Work Text:
"Morrow's been talking to SecNav."
Gibbs paused his sanding and glanced to where Tony stood at the top of the basement stairs. The younger man appeared untroubled, his shoulders slouched and hands casually jammed into expensive trouser pockets, and Gibbs sighed before dropping the sander onto the table and turning to reach for two nail jars and the bourbon.
Tony started down and sat in his usual place, the third stair from the bottom, and graciously accepted the drink when it was offered to him. Gibbs returned to the far side of the basement and leaned against the workbench, his gaze unreadable as he watched Tony. Tony finished his drink in silence and stood in one fluid motion, crossing the room to stand beside Gibbs, his stomach pressed against the edge of the worktable.
"You know how I know that Morrow's been talking to SecNav?"
Gibbs didn't answer and Tony refilled his jar, keeping his gaze away from the older agent.
"There's only three people that you gossip with, Boss. Ducky wouldn't kiss and tell, and Fornell isn't invited to the poker games."
Gibbs tipped his head in acknowledgement and held his empty jar out. The bottle clinked against the mason jar's rim before liquid splashed into the make-shift cup. Tony's shoulder bumped into the other man's as he turned to lean against the countertop, and he sipped his drink while looking over the half-finished boat.
"She's looking good."
The compliment was genuine and Gibbs nodded in quiet acceptance, content to let Tony talk.
Tony crossed over to the skeleton and ran his hand over the sanded planks, tapping his middle finger where the name would be painted when Gibbs finished. "What's the name gonna be?"
"Dunno yet."
Tony nodded and took another sip of his bourbon. "Can I have it?"
Gibbs' gaze sharpened and he stared at Tony's back for several long moments. "No."
The younger man nodded again and it made Gibbs sigh once more and sit his jar on the counter. He reached over and picked up a tool, passing it from hand to hand as he stepped forward beside the other male, and in one smooth motion brought the small sledge hammer down. The wooden planks gave way under the violent pressure, and they splintered and cracked the frames they were attached to as they bent inwards.
"Jesus!" Tony shouted as he jumped back from the boat and Gibbs. "What the hell, Gibbs?!"
Gibbs didn't answer as he continued to pound away at the incomplete boat, systematically breaking it apart. When most of the frame was damaged beyond use, he dropped the hammer onto the workbench and finished his drink, Tony staring at him in blatant incredulity.
"Again," Tony said slowly. "What the hell?"
Gibbs shrugged, unconcerned with the destruction of months of hard wood-work. He leaned back against the work bench again and pointed a finger at the mangled pile of wood, careful not to slosh his bourbon. "Started that the night we got back from Israel."
Understanding stiffened Tony's frame momentarily before the Italian nodded and moved to stand beside Gibbs again in silent support. He was quiet, content to let the silence last if that was what Gibbs needed, and not for the first time Gibbs was grateful for the younger man.
"Ziva stayed and I started a new boat. She was dead, then she wasn't, then we rescued her and the whole mess with Hernandez blew up. I put all that in the boat." Gibbs was quiet for a long moment, Tony motionless beside him. "I'm not gonna give you something that's full of that."
He felt the pleasure radiating from the other agent and internally nodded at a job well done. The necessaries for a custom design began running through his mind, and Gibbs mentally inventoried the needed supplies.
"Never made a boat with someone in mind before. The only one that survived went to Franks, and that was an after-thought. Might be interesting."
"Thanks," Tony said softly.
Gibbs grunted. "What Davenport want?"
Tony rolled his eyes and flattened a wrinkle in his designer suit. "He thought it would be a good idea to chat. Apparently he's just now realizing I'm your second and thought we should get to know each other."
The barely restrained contempt served to remind Gibbs of the younger man's remaining hostility around the Domino fiasco. He reached behind for the bottle and swished it. Tony shook his head in refusal. Gibbs shrugged before slipping it back into its original hiding place. The basement lapsed into silence once more, this time one that was awkward and a bit tense.
"He offered me a job. A promotion." Tony hesitated. "I said I'd think about it."
Gibbs knew that Tony was too good to be stuck as a second in command. By all rights, the man should have moved on and been made team lead by now. He was too talented and experienced to remain on Gibbs' team as long as he had, jammed into a position between Gibbs and two seasoned junior agents where there was no room to grow. Gibbs knew all that, but it still hurt to hear Tony entertaining the idea of leaving.
Tony straightened up and made his way around the ruined boat, picking up a cracked-apart rib and examining it. He dropped it down onto the floor and looked Gibbs in the eye. Gibbs stilled and let the younger man search for whatever he needed, trying to will whatever it was into existence. Tony seemed to find it because he rested his arms on the collapsed spine of the ship and rolled his head, obviously working himself up to a confession.
"I'm tired of this, Gibbs," he started quietly. "You hired me to do a very specific job. To help you catch killers. I was good at it too."
"Still are," Gibbs interjected.
Tony shrugged. "Doesn't feel like it."
The younger man swayed his dangling hands in contemplation before continuing. "Somewhere along the way I realized I've been so busy being your second, I can't remember when I stopped being a cop."
Gibbs refused to shift under Tony's penetrating gaze, and remained still and quiet. Tony smirked and pushed off the boat, turning away to put more space between them.
"Things haven't felt right for a while now, and I didn't realize why until SecNav offered me the job." He reached the far wall and looked over his shoulder towards Gibbs. "I'm a cop, Gibbs. Always have been, always will be, but somewhere along the way that got forgotten - or ignored."
Tony rotated around and picked the rib piece from earlier up off the floor and began to gently drum it against the cracked spine. The rhythm was erratic and echoed in the quiet basement.
"I can't remember when things became more about terrorists and less about murderers, and I don't like it. I haven't been happy about the way things have been for a while now."
"Why didn't you tell me, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, pushing down the annoyance he felt about Tony's disinterest in terrorism.
"When was I supposed to tell you? Between the back to back cases and situations, or the paperwork, or the training, or the hours in MTAC? Besides, you don't allow that level of criticism at work, Gibbs. Not even from me, not anymore anyway."
Tony began to pace, his movements becoming slightly agitated and jerky as he waved his left hand between them. "And it's not like you'd be very open and hospitable to my opinions in off-hours either."
Gibbs narrowed his eyes.
"Don't give me that, Gibbs. You know things haven't been right between us for a while, before Mexico even. This is the first time I've been by in months, and you don't seem to mind much."
Before Gibbs could think about that statement, Tony stopped his movements and gave Gibbs a hard stare, his mouth turned down in a frown.
"After Mexico, you pushed us all away, me in particular. You forgot I was a cop and slotted me into a role that I don't like. I'm not even your Second anymore. I'm just another one of your subordinates that you expect to follow your every command. I've had enough Gibbs. I haven't spent over half my career working with you, to get relegated to minion. I'm a damn good investigator and a damn good cop."
"You done?" Gibbs asked testily.
"No, shut up." Tony scowled. "I've been a cop for over 16 years. I don’t want to hunt terrorists. They're really bad guys and a danger to us, I get that, but that's not what I want to do with my career. Things were simpler and better for all involved when the petty officers were dead because of a jealous husband or their own stupidity. I'll take a grizzly homicide over fleet-wide bomb threats any day."
"Don't you even..."
"I said shut up, Gibbs!"
Tony's voice was harsh, and Gibbs grudgingly backed down at the inherent threat of bodily violence emanating from the young agent.
"I'm a cop, Gibbs. Once I sat down and actually remembered that, I felt a bit sick when I realized just how bad I've let things get. We're law keepers, but all we seem to do now a days is bend and break the law! I've lost count of the times McGee's hacked another agency. Ziva's had to replace her lock-picks twice, twice, since she started here. We seem to have forgotten the meaning of a warrant, and don't even get me started on all the crap I've let you pull."
"Let me?" Gibbs growled harshly, posture tense and angry.
He took a step forward and was reminded of how fast and agile the other man was when Tony skirted the boat with quick deftness, only to stop a moment later, crowded up in Gibbs' face. The taller agent stretched to his full height and used his additional two inches to tower over Gibbs, green eyes dark with bitterness. He kept his hands to hisself, something Gibbs was grateful for when the older man noticed the shaking and white-knuckled appendages.
"Ari, Ziva, Mexico, your return from Mexico, Franks, Maddie, fucking Domino," Tony hissed the list out. "As your Second-in-Command, I'm responsible for not only our junior agents but you as well. I should have stopped you the minute you first stepped out of line, or at least reported you to Morrow. But I didn't, because I thought we were partners."
Tony shut his mouth with an audible snap and took several rapid steps backwards, breathing harshly after his impromptu outburst. Gibbs stared at Tony in thought, his mind processing the last statement and analyzing it from every angle it could. After a long minute of silence, Tony jerked his shirt and jacket back into neat order and Gibbs rolled his shoulders in agitation.
"You're not responsible for what I decide to do," he started.
"Bullshit." Tony cut him off. "The hell I'm not. It's in my job description."
Gibbs frowned. "No it's not. No Senior Field Agent is held responsible for his superiors actions. That is not in the SFA PD I gave you when you applied."
Tony rolled his eyes. "You gave me a copy of a probie's PD, not SFA. Morrow handed me a copy after I passed the entry qualifications. He adjusted my position according to my experience and the situation."
"The situation?"
"I was going to work with you." The 'duh' was left off. "Apparently he knew I was going to work out from the start."
Both men lapsed into quiet after that, Tony moving to the stairs to drop onto the third step and Gibbs staring at the destroyed boat in contemplation.
It was rare that Tony felt strongly enough about something to put Gibbs in his place. Normally the Italian would make some smart-assed comment - "Boss. You really need to see Moby Dick." - that served to make Tony's point well enough. Gibbs could count on one hand the number of times he was genuinely dressed-down by the younger man. That thought alone stifled Gibbs' anger and allowed him to focus on the other agent and his concerns.
"You really think things have gotten that bad?"
"Gibbs," Tony started, disbelievingly. "McGee has the back doors to four different agency systems memorized. Ziva makes blatant threats of violence everyday. You..." Tony waved a hand. "You..."
Gibbs gave him a rueful look when the other male was unable to articulate his frustrations with Gibbs. "Really need to see Moby Dick?"
Tony barked a laugh and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. "Yeah, Gibbs. That and 'Beverly Hills Cops'."
Gibbs knew there was a dig there, but didn't want to waste the time getting Tony to explain it. Instead, he refilled both their jars and padded over to the hunched form on his basement steps. He pressed Tony's jar into the other man's hand and moved to sit beside his second.
"Didn't know you felt that way."
"Yeah, well," Tony trailed off. "Look, I know it's not all your fault. I'm just as guilty. I saw things going to shit but forced myself to ignore it. I didn't want to rock the boat, was afraid to."
"Afraid of what?" Gibbs asked blandly, forcing his Bastard side down in order to fix things between him and Tony.
Tony stayed silent for a while, sipping his drink and staring at the wall ahead. He bit his lip briefly before he exhaled one long, loud sigh. "Of you not backing my decisions."
The resigned tone in Tony's voice hit Gibbs like a punch to the gut, and Gibbs felt his insides clench in a vice. He squeezed his glass and looked at Tony in surprise.
"How can you think I wouldn't back you up?"
A harsh scoff resonated off the cement walls, and Tony turned to give Gibbs an incredulous look. "You haven't exactly been the model of an open and supportive boss lately, Boss."
At Gibbs' confused frown, Tony expounded. "You've never liked weakness, or babysitting your team, that's my job as your Second, but your lack of patience has gone to new heights, Gibbs. On top of that, you've fallen into the nasty habit of playing us against one another."
"I've always done that, kept you on your toes."
"I know," Tony assuaged, "but things going too far is the usual now. You pitting Ziva and McGee against me, a lot of the times together, makes it hard for me to do my job."
"I don't have the patience to teach them!" Gibbs huffed out in exasperation. "You're good at that."
"I know," Tony said with a nod. "Which was why it was an unspoken agreement that I'd take on the baby agents, but Tim and Ziva aren't probies anymore, Gibbs. Things have been getting nasty for a while now, and you not stepping in when it happens only makes it worse."
"You're all adults! I shouldn't have to get involved. Anyway, you're the Senior Field Agent."
"That doesn't mean anything to them." Tony said, frustration leaking through. "They consider themselves on the same level as me and treat me as such. They make it a goal to challenge every order I give them. I can't make them behave when your reluctance and blatant disregard eggs them on, Jethro."
The use of Gibbs' first name in such a weary tone startled Gibbs out of his building annoyance, and he glanced over at Tony. He felt the inward wince but forced his face to remain impassive, thinking the younger man's words over.
"I didn't know it was that bad."
"You didn't want to."
Gibbs nodded his acceptance of the jab. "Just how bad is it, Tony?"
Tony clenched his jaw and Gibbs felt his stomach drop.
"Bad enough," Tony said eventually.
"Tony..." Gibbs warned.
Tony sighed before standing up. He leaned over and set his jar where he had been sitting and turned to pace the room in a wide circuit. The younger agent leaned back against the ruined hull of the boat and crossed his arms as he stared Gibbs down.
"Bad enough that I docked their evals and placed strongly worded comments in their files and my reports."
Gibbs scowled harshly. "Why is this the first I've heard of this? I never saw anything in writing."
Tony sighed again. "Gibbs, you signed off on them all. I stood there while you did it."
The older man thought about that for a moment, vaguely remembering Cynthia harping at Tony, and Tony harping at him, about the annual evals being late, and then quickly signing off on the numerous forms that his second had thrust in his face. He hadn't taken the time to go over them, trusting the other man to do a fair and thorough job as he had for years. Gibbs guessed he missed noticing the complaints for Ziva and Tim's files in his usual hatred for the annual process.
"I'm surprised Vance let them stand."
"We compromised. I promised not to bring them up on retroactive dereliction of duty as long as he agreed to not make the paperwork disappear."
Gibbs stiffened. "Retroactive dereliction of duty?"
The other man nodded.
"Explain," Gibbs barked.
Tony recrossed his arms and sighed once more, a tired sound that had Gibbs feeling ill at ease.
"The major reoccurring theme was gross insubordination, mostly while you were in Mexico. They made it nearly impossible to solve cases. They would come in late, leave early, talk back, ignore orders. A few times they refused to finish their own damn reports. I did most of the leg work on some cases."
"By yourself?"
The question was filled with quiet rage and Tony nodded in resignation, apparently knowing that there was no stopping the impending explosion.
"The final straw was the Haskell case. When I was collecting voice samples they joked that they turned the radio off."
Both glasses of bourbon were snatched from where they rested and thrown, shattering against the wall. Brown liquid ran down the cement cracks in small streams, and the shards of glass glinted under the dim basement lights. Gibbs stood and began to swiftly climb the stairs, intent on ripping both agents a new one, but was jerked to a halt by Tony's strong grip on his shoulder. Gibbs growled but Tony ignored the danger.
"Joked, Gibbs. They joked. I checked when we got back and they hadn't. It was just a grossly inappropriate joke."
Gibbs whirled around and loomed over Tony. "You had to check?"
Tony winced.
"You had to check to see if they were joking or not?"
"Gibbs..." Tony started.
Gibbs cut him off. "They turned off the radio, left you without backup, and you DIDN'T THINK TO REPORT IT?!"
"They didn't turn it off! They made rude and hurtful comments but did not, I repeat, DID NOT, turn it off. It was highly inappropriate, and I lectured them both after the fact."
"You just said they don't listen to you! Let me guess, you lectured them and nothing happened?"
Tony winced again. "They may have laughed it off."
The handrail groaned as Gibbs squeezed it, and Gibbs snarled horrifyingly. "They're both suspended."
"Gibbs..."
"Be grateful I'm not firing them!" The older man yelled furiously. "And be grateful I'm not suspending you!"
"Me?" Tony scowled.
"Yes, you. You should have reported this, DiNozzo!"
"It was a joke!"
"Which you had to verify! That tells me you thought it could have happened. You thought it was possible for them to leave you without backup!"
That shut Tony up and forced the younger man down the stairs and back over to the heap of broken wood. Tall shoulders hunched inwards, and Gibbs sighed angrily as Tony hugged himself before beginning to stack the wood into messy piles. Gibbs looked up at the basement door, growled in frustration, and stomped down and over to stand beside Tony.
"They're still suspended."
Tony nodded. "Thank you for not firing them."
"I should. What the hell made them think joking about something like that would be funny?"
"I don't know. Maybe I've gone too far with them?"
The question was hesitant, and Gibbs snorted. "You've never taken it out into the field."
The younger man fiddled with a broken piece of timber, his face twisted into a horrible imitation of indifference. Long fingers gripped the wood and bashed it down onto the nearest pile, sending several pieces to the floor. As quickly as it had come, the hidden rage left and both men were unsure of themselves.
"Tell me more about the job."
Gibbs had always gathered intel before undertaking a mission, and, after learning about the new team-dynamic, he knew convincing Tony to stay would be a mission onto itself.
Tony shrugged a shoulder, not looking Gibbs in the eye. "Case Agent Position with a new MCRT I get to help build."
"A brand new MCRT? Ours isn't even complete. Where'd they get the funding?"
"The President moved the budget around a bit, gave some money to the military support agencies. NCIS is going to be reorganized a bit, so we needed it."
Gibbs shot the Italian a shrewd look. "Reorganized?"
"Yeah. It's hush hush, but SecNav assumed I'd tell you anyway. Vance doesn't even know yet."
"Why the hell would he tell you before Vance?" The senior agent asked incredulously.
Tony shrugged again. "I get the feeling that Vance isn't on his friend-list right now. This job offer is probably just to piss Vance off."
"And you're still thinking about it?"
"Yep," Tony said easily.
"Where's it stationed out of?"
"D.C. I'll probably be in the same bullpen as you. The majority of the team will be spread out in the appropriate departments, Forensics, Evidence, Medical."
"How's it gonna be? He tell you?"
"Different," Tony said. "Our team's one of the main things changing."
Gibbs stiffened and let out a low growl, his hackles rising with the notion of someone messing with his team.
"Oh, relax, Gibbs. It's not going to be very different. You're getting the missing people you need, crime scene gremlins, more lab techs. The name is changing. Not much different than that."
"The name?"
The question was asked casually, but Tony knew Gibbs. "NTRT. Naval Terrorism Response Team."
Understanding flooded Gibbs and left the older man speechless. Tony gave him a forced smile and poked at a wobbling rib. It fell over and crashed onto the floor, sending dust up into the air and made Tony cough.
"You won't have to bother with petty crimes like murder anymore, Gibbs. Yay you."
Gibbs smacked his SFA's head. "Don't you ever make light of something like that again, DiNozzo."
Tony pushed back, a matching scowl on his face. "You're one to talk, you hypocrite. You think I don't know about the cases you've pushed off onto other teams because you were too busy tracking down Ari or any of those other terrorists? You doubled the other teams' work loads!"
"They're a threat!"
"AND MURDERERS AREN'T?!"
Tony's bellow brought Gibbs' rant up short and forced him into a rapid back-pedal just to avoid angering the younger man any further. He could see that Tony was keeping his control by tattered shreds, the only thing holding him back was the years of practice he had with Gibbs. Green eyes were dark with building rage, and Gibbs knew he had to bring the situation back into controllable waters before Tony snapped and punched him.
"You're right, Tony. You're absolutely right. I'm sorry."
Gibbs knew the apology would unsettle the younger man, especially when Gibbs meant it, and so he took advantage of the momentary surprise and pushed on. He raised his hands in an 'I'm unarmed, so please don't hit me' gesture.
"I guess things have changed since we started working together. The world's changed, Tony. We need to catch these guys."
"I don't need to," Tony refuted. "And I don't want to. I'm happy with letting others chase after them. I'll catch the crooks and killers. My mistake was in thinking you thought the same."
"Now wait a minute..." Gibbs started, growing angry at the other man again.
"No, Gibbs. I'm done. It's clear that you don't care about what's happening here. I'm sorry to have bothered you."
Tony turned to leave, his shoulders stiff with disapproval as he climbed the stairs. Gibbs felt his stomach drop like a rock and his blood ran like ice through his veins. Instinctively, Gibbs knew that if he let Tony leave, let him walk out the door, his Second-in-Command, his friend, would be gone. Tony would be gone for good. No more jokes, no more stupid movie references, no more steaks and beers.
His body seem to move on it's own, his mind still reeling from the notion of Tony not being on his six anymore, closing the distance between him and the retreating figure of his friend. A callused and dust covered hand landed on a tense, suit-clad shoulder and spun the younger man around and against the wall.
"No," Gibbs spoke without thinking. He heard the word escape his own mouth, something a little desperate, and let his gut lead him. He clenched his jaw before he repeated himself. "No."
Tony hissed like an angry cat and knocked the offending hand off. He pushed Gibbs off and jammed a finger into the other's chest.
"I'm done with this," he hissed again.
"No." Gibbs repeated.
The taller male's eyes narrowed in absolute rage, something that Gibbs could freely admit to being slightly terrifying, and he shoved Gibbs away. Gibbs felt himself slam against the railing and then through it, and then the familiar falling sensation of the basement floor rushing up to meet him. Something solid, yet soft, broke his fall, and his neck snapped backwards to bash against something not quite as unforgiving as concrete. His legs smacked against the stairs, wood gauging into the back of his ankles, before falling forward towards his chest, the momentum rolling Gibbs off of whatever had stopped his decent.
"Gibbs!"
He heard Tony's panicked call through the pain that was racking his body, and felt hands running over his head, neck, and back, checking for a pulse and then broken bones as they spread out to examine his arms and legs.
"Damn it, Gibbs, answer me!"
"You're paying for that," he managed to mumble.
Tony gave a broken laugh before pressing down on Gibbs' side. "Anything broken? Can you move?"
Gibbs nodded and, with Tony's help, slowly sat up. He saw the smashed form of the recliner he kept downstairs and carefully tilted his head up to see the damage to the stairs and winced. A third of the handrail was missing, broken off when he went through it. He'd have to replace the entire thing.
Tony ran his hands over Gibbs again, double checking for broken bones. Gibbs shrugged him off, but regretted the movement as his head swam and his dinner rose up in his throat. Tony made a distressed sound as Gibbs rolled over and vomited, immediately going for his phone. Gibbs knew he was calling Ducky but was too busy puking to order him not to. He heard the one-sided conversation and could tell that the physician was on his way and not happy when Tony snapped the phone closed and tossed it onto the ground carelessly.
"Stay still, Gibbs. You've got a concussion."
"No shit," Gibbs managed to mutter.
"Oh god," Tony moaned. "Oh god, what did I do."
Gibbs groaned, in too much pain to deal with Tony's growing panic. "I'm alive, nothing broken. It was an accident. Man up, I'll be fine."
"I pushed you down the stairs!"
"More like off them."
Gibbs winced at the other's whimper, "Stop it, Tony. 's an accident. Not like I didn't deserve it."
"Ducky's gonna fucking KILL me," Tony whispered, horror slowly dawning in his voice.
"Lucky you. He'll wait until I'm healed before taking care of me."
The pain-filled joke did its job and startled a nervous laugh out of the younger man. "Oh god, Gibbs, I am so fucking sorry!"
Gibbs didn't answer, the pain in his head and neck building to an uncomfortable level. He did manage to nod before dizziness washed over him again.
"Stop moving!" Tony barked.
Tony shifted and removed any debris Gibbs was laying on, quietly sitting beside the older man as he lay on his side, dizzy and nauseous from the bump on his head. They stayed like that until the front door opened and hurried footsteps made their way towards the basement stairs.
"Jethro? Anthony?"
"Down here, Duck," Tony called, apologizing when Gibbs groaned.
The basement door opened and Ducky gasped at the broken railing, quickly descending halfway until he could see both men on the floor. His grey eyes widened at the sight and he rapidly moved down and over to them. The elderly ME assessed the situation and began to gently poke and prod at Gibbs, much like Tony had done, before pulling the pen-light from his bag. Gibbs hissed as the light hit his eyes, and Ducky frowned in sympathy.
After a thorough examination, Ducky pronounced Gibbs the owner of a concussion but not much more. There was nothing broken - luckily, Ducky muttered with a half-hearted glare at Tony - but Gibbs' neck and right wrist were sprained. He'd have to take off the next day and be relegated to desk duty for a couple weeks, but he could still work.
Ducky packed his bag away and motioned to Tony. Together, both men got Gibbs on his feet and up the basement and hallway stairs to the master bedroom where they laid him down. Tony went to get a glass of water from the kitchen and Ducky tutted over his patient, removing Gibbs' shoes. Gibbs halted the older man's angry muttering against Tony.
"My fault, Duck."
"I highly doubt you pushed yourself off the stairs, Jethro."
The doctor's voice was strained, and Gibbs could tell the man's lips were thinned with severe disapproval.
"I pushed him to it. He told me to let go and I wouldn't. He pushed me away and I hit the railing. It was an accident. He's beating himself up as it is."
"Jethro..."
"Leave it." Gibbs tried to infuse as much authority as he could into the order, and Ducky sighed before patting Gibbs' hand.
"Alright, but you need to work this out Jethro. I don't want either of you hurt like this again."
Gibbs nodded, his eyes closed, and heard Tony jumping up the stairs. Ducky handed over two pain pills when the water arrived and Tony tilted his head up so he could drink from the glass. He groaned as the cold water slid down his throat, feeling as it reached his belly. Tony gently lowered his head back down onto the pillow and maneuvered him so he lay under the covers.
"I'll stay, Ducky. I know what to look for."
Ducky was clearly hesitant to leave the two agents alone together, but conceded after giving the younger of the two a brief yet highly intimidating lecture that he thought Gibbs couldn't hear. Gibbs cracked a small smile at Tony's small meeps and 'yes, Ducky'ies, and let his shoulders relax after the Scottish doctor left the house. Tony crossed over to him and hesitated, making Gibbs want to roll his eyes.
"Apology's a sign of weakness, DiNozzo."
"Not when you've done something wrong."
Gibbs nodded. "Then we'd both need to apologize."
"Gibbs..."
"No," Gibbs interjected. "You're right, things have changed, and maybe you're right about it not being for the better. Maybe I'm just as guilty for letting things go to hell."
"Gibbs..."
"No, shut up." Gibbs repeated Tony's earlier outburst. "Maybe we've both screwed up. But you're right, we are partners. Somewhere along the way I forgot that, and that's my bad, my screw up, and I'm sorry for that."
Tony sighed and placed a pill bottle on the nightstand. "I'll be back in a couple hours. Get some rest Gibbs."
"Jethro," Gibbs mumbled awkwardly.
Tony stayed silent for a moment, just long enough for Gibbs to start thinking things were beyond fixing, before he poked a finger in Gibbs' forehead and laughed.
"You really need to see 'Beverly Hills Cops', Jethro."
Gibbs felt his body loosen and the tension fade, and Tony hummed once before making his way out the bedroom door. Gibbs listened to Tony's light footsteps as he descended the stairs and thought he heard the downstairs TV click on before sleep claimed him.
Tony woke him repeatedly throughout the night, the normal concussion check, before heading into work, leaving strict instructions to stay home - "Don't bother, Jethro. I'm letting Security know not to let you on base." - and to drink plenty of water.
Tony's orders weren't that hard to follow, Gibbs was barely able to get downstairs let alone to the office. He trudged his way into the kitchen and dropped into a chair, his head cushioned on his arms pathetically. He stayed that way for a while, letting his body adjust to the pounding headache, before getting up to refill his glass.
As he turned around, his eyes caught the manilla folder that rested on the table that he had missed earlier. Curiosity peaked, he sat down and pulled it over to him. He flipped it open and stared down at the legal paperwork that sat staring back up at him, mocking him in 12-point font.
'Position Acceptance - Case Agent, MCRT, Washington D.C. Field Office'
It was signed.
Gibbs stared at the 'Anthony D. DiNozzo' until his sight blurred before sifting through the pages, finding the details for the position. He read through them and sat back, surprised at the level of authority Tony would have.
So the new MCRT really would be taking the place of Gibbs' team in the every day field. The NTRT would only be focusing on terrorism, the name befitting the new function, never really seeing everyday crime.
Tony would be one of two Case Agents in charge of the team, both acting as joint-leaders over the ten-man team. While the other agents on the team would serve in a secondary function, providing backup and man power at and behind the scenes, gathering and analyzing evidence, Tony and the other Case Agent would be the ones actually working the cases.
'Like a real detective,' Gibbs thought.
The other members of the team would work with other special agents as needed, acting as Crime Scene Investigators for multiple DC teams, but they would report to Tony at the end of the day. It was a massive amount of responsibility, something Gibbs knew the younger man could handle, but still a bit surprising when he compared it to what Tony was currently doing.
Gibbs scowled, his mind leading him back to the real issue.
Tony was investigating terrorism right now, something the SIC made plain the previous night he disliked doing. He was supposed to be acting as a support for Gibbs, something Gibbs wasn't doing a good job of allowing, and providing guidance and teachings to the junior agents, something Ziva and Tim weren't allowing at all. Gibbs forced himself to examine the situation with an impartial eye, and didn't like what he saw.
Tony was right - per usual, Gibbs grumbled - about the team dynamics. Ziva and Tim both had experience under their belt, and they assumed that made them Tony's equals. Gibbs should have nipped their increasing challenges to Tony's authority in the bud the first time it happened, but he hadn't, and they had taken that as permission to continue. Worse, they had taken that as agreement of their growing mindset - that they were better than Tony.
Gibbs tapped his finger on the table and scowled, kicking himself for willfully ignoring the problems, for ignoring his Second-in-Command. Gibbs had dumped all his responsibility onto Tony's shoulders when he had no right to, and assumed Tony would take care of it. When there was no complaint from Tony, Gibbs ignored all signs of things going wrong and proceeded full steam ahead. Gibbs was just as guilty for the mess as Tony was, as Ziva and McGee were.
He paged through the rest of the paperwork and stopped at a stapled packet at the very back. He pulled it out and glanced at the title and the sticky note, rapidly reading through it before reaching over for his cell phone where Tony had placed it that morning before leaving. Gibbs flipped it open and blindly hit a speed-dial, still going over the papers in front of him.
"Jethro. How is your head?" Ducky's accented voice answered by way of greeting, and Gibbs felt a flash of fondness for the elderly ME.
"Good, Duck. Most of the pain's gone. My neck and wrist are bothering me a bit, but they should be fine in a week or so."
"Indeed."
The other end of the line went quiet, and Gibbs knew Ducky was patient enough to wait Gibbs out when needed.
"Tony got another job offer."
"Ah, so you grew angry at him before he could tell you he rejected it?"
"He accepted," Gibbs quipped easily.
Silence.
"I got angry because he manned up and told me some things I didn't want to hear."
"Anthony accepted?"
"Yep."
"You're taking this awfully well," Ducky remarked, making it clear that he thought Gibbs was suffering side-effects from his fall.
"He's a Senior Case Agent for a new team at the Navy yard."
"A new team? I haven't heard of anything like that. Are you sure?"
"Yep." Gibbs turned the page. "Got it from the source."
"Leon?"
"Higher."
"The Secretary of the Navy? Why on earth would he speak with Anthony before Leon?" Ducky asked Gibbs.
"Personally? I think its power games. Vance made it clear that McGee's the type of agent he wants for NCIS."
"And here Anthony, the antithesis of Timothy, is getting promoted to such a high level of authority. It will be a hard pill for Leon to swallow. I assume Timothy will be made your second."
"Nope." Gibbs reached for a pen off the counter and circled a line on the page he was going over, jotting a note beside it. "He hasn't earned it. Ziva either, not that she could get the job as a probie anyway."
"Oh, well, who then?"
"Don't know yet. Still weighing my options. Ducky, answer me truthfully, and I mean complete honesty here..."
"Yes...?" Ducky asked hesitantly.
"Was it better before anyone else came along? When it was just me and Tony working on ordinary cases?"
There were several exceptionally long moments of phone static before Ducky cleared his throat. Gibbs, a patient man when he wanted answers, waited until the ME answered with his own question.
"Complete honesty, Jethro?"
"Yeah, Duck, complete honesty."
"Well," the other man hedged. "I have the utmost respect for Ziva and Timothy. They have become fine agents in their own regards, with their own talents and abilities that are indispensable to this agency..."
"Duck," Gibbs cut him off gently.
"Things were a bit less stressed, I'll admit, when it was just the two of you. While you did work long hours and difficult cases, I have to admit that there was more laughter and communication from both of you."
"DiNozzo says McGee and Ziva undermine him."
"Did he now?" The doctor's tone became stiff, and Gibbs wasn't completely sure who the ME was mad at.
"More or less," Gibbs said carefully.
The medical examiner was silent for a minute while he thought things over, and Gibbs made several more comments on the page in front of him. When Ducky spoke again, it was with a clinical detachment that Gibbs knew the older man was forcing himself into.
"Ziva and Timothy do tend to find Anthony's seniority over them tiresome. They made it quite clear that they preferred you over him during your sojourn to Mexico. I'm afraid that Abigail and I did not help matters much in that regard. Now that I think about it, Mister Palmer has made a few comments about their... actions... during that time."
"The term you're looking for, Ducky, is gross insubordination."
"Ah, you dragged it out of Anthony then?"
"Something like that. Anything else?"
Ducky thought about it. "Their comments do tend to border on the hurtful side, and I have a feeling that Anthony, the dear boy, is more sensitive then he lets on."
Gibbs' mind flashed back to the night in the office after rescuing Ziva and Tony from the shipping container, when they had been discussing Ziva's dinner party. The brief look of hurt on Tony's face struck out at Gibbs suddenly, and he closed his eyes in self-flagellation. "You may be right."
"Yes. Anthony tries his best, but I fear that both Timothy and Ziva may believe themselves more suited to their position than they do Anthony. I've heard both make comments to their education or skill set well within his hearing range that have alluded to such."
"Tony says we bend more laws nowadays than uphold them."
"Well," Ducky said slowly. "You have been more lenient with your approach to gathering evidence."
Gibbs opened his eyes and rubbed at the growing headache he felt, mentally kicking himself. "You never answered my question."
The phone went quiet, Ducky thinking back to the original question and trying to find away around answering it, and Gibbs let the man take his time. Gibbs knew he would get an answer, an honest answer, eventually, so he sat back and continued working his way through the paperwork in front of him. He had just finished reading over the last page when Ducky answered.
"Yes, Jethro. Overall, I think it was more healthy for everyone involved when it was just you and Anthony."
"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs said as he fixed his signature to all needed spaces throughout the entire folder. "That's all I needed."
"Jethro..."
"Bye, Duck. Talk to you tomorrow."
Gibbs hung up the phone and looked back at the first page where Tony's signature sat, staring up at him accusingly.
The next morning Gibbs stopped by Starbucks for his morning coffee, hesitating before placing his order. After, he made his way to the office with the two steaming cups. He waved his fingers to the guards in an abbreviated greeting before boarding the elevator. After he hit the button for the bullpen, Gibbs adjusted the file with Tony's acceptance and transfer papers. When the doors opened, Gibbs exited and placed the folder and cup of hot chocolate he’d ordered as a whim on his second's empty desk. He then headed down to autopsy so Ducky could fuss over him.
After escaping his friend's clutches, he then made his way into Vance's office and explained the upcoming suspensions. While the man wasn't happy about it, he didn't seem overly surprised, and fully agreed as long as it remained unofficial and IA wasn't brought in. The Director's hesitance to involve IA was more to protect McGee than Ziva or anything else, and it made Gibbs' decision about the suspensions that much easier to make.
With a lightness he hadn't felt in a while, Gibbs made his way back to his desk in time to see McGee enter the bullpen, the first of his agents to arrive. Gibbs nodded to him, somehow not bothered by the lack of anger he felt towards the younger man. As he booted up his computer, Ziva and Tony exited the elevator together, Tony's expression pinched and Ziva's smug.
"Ziva. McGee. Drop your bags. The director wants to see you."
"Why, Gibbs?" Ziva asked, her head tilted.
"Because I said so, Ziva."
"But what about Tony?" She pushed, and Gibbs felt a flash of irritation.
"Did I say DiNozzo?"
"Aw, come on, Ziva. You know the Director would never waste his time on Tony," McGee grinned.
Ziva laughed, and Gibbs noticed Tony flinch and his shoulders fall as the younger man logged into his computer.
"Hey!" Gibbs barked, his glare coming back full force as he pointed at both them. "Comments like that stop this instant. Got me? DiNozzo is you superior - shut it, Ziva - and you'll respect that position. Now get your butts moving!"
All three of his agents watched him with an open mouth, but the two junior agents snapped to attention and high-tailed it up the stairs to Vance's office when Gibbs moved around his desk. Gibbs watched them go before he moved over to Tony's desk. He tapped the drink on top of the folder and nodded his head.
"I don't care how much longer this team is together, they're not getting away with it anymore, Tony."
Tony swallowed and nodded his head, struck silent by Gibbs' support. "Thanks, Gibbs."
"Jethro." Gibbs reminded the other and tapped the folder that was under the cup. "Why don't you go through that. I signed your transfer."
Tony nodded again and took a sip from the cup, a small smile flitting across his face as Gibbs crossed back over to his own desk. He ignored the folder and focused on clearing his inbox of required administrative forms and requisitions.
Ten minutes passed in silence before a loud bang echoed through the room. Tony tensed and Gibbs automatically looked up to see Ziva storming down the stairs, her eyes riveted on Tony's back and her hand fingering one of her knives. McGee followed after her, his face dark with anger. Gibbs stood and made it to Tony's desk just as Ziva did, her lithe form filled with rage.
She slammed her hands down onto the desk and hissed dangerously at Tony. "You will go up there and withdraw your complaint this instant, DiNozzo."
"Or what, Special Agent David?" Tony asked, leaning back in his seat and resting his right elbow on the chair's arm.
To anyone who didn't know Tony, it would appear that the taller man was untroubled by Ziva's brewing hostility, but Gibbs had worked with Anthony DiNozzo for over nine years, and knew that Tony felt threatened and that his new position made it easier for him to draw his weapon if needed.
"Or I will make you very sorry."
Tony stiffened at the implied threat and he rested more fully on his arm, his hand closer to his holster. He smiled at Ziva, a slow, leering thing that had enraged the woman many times before. Ziva and Gibbs both stiffened, for different reasons, and Gibbs saw McGee's gaze dart from Tony to Ziva before the younger agent quietly unsnapped his holster, his eyes watching Ziva's hands. McGee casually moved to the other side of the desk, blocking Tony's escape route but at the same time, allowing him to see Ziva's front and hands better.
Gibbs felt both proud and ashamed of his youngest agent in that moment, proud that McGee would have Tony's six, but ashamed that it had to be because of a fellow team member. Tony's smile slowly morphed into something dark and mean, and he smirked at Ziva in a blatant invitation for violence.
"I'd like to see you try."
Several thing happened at once, and Gibbs wasn't sure who moved first.
Ziva lunged forward, Gibbs moved to intercept, Tony rocketed backwards, and McGee - poor, unsure, probie McGee - pulled his weapon and jerked Tony behind him in one smooth motion.
Gibbs grabbed the back of Ziva's shirt and hauled her away from Tony and towards her own desk. He slammed her down into her chair and loomed over her, forcing her to lean backwards.
"Let me make something very clear to you, Special Agent David."
Gibb's voice was low and dangerous, causing McGee to flinch and Tony's eyes to widen from where he stood behind the junior agent.
"You are never, I repeat never, allowed to attack a fellow agent. So what the hell made you think attacking Tony, my Senior Field Agent and your superior, A GOOD IDEA?!!!"
The entire bullpen went quiet at Gibbs' bellow, and several other agents stood up to look. The tableau of Gibbs glaring murderously and towering over Ziva, and McGee, gun out, standing in front of a pale DiNozzo, sent several agents over to the MCRT section quickly. Ziva jerked back in her seat, eyes wide in fear as she stared up at her Supervisor.
"Gibbs, he... he..." she stuttered.
"He... he..." Gibbs mocked, his rage passing into something black and cold. "Let me make something clear. He didn't report you. I did. Like I should have done when it happened in the first place if I had been doing my damn job. You failed in one of your primary duties."
"But we didn't..." she tried to interject.
"YOU TOLD HIM YOU DID!" Gibbs roared.
Tony started to move from behind McGee, but Tim pushed Tony back and shook his head. Tony stared at McGee for a moment before nodding slowly and let things play out. Gibbs noticed the interchange from the corner of his eye and approved of the youngest agent's actions. He leaned closer to Ziva's face, making her flinch again.
"In no way, under any circumstances, is it acceptable for you to threaten your superiors. In no way is it appropriate to use the threat of violence to cow a fellow agent and get your way. You are a probationary agent, and your actions have just warranted your dismissal. So I suggest..."
"But Gibbs! He..." Ziva interrupted with a cry, her eyes wide with tears.
"So I suggest," Gibbs continued over her. "You get your things AND GET OUT!"
Gibbs stood straight and backed away from her, his chest heaving from the yelling. He moved to stand in front of McGee and Tony, protecting them both as best he could while the building's special agents looked on in shock.
Ziva slowly stood, her entire body shaking with repressed sobs, and cleared her desk of the few personal items she had. Once they were packed, she removed her weapon and badge and placed them on her desk, knowing full well the consequences of her actions. She quickly grabbed her bag and fled the room, sending the door to the stairwell crashing into the wall as she made her escape from the stares and whispers. Gibbs looked around the room at the gawkers and raised an eyebrow, sending them all back to their desks post haste.
McGee gulped when his supervisor's cold gaze landed on him, and quickly holstered his weapon, withdrawing it and his badge from his belt as the older man closed the distance between them. He quickly placed both in Gibbs' hand without prompting and moved to get his things from his desk. Gibbs stepped in front of him.
"Do you know why you aren't fired, McGee?" he asked quietly.
McGee shook his head and answered in a rapid spew of words that had Tony smirking behind his back. "No, Gibbs. There's no excuse for what Ziva and I did. We should never have joked about leaving Tony without backup. I don't know why I'm not currently fired."
"Well let me make it clear then, McGee." Gibbs leaned closer to the shorter agent. "The only two reasons are because, one: Tony pleaded your case, and two: You just proved you're capable of doing what's necessary when protecting a fellow team member."
"Boss?" McGee said, confused.
Gibbs nodded to Tony. "You had your team member's six, even when you believed he was the cause for your suspension. That tells me you have what it takes to be a decent agent. Now don't you EVER let anything like that happen again, or so God help me, McGee, I will make you sorry."
"Yes, Boss! I mean, no Boss! It won't happen again Boss! Thank you Boss!"
McGee snapped off what Tony would laughingly call a salute and grabbed his things before darting out of the bullpen, his face green. Tony watched him go with a pensive expression before turning to Gibbs, who was busy locking both sets of weapons and badges away in his bottom drawer.
Tony looked at him for a moment before turning back to his desk and paged through the file, digging out the packet from the back. He looked over the comments and laughed at some before flipping to the last page, his eyes finding the bottom line. Green eyes read over the comment Gibbs had added to the sticky note, and Tony added his own notation before he turned his attention back to Gibbs.
He walked over to the older agent and dropped the packet down onto the desk, last page up, and Gibbs couldn't help but glance at Davenport's detached comment: 'For whoever you want as your second Case Agent.'
Gibbs had crossed off the last three words and written 'Partner' under them, and then 'If he'll have me.' under that.
His eyes traveled to the bottom of the yellow slip of paper and locked onto the scribbled line Tony had just added.
'Approved: On the condition he watches Beverly Hills Cops.'
Gibbs laughed.