Tony and Derek gelled nicely as the Unit's leaders after that.

The one thing Morgan and Tony didn't have to worry about was training a new technical analyst. Tony had easily won his bet with A.D. Miller, as Garcia had jumped ship to be with her 'Chocolate and Vanilla Thunders.' She and Tony had a standing movie date, whenever the team was in town and something new hit the theaters. Fortunately Hotch's new technical analyst, Kevin Lynch, had assisted Garcia in the past, so he wasn't a complete stranger to the teams.

JJ, however, had stuck with Hotch, which Tony anticipated after their first week together. Agent Paul — "Mags" — MacGinne was her pick for Morgan and Tony's team, and he was a brilliant fit. A former firefighter wounded at the Pentagon on 9/11, Mags had switched to the less physical communications division at the Bureau. His partner — Brent — was still with DC fire, and knew Tony and the rest of the MCRT.

A few weeks in, both teams had gone out for drinks one evening — spouses included — at the BAU's usual bar and Brent and Tony had reminisced together about old cases. Brent was one of the firefighters who had been on the scene when Tony's beloved Mustang was blown up, and commiserated with him about it's loss. It quickly became clear that Brent had also regaled Mags with plenty of war stories about dealing with Gibbs, and unfortunately also about the blow up that led to Tony leaving NCIS.

Not that there wasn't plenty of that going around anyways.

Garcia and Kevin had seen the tapes — both the original from interrogation and the bullpen feed of the aftermath — and Tony suspected that at least Derek, if not the rest of the two teams, had quickly been shown them as well.

He had become resigned to just about everybody knowing after the first few weeks, and he reasoned that if they saw the tapes, at least they were getting the truth and not one of the many wild rumors that Tony had been privy to. It was amazing what people at the FBI would say around him when they didn't know the face of the person they were gossiping about.

After the initial blow up with Gibbs, Tony had been mostly left alone by his former coworkers. He had been forced to use the restraining orders against Abby and Gibbs, after Garcia caught the former trying to add him to government watchlists, and the latter returned to the FBI to yell at Tony for reporting her.

A few months in, Tony made an offhand remark about being pleasantly surprised that Abby hadn't tracked down his new lease to yell at him in person. At that point, Garcia admitted to doing a little ever-so-slightly-illegal covering of his tracks, inspired by Witsec's playbook, of all things. Tony couldn't bring himself to be mad, especially when it meant avoiding a scene at his home like the ones he had dealt with at work.

McGee seemed content to ignore Tony's existence now, which was fine by him. Though, Tony would admit to a little schadenfreude when his various spies at NCIS had gleefully reported that McGee had only lasted as Gibbs's probationary SFA for five weeks before being demoted and replaced. His experience as Tony's SFA during Gibbs' Mexican siesta, — wherein he refused to do most of the paperwork and had repeatedly left early instead of staying late to get everything done — had not fully prepared him for the demands that Gibbs placed on his second.

After the first calendar month ended, it had taken less than a week for the various departments to contact Gibbs about the missing and incomplete paperwork. Tony had given him a head start, completing everything up to the day he left, but McGee hadn't finished anything after that date. After two weeks of pulling teeth as Gibbs tried to get McGee to do his work, the demotion wasn't even a surprise to anyone but McGoo.

According to his same spies, Ziva had dismissed Tony as a 'sore sport' for leaving, and then boasted about being the obvious choice to replace him as SFA. When Gibbs hadn't even considered her for the role, she had thrown a temper tantrum that resulted in him benching her for a week.

The new SFA, when he was brought in, had immediately called Gibbs on the amount of SSA paperwork that he had pawned off on Tony, and put his foot down, refusing to do it. Gibbs had 'fired' three SFAs in as many weeks before Vance finally put his foot down and told Gibbs to do his own damn paperwork.

Eventually, Gibbs had been forced to attend a refresher course on the SSA's paperwork, since he literally could no longer remember how to do most of his work that Tony had been handling. Whether that was a factor of the temporary memory loss he had suffered several years back, or just a product of time and willful ignorance, Tony didn't know.

When both Gibbs and Vance had attempted to blame the situation on Tony for doing the work in the first place, Delores had lost her cool and blown up at them loud enough for her entire department to hear. Tony had especially appreciated her acidic observation that it took a special kind of twisted thinking to force anything on a subordinate — be it extra work or physical abuse — and then blame the subordinate for accepting the situation out of self preservation.

Hearing all of the accusations and historical revisionism that had sprung up in his wake, Tony was even more glad to be out of that unhealthy environment and far away from his toxic former team. Gene Huntley with IA and Delores Bromstead had kept him apprised of the investigation and resultant disciplinary actions, and in turn Tony had copied them on everything that was happening with Metro and the various legal actions coming from Tony and his former landlord.

Unfortunately, Vance seemed to be deliberately obtuse about the incident, and highly displeased that Tony had jumped ship to the FBI — despite being on record as saying he wanted Tony gone from NCIS and not caring how. He was perfectly willing to blame Tony for everything in his absence.

In the end, though, IA found both Abby and McGee in the wrong for their actions that night, and Abby, Ziva, and Gibbs in the wrong for their various harassment of Tony after the fact. Despite that, Vance had elected to let them all go with a slap on the wrist and a single warning in each of their files. Infuriated, Gene and Delores — who Tony was coming to adore — had taken the entire thing up the chain to the SecNav.

After reviewing everything that had happened, and then interviewing Gene, Delores, Fornell and Tony, the SecNav came down on NCIS like a ton of bricks. Abby and McGee were sent to retraining at FLETC for the protocol breaches, and assigned a month's worth of HR retraining for the sensitivity and outing issues.

Ziva was docked a month's pay for "bringing NCIS into disrepute" thanks to her police report earned by breaking into Tony's old apartment. Abby and Gibbs earned the same, with the latter being docked three months' pay thanks to his repeated attempts and the scenes he made at the FBI.

According to Jimmy, who overheard Gibbs complaining to Ducky, Gibbs had also been threatened with firing or forced retirement if he didn't obey the restraining order Tony had taken out. Abby hadn't bothered to do her bitching in the semi-private of Autopsy or Forensics, but had stormed from Vance's office down into the bullpen to complain to Gibbs that she'd been reprimanded for abusing NCIS resources in her attempts to track, hack, and otherwise punish Tony.

From what Rocky overheard, she was having her work at NCIS reviewed to make sure she hadn't done anything else illegal, and her punishment would depend on the review. Since Tony already knew she had covered for Ziva and McGee during the Military at Home case, which he had shared with Gene and Delores, he knew that the review would not go in her favor.

From what Abby had wailed that day, she was looking at anything from probation to being fired, depending on how the review went. Tony tried to feel sympathetic towards her plight, but since she had brought it all on herself with her own actions, he couldn't bring himself to feel too badly.

Tony was also of the opinion that if she'd faced consequences for her actions more frequently, she wouldn't have developed the mindset that she could do whatever she wanted, scott free, when things didn't go her way. Like Gibbs, she wanted everything to happen on her terms, not Tony's, and she had somehow reached this point in life thinking it was her right to enforce her ideals on others, free will or legalities be damned.

With Abby's internal review due to finish up any day now, Tony had warned Garcia to prepare for another wave of cyber attacks against himself. Whether Abby escaped punishment and decided she was immune to retribution, or was harshly penalized and out for revenge, Tony had known her long enough to be wary either way.

With everything else in his life going so well, he didn't want to be dragged back into NCIS's cesspool again just when he was climbing free. In his darker, tired moments, Tony despaired that he would never be able to lower his guard, always worried about a proverbial cyber knife in the back from Abby, or even a real one from Ziva or Gibbs.

Despite having found a job he enjoyed in the BAU, in a field that rekindled his love for law enforcement, with people who respected his abilities, Tony occasionally feared he would never be truly free of NCIS.

On those days, he did his best to remind himself that his life was different — he'd play his piano or guitar, cook in his airy kitchen, or hang out with Derek, Garcia, or Booth. He still played poker with the NCIS gang, though they had expanded their roster to include several of his new FBI peers.

And as the months passed, Tony was able to listen to Jimmy share some incident that happened in the field, or Cassie or Rocky relate something from the bullpen — usually Gibbs making his newest SFA cry and quit — without Tony feeling guilty or embarrassed. He was able to laugh about the insanity he had left behind, instead of feeling that he should still be there, running interference or taking the hit.

Although, hearing about what had happened the first time Gibbs attempted to headslap his first new SFA — a brawny former SWAT officer built like a brick house who had come out of the Norfolk office — Tony couldn't suppress his smirk. Hearing that Mulligan had caught Gibbs' wrist within seconds and twisted it behind his back before threatening to arrest him for assault was glorious.

Tony felt only slightly bad when he asked Garcia to hunt down the video, and was completely unsurprised that she already had the file at hand. Tony also suspected that someone had warned Mulligan in advance, but if so, it could have been any one of a dozen people, so he didn't press to figure out who.

It was a pity that Mulligan had only lasted two weeks with Gibbs before getting fed up and accepting a transfer after the paperwork showdown. According to Rocky, Gibbs had gone through eight SFAs in the last six months, not counting McGee. On his more vindictive days, Tony wondered if Vance hadn't finally found a new appreciation for what Tony brought to the team: the ability to put up with Gibbs. Those days were fewer and further between now; Tony was finding it easier to distance himself from NCIS as time went by.

Tony's finished the last noodle, and he quickly brought the heat back to high under his pot of water. This was his third batch of noodles today — he was taking advantage of the weekend off and stocking up — and he was soon ready to blanche the lasagna sheets.

Having a whole weekend off was still a novelty to Tony, even after six months. The pace was different at the BAU, compared to anywhere else he'd worked. When they traveled, they were immersed in the case, but not to the exclusion of all else. Early on, Morgan had put Mags in charge of the team's meals. Since he already handled their work accommodations and lodging, it was an easy addition.

He'd either been warned, or had a very prescient guess, that Tony would not be the best at those things. And it was true; Tony had long since learned to ignore hunger pains and the punchiness that came with your twenty-fourth hour awake. Gibbs sure as hell wasn't going to listen to his body's complaints, so why should Tony?

It only took about a week in the office, — during which Tony apparently worked through lunch three times and past when Morgan told everyone to go home twice — for JJ and Mags to jump to the conclusion that he needed a minder while at home as well.

It took their gentle prodding for Tony to realize just how much he had let NCIS overtake his life. Days like today when he could whip up some of his homemade sauces, make a few varieties of fresh pasta, or even set several soups on to steep before freezing them all for future lunches, had become exceedingly rare during his NCIS tenure. With his new schedule, though, Tony was frequently able to enjoy cooking in the gloriously spacious kitchen in his new apartment.

And now, after six months of mostly on time lunches and getting to leave the office at a reasonable hour, Tony was finally back in sync with his own body. Even when they were out on a case, Morgan and Mags made sure that everyone ate three meals a day at more-or-less the right times, and went back to the hotel at a reasonable hour.

They had also sneakily drawn Tony into watching movies or games with them, once back at the hotel, to help him shut the case out of his mind. Tony saw what they were doing immediately, but let them get away with it. It wasn't like he wanted to be as obsessive as Gibbs, he just needed a little help shutting it off and redrawing his own boundaries.

Garcia was definitely part of the conspiracy, and in fact he suspected her of masterminding it. Fortunately, it wasn't just him, as she seemed determined to take Seaver under her wing as well. Since Blake's husband was usually away, leaving her home alone, she was also roped into the shenanigans.

Garcia also instituted a team movie night at Tony's place, and when they didn't groan or complain at every bit of movie trivia he offered, he found himself enjoying watching movies with friends again. He was even talked into playing his piano and guitar for them, and it was refreshing to have his talent appreciated, instead of met with disbelief.

Unlike NCIS, where Abby constantly declared their family status at people, his BAU team actually felt like one, without needing to say the words. Perhaps not as close as the sibling and father relationship that Abby had cast, but family and friends nonetheless.

Tony quickly finished blanching the lasagna sheets and laid them out to dry beside the spaghetti and fusilli he had already made. He'd spent the morning two Saturday's back teaching Parker how to make farfalle bow ties and shells, and sent most of that — plus some stringozzi from the scraps — back home with him, but Tony had kept about a third of the batch for himself.

With the security in the building being so tight, Booth was fine with Parker coming up two floors to visit his Uncle Tony, as long as he called in advance to make sure Tony was home. Since Parker had turned ten shortly after Tony moved in, Booth had said it was a new privilege because of his age.

Tony's only relevant experience in that kind of thing was being sent to boarding school when he was eight, but that was more because of his mother's death than any kind of age-related maturity on his part. He might have counted the fact that his father took him on a few business trips during the summers, but that seemed more about being unable to leave him at home alone, rather than anything he had earned.

Tony wisely chose not to mention the part where he'd been left behind in Hawaii at twelve — everyone outside of Gibbs's team always got upset when he shared those kinds of childhood memories, and he was starting to redefine the MCRT as the outliers. Booth, especially, took his hints at childhood abuse pretty hard, and Tony quickly worked out that he was viewing Parker in Tony's place.

Between the incident with the Michaels making him reevaluate how he related to both Shane and Jake, and all the time he now spent with Booth and Parker, Tony was doing quite a bit of reframing things in his mind. With the exception of Gibbs' team, other people found his story about his Halloween costume upsetting, and Tony was starting to remember why, as his criminology studies and lessons at the Academy came back to him.

Truly, the odd things that Gibbs considered important or unimportant had warped Tony's own sense of right and wrong, and he was starting to straighten it out again. Genuine apologies were not the demons Gibbs made them out to be, and threatening to kill people with office supplies wasn't amusing.

Surprisingly, Parker was helping him with that, as Tony became less awkward around him with practice, and started comparing his own life at that age to Booth and Parker. One thing Parker had taken upon himself — and done a great job of — was catching Tony up on all of the animated and child-friendly movies that had come out recently, making up for all that he'd missed while busy at NCIS.

Parker was also very interested in learning how to cook — Tony suspected it was because, while Booth was decent in the kitchen, it wasn't his forte. Parker had already established that of the two, Tony made the better pasta, garlic bread, and pancakes, and wanted to learn his way of making things taste good. Since that was all a combination of spices and making things by hand, Tony was happy to share.

It brought back good memories of his Nona — the older, Italian, family cook who had taken him under her wing as a child — and Tony was pleased to pass down her family recipes to the next generation. Though he refrained from passing down her willingness to crack his backside with her wooden spoon when he didn't pay attention or made a mess.

Cooking was an inherently messy, distracting business, and Parker was very good about helping to clean up. Of course, he was also several years older than Tony had been, which might have made a difference. Tony didn't have a large enough sample size to figure out if Parker was an unusually thoughtful kid or if it was a ten year old thing. Perhaps he'd have a better picture once he spent more time around Walker, JJ, or Hotch's kids.

One advantage to their shared building and him seeing Parker so often was that Tony was becoming less awkward around him, and they were developing an actual friendship. Another advantage was it meant he was spending far more time around Booth than he had before.

Tony had known he was handsome, of course — he'd known that back when they first played a few games at the Y and didn't know each other's names. Between his desire to keep his bisexuality hidden, and the fiasco with Jeanne, Tony hadn't exactly been on the dating scene in a while. Even his one night stands had fallen off, as NCIS demanded more and more of his time.

Having Cassie literally raise the stakes last poker night with a bet that he had to ask Booth out if he lost had completely blindsided Tony. He didn't think his attraction had been that obvious, but then he was out of practice. Still, Booth had a kid, and Tony had no idea if he was even bisexual.

Cassie had given him a look like he was an idiot, and after a moment's thought Tony realized that she and Cam had grown up with Booth — of course they would know his orientation. And though he couldn't always say the same about Cam, Cassie wasn't the type to set Tony up to fail by, for example, betting him into asking out a straight guy.

In all honesty, Tony was just too pleased to be able to do things like hang out and play games with friends, or teach someone to cook, without constantly waiting for his phone to ring and drag him away. He hadn't even considered that he would have more time to date now. But once Cassie had put the thought into his head, he'd had trouble scrubbing it back out.

Tony finished bagging the new pasta in serving-sized ziplocks marked with the date, and tucked them into the freezer. His portion of the pasta from Parker's lesson was already there, alongside portions of Tony's homemade sauces. He had whipped up two giant pots of red and white sauce a few weeks back, and still had enough for several months to go.

Now, whenever he came home from a distant case, jetlagged and tired, all Tony had to do was grab a bag of salad and some bread from the small grocery store around the corner and he'd have a healthy, filling dinner ready in just ten minutes. Tony knew better than to keep a lot of fresh food around that would spoil while he spent a week across the country, but freezing his homemade food in advance was the perfect solution.

With the pasta finished, Tony checked on the two large pots of simmering soup (Italian wedding and minestrone). They were coming along fine, so he topped off the liquid and put the lids back on. Just as he finished cleaning up the counter, with the last of the dishes tucked into the dishwasher, Tony heard a knock on his door.

A glance at the clock showed that it was barely three — Tony had finished just in time. After checking the peephole, he quickly opened the door and found Booth and Parker there. "Hey guys, come on in," He said, backing out of the way. "Give me five minutes to change and then we can go."

As they made themselves comfortable in the living room, — Parker always loved examining his movie collection — Tony quickly hurried to his bedroom and pulled out a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top, quickly shucking his jeans and henley to change.

Since Tony wasn't on call this afternoon, he had agreed to go to the Y with Booth and Parker once the former got off work. Booth rarely worked the weekend shift, but Tony had stepped in and watched Parker for him twice in the last few months when he was on. Parker enjoyed watching them play sports and cheering them on, though some days he chose to do one of the youth classes offered by the Y instead.

Today was different though, because Tony had finally given into Cassie's prodding, and asked Booth out. It was very casual for a date — goofing off at the Y and then getting dinner — and in Tony's experience dates didn't usually involve one party's kids, but it was still officially a capital D Date. He couldn't play ball in a suit, so he couldn't hide behind his armani armor, but even that didn't dampen Tony's enthusiasm.

Shoving his feet into his sneakers and grabbing a sweatshirt for later, Tony quickly emerged from his room. "Ready to go!" he declared.

"Alright!" Parker grabbed his hand and started tugging him towards the door. "Can we ride in your car, Uncle Tony?"

Tony glanced at Booth, who shrugged in resignation. His Bureau-issued SUV was never going to compete with Tony's Camaro. "Alright, but you know your dad gets shotgun, right?" Tony warned him as he locked his apartment.

"I know," Parker rolled his eyes. "Can we put the top down, though?"

"Sure thing, buddy," Tony agreed easily. Really, this kid thing wasn't as hard as he'd always made it out to be! As Booth slipped his arm around Tony's waist while they walked, he did his best to tamp down on his excitement, but his stomach still gave a little flop. Tony couldn't believe how much better his life was, now that he'd left NCIS!

Chapter Text

Tony sat in the back of the courtroom, a little surprised that the rest of the NCIS gang wasn't there. Today was just the preliminary, however, and none of them were called to the stand until later in the week, so he probably shouldn't have been surprised. Of course, it also might have something to do with the prosecution trying to minimize their importance, but it was just as likely that they had a current case — Gibbs seemed determined that his team would always have a current case.

Since both Tony and Walker were in court this week, wrapping up their respective last cases from before they joined the unit, Derek had stood down the whole team. Blake took advantage of the break to schedule some seminars at her University, and Derek was using the time to do some one on one training with Seaver. Mags was spending a few days on paperwork, but had also mentioned something about giving a lecture at Quantico. From the way he and JJ were smirking, Tony decided he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the details.

Since he wasn't on the witness list until Wednesday, Tony intended to take this afternoon and Tuesday to catch up on paperwork in the office, but he had gotten permission from the prosecutor to attend the morning session today to lend his support. When the JAG Judge called the break for lunch, Tony stood at the end of the last row and waited for the prosecution team to file out.

Tony knew the moment that Shane Michaels saw him, because his eyes grew round with shock and recognition. "Hey there," Tony said awkwardly. He couldn't help but give Shane and his son Jake a professional once over, but neither looked like they were sporting any new injuries. A small knot in his stomach unclenched at that. He had known the case was proceeding, but that didn't always mean that things were alright.

"You're looking good," Tony finally said warmly. And it wasn't just the lack of bruises — Tony hadn't dealt much with Jake, but both of them looked happy, and Shane was standing taller, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It was a look Tony was getting used to seeing in his own mirror.

"We're staying on base," Shane offered quietly, and Tony nodded at the explanation. Security would be tighter there than at the off-base housing where the Michaels had lived together, and the MPs would be alerted any time Ethan signed in.

"I'm glad," Tony said — there wasn't much more he could say without sounding patronizing.

"Our lawyer said you're not with NCIS anymore?" Shane asked, and Tony could see the unseen question in his eyes.

Biting the bullet — this was why he'd come here today, after all — Tony smiled brightly, masking his unease at the topic. "Nope, I'm with the FBI now." He flipped out his new badge to show them. "I assume that your lawyer warned you that our conversation was shared?" Tony, himself, had been warned by the JAG lawyer during his trial prep, as they hadn't wanted him to be blindsided on the stand: he couldn't see Shane not knowing.

"He said it wouldn't affect the outcome?" Shane sounded uncertain.

"It shouldn't," Tony hurried to reassure him. Shane's expression cleared quickly. "It might not even come up, since the defense has to know that it won't change anything, but lawyers like to be prepared."

It actually could hurt them, of course, because anything that showed NCIS in an unprofessional light could call their evidence into question, but since it had all happened after Shane gave his statement, the prosecution should be able to minimize the damage. And what's done was done: there was no sense in Shane worrying about it now.

Tony cleared his throat and pushed those thoughts away. "Anyway, I bring it up because I have some very good friends who heard what happened and pointed out that I should listen to my own advice." He knew Shane would read between the lines. "So I did."

To his surprise, Shane sighed with what sounded like relief. Tony easily masked his confusion with long practice — why would Shane have been worried on his behalf? He had much larger problems to deal with! "I'm very glad to hear it, Agent DiNozzo," he said firmly.

That, Tony knew how to reply to. "Please, call me Tony. I told you the truth back then, you know. You were the brave one: I just followed in your footsteps."

"I might have been the one to make the first move, but I wouldn't have found that bravery without you sharing your own secret first," Shane protested.

Tony nodded, accepting that. "How about we say we both bravely inspired the other?" he suggested with a wide smile.

Shane smiled more brightly than Tony had seen before and held out his hand to shake. "Deal."