Chapter Text
It was directly after yet another terrorist case. A murdered radio DJ, a mailman gone postal, and a grill bomb that was narrowly deadly but managed only a few superficial injuries. Tony’s voice had healed after a weekend of stand-down and saying absolutely nothing to anyone during that time. Sometimes the team went out for drinks after big cases, but this one, everyone just wanted to go home and get some rest, or do whatever they did to unwind. Tony wasn’t sure if Ziva ever really unwound, but he didn’t put it past her to go axe-throwing or do something equally unhinged after a case. But that wasn’t his focus at the moment.
No, his focus was staring at a blank Word document on his computer in the bullpen, trying to come up with a pleasant way to resign considering everything that had happened over the past several years. Despite everything, he didn’t want to blindside Vance immediately, going nuclear option—maybe it was the fact that the man begrudgingly respected Tony at this point, maybe it was military school drilling in some manners and the urge to never leave without a two-weeks notice. Tony didn’t have anywhere to go after this, didn’t have any plans, but he was sitting here on a Monday morning while the rest of the team took their last vacation day to do fuck-all. Vance had ordered them to stand down, but Tony had spent the weekend standing down, thinking, and wondering what would have happened to him had he been five minutes earlier to Arthur Haskell’s house, and if the man had the time to kill Tony instead of dealing with his teenage daughter.
McGee and Ziva claiming they turned off the radio didn’t mean anything. They had been getting nastier and bolder with their pranks on him and he had let it slide in the past. But knowing how big of a breach this prank could be, he listened to the files first thing this morning. First of his own, to pinpoint when he remembered no longer hearing anything from his earwig, and then to the car’s, to see if his audio really had been turned off, or even down to negligible levels. If it was really just a prank, an out of pocket comment, he couldn’t let it slide, but he might be able to get them to see sense and never, ever do it again.
But he had pulled up the files from their preliminary reports, taken a listen to the car’s audio. He worked his jaw as he heard McGee and Ziva’s voices, chatting back and forth with each other while their line to him was muted. “He’s getting on my last nerve,” Ziva had insisted, stubborn to a fault and sounding like she wanted to murder someone, which was not all that uncommon anymore, but certainly wasn’t usual to this degree.
“He’s annoying, but he’s doing his job,” McGee had replied. There was the sound of a page turning. “It’s your turn to listen to him blather on, can’t you wait twenty more minutes?” Blather on. Tony couldn’t think of a word better suited to his emotions than pure, unbridled fury at that comment. They did realize he had access to these files?
But that didn’t matter, because he heard the flick of a switch and Ziva sighed. “He’ll be fine for twenty minutes on his own.”
“Ziva!” McGee yelped, and Tony winced at the shrillness in his headphones at that noise. He looked around at the bullpen, still empty, and looked over at the teams directly behind the partition, suddenly very glad he had elected headphones for this listen. “Look, give me the headphones. I’ll listen to him early, if it’s that big of a deal for you, but don’t turn off the receiver!” The flick returned, and there was a minor scuffle and the sound of tangled cords. “Ah, fuck—“ could be heard as there was the sound of a cord being unplugged, and then Tony could hear his own voice in the car.
“McGee, I swear to you, if you do not plug that back in right now—“
“Ziva, just give me the headphones and I’ll listen, but we need to have the receiver on if we want to keep our jobs!” At this point, Tony wasn’t surprised McGee was more focused on keeping his job more than keeping Tony safe, but it still stung to hear.
“I refuse to put up with his voice any longer! I can’t stand him!” Ziva insisted, flick of the switch, and then the car was silent.
Tony could envision it. Ziva staring, cold, crazed, and murderous at McGee, while McGee gulped inwardly even as he stared at Ziva aghast. “Give me the headphones,” McGee tried one last time.
“No,” Ziva said. “He’ll be fine on his own. I don’t want you to have to deal with him, either.”
“Ziva—“
“—Reach for the headphones one more time and I will cut off your fingers!” Ziva snapped.
“Fine! Fine,” McGee had said. Tony had shut off the audio at that point. He heard all he had needed to. They turned off the audio. For real. It didn’t matter if they had played it off as a prank to him. It didn’t matter if McGee got the headphones back, if he had regained the ability to listen five, ten, twenty minutes later. He had been left without backup for—he checked the timestamps. At least seven minutes.
He turned back to his own audio at the same timestamps. His blood ran cold as he realized it was at the exact time he had been talking to Art Haskell. He was incredibly lucky to have been delayed by what he had sworn was random static in his earwig, but what he now knew to be deliberate sabotage. He had gotten waylaid to make sure his mic was working properly without being able to call his teammates, or take off the device and reattach it. Otherwise he would have walked right up to that door, possibly spooked a stressed Arthur enough to kill him, and his teammates would have been none the wiser.
But Tony couldn’t risk his life like that again. He risked his life on the job every day, this was true, but he couldn’t go into this risking his life without backup. Backup was the reason he felt secure going in to do the impossible. Backup was the reason he knew that if he got hurt, he wouldn’t bleed out on the ground without having the person he was after be safe or detained. Backup was the sole purpose of McGee and Ziva on that day, and they had fucking screwed the pooch, stopped doing their jobs, and left Tony without backup. So here he sat.
With an empty Word document, and too many inflammatory words in his head to create an actual resignation.
“DiNozzo,” a smooth voice came from behind him. Tony turned. Director Vance was leaning on the back of the bullpen, observing him carefully. “I thought you were supposed to stand down today.”
“I was doing a…personal investigation, based on some behavior on the case. Wanted to make sure I had everything straight in my report, and needed a refresher.”
“Surely, that could wait until tomorrow?” Vance asked, but there was a clench in his jaw. He suspected FUBAR, and Tony felt a small gnaw of guilt knowing he was going to be the one to cause it.
“Sadly not, Director,” Tony said. “My suspicions had been confirmed. But that is all I will say without security measures in place.”
Vance’s jaw clenched harder. “My office?” Vance asked, tilting his head to the stairs.
“Might be prudent,” Tony agreed.
They made their way to the office, Vance quietly told Cynthia to redirect any calls and stall appointments as necessary. Tony was mildly surprised Vance was taking him seriously. He had thought the respect was begrudging, and maybe it had been at first, but Vance took him completely seriously now. In this moment, he was actually being listened to. He had forgotten what that had felt like.
So this situation was really FURBAR’d.
Vance and Tony walked into the director’s office, and the Director locked the door, leaning against the front of his desk. Tony felt the sense they were talking as equals, not as superior and subordinate in this moment. “Talk to me,” Vance said.
Tony took a breath. “Agents McGee and David made an off hand comment in the car that we took to the Royal Woods investigation. I had assumed it was a poorly thought-out joke, a prank of sorts that was simply in poor taste, but I needed to know for certain if that was the case or not. They claimed they had turned off the radio in the car, the one that allowed me communication with them.”
Vance worked his jaw, going to his desk drawer and pulling out a toothpick. “I promised my wife I would stop smoking, but by god is this making that promise hard,” he said at Tony’s questioning look. “You suspected it was not a prank; you said your suspicions were confirmed in the bullpen.”
Tony merely nodded.
Vance closed his eyes slowly, took a sharp inhale. “Fuck,” he said. He opened his eyes and took DiNozzo in. “You want out, I presume?”
“That would be correct, Director.”
“Is there anything I can do to persuade you to stay? A different team? You’re a damn fine investigator and it would be devastating to NCIS to lose you.”
Tony considered. “If word gets out I didn’t hold the line, my career in law enforcement is over. The only place that would accept me is IA, and no offence, Director, but I could not stand to investigate my own any more than I already have.”
Vance was displeased, but nodded. “Very well,” he allowed. “I will not let it be known that you were the one to blow it, DiNozzo, but I will say that I cannot stop the scuttlebutt any more than you can. Clearly.”
Tony nodded. “Word will get out I didn’t hold the line, but word will also get out as to why that is.”
“Believe me, when McGee and David are suspended without pay pending investigation, the whole Yard will talk.” Vance pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will write you a glowing recommendation should you need it, DiNozzo. We have had our differences, and I do not always approve of your approach to cases and levity. But I can’t deny that you are one of our finest. I presume you want to say your goodbyes in person to anyone you may be close to here?”
Tony nodded. “I don’t know if anyone here warrants the label of ‘close’ other than Jimmy Palmer and Doctor Mallard, Director, but I would like to speak to them individually before I leave.”
The Director nodded. “I won’t take your badge and gun until you have said your parting words to them, then. Just come back here when you’re done, and we’ll discuss your next steps, where I can send a recommendation. You wouldn’t happen to have any idea where you’ll go next?”
Tony laughed. “No clue,” he said with a sardonic smile. “Same as always.”
“If you want some recommendations for private firms, I can always lead you to who tried to recruit me,” Vance offered.
“I’m not even sure I like DC that much, Director.” Tony shrugged. “I’ll find something to do with my life, but I need some space to breathe, first.”
“Completely understandable,” Vance said with a crisp nod. “I am always a phone call or an email away. When you decide what comes next, if I can help…I’m here.”
“I appreciate it, Director,” Tony said, and the men shook hands.
“Best of luck, DiNozzo,” Vance said, voice not exactly warm but definitely not indifferent and cold as he had first been. “I anticipate I’ll see your name in the news some way or another over the next few years.”