Chapter Text
The feeling to run always hits Tony DiNozzo at the most inopportune of times. It comes like clockwork, every two years almost to the day. He’s felt it once or twice since he joined Gibbs’ team, but he always away on a case and it managed to subside by the time he got back.
But the times before NCIS, the feeling crashed over him like an ocean wave. In Peoria, he was at the police department's gym. In Philly, he was asleep in the dead of night. In Baltimore, he was chasing down a dirtbag that turned out to be a federal agent from an agency he never heard of.
Right now, Tony is trying to ignore the dread pooling in his gut.
He’s in the middle of clearing a crime scene with his team. The camera weighs heavy around his neck as he takes photos of their victim.
It’s the absolute worst possible moment.
Work the scene, Tony. Oh hey, look at that dead guy! Focus on him!
The mess in front of him contrasts starkly with the well-appointed living room. Everything in the house looks like it’s straight from an interior decorating magazine. From the professional drapes to the beautiful hardwood floors to the miles of granite countertops Tony can see in the kitchen, the well-appointed rancher leaves no surface untouched. The space is beautifully lived in, a perfect background in a movie set. It looks nothing like the kind of place their bank-robbing Marine, Ridley Porter, would live.
They’ve been looking for the Marine and his partner for nearly a week now. From the looks—and the smell—of it, he’s been dead for a few days.
Nearby, the rest of the team works the case. Tim McGee is actively searching for evidence around the dark-leather sofa. Kate Todd perches beside the huge fireplace while she sketches the crime scene from a different angle. Jethro Gibbs is kneeled, opposite Tony, on the other side of the body. He eyes the man as though he could solve the case just by staring.
Tony’s gaze slides from the victim’s body to the hardwood floor. Whomever killed their Marine wanted to protect it because they, thoughtfully, laid down a tarp.
Putting his hands on the camera, Tony carefully eyes the blood and the neatly-contained mess. Two slugs to the chest, all the blood contained on the tarp. He takes photos of the wounds before he zooms in for a closer view. There’s some dirt on the body. He takes photos of before he’ll scoop it into an evidence bag for Abby Scuito.
“Somebody tried to gift wrap our suspect, huh?” He laughs. “Think we should write ‘em a thank you card, Boss?”
Kate scoffs. “He’s a person, Tony.”
“Was,” Tony points out. “Who robbed three banks.”
“He’s a suspect in the robberies,” Tim needles.
Tony’s eyebrows rise. “Not anymore…”
The sound of Gibbs clearing his throat settles the team back into their work. Tim returns to placing evidence markers here and there. Kate moves to the huge bay window for another angle to sketch. Tony’s eyes slide toward the window, to the world outside. The view is that of another house just like this one. A mid-century rancher with a huge front yard and an even bigger backyard. The cookie-cutter houses look so stifling from here. Living here would be like the movie Pleasantville where you get trapped in the monotony of the 1950s.
Where would I go if I left?
Gibbs clucks his tongue.
I’ve never been to Oregon before.
Tony snaps to attention.
“What are we thinking, Boss?” he asks.
“He had a partner,” Gibbs says.
“Yeah.” Tony bobs his head. “A civilian named Jerome Lawton. We’re still looking for him.”
After climbing to his feet, Gibbs shuffles around the body for a better view. He lingers close to Tony, who can’t help trying to read his boss’ thoughts.
“Do you think Lawton might’ve capped him?” Tony asks.
Gibbs tilts his head in the slightest affirmation.
Tony cocks his head. Considering. “Porter was married, Boss.”
Gibbs just looks at him as if to say, And?
“The tarp, Boss,” Tony says. “That’s an awfully nice floor. I could see someone not wanting to wreck it when they killed Porter.”
“The wife was in Utah, Tony.”
Crouching down, Tony holds the camera to his eye. Their victim looks almost peaceful, his face is slack and pale. He takes more photos with the camera whirring as he goes. He takes photos from every angle of the body. Then, he zoom in to capture the evidence around the tarp.
“She arrived back at Dulles at 0800, Boss,” Tim supplies helpfully. “She came right here, found the body and then, she called us. She’s currently with a neighbor.”
“Did you interview her?” Gibbs asks.
Tim’s cheeks blaze. He shifts his weight. Clutches the evidence markers tighter in his hand.
“Yes, sir.” Tim winces. “Er…I mean, Boss. She seemed very upset.”
“She just lost her husband, McGee,” Kate says. “And she didn’t know anything about his extracurricular activities until I called her last week.”
Tim purses his lips. “I wonder what it was like for her to discover Porter wasn’t the man she thought he was.”
“Probably devastating,” Kate says.
Tim nods to himself before he resumes his sweep to look for evidence. Holding up the camera, Tony takes a few shots of the room. When he goes to take one of Kate, she wrinkles her nose at him. Then, she scowls while he takes another picture. He takes one of Tim when he stands up, igniting the flash as just the right time to make the younger man go bug-eyed. While Tim is blinking owlishly, Tony does it again and again until he sinks down the floor.
He turns the camera toward Gibbs. Catches a photo of Gibbs’ infamous scowl.
That familiar feeling bubbles again like a Leviathan rising. To run, but where to.
How far and how fast.
Will anyone try to find him this time? Will anyone even miss him?
Will he even miss them when he goes?
After all these years, he finally feels like he’s starting to earn Gibbs’ respect. It’s a weird thing, that desire for Gibbs to like him when the team leader hates everyone. He’s just starting to understand how Kate works. Not because she’s a woman—Tony’s pretty good with women, if he says so himself—but because she’s Kate. Then, there’s Tim…the greenest probationary agent Tony has ever seen. Thankfully, Tony and Kate were able to convince Gibbs to hire Tim by consistently reminding Gibbs that Tim was good with computers. Tony telling Gibbs that Tim could stop his e-mails from coming was what sealed the deal. Tim hasn’t delivered on Tony’s promise just yet, but he will one day. Hopefully, for Tony's sake.
Gibbs tilts his head as if trying to read Tony’s mind. Tony turns away because for some reason, Gibbs can understand what he’s thinking by just looking at him. Shying away, Tony uses the camera to check out the view of the kitchen. He takes a few photos of the dark wood cabinets and the granite countertops. Really, it is a nice house. It's a shame about the body.
“Something’s on your mind.” Gibbs says, a statement, not a question.
Tony flinches because he isn’t used to being so transparent.
“I’m not convinced it’s Lawton, Boss,” Tony says.
Gibbs tilts his head.
“What if it’s like Throw Momma From the Train,” he says. “Two strangers meet somewhere and decide to commit a crime for each other while the other’s got the alibi. Like, the wife’s in Utah while someone whacks her husband. Then, she kills someone for them.”
There’s a little flash in Gibbs’ eyes as if he might be entertaining Tony’s idea.
“It’s the perfect crime,” Tony surmises.
“There’s no such thing,” Kate interjects.
Tony takes another picture of her. With the flash this time, it leaves her blinking and muttering plans for Tony later. Maybe she’ll even plan the perfect murder for Tony. Gibbs would probably let her get away with it too.
“Where’s Lawton and the money?” Gibbs asks.
All Tony has to offer is a shrug and quoting, “Show me the money!”
That’s enough for Gibbs to smirk while Kate rolls her eyes. Somehow, they lost track of Tim who managed to wedge himself behind the leather sofa. All that’s visible of him are his legs kicking around from behind it. Kate moves to peer over Tim’s back.
“I got a weapon!” he calls. Then a moment later: “And I’m stuck!”
“How’d you do that, Probie?” Tony asks.
“Just get me out, Tony,” Tim grouses.
Tony shares a beleaguered look with Kate. Then, she and Tony drag Tim out by his ankles. Once's he's free, Tim sits back on his knees, breathing heavily. Gibbs is busy staring at Tim with a certain displeasure while Tony snaps photos of the weapon. When he pulls it out, Tony holds it up.
“It’s a Glock,” Tony says.
Kate puts his hands on her hips. “That’s the same kind registered to Lawton, Gibbs.”
When she and Gibbs share a knowing look, Tony’s gut sinks a little. While Gibbs tends to keep an open mind with the evidence, it’s already looking like the partner, Jerome Lawton, was the one who killed their suspect. Tony can’t keep his eyes off the tarp because he, still, doesn't think it's Lawton.
Tim crowds into Tony’s personal space. It’s one of those annoying things probationary agents do where they think you can’t hear them from a respectable distance. Tony glares at Tim, but the younger man isn’t paying attention.
“Do you still think it was Elaine?” Tim asks, dropping his voice.
Tony puffs out his cheeks. “I’m not ready to rule her out so easily, Probie.”
“She seemed really upset about her husband’s death.” Tim presses his lips together. “She started sobbing when I tried to interview her. She could barely get the words out.”
“But you got the full interview, right?”
Flinching, Tim inhales sharply.
Tony claps a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Here’s a little advice, McSofty. Don’t let your feelings get in the way of doing your job. It doesn’t matter if you upset a witness because you need information. Just do it nicely and apologize when you’re done.”
“But I thought you said Rule Six.”
Tony smirks because Tim’s been listening. “It doesn’t apply to witnesses. You can tell them you're sorry.”
Nodding, Tim seems to file it away. “Got it. Thanks, Tony.”
Turning away, Tim heads back to where he left off. Tony watches him go, feeling ill at ease with his own feelings bubble in his chest.
“Hey Probie!” he calls.
When Tim turns back, Tony takes another picture of Tim. The flash explodes, leaving Tim groaning and blinking. He walks straight into the wall.
Almost instantly, Gibbs peels the camera from Tony’s neck. From her spot by the window, Kate wears a smug little smile. Tony just shrugs. That feeling deepens in his chest.
I might not be here tomorrow to do it.
-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-
Their case starts promising with a plethora of evidence. From the body, they gather the weapon, hairs and fibers for Abby Scuito to test. Donald Mallard has a body to autopsy.
While they wait for the forensics to come back, the team digs deeper into their victim’s double life. By all accounts, Ridley Porter was a decent Marine. He was on leave from active duty and as far as the team could tell, he took to a string of robberies to keep himself and Jerome Lawton entertained during his down time.
Tony tries to ignore the sinking feeling that continues through his gut. That urge to run blares at him like a siren. He wonders whether this could be a seven-year itch—just like the Marilyn Monroe movie—but he never made it long enough anywhere to actually feel it.
He watches Tim work, all earnest energy and indecisiveness. For a moment, Tony wonders where the junior agent will end up if—when—he runs. Tim's good enough that he'll be a capable agent, but green enough that most agents are too impatient to put the work into training him. And for that matter, Kate too. She’s a strong profiler and a good agent, but what happens when she’s wrong and Tony isn’t there to stop her. She’ll raise her voice louder and louder, but she’ll never admit that she might be wrong. That’s what Tony’s for. To poke holes in her theories and keep her grounded.
Ignore it, Tony. Remember the dead guy?
And Gibbs…oh, Gibbs. He probably won’t even miss Tony when he’s gone.
Do your damned job.
The facts come back, hard and fast. The weapon they discovered was registered to Jerome Lawton. Ridley Porter was dead for two whole days before his wife found him. His wife, Elaine, was in Utah at the time of his death. Her alibi checks out. Almost immediately, the team clears her. Tony can’t ignore the niggle gnawing deep in his gut.
No matter how hard they look, they can’t find any trace of Jerome Lawton. After his and Porter’s last bank robbery, it’s like he fell off the face of the Earth. Tim does some computer thing he tries to explain, but no one understands. All Tim can tell them is Lawton hasn’t touched his bank account or credit card since before the last robbery.
Still, that tarp is bothering Tony. Why would Lawton go through so much work to protect the floors if he was just going to go in the wind?
Tony has a working theory. Lawton killed Porter. Then, the wife turned around and killed Lawton. Maybe Lawton thought he and Elaine would live in that rancher with the big bay window together. Little did he know, Elaine planned to run off with the money.
When Tony proposes his theory in the bullpen, the team listens quietly. Making a face, Kate can’t hide her eye roll. Tim’s brow sinks down low while he takes notes on a pad. Gibbs tilts his head, to the left, ever so slightly. It isn’t much, but he’s thinking about it. He might even be able to humor Tony's theory.
Gibbs is finally starting to take me seriously.
Tony puts his hands flat on his desk.
I need to get the hell out of here.