Reading Time: 88 Minutes

Title: If tomorrow never comes
Author: Hedwig Edwiges
Fandom: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Action Adventure, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel
Relationship(s): Gen
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Major Character Death, Violence-Graphic. Medical inaccuracies, Law enforcement procedures inaccuracies, Original characters
Author Note: English is my second language. Any errors are my own or might be the fault of Grammarly or Word. Thanks to hubby for the action scenes ideas and suggestions.
Beta: The Nice English Lady ™
Word Count: 65,075
Summary: Tony always expected a violent death considering his line of work. What he didn’t expect was to wake up years younger, with memories of a life that didn’t go the way he expected or wanted.
Artist: NotSally
Artist Appreciation: Thank you very much NotSally for choosing my story to provide art for. Loved our email chats and amazing art you created.

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Chapter 11 – I can see all obstacles in my way

The rest of the day went by with a flurry of activities bursting through the bullpen. Balboa’s team came back from the harbour and Zamora was in a bad mood because they couldn’t find anything. She had entered the ship with the port authority representative and only found boxes of farm equipment.

“We couldn’t open them all, but I chose two to try out and they were clean,” Rita stated unhappily.

The group of agents were piled up around the entrance of the MCRT area, McGee pulling data and throwing it onto their plasma. Everybody was looking at their notes and trying to find a way in without the option of an up-front attack that would look bad on the news.

“We should infiltrate the ship and just go through what they have in there,” Ziva suggested.

“Against the law,” Carson retorted without even looking up from the papers he was shuffling through.

“Your laws are in the way of doing what is necessary,” she responded with a huff.

“Sometimes it’s what happens when you live in a democracy,” Blackwood said, also without looking at her. “We have to learn to search and investigate to find a legal way to get the bad guys.”

DiNozzo was watching the photos Rita and Balboa’s team took of the shipment and the ship itself swiping across the plasma, doing his best to tune out Ziva’s Mossad attitude. So far, she had said their training was better four times since the group started working together and the last remark was the fifth complaint about American laws.

‘Investigator, my ass,’ Tony thought. ‘Her presence in the team’s shaping up to be exactly like my dream-memories’.

Gibbs was with Vance at the moment, hammering down details of Ziva’s contract. DiNozzo was in two minds about it. He really wanted to see the contract and make loads of amendments, but, at the same time, he didn’t want to touch that with a ten feet pole.

Something flashed on the screen that caught Tony’s attention. “Back one, McSpeedyGonzales!” He exclaimed.

McGee startled but was quick to revert the movement on the plasma and bring back the photo that Tony wanted. Rita, Blackwood, Balboa, and Carson turned to the screen, while the two other members of Balboa’s team crowded McGee’s desk to check his monitor. Ziva was the only one that didn’t seem interested in what DiNozzo had to say.

“What do you see, Tony?” Rita asked, eyes glued on the plasma.

“The way the crates are organized is weird. Like a wall but there’s not enough of them to fill the space that ship should have. McGee, do you remember that you looked at the other ship and said the loading looked wrong?”

“Humm….” Rita looked at the photo as Tim nodded, astonished that Tony had remembered his remark, and tried to remember how it felt when she was there. “The whole space was really cramped. Almost no way to walk around. I chose crates on different sides but there was no way we could open something at the back.”

“Did you ever work with shipments, Agent DiNozzo?” The snooty tone of the question came from Ziva’s desk. She was still seated behind it, apparently going through whatever documentation was available at her computer.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Carson asked, surprised.

“If he never worked with shipments or in a boat,” Ziva explained, patronizingly, “how would he know anything about the space or how the boxes are organized?”

“Because we learn how to identify proportions and distance when we train as investigators,” Tony answered without turning towards the woman. “And I am trained as an investigator. There’s another area hidden behind the crates. They didn’t unload the ‘official’ cargo while you were there, right, Rita?” He asked, making finger quotes, eyes still glued at the photo on the screen.

“No…” the agent thought it through before answering. “The guy said something about the representative of the company that imported the implements needing to be there to sign them off before they could unload.”

“Considering the costs of staying in port, you would expect all parties to be eager to move things along,” Balboa contributed.

“They’re going to do this tonight,” Tony stated.

“And how could you ever know that?!” Ziva asked exasperated, finally standing up and trying to go around her desk, but with everyone at the entrance of the MCRT bullpen, she didn’t have the space to move, unless she started to push people around.

“It’s too expensive and too suspicious to stay put for long. The space where they have the arms would not allow for crates the same size as the ‘official’ ones, so they probably don’t want people seeing them unloading all of them. They’ll probably put the farm crates on a truck and move them early on tomorrow, so it’s caught on camera. But the smuggled guns will go out tonight. They have to have someone at the harbour to help. And Petty Officer Collings was never involved in the unloading of any ship, he only arranged for them to have a place to dock,” Tony explained.

“So, we need to arrange a stake-out tonight without alerting whoever is on their payroll?” Carson was making quick notes about what they needed for their operation.

“McGee, Jane and Abby could do their computer voodoo to try to identify who might be the mole in Customs,” Tony continued. “Mick, Martin, Taylor, Callum, Gibbs and I round out the numbers.”

“My team can be the back-up,” Rita offered. “Armed truck and everything ready, if needed be.”

“You are full of air!” Came the exclamation from Ziva.

The whole group turned to see the young Mossad officer standing by the side of her desk, arms folded in front of her, a dismissive expression on her face.

“Are you calling the Senior Field Officer of the Major Crime Response Team from NCIS DC office a buffoon?” The question was posed in a staccato rhythm, with Rita Zamora in a parade rest position, eyes piercing the other woman.

“I prepared his profile. He has a Physical Education degree from a university in the middle of nowhere in this country,” Ziva unfolded her arms and stood straight, trying to fill out space in the presence of so many taller and bigger people around her. “He was a cop,” she continued with derision. “What he really has to offer in comparison to international agents, like myself…” She took a moment and nodded to Blackwood. “Or Interpol.”

Tony laughed. “Years of investigative training and experience, as against honeypots and spying ‘experience’,” he retorted with a smirk, the emphasis on his tone clear for almost anyone in the group. “And since you think Ohio State University isn’t important or that Physical Education is an easy degree, not mentioning that’s the only thing you found out I did, I would say there’s a lot for you to learn before jumping from your spying to criminal investigations,” Tony finished.

“If you had done anything else, I would have found it when I did the profiles!” Ziva stated angrily, stepping forward, hands clenched by her side now. “And Physical Education is what incompetent people do when they cannot actually study anything else, because they can only be gym teachers,” she declared with derision.

“That begs the question of what did you study, miss,” came Carson’s comment, full of venom, “since you don’t seem to know much?”

Before Ziva could respond, McGee questioned in surprise. “You did profiles on us?”

Tony didn’t allow the women to say anything but smiled derisively at her.. “Of course she did, Probie! She was Haswari’s handler when he invaded autopsy and she continued to provide – badly – revised versions of the team, and probably Balboa’s team, while Director Shepard was playing her games. Ziva and Haswari were fully invested in the whole double agent ruse until they found out that Papa David wasn’t telling them everything about his plans,” Tony said clearly, still watching Ziva.

When the Mossad officer took another step forward, face full of rage, Balboa and Carson moved between her and DiNozzo.

“What’s going on here?!” The question sounded from outside the MCRT bullpen, behind the wall of people closing the area.

Tony threw one more disgusted look towards the Mossad agent and turned back to the display.

“Nothing, Gibbs. I pointed out that the measures are out of whack on the photos that Rita took of the cargo, so we are planning a stake-out to see what they actually unload from the ship.”

“I already requested the search warrant for any trucks or cargo that is put on the quay,” Jane Owen, from Balboa’s team, stated, following the lead here to ignore Ziva.

“Not enough to go digging into the ship after the Customs’ visit,” Rita grumbled.

“A search warrant for any trucks leaving harbour should be easy enough,” Carson suggested, with enough nods going around.

Gibbs muscled through the people around the entrance of his team’s bullpen, paying attention to Ziva’s angry stance and the too laid-back attitude from DiNozzo.

“Sitrep, then!” He barked, unhappy with what he was seeing but unable to pinpoint what the problem was.

“Using the photos Rita took while following Customs during their check, and her impressions while in the cargo area, I would say they have a hidden compartment behind the “official crates”,” Tony stated, repeating again the finger quotation. “I suggested a stake-out to see what they unload. With the search warrant that Owen requested, we can then stop the trucks, preferable outside the harbour, and check the cargo. This way we could pick the local connection too,” he finished, still analysing the photo on display.

Gibbs looked at the plasma and then around the group and noted that everybody seemed to agree with the idea, except for Ziva, who now was leaning against the desk, folded arms in front of her, angry, hate filled glares aimed at DiNozzo’s back.

“So you already have a plan?” He asked, feigning calm, as if he hadn’t noticed the tableau.

DiNozzo turned towards their bullpen finally, looking directly at Gibbs. His sharp eyes and almost at attention stance showed that he knew exactly what was going on and was not deceived by the older agent’s mild question.

“I suggest we distribute a few pairs of agents at the harbour; we can have Owen here as tech support, running any information we gather, like plates, names, or addresses, if we get those. We should have a roadblock on the road out of the dock, and Rita and her team could be our support,” Tony started talking, getting in the zone. “Taylor and Mick; Balboa and McGee…” he threw a look at Ziva and went back to focusing on Gibbs. “You and Miss Mossad. I want to invite Agent Blackwood as my guest in this party,” he smiled toward the other man in a charming and joking way.

“I don’t like to separate teams,” Gibbs started.

Tony shrugged and interrupted. “No problem. Balboa and Blackwood, McGee and I, then.”

Gibbs nodded, still unhappy with the situation and DiNozzo’s attitude.

“How do we know when they’re gonna unload?” Gibbs asked.

“Harbour Management has a standard time they allow trucks in and out,” McGee started saying, scrolling through the information on his computer. He still felt out of sorts with the reminder that Ziva helped Haswari invade autopsy and, in the end, was an accomplice of it all, including Gerald’s injury. “But the Shooting Star got special permission to unload tonight with trucks from a company not previously used,” he gulped when everybody in the bullpen turned to look at him.

“There’s a name for whomever signed off on this permission?” Gibbs asked, head back on the case.

“Robert Chen, mid-level supervisor,” McGee answered, feeling a bit more secure talking about what he actually knew. He had run a background check when the name popped up. “He’s been with Harbour Management for five years or so but got the position and authority to manage docking and unloading this last year. I linked the two ships docking and unloading with his permissions for the last six months. The same time Petty Officer Collings was going around helping with harbour access,” Tim continued.

“Well done, McPoirot,” Tony complimented.

McGee preened a little and, with a few strokes on his keyboard, put an employee ID photo on the plasma. “I also matched him with the man having dinner with Mrs Collings the night the husband was killed.”

“Oohhh, the plot thickens,” DiNozzo felt good to be able to joke a little, feeling almost back the way they used to work before the whole Haswari, Mossad and Shepard drama started. “They were having an affair or trying to be each other’s alibi?”

“I think they were having an affair,” McGee answered, getting in the rhythm of their usual investigation back and forth. “Mrs Collings’ accounts have some money coming and going from an account linked to Chen. And I found a couple of hotel reservations through these last six months that match. I think they were travelling together whenever the Petty Officer was on duty and couldn’t leave base.”

DiNozzo turned back to the plasma, now filled with a photo montage of their original case of the Petty Officer murder.

“You already found the footage of her going through the dock,” DiNozzo was lost in thought. “We only considered the connection with the smuggling after the explosion…”

“Are we back on the “it’s usually the wife/husband/partner” bandwagon?” McGee joked, doing the finger quotes as DiNozzo usually did.

“I think so…”

“That is ridi….” Ziva started but was interrupted when Jane Owen bumped into her forcefully.

“Sorry,” the agent apologized insincerely.

Tony ignored the byplay while Balboa moved to be closer to his agent and boxed the Mossad officer in at Kate’s old desk. Gibbs noticed but chose to ignore the issue for the moment in favour of getting their original case solved.

“You said that there was money going back and forth between Mrs Collings and Chen, and they were in the same hotels at the same time…”

“Yes, I even got some security camera shots from the last one, a couple of weeks before the murder,” McGee agreed enthusiastically.

“The explosion happened when Gibbs and Kate were aboard the ship…” Tony said.

“You think the fake informant triggered the explosion because he thought we were after the cargo, not the Petty Officer’ killer,” Gibbs concluded.

“Yeah…” DiNozzo kept looking at the screen. “We never identified the informant…”

“He gave the name Merik Tadros, but that didn’t show in any paperwork related to the ship,” Gibbs stated.

“I can check Customs’…” McGee started to say while typing away but was interrupted by the loud surprised sound coming from Ziva.

“Anything to add, Officer David?” Balboa asked drily.

“It is a common name,” Ziva declared, trying to school her features.

“But you know it from some place,” Carson forced the issue but stayed in place after a discreet shake of Balboa’s head.

“Merik Tadros and Michael Rivers are known aliases for Michael Rivkin,” Interpol Agent Blackwood calmy informed from his position between McGee and Tony’s desk, watching the woman on the other side of the MCRT team area.

“And here is that name again,” Owen commented, moving away from Ziva at her team leader’s gesture.

“You are all trying to push a peg in a hole!” Ziva exclaimed, getting upset anew.

“Put the photo we have of Rivkin on the plasma, Probie,” Tony told the younger man.

“You do not…” Ziva tried to interfere, but Gibbs held her in place.

“Let us do our job here, Ziva,” he said with a hard look.

The passport photo jumped in the plasma and Gibbs turned to examine it. “The guy had a turban and a thick beard, face and hands dirty, so we can’t be really sure,” he told the room in general.

Ziva seemed to relax and DiNozzo humpfed.

“If he’s involved with the smuggling…” Blackwood started.

“He is not!” Ziva screamed, shaking off Gibbs’ hand and moving to confront the Interpol agent. “You keep trying to make him the scapegoal because you are incapable of finding the missing guns! Michael has Russian relatives; does not mean he is involved in this explosion or the killing of your paltry officer!”

Gibbs was quick to hold her back after her outburst. Scoffs went around the group, nobody interested in helping Gibbs or appeasing Ziva.

Blackwood raised his eyebrows, without moving out of his relaxed stance. “Oh, but I believe we’ve already found the guns, Officer David.”

“And it’s scapegoat. And Petty Officer is a Navy rank, not a comment on the person,” was the only comment Tony made related to her attack. “McGee, let’s find where Chen and Rivkin might be tonight so we can plan how best to deploy our agents to round up the killers and the smugglers. Mrs Collings can wait a little more for her interview.”

The young agent threw a questioning glance towards the team lead and went ahead with his searches after the brief nod.

Gibbs pulled Ziva away from the middle of the group, picking up his things and walking out of the bullpen with a hasty “Going for coffee,” never letting go of the young woman.

The other agents went back to their own desks, organizing the information they had and planning for the night’s operation.

ITNC

Gibbs bought his two cups of coffee and sprung for Ziva’s tea at the coffee cart, even if she seemed to be as much of a tea snob as Ducky. They walked a little away and sat at the park bench that surveyed the street.

“What was that at the office?”

“I will not allow prejudices to dishonour a Mossad agent!”

“They were stating facts, not going out on a limb,” Gibbs tried to keep his temper in check.

“I could see some of the agents would like to get in a fight with me, but they would lose,” Ziva declared with certainty.

Gibbs cocked his head to the left, trying to understand what she meant. “Going on a limb is an expression. It means talking without really knowing,” he explained with exaggerated patience.

“They certainly do not know anything!”

“Why are you so incensed?”

“I did not have any incense!”

“It means angry.”

“Aaahhh! Speak English!”

“Like I warned you, expressions and slang fly thick and fast. So, why get angry when they were discussing the case?”

“They were trying to guilt Michael!”

“No, they were stating the information they had, like when I gave the name I had of the fake informant.”

“That name is very common in the Middle East. And you did not recognize Michael as the informant.”

“I couldn’t say if it was the same person because of his disguise. Like a good undercover or spy, he made himself difficult to identify. Isn’t Rivkin good undercover?”

“He is one of the best from Kidon and Mossad, but it does not mean it was him in that ship.”

“It also doesn’t mean it wasn’t him. Why are you so hell bent on proving he’s not involved?

Ziva shook her head to dismiss another expression, even if she could roughly understand it. “He would not do it to Mossad… or me.” She answered, the last part quietly.

“Why not?”

“He knows the… problems my father’s actions caused to Mossad and Israel. He would not add to them.”

“And you think your relationship with him is strong enough that he would consider your well-being, or opinions, before getting involved in something illegal?”

“Yes!” The answer was forceful, but her expression showed doubts.

“Ziva…” Gibbs drank the last of his first cup and threw it into the nearby trash. “You said that you wanted a chance to prove yourself away from your father’s shadow, away from people that would doubt you because of your surname.”

“Yes, that is what I want,” there was conviction in her answer.

“So you need to learn how to work in a team. Isn’t that what you said you came here for? We throw things around, we brainstorm, we fight it out until we can find a lead to our case.” Gibbs saw the confusion in the young woman’s face and swore in his head, trying to find another way to say it. “We discuss… We talk about our ideas… Rivkin’s names were not an accusation but it’s information we have to consider, that we needed to know.”

She humpfed. “I do not know why anyone would listen to that buffoon!”

“Who?”

“DiNozzo!”

Gibbs snorted. It was one thing for him to put down or disparage DiNozzo, but he had chosen him because he was good, and he wasn’t having his judgement questioned, not even by his new favourite. “DiNozzo may play the fool, but he’s anything but. He made detective with less than 6 years on the force and had the highest solve rate in his district when I picked him to be part of my team. Don’t let his attitude deceive you.”

“I did the profile on him. He is nothing special.”

Gibbs’ eyes darkened with the reminder of Haswari’s attack on NCIS and his team. “Are you doubting me? Paper trails can only show so much. You need to listen to me, Ziva. You need to learn to read between the lines.”

“There is nothing between the lines.”

“Ziva! Stop being so literal! It means look behind what is written. Oh, he was a cop! But to go from a uniform patrolling the streets to a homicide detective in less than 6 years requires prowess, smarts, and a good instinct. Everything that DiNozzo has in spades! Don’t antagonize him more than necessary. He can be a pain in the ass when riled.”

“May I antagonize him as necessary?” Ziva asked slyly. She noticed, through all their interactions, that Gibbs didn’t like to feel inferior to the younger man, no matter how much praise he gave him. Positioning herself as a crony, a comrade to Gibbs, even if it was only to annoy DiNozzo, was a win in the Mossad agent’s book. That DiNozzo seemed less goofy and friendly than her first assessment of him didn’t set well with Ziva either. Anything she could do to undermine the other man and position herself better in Gibbs’ opinion was good.

Gibbs laughed. “Yeah, a little bit won’t go astray.”

They got up, with Ziva throwing her empty cup in the trash, and Gibbs nursing his second coffee cup.

ITNC

The sun was just down and the NCIS agents and their two international liaisons were at the garage of the NCIS building, getting ready to leave for their stake-out.

Rita Zamora and her Rapid Response Team were ready to back them up at the exit to the port, divided into two groups of three people each, with Vincent Alvarez, the team’s SFA, commanding the second unit. They had armoured cars to help block the road and hoped to hold the trucks without much issue.

Keeping an eye out for the unloading of the goods would be Carson and Mick, with Gibbs and Ziva at the gate, ready to help box in the guys carrying the goods.

DiNozzo and McGee were charged to pick up Chen, especially now that his apparent partner in crime was locked in a holding cell at the Navy Yard.

Balboa and Blackwood were going for Rivkin’s address. Ziva seemed satisfied with that choice but everybody that wasn’t Gibbs thought it was because she didn’t believe the man would be there to be picked up.

Gibbs tried to push for DiNozzo and McGee to be the pair going for the other Mossad agent, but Tony put paid to that idea quickly. The discussion in the lift was short and to the point, with DiNozzo not in the mood anymore to cater to Gibbs high handed methods.

“Chen is more connected to our original case and it makes sense that McGee and I go to him.”

“I don’t want people getting trigger-happy and I don’t trust Blackwood not to try to make a name for himself.”

“Since your Miss Mossad is so sure that her Michael doesn’t have anything to do with the smuggling plot, why worry?” Tony asked sarcastically.

“Don’t play the fool, DiNozzo! We don’t have time for your brand of jokes!”

“You’re the one playing the fool, Gibbs, and thinking you can make one of me. You want us going after Rivkin because when, and I mean when not if, we find out he’s involved, you think you can do some magic sleight of hand and make sure his shit doesn’t fling all over Vance and your new protegee and your decision to put her into NCIS premier investigative team,” DiNozzo didn’t scream, but his tone was hard and non-nonsense.

Gibbs moved into the younger man’s space, trying to crowd and intimidate him. “What are you accusing me of, DiNozzo?” He asked angrily.

“Of falling for the ‘poor little girl’ act and going all in without a second thought,” Tony answered and flipped the control to liberate the elevator, leaving it before Gibbs could refute his words.

The rest of the agents were around the bullpen, clearly waiting for the ‘meeting’ in the lift to finish to get going with their operation.

Ziva was by herself at the MCRT entrance, smirking, with glee in her eyes. She expected Gibbs to get his way and things to work the way she wanted.

Blackwood and the NCIS agents were on the other side, closer to Balboa’s bullpen, a mix of apprehension and amusement between them.

McGee was clearly uncomfortable, shooting glances between the Mossad officer and the elevator.

Jane, Mick, and Carson tried to keep neutral features, but they were too used to Gibbs on the warpath, and they worried for their colleague.

Balboa had witnessed the change in DiNozzo since his too close for comfort brush with death and had faith in his new stance. His worries were more about what Gibbs would do when he didn’t get what he wanted.

Callum Blackwood was waiting in parade rest, his previous training in the British Army coming back every time he didn’t want to be noticed. His face was neutral, and you would have to really know the man to notice the glint in his eyes. Inside he was making a real effort to not let his amusement show. He had clocked Gibbs as a control freak, someone who lived by the ‘my way or the highway’ rule. DiNozzo was a bit harder. His previous profile put him firmly in a people pleaser position, but something must have changed in the last few months and the inner iron in the man’s spine was showing clearly now. Blackwood heard the rumours about the agent’s almost death after the bio-attack and he could understand the shift in attitude. Second chances are not to be brushed off.

The calm way DiNozzo walked out of the lift with an angry Gibbs stomping behind told everyone waiting the results of that conversation.

Jane, Mick, and Carson did a discreet fist bump between them, and Balboa let out a beaming and proud smile.

Blackwood relaxed his posture a little bit and nodded towards the SFA when the man passed him by to meet with his team member.

McGee let out a whimper, unsure if the way things went would be good or bad for him. Gibbs in wounded bear mood was unbearable but Tim wouldn’t be working with the man tonight. DiNozzo in a bad mood was disruptive to the younger man’s stomach, and since he was his partner today, better a winning Tony in this instance.

Ziva’s face changed in a heartbeat from smarmy certainty of victory to thunderous spoiled brat. Before she could say anything though, Director Vance’s voice sounded from up the stairs, gaining the attention of the group on the bullpen floor.

“Good luck tonight, Agents!” The director’s voice boomed in the space. “Let’s get a win for NCIS by bringing down this smuggler. I’m counting on all of you,” he said, but his eyes were locked on Gibbs’.

The team leader barely nodded and was calling for the group to leave. He positioned himself in front of Ziva, letting all the others collect their equipment and start walking out of the floor before murmuring something into the young woman’s ear.

Ziva took a deep breath and nodded in agreement, collecting her bag and following Gibbs out of the office.

Vance chewed forcefully the toothpick he had in his mouth. He sincerely hoped that this whole thing, this operation and the idea of putting the Mossad liaison on the MCRT, wouldn’t blow up in his face. One director down was more than NCIS could cope with.

Chapter 12 – I can see clearly now

“Anything you can get us, McSnooper, before we go once more into the breach?”

“I think I can piggyback from Chen’s wi-fi…” McGee answered absentmindedly while typing on his brick of laptop. Tony tried to drop him a hint for the future.

“You will be really happy when you won’t have to drag around 10 pounds of equipment, eh, McGee?”

“Sure, Tony, sure…” The younger man was obviously not listening. “Ah-ha!”

“Humm… Tell the class, McOverachiever.”

“He macgyvered a surveillance system!”

“And that’s good for us?” Tony asked, surprised.

“Like I said, I can hijack his wi-fi and his surveillance and we can record everything!”

“McGenius, I promised not to play any pranks on you for the next month if you can do this!”

McGee finally looked up from his laptop to the SFA’s face. “I’ll hold you to that, Tony!” He said forcefully.

“Scouts’ honour, Probie!” Tony raised his hand in the generally known gesture.

“You were never a scout!”

“Ah, it’s the thought that counts, Tim,” DiNozzo smiled benignly.

McGee humpfed and completed the necessary tasks. “I have a feed being recorded on the laptop. I passed the information to Abby and Jane, and they may try something from the office, although I don’t think they can record.” Tim arranged the laptop carefully in the back seat, making sure that everything was still running. “We can go in now.”

“Let the ladies sort out what they can. Carson, Gibbs, and Rita have their hands full with the trucks and they’ll probably request information from Abby and Jane.”

“Balboa didn’t confirm they got Rivkin?” McGee asked, trying to hide his worry.

“Nope, surprise, surprise, he wasn’t at the address we had,” The pair left the car and started towards the building quickly but not rushing. “They said they’ll come here first and then see if the harbour team needs more back-up.”

“Why here?”

“If Chen is involved in the whole smuggler thing, he might know about Rivkin.” The pair reached the second floor of the building and turned left towards the apartment at the end of the corridor. “If he was just ‘making the beast with two backs’ with Mrs Collings,” Tony joked, “then Balboa and Blackwood will move to see if the guy is with the goods.”

“Aarrgh, Tony! If Kate heard you…” McGee’s comment was cut short by the sound of a shot being fired.

The two men traded looks and started running towards the apartment, pulling their guns. McGee pasted himself against the right side of the door, closer to the hinges. DiNozzo was on the left, gun in his right hand, his left fingers counting down before he grabbed the handle and twisted carefully. It turned and DiNozzo nodded to the younger agent before opening it abruptly, letting go of the handle, stepping into the room, moving quickly to the left, and raising the gun, bringing his left hand to support his stance.

McGee took silent deep breaths while following the SFA’s signs and as soon as the door was open, he entered, kneeling on the right side of the door, out of the way. He should be able to cover the other agent if the man was surprised by an attacker or had to rush to tackle someone.

Their breathing hitched in surprise. On the sofa halfway into the room was a body, clearly shot in the head. A man was behind the sofa, just letting the victim’s hand fall from his grip. In a fraction of a moment DiNozzo deducted that Rivkin, because that was the guy in the picture they saw earlier in the day, no turban, no beard, not dirty in the face, was staging a suicide.

The sofa was in the middle of the room, facing right and the window there. Rivkin, at the back of it, had a clear path to where DiNozzo had positioned himself.

“Oh, look at you, meddling kids, getting mixed up with what you don’t understand,” came the comment from the man with a mixed accent that put him as a Middle Eastern who’d learned British English.

“Oh, no, not again…” Tony murmured, firming his grip on his gun, and taking one more step to the left, clearly the door completely. “All the way to the other wall, Probie!” He ordered firmly.

“Ah, you think I might hurt your pet, Agent DiNozzo?”

McGee gasped while moving as ordered to stand up, back against the wall, gun raised and the man in his sights.

“I know what a Kidon agent is trained to do, Rivkin,” DiNozzo answered, careful to keep a wall at his back and his full attention on the other man. “You don’t seem to be plastered, so we will keep our distance, yeah.”

“What, I doubt little Ziva would be telling tales on me,” Rivkin responded, stepping back from the sofa, and turning slightly towards DiNozzo. “So Blackwood brought up my Interpol profile?”

“Stop and drop to your knees,” Tony filed the comment for later. Of course Ziva has been passing information about their operation to her sweetheart.

Rivkin cocked his head to the left, a smirk on. “Ah, I don’t think so. Others kneel before me, not the other way around.”

McGee’s eyes were wide in alarm. He really wanted to pull out his phone and call for help, but he was afraid to take his eyes from the other man. Tim held his gun tighter with both hands, trying to decide if he could risk the distraction.

“Not sure if it’s kinky or just megalomaniac, but I really don’t care,” Tony stated, moving the gun slightly down, while repeating the order. “On your knees, hands behind your head.”

“You won’t do anything, because if I’m hurt, Ziva will be sad.” The man moved another step away from the sofa and in the direction of the MCRT SFA. “And if Ziva is sad, your boss Gibbs will be upset. You wouldn’t want that, would you, Anthony?” The sarcastic tone was getting on McGee’s nerves, but Tony seemed cool and in control. He laughed.

“I couldn’t care less what Miss Mossad feels about you or the situation, Rivkin,” DiNozzo stated indifferently, while the Kidon agent raised an eyebrow in doubt. “I warned Gibbs about her and you, and right now, I don’t care if he listened or not. Last warning. On your knees with hands behind your head!” Tony firmed his hold on his gun aimed towards the other man.

Noise at the door shifted McGee attention from the stalemate toward the entrance. By the door frame, a couple of steps into the apartment were Balboa and Blackwood, both with their guns out and raised towards the Kidon agent.

DiNozzo didn’t even twitch with the entrance of the other two agents, completely engrossed in the other man’s actions.

Rivkin seemed to glance at the door to ascertain who had come in and recognizing it wasn’t anyone who would support him in this situation, made a sudden, swift movement, throwing a knife towards McGee’s position.

Balboa, the closest to the young agent, moved and tackled him down, both men tumbling on the floor on a mix of limbs, their guns clacking and sliding towards the window while the throwing knife embedded itself in the wall behind them.

Blackwood took another step into the room, gun raised, safety off.

Rivkin raised his other hand, another knife flying from it before all the responses to his first attack were over. The second charge was aimed towards DiNozzo, and the SFA shifted slightly, firing in response to the movement.

McGee and Balboa disentangled themselves and rushed to retrieve their wayward weapons. They moved towards the sofa as soon as they were sorted, with Blackwood approaching from the door, all guns raised and pointed to where Rivkin was.

Blackwood glanced towards DiNozzo. The man was slumped against the wall, his right hand still raised with his gun, his left arm hanging at his side, the throwing knife embedded in his shoulder. A trickle of blood was starting to drip but the injury was plugged by the weapon.

The Kidon agent had fallen against the sofa, both hands gripping the back of it, trying to keep himself standing but it didn’t seem he would be able to hold for long. The man’s left knee was a mess, with blood and cartilage visible, and the bullet was certainly lodged in there.

Blackwood kept his gun pointed at Rivkin until the man fell to the floor moaning. “Check DiNozzo,” he commanded the other two NCIS agents, flicking his head towards the man keeping himself upright against the wall.

McGee holstered his gun and moved quickly towards his SFA. Balboa checked the body slouched on the sofa, took another look at the Mossad agent on the floor and with a nod to the Interpol agent, moved towards the door, cell phone in hand, starting to make the necessary calls. They would need Ducky for the body and two ambulances. A few more agents to guard Rivkin for sure and maybe he should call one of the frat brothers to sit on DiNozzo so he wouldn’t bail from the hospital before he was signed off.

ITNC

Gibbs was satisfied with how well the whole search of the trucks went. The guys loading and driving them were new to the gig and knew the goods were illegal but not that they were armaments. Mick and Carson caught the men from the ship after the unloading was completed and the trucks departed the harbour. That left Gibbs, Ziva, and Zamora’s team to close in on the two trucks and stop them after they were out of view.

For sure they found half of the missing Russian armaments and what seemed to be some special order on heavy calibre guns. Gibbs was ready to bet those were drug cartel orders and would probably be distributed around the east coast. He was happy to disrupt some of the scumbags’ plans.

The only part of the whole operation that didn’t sit well with him was the agreement of radio silence between the groups. Gibbs, Carson, and Zamora worked out a short and simple code they used through their standard radios, but Balboa and DiNozzo were cut out of that because they were going for stealth and wouldn’t help any of them having ringtones from phones or radios cracking out when they were trying to get their perps unaware.

The group divided to go back to the Navy Yard, with Mick and Carson driving one of the trucks, Zamora and one guy from her team driving the other, Alvarez, their SFA guarding the four ‘guests’, and Gibbs and Ziva in the agency’s car.

Ziva was checking her phone what looked like every 5 minutes. Gibbs avoided his like usual.

“Michael has not contacted me…” she murmured, her attention on the silent phone. Gibbs only hummed in acknowledgement.

“They had better not do anything to him!” she said forcefully.

“He better not do anything, then,” Gibbs retorted.

“What do you mean?” The phone was back in a pocket and Ziva’s attention was fully on Gibbs.

“You’re pretty sure he doesn’t have anything to do with the smuggling operation…”

“He does not!”

“So, he just has to answer Balboa’s questions and not get in the way.”

She crossed her arms and turned to look out of the window, lips pursed.

As usual, Gibbs got them to the Navy Yard before everybody. He couldn’t see the car DiNozzo drove to Chen’s apartment, but Balboa’s was parked in its normal space. Gibbs let out an inner sigh of relief. If Balboa was back, then things went as they should with Rivkin. DiNozzo might have to chase after the Chen guy, especially if he caught up that his partner in crime was already at NCIS hands.

Gibbs clocked the other team leader as soon as he stepped in the bullpen. Balboa was seated at his desk, apparently already typing on his report. The man raised his head with the ding of the lift and observed, with hooded eyes, as Gibbs and Ziva entered the floor. The woman peeled off to put her backpack by her desk in the MCRT space. Gibbs advanced into the other team’s area with big strides, dipping his chin in question.

Balboa glanced towards Ziva before saying anything. “I can give you a sitrep in a meeting room.”

“Why not here?”

“Things didn’t go exactly to plan.”

“What did you do to Michael?!” The exasperated scream came from behind Gibbs.

Balboa raised his eyebrows, eyes locked at Gibbs’ face. The MCRT team leader winced discreetly. “No use tiptoeing, Balboa. What happened?”

“Michael had better not be hurt!” Ziva stopped in front of the desk, arms folded, posture rigid, fire in her eyes.

“Maybe instead of a meeting room we should take this to interrogation,” Balboa stood up and walked around his desk to stop in front of the woman, arms relaxed but his countenance forbidding.

“What?” Ziva asked, surprised.

Gibbs advanced to the side of the young woman, eyes on the other team leader.

“What is it, Balboa?”

“Like I said…”

“Just tell us what happened!” Bear Gibbs to the front.

“I don’t think you understand the whole situation, Gibbs.” Balboa stayed calm but kept his eyes on the Mossad officer.

“I told you; Ziva is part of my team now that Kate is gone.”

“Humm… Not sure if it will last,” the other man retorted, ignoring the angry faces glowering at him. “Even if it does, we need to clear this case first.”

Gibbs observed the other team lead carefully before turning to the woman by his side. “Go home, Ziva, and we’ll…” his comment was interrupted by the other two people at the same time.

“What? No! I want to know what happened!”

“The only place she goes is interrogation!”

The group was surprised by a voice interrupting the stalemate. “What’s going on?”

Balboa raised his eyes to see Director Vance approaching from the mezzanine stairs. Gibbs turned just enough to keep both men in his line of sight. Ziva moved to be closer to the Director, a smirk back on her face.

“Director Vance,” she started.

“We are closing the operation,” Gibbs cut her off.

“Balboa?” Vance asked, ignoring the other two.

“Things went a bit sideways on our pick-ups, Director,” Balboa started explaining but kept a weather eye on the woman.

“Gibbs is right, Officer David is part of the MCRT now, so if this is about the operation, you can talk here. Unless you are waiting for the rest of the team,” Vance stated.

Ziva’s smirk grew to a full-blown mean smile.

“Then I’ll wait for the rest of the team to come around, Director,” Balboa answered politely, going back to his desk.

“Balboa! What happened to my team?!” Gibbs didn’t like to wait at the best of times, but with an unknown situation looming, he certainly would not accept the delay.

“It’s better if I brief everybody at the same time,” Balboa answered, start typing again. “Nothing is urgent after all.”

Vance put a hand on Gibbs’s shoulder to hold the man in place. Ziva’s face was twisting between glee at having the Director’s support and anger at not having the answers she was seeking immediately.

Balboa kept typing, ignoring the other three awkwardly waiting around his desk. The entrance of the rest of Balboa’s team that went out with Gibbs broke the impasse.

“They are here…” Gibbs started.

“Rita?” Balboa asked his SFA.

Carson looked around the people at their bullpen, exchanged a glance with Mick, and replied, “She’s just finishing distributing tasks. There are the guys we got and all the cargo to take care of. Jane?” he asked back.

“Downstairs, in the lab, working with Abby,” was Balboa’s turn to explain.

Gibbs felt the urge to slap himself for forgetting to go to Abby to get the answers he needed.

A ping from Balboa’s computer brought everyone’s attention back.

“McGee should be here soon, then we can talk,” Balboa said before Gibbs could go on again.

Carson and Mick strolled around the others to enter their team’s area and sit at their desks. They started pulling the documents they needed to complete after tonight’s operation, ignoring the three waiting for them, just like their team leader.

Mick kept throwing glances towards Gibbs and Ziva, and he could almost see the smoke coming out of the top of their heads. When it seemed Gibbs wouldn’t wait anymore, the lift pinged, and the door opened to spill out McGee and Zamora.

Vance, Ziva, and Gibbs turned immediately to look at the new arrivals while Balboa’s team stood up and came forward.

“McGee! Sitrep!” Gibbs screamed, not waiting for the young agent to notice the group waiting for him.

The young agent stumbled and stopped, eyes bulging. Rita looked around and took stock of the situation, moving swiftly forward, putting herself squarely at McGee’s back. Balboa weaved between the waiting group to approach the young me.

“How he is?” He asked quietly, ignoring the huffed sounds from his back.

“He should be okay, didn’t lose too much blood, but they were discussing surgery to fix muscles and tendons when I left. Depending on that, he has loads of physio in his future. He didn’t seem a happy camper,” McGee answered also softly, avoiding eye contact with his own team leader.

“And the other?”

“He was in surgery to repair what they could. Marines are on security duty,” McGee reported.

“Blackwood was on the phone when I left, arranging transport, I believe. He’ll try to pull strings to get the lead on him.”

Balboa nodded, feeling it would be best if the Interpol agent got away with it.

“Agent Balboa,” Vance’s tone was clipped. “I would say most of the team from tonight’s operation is here, we should be able to do a quick debrief now.”

The team lead locked eyes with the younger agent and McGee gulped but nodded. Balboa returned the nod in agreement and turned to face the waiting group.

Mick and Carson stayed around their work area, an eye out for any problem, both knowing that Gibbs might blow a lid about whatever information their senior agent had to offer, but the Mossad officer was the one they might need to contain.

Zamora stayed where she stopped, at McGee’s back, close by the lift and the stairs entrance.

McGee didn’t move, letting Balboa half cover him and feeling secure with Rita at his back.

Balboa glanced round, letting his gaze linger on the Director for a moment. “No-one seems to have noticed who’s missing,” he said pointedly. “Rivkin wasn’t at the address we had for him,” the team lead went on.

“You probably had the wrong information,” Ziva stated quickly.

Balboa barely looked at her before continuing, his attention on the Director more than on Gibbs.

“We contacted DiNozzo and offered to meet at Chen’s address. If he knew anything, he might help us find Rivkin, or maybe Zamora and Gibbs might find him with the trucks and let us know.”

“Michael would not be involved!” Ziva insisted again.

“Ziva!” Gibbs admonished her. The young woman huffed and crossed her arms, pouting. “What did you find at Chen’s?” Gibbs turned to ask his young agent.

McGee glanced at Balboa and waited to answer until the other man dipped his head in approval. Gibbs bristled at the dismissal of his authority.

“You’re my agent, McGee! You answer to me!”

“Actually, Agent Gibbs,” Vance’s soft-spoken tone interfered. “All of you are my agents and answer to me.” He turned to the young man. “I want to know what actually happened, Agent McGee. Do not worry about unwarranted repercussions.”

McGee visibly swallowed but straightened up before speaking. “Abby identified the internet company that serves Chen’s building, so when Agent DiNozzo and I got there, I was able to narrow down his connections and piggyback on his wi-fi. Chen had cobbled together a surveillance net and had cameras around his apartment, including the front door.”

Ziva looked startled at the information and Gibbs moved closer to her. Vance took a few steps away from the pair, getting closer to Balboa.

“I set my laptop to copy whatever his system was recording, and Tony and I went up to his apartment. We used the stairs,” he continued. “We were almost at the door when we heard a shot being fired inside the apartment.”

Once more Ziva moved but Gibbs held her by the arm to make the young woman stay in place. He whispered in her ear, and both stilled.

“We positioned ourselves and opened the door, Tony going one side and me to the other,” McGee kept his eyes glued on the Director’s face but started fidgeting with his hands. “There was a body lying on the sofa, a guy we knew right away was Chen.” He gulped noisily and stole a glance at Gibbs and Ziva. “Rivkin was behind the sofa, still holding the body’s hand, placing the gun in it. As far as we could ascertain, Rivkin had just killed him, and was staging his suicide.”

“How can you say it was Michael?!” Ziva couldn’t hold back.

“Ah, it was the same guy as the photo we had…”

“Gibbs could not identify him before!” She cried.

“Gibbs didn’t identify the informant at the exploding ship as Rivkin,” Balboa cut in. “Because of the disguise he was using. The guy in the apartment was clean shaven, wearing a suit, no turban in sight,” he declared.

“You are catching hay to implicate Michael!” She tried again.

A few heads cocked sideways, trying to understand her mangled expressions.

“There aren’t any straws to grab here, Officer David,” Balboa stated, eyes hard.

Vance sighed and bit harder on his toothpick. “Let’s hear the end of the report before fighting about it,” he stated briskly, gesturing to McGee to continue.

“Ah…” The young agent glanced around a bit uncertainly, but another firm nod from Balboa made him inhale deeply. “Rivkin made some comments about us interfering and Tony told him to get to his knees and put his hands behind his head.”

Ziva sneered at the idea but didn’t interrupt again, probably because of the tightened grasp of Gibbs on her arm.

Tim stopped to think and added: “Tony said something about Rivkin not being drunk and he said something back about us reading Agent Blackwood’s profile on him.”

“Michael is not a drunk!” Ziva really couldn’t help herself.

Loud sighs went through the group, but nobody commented on the interruption. McGee kept his eyes on the Director and carried on. “There were a few more barbs and Tony repeated the order for Rivkin to surrender. Rivkin did comment that Tony wouldn’t want to upset Gibbs if whatever we did made Officer David sad…” he trailed off, glancing towards the woman, as all eyes in the room turned to the pair.

Gibbs let go of her arm, clenching his hands in fists by his side. Ziva raised her chin, like she didn’t have anything to be ashamed of.

“Tony gave one last warning and then Balboa and Blackwood were at the door,” McGee stopped there.

Balboa picked it up. “We heard DiNozzo telling him to kneel and raise his hands when we reached the door. McGee was to the right and DiNozzo to the left of the door, both close to the wall, and Rivkin was behind the sofa, taking small steps toward the exit. We all had our guns aimed at him.”

Ziva left out a wounded whimper this time. Gibbs looked at her sideways but didn’t approach or touch her this time.

“He then threw a knife in McGee’s direction,” – at that information, McGee shivered, remembering that moment when he felt frozen in time and expected the knife to hit him right in the chest. Balboa patted the younger agent’s shoulder and kept on with the report. “I jumped and tackled him, both of us rolling on the floor, our guns sliding towards the window.”

This time Ziva made a noise of derision, and murmured a comment that only Gibbs was close enough to hear. The MCRT team leader shot a sharp and angry look at the Mossad officer and took an actual step away from her, but Ziva didn’t notice the man distancing himself.

“Blackwood and DiNozzo would have to give a more accurate recount of the next sequence, but I think Rivkin threw another knife and Tony shot him.”

“No!” Ziva moved forward in anger. This time was Vance that stopped her with a hand in front of her, blocking her advance. The Director made a go on gesture to the older agent with his other hand.

“When McGee and I were back on our feet and picked up our weapons, DiNozzo was holding himself up against the wall and Rivkin was trying to keep himself standing by holding on the back of the sofa. Tony had a knife embedded in his left shoulder, and Rivkin took a bullet to the knee. He couldn’t stay up for long though,” Balboa made a serious effort to not sound pleased with the last detail.

“That baboon destroyed Michael’s career! He will pay for it!” Ziva shook Vance’s hand out of her way and advanced against Balboa, index finger raised, pointed at the man’s face.

“That knife could have destroyed Tony’s field career too,” Mick complained, all the way from the back of the group.

“He does not have a career! He is a dead man; he just does not know it!” Ziva turned to the one who talked, fury pouring out in her words and expression.

“And this is a credible threat against a federal agent,” Balboa moved swiftly, grabbing Ziva’s right arm and twisting it behind her back with his left hand, his right one picking up the cuffs still in their pouch on his belt. “DiNozzo defended himself and his fellow agents against an enemy who’d just committed murder! Rivkin threw the knives first, both times! D’you understand that? You’re under arrest, Miss David.”

Ziva tried to fight, one leg moving to kick back the taller man, while Vance moved out of the way and Carson advanced to help his team leader. Gibbs stayed frozen in place for a second but advanced when he heard the click of the cuffs closing around Ziva’s small wrists.

“She’s just distraught! That wasn’t a serious threat!”

“Oh? Well then, she can cool down in one of our quiet rooms, Gibbs,” Balboa retorted, pushing the woman towards his SFA.

Taylor Carson was quick to get a hold on the cuffed wrists, pulling her arms a bit higher to reduce the chances of the Mossad officer kicking him.

“Let’s all calm down, gentlemen,” Vance started. A raised eyebrow from Rita Zamora, a quiet shadow behind McGee for the whole conversation, made the Director complete: “and ladies. Officer David can calm down in one of the meeting rooms,” then he gestured to hold off any comments from the agents. “Gibbs can stay with her and explain the situation,” a warning look went to the man. “And we will have some security at the door to avoid any incidents. I’ll need DiNozzo’s and Blackwood’s reports before deciding how to proceed.”

Rita scoffed at that, but didn’t add anything.

Balboa nodded at his SFA and Carson sighed out loud while starting to direct Ziva towards a meeting room past the stairs. Gibbs seemed torn but moved to follow the pair. Mick pulled a desk phone and was clearly calling for security to be sent up. McGee had taken a step back when Balboa grabbed Ziva, so he stayed away, counting on Zamora as support.

“You didn’t ask about DiNozzo, Gibbs!” Balboa called out. The other senior agent staggered, stopped and half turned to listen. “He’ll probably need surgery to fix the shoulder. Not sure what the prognosis is for that.”

There was a nod, and he started walking again, just to stop when Vance asked: “What about Rivkin?”

Balboa shrugged dismissively. “He was in surgery when McGee left the hospital. Blackwood should have his status.”

Vance turned to go back to his office while Gibbs went to find Ziva. He crossed paths with Carson, who barely acknowledged him. There were already two Marines at the meeting room door. They positioned themselves at each side of it and nodded towards Gibbs when he walked past. The senior agent took a discreet breath before turning the handle and entering the room.

Ziva was on the other side of the room by the small window the place offered, her hands still in cuffs. Gibbs pulled a small key from his jeans pocket and undid it quickly. She moved her arms to her side but didn’t check her wrists, or massage them, as most people did after having the metal holding them.

“What were you thinking, Ziva?!” He asked exasperatedly.

“I told you I would not accept any action against Michael!” She retorted, finally turning to face him.

“And I told you we had to run the case where it led us! You were the one who was a hundred percent sure he wasn’t involved!”

“Just because he arrived at the apartment before DiNozzo…”

“He was there to make sure Chen wouldn’t talk!”

‘You do not know that!”

“Why kill him then?!”

“You do not know if he did that either?!”

Gibbs let out a noisy sigh. “The apartment was covered by Chen’s own surveillance system, remember? Stop grasping for straws here, Ziva. Accept that you were wrong, and he was involved.”

“No! He might have been undercover, no? Trying to dismount Kurvitz’s operation from inside!”

“So why didn’t you know about it?”

It was Ziva’s turn to exhale loudly. “Operations are separate at Mossad. Not everyone knows everything that is going on.”

“But you were here, working with us on Kurvitz’s case. You’d need to know.”

She shrugged and turned her back to him, watching the window again.

“And how would he know about Blackwood being here? McGee said he talked about DiNozzo seeing his profile from Interpol.”

Ziva shrugged again. “I might have commented on the people I was meeting the last time I talked to Michael,” she responded uncaringly.

Gibbs ran a hand over his short hair. “You can’t do that, Ziva, if you want to work with us. You can’t go around telling people about our operations.”

“I did not tell ‘people’. I commented with Michael, a friend and fellow Mossad officer, about another international agent I met.”

“Don’t go on splitting hairs!” Gibbs looked at her furiously. “Get it through your head! You can not pass any information! And you knew Blackwood was suspicious of Rivkin.”

“I told you he was trying to guilt Michael!”

“Looks like Michael guilted himself.”

Ziva turned towards Gibbs in anger. “We do not know what he was doing in that apartment because DiNozzo shot him!”

“We know he’d just killed Chen!” And Rivkin threw his knives first, Ziva! Don’t tell me that Balboa didn’t save McGee’s life! Because there’s no way that a Kidon agent wouldn’t go for the kill! And DiNozzo is in the hospital with a serious injury himself. He was probably going to disable Rivkin, and the knife knocked his aim off. I would say Rivkin had it coming and deserved it.” Gibbs stated, his own fury starting to boil over.

The young woman seemed to finally notice his anger, and that she wasn’t gaining anything with her stubborn attitude. She visibly took a deep breath, smoothed her features and tried a softer approach.

“Gibbs…” she played with her hands, like she was nervous. “I cannot believe Michael is involved because it would mean another person I trusted… loved… lied to me.”

Gibbs softened some with her words, but didn’t forget his anger at the whole situation. “I can understand the feeling of betrayal, Ziva, the hurt when someone you trusted does something completely out of character,” he moved closer to her and held one of her hands with both of his, Jenny Shepard’s situation fresh in his mind. “But we need to keep our eyes and mind open, we can’t pretend it isn’t true, won’t help in the end.”

She made an aborted movement to pull her hand free but ended up surrendering to his soothing support. “How can you be sure DiNozzo wasn’t planning to kill Michael, and his knife actually saved his life?”

“Because I told DiNozzo to stay away from Rivkin, not engage. If he had to, he needed to bring him in for interrogation. And he wasn’t expecting Rivkin to be there, because you said he’d be somewhere else.”

“But…”

“DiNozzo wouldn’t disobey me, Ziva,” Gibbs stated with certainty. “It can be painful to lose trust, you just need to learn from it. Isn’t it why you wanted to be here? To learn to be different, for a new opportunity?”

Ziva nodded slowly.

“There’ll be growing pains, but if you keep your eyes on the prize, you can go through it.”

“I do not know if I will ever understand all your American expressions.”

Gibbs smiled softly. “You’ll get there. In between the office, news, movies and books, you’ll get there.”

Ziva squeezed Gibbs’ hand. “Thank you for having faith in me.”

“I understand the need for a second chance, especially when everything around you change and crumbles,” he answered quietly. “Now, sit tight while I go talk to Vance. I’ll take you home as soon as I can clear things up. Still at the hotel?”

“Yes, I did not have the time to go looking for an apartment.”

The senior agent nodded. “I’ll help when we’ve closed this case.” He patted her hand and left the room, leaving the young woman to fold her arms and hold her elbows as if embracing herself while turning back to the window.

Chapter 13 – So many things I would have done

Tony was glad Agent Blackwood accepted his request and got someone at the hospital to take his report before he had to go in for surgery. He was also dejected to need surgery just a few months after all the trouble with the plague and his cardiac arrest.

Even if he needed to repair muscles and whatnot in his shoulder, at least he was less injured than in his dream-memories. No dislocated shoulder, no bumps and bruises, or concussion. Having an alive Rivkin also felt like victory. He knew the knee wound was a career killer. No matter how good the doctors were, the guy wouldn’t be able to do half the things needed to keep being a Kidon agent. That felt like a win too.

This time there wasn’t Papa David asking for DiNozzo’s head on a plate, or Vance ready to bow down to Mossad whims. No overnight travel to Israel to ‘take one for the team’. Not being thrown to the wolves, uncertain if he would survive. No muddling through the pain and discomfort to unsettle Director David and show proof of his plans. No being used in the tug of war between agencies, Vance and Gibbs, or even Ziva. Not being the excuse for Gibbs to punish the Israeli for being more loyal to her father and country than to Gibbs himself. This time, none of that would, should happen. And Kate was still alive and safe. Out of NCIS yes, but maybe it was for the best.

DiNozzo expected Ziva to be mad because he was the one that shot Rivkin. He expected Gibbs would still say he could have done better and avoided the whole brouhaha. Tony hoped the Director wouldn’t interfere this time, but he also believed he had Balboa, Zamora and their teams on his side. Probably McGee too. Maybe.

With Agent Blackwood, and in the end, Interpol, all over the idea of getting custody of Rivkin, Tony felt things might work out more or less alright after all. Even with the surgery.

He tried to relax while he waited for someone to come by to take his report. He would be able to accept the good drugs after he was sure everything was documented. Not that he expected Ziva to get punished or anything. Tony would be happy with her out of MCRT and NCIS.

His room door opened, and Tony squinted through the pain to watch a young woman enter.

“Hey, Jane,” he saluted quietly.

“Why is it always you, Tony?” Jane Owen, from Balboa’s team, asked sorrowfully.

Tony tried to shrug, but the movement was cut short by the shot of pain running from his shoulder through his arm and halfway through his chest.

“Quiet down, man,” Jane advanced quickly to put a hand on DiNozzo’s uninjured arm. “Lock down your Italian side and use your words, Tony!”

The man grinned through the pain. “So, you’re here for my report?”

“Yep, Boss agrees that it’d be good to get it out of the way before you get sedated,” she smiled mischievously. “Your drugged up state is legendary.”

“Yeah, not gonna dispute that,” he tried to keep his mood up but was getting harder with the time and the emotional stress of the last few days.

Jane pulled the small table by the side of the bed and started arranging her equipment. “I brought a recorder and my laptop so I can type notes while you talk.”

“Hum-hum.”

“Just stay awake and conscious until we finish, okay?” She joked.

“No promise, Janie, but I’ll do my best,” Tony tried to find a more comfortable position while he waited for her go ahead.

The agent fiddled with the equipment, arranging the recorder as close to DiNozzo as possible, then she sat down by his bedside, laptop on her knees to avoid any interference with the sound equipment.

“Okay, ready. Start at the point you and McGee got to Chen’s building,” she requested, fingers poised at the keyboard.

“McGee talked to Abby before we left the Navy Yard and was looking for a way to access Chen’s internet at his apartment,” DiNozzo started.

The brief went on for a while, DiNozzo being careful and meticulous with his words. He finished with the paramedics arriving at the apartment and collecting Rivkin and himself. He knew Blackwood had accompanied the Israeli, and McGee followed him to the hospital, leaving after the basic arrangements for a security detail for Rivkin was settled.

Jane nodded in agreement and started to turn off the recorder, clearing the table of equipment. “I know Balboa and McGee gave a sitrep for the whole team and the Director. Rita’s team were dealing with the guys and cargo they collected. Blackwood and you were here, at the hospital. I was with Abby, in the lab, working on the laptop McGee dropped with us, including the recordings from Chen’s equipment, and the first pieces of evidence to come in through Rita’s team,” she explained. “Balboa asked me to come take your report when Blackwood called.”

“So, no gossip on how that report went down?” Tony asked, feeling his strength falling and seriously considering calling a nurse for some pain relief.

“My boss was tight lipped,” Jane answered. She noticed the pain and discomfort on the other agent’s face. “Stop worrying about it. Now you take care of yourself,” she completed, pressing the button by the bed.

It took just a few minutes for a nurse to come by, followed by Henry Lewis.

“Henry? What are you doing here?” Tony asked while the nurse busied herself checking his stats and adding some medication to his drip.

“Balboa called to say you landed at the hospital, again!” Henry answered, emphasizing the repetition of the situation.

“The tattletale…” Tony whispered, the pain medication starting to kick in and feeling comfortable enough to relax.

Henry sighed and patted the other man’s hand, careful not to touch the inserted needle. “Let the drugs work their magic, brother. I’ll be around if the doctors have any questions.”

Tony hummed in agreement and let himself get immersed in the inviting darkness without pain. One of the documents he signed after the cardiac arrest, besides the whole name change and the investments, was to make Henry and Jake his medical proxies and power of attorney. He felt his frat brothers really had his best interest at heart and would do their best for him.

ITNC

Gibbs hated to have to explain himself or, heaven forbid, ask for a favour from anyone above him in the chain of command. It’s always better to be the one owning the favour and have something to hold over others, instead of being the one asking for it.

Ziva’s situation put him under a bit of a strain. He would have to, at least, negotiate with Vance to keep her on the team. And the senior agent didn’t even want to think how much, and how fast, he would need to talk to stop DiNozzo complaining about it. But that would be a problem for when the younger man left the hospital. For what Balboa had said, it might be a while before he could do desk duty and even more to be field certificated. Time enough to get Ziva so working well with the team that his SFA couldn’t complain. Much.

His mind went back to his conversation with Ziva about Rivkin. DiNozzo knew Rivkin had killed Chen. Gibbs was sure he also knew Gibbs himself had committed murder. Maybe if DiNozzo wasn’t around Gibbs every day he wouldn’t be reminded of that and feel like he had to act on that knowledge. Perhaps it was time DiNozzo moved on, to avoid the inevitable stress between them, however good he’d told Ziva his SFA was.

The MCRT lead climbed the stairs towards the director’ office, two coffee cups in hand. It seems that, for the last couple of months, he was really living on coffee. First DiNozzo’s dance with the plague, then the mess with Jenny, and now Rivkin. Gibbs sighed quietly before entering the office. He needed to be in control to haggle for what he wanted without giving too much to Vance.

He passed by the secretary’s desk with a quick nod towards Cynthia, and she didn’t have time to intercept him. Gibbs opened the inner office door, entered and closed it behind himself.

“Vance.”

The director sighed out loud, putting his pen on top of the report he was going through.

“Gibbs… What can I do for you now?”

“Just sorting out my team with DiNozzo back in the hospital.”

“Humm…” the man leaned back in his stuffed chair and moved unconsciously to pick up a silver cigarette carrier from the breast pocket of his jacket. He opened it with easy practice and pulled out a toothpick that went quickly into his mouth.

Gibbs drank some of his coffee, his expression light and unconcerned, while Vance chewed on his toothpick. Both men knew the score. Whoever spoke first, would lose the game. Vance thought he could outlast the grumpy agent, but he really didn’t have time for the pissing contest that Gibbs liked so much to engage in.

“And how will that work, with the MCRT without a SFA?”

The agent smirked. “Maybe we can get a TAD.” He drank another gulp. “It would be McGee and me, and whatever agent you find. Ziva could get some FLECT classes at the same time,” he threw in dismissively.

Vance eyebrows jumped up. “You want to send Officer David to FLECT?!” He was sincerely surprised that the MCRT lead would offer any kind of outside training for agents in his team.

Gibbs shrugged. “Better to get her up to date, so we don’t get complaints from JAG or DiNozzo.”

“She hasn’t endeared herself to the other agents so far,” Vance chewed slowly. “Why do you want her on your team?”

Another shrug. “I thought you wanted the full works, inter-agency cooperation.”

“Since when have you been pro cooperation?!”

“Look,” Gibbs sighed. “I think Ziva would be good for the team. She has some skills that would complement us, and she is interested in proving herself away from the mess her father made. So why not?”

Vance observed the man before him. The agent seemed relaxed, sipping his coffee until that cup was finished. He threw it away and took a long gulp from his second one, meeting the director’s eyes without a problem.

Yes, Vance would like to have the Mossad officer in NCIS. It would indeed be good for inter-agency cooperation, would bring access to contacts and informants in an area notoriously difficult for the United States, and might gain him points inside and outside of the country. He just didn’t trust Gibbs’ motives at all.

“Okay,” he finally agreed, clocking the smirk on the other man’s face, behind his ubiquitous coffee cup. “I’ll arrange for Officer David to go to FLETC, and I have an agent to give as TAD while DiNozzo goes through his rehab. Better impress on David the need to follow through the training,” Vance passed on the responsibility. “If she flunks it or if JAG complains, she’s out of MCRT. I might be able to offer her a position on the international analytic team, but she would be out of any investigations.”

“She’s invested,” Gibbs dismissed the worry.

“DiNozzo’s complaints are also your problem.” Vance threw the toothpick in the trash, picking up his pen to show he was ready to go back to his work.

Gibbs nodded curtly and turned to leave without a word. The door banged closed after he left the office.

The Director sighed deeply. He wasn’t sure where all this was going, but he thought Ziva could be helpful, and he wouldn’t mind losing DiNozzo too much. He didn’t appear that special after all. Vance was disappointed with McGee, someone who had all the credentials of what he expected from an agent, but he was also pretty naïve. Maybe he just needed time and to be out of the shadow of the older SFA to shine.

He left the pen again to type an email requesting space for Ziva in the special FLETC classes and to ask Cynthia to schedule a meeting with the agent he thought would be a good TAD for MCRT. Maybe even the perfect new SFA if DiNozzo didn’t re-qualify. After all, his injury was serious enough to put his physical abilities in doubt. Vance sighed again. He needed to offer DiNozzo a new position, didn’t he? He turned to the small two drawer file cabinet under his desk and opened it to pull out the full unredacted jacket of the ex-SFA. He would have to go through it to be able to find a place to offer the man upon his return. Vance picked up a toothpick, and opened the file with determination, pulling a notepad closer. Let’s see what he could pick from there that would make it possible to find a good enough position that DiNozzo wouldn’t complain much about being taken off the premier NCIS team.

ITNC

The next couple of weeks were drudgery with Balboa’s team getting a new case while still finishing up the one with weapons smuggling and Rivkin. The team divided their time between reports and investigating their new case.

Gibbs held tight to the smuggling case, since it resulted in the injury and absence of one his agents, but he was working with just McGee at that point.

Ziva was in a 4 weeks accelerated course at FLECT in Maryland, complaining non-stop about the uselessness of the training and the number of rules that needed to be followed. She was also unhappy because she couldn’t visit Rivkin before leaving DC, as he was isolated in the hospital with Marine security and Interpol agent Blackwood interrogating him as soon as the doctors allowed.

There was a tug of war about what to do with the Kidon agent, with the Secretary of State, SecNav, Mossad and Interpol interested in the man, with all the information he should have on ex-Director David’s dealings, his contact with Russian Mob suspects and the weapons smuggling he seemed to be part of.

Rivkin tried to push the interested powers one against the other, but he was in a physically weak condition. He couldn’t run from the hospital and with the prognosis of a bad limp, he would be easily spotted wherever he went.

Mossad just wanted to burn him.

The U.S. Secretary of State and the Secretary of the Navy wanted the information on the smuggling operations and possible terrorist contacts, but not enough to offer Rivkin a soft landing.

Interpol seemed to be his best option. Not exactly the easy life he envisioned for himself when he got embroiled in his cousins’ plans, but they would probably put him in a nice safe house and he could milk the situation for years, drip feeding them all the information he’d collected from Mossad, the Russian Mob, and his contacts all around the world.

He would need to find a way to keep in contact with his family to know how far he could go without causing real problems for them. Rivkin certainly didn’t want to be on the naughty list of any terrorist or the mob. That would certainly put an end to every one of his half-made plans.

In the end he didn’t regret losing contact with Ziva. She was a good enough shag, but too clingy and full of romantic ideas that easily got in the way of what he needed to do. For all her training, she was still the spoiled daughter of the agency’s director, getting passes when anyone else would have been booted out. It seemed she’d found another daddy to take care of her now, one that seemed ready to bow to her moods, if the big uproar with her trying to visit him was an example.

Gibbs went toe to toe with the Interpol agent, Blackwood, and Rivkin could hear the shouts clearly. The NCIS agent and Ziva were escorted out and the Marines’ security was quickly changed soon after for FBI agents. Rivkin could appreciate the forethought of Blackwood, since Gibbs would attempt to force the hand of the Navy or Marine personnel he had access to. It seemed that the MCRT lead agent wasn’t as popular with the other federal agency.

The tug of war about Rivkin lasted a week or so, enough time for the doctors to allow Rivkin to travel by plane. Gibbs tried to argue to hold on to the guy, but he was quickly overruled, and the extradition of the Kidon agent was approved. Interpol and Mossad were still negotiating access to the man for interrogation and where to keep him. With possession being nine-tenths of the law, Interpol was ahead of the game and Blackwood just informed Rivkin they would be travelling to London in another couple of days.

ITNC

The TAD that Vance arranged for the MCRT started just a couple of days after his conversation with Gibbs. Brent Langer had worked a couple of years with NCIS, moved to the FBI for a while and was now back. He knew of Gibbs’ fame, had crossed paths with the man before, and wasn’t bothered by his grumpy demeanour.

While Ziva was whining her way through the FLECT course, and DiNozzo was getting into physical therapy again, Langer found a way to fit into MCRT, with McGee being his bigger supporter.

Tim found the guy’s experience interesting and preferred his more direct approach of work, with none of the comments, jokes, nicknames or movie quotes that DiNozzo was so fond of. The part McGee didn’t like was the lack of tips for him to follow during the case. DiNozzo would make comments – which Tim was only now appreciating, give some information, basically point towards a direction that Tim could seek and then produce results that would please Gibbs. Langer didn’t share his leads without anyone besides Gibbs. He expected McGee to do his job without much supervision, and Tim missed the support, even if the price was being the butt of Tony’s pranks.

Brent Langer conquered Abby too, something that surprised even Gibbs. The tech was notoriously uncomfortable with change, especially related to the MCRT team, but the TAD approached her with some sincere admiration for her work and light flirtation, making Abby feel she didn’t have to compete for Gibbs attention as she normally did with Tony.

With Rivkin being lost to Interpol, MCRT was back on rotation and Gibbs observed the new dynamic with interest. McGee was coming along, although maybe slower than expected after the debacle with Jenny Shepard. Abby was back being bubbly, and seemed to have forgotten her brush with death provided by Haswari’s sniper prowess. Langer was competent and a good liaison with other teams and law enforcement personnel, leaving Gibbs to be his grumpy self without a problem. For the first time since he dragged Tony DiNozzo from Baltimore, Gibbs thought his team could function well without the younger man. If Ziva and Langer clicked, like the TAD was doing with McGee and Abby, maybe it would be better to cut his losses and tell Vance to transfer DiNozzo. It would mean his not having to worry about Tony working with Ziva or risking the younger man to act upon his secret. Contrary to popular belief, Gibbs preferred an easy life where he didn’t need to worry about every shadow.

He remembered DiNozzo’s comment about forgetting the ones who’d had his six all this time and pushed it aside. Gibbs would have to consider it carefully because Langer didn’t seem the type to be easily pushed over or to be emotionally blackmailed like DiNozzo, but the guy certainly had some weakness that could be exploited for the benefit of a well-run team under Gibbs direction.

Ziva should be back next Monday and DiNozzo should also be checking in to discuss when he could be back. Gibbs would need some time in his basement, with his boat and some bourbon to decide how to proceed.

“Close up,” the MCRT team lead said, getting up himself to collect his things. “We’re done for the week. See you Monday morning,” he completed, leaving the bullpen quickly.

McGee and Langer exchanged glances, surprise for the early release but were also quick to follow suit. Nobody knew when Gibbs would let them leave at 6pm on a Friday night again!

Chapter 14 – They say I’ve changed

Gibbs spent his weekend in his basement, barely leaving it for coffee and some food. Ducky stopped by on Saturday afternoon, with some barely disguised questions about the team and what would happen with Ziva and DiNozzo coming back but Gibbs didn’t have an answer yet.

“I don’t know if DiNozzo will be field ready, Ducky,” the agent said while the two friends sat at the kitchen table, one with his tea properly brewed and in a nice cup, and the other with a mug with a tar like coffee in hand.

“Humm…” The medical examiner took a sip of his beverage. “You didn’t talk with young Anthony while he was doing his physical therapy?”

“Busy!” Gibbs dismissed. “Had to make sure Langer was up to speed and we got three cases this last month, besides all the paperwork from the Rivkin case. Paperwork that DiNozzo left us to do!”

“As I understood, Anthony did offer to do the report if someone would take his computer to his apartment,” Ducky retorted with audible disapproval in his tone. “I doubt the young man got hurt on purpose.”

“Humph…” He gulped the last of his coffee, got up and went to put the mug in the sink. “DiNozzo seems to attract trouble. Or goes looking for it. I told him not to engage Rivkin.”

“Yes, you made sure that nobody on your team was sent to face the man,” Ducky finished his tea but stayed seated, his tone still holding censure. “It looked like Rivkin was the one looking for trouble and he did find it.”

“I didn’t have the opportunity to interrogate the man, I don’t know what he was thinking…”

“You believe he was not involved in the smuggling?” The question was sharp. “Are you saying he did not stage the suicide of Mr Chen?” The final part of the query was full of dissatisfaction and wounded pride.

The agent caught how his comment might imply that Dr Mallard’s autopsy report was wrong and back peddled quickly.

“No, Duck! Of course he was. It’s more that I didn’t get the chance to find out more. Why he was involved or why Ziva didn’t believe he could be.”

“Humm,” the tone was still frosty. “Maybe Miss David does not want to believe she could be so easily misled, so soon after the affair with her father and siblings.”

“Yeah, I think she was really hurt by it…”

Ducky mellowed some, seeing his friend commiserate with the younger woman’s situation.

“It is hard when our trust is misused, but we cannot allow ourselves to be blind to such occurrences, not normally, and certainly not in a law enforcement situation.”

The friends stayed quiet for a moment.

“What will happen to your team, Jethro?” came the direct question.

“What d’you mean?” Gibbs leaned back on the countertop; arms loosely crossed.

Ducky shook his head, dismissing the evasive attitude. “You cannot have two Senior Field Agents, not even for the Major Crime Response Team, Jethro. Who will stay: Brent or Anthony?”

Gibbs shrugged. “I don’t know, Ducky. Langer settled in nicely, there’s no pranks or glued fingers in the bullpen anymore.”

“Yes, I heard the comments about the almost tomb-like silence nowadays at the bullpen.”

Another shrug. “I don’t mind the silence. We talk when we have something to say. We’re working okay.”

“One of your cases went cold, did it not?”

“Nobody had any good leads to go on for that one,” Gibbs pushed out, standing up, and went to collect the teacup from the table. “It’s been a couple of weeks; we can still solve it before it’s officially cold. Did you have anything to add to your report?” he asked abruptly.

“No,” Ducky responded calmly. “As you said, it was one of the cleanest crime scenes we ever had.”

“So why bring it up?” Gibbs complained, putting the teacup inside the sink with his mug.

“No one on your team checked with other agencies or the police about possible connections with other cases… Something that Anthony would certainly have done if he was here.”

“Humph! Nothing on the case spoke of a serial killer or outside connections, Ducky! DiNozzo just likes to talk and use any opportunity to do so. If something related shows up somewhere, we’ll hear about it. I like that Langer isn’t all chummy with LEOs,” he grumbled.

“Yes, I see how that would be something you approve of,” Ducky stood up. “But you know very well, Anthony does not ‘just like to talk’, he gets results with that method. Your dismissal of your best and most loyal agent alarms me, Jethro. I suggest you think calmly and thoroughly about what you want from your team, Jethro. I feel that any changes now will have some permanency.”

“Don’t you like Langer?” Gibbs retorted.

“Brent is a nice man and a good agent,” Ducky answered. “I just am not sure if he is the best to complement your team – and it’s not him I’m thinking of.”

“I’ll think about it,” Gibbs conceded. “Depends how DiNozzo is after the rehab and how he acts towards Ziva. He was all out to get her when the whole case started.”

“I remember you not being so happy to have Miss David participating in your investigation during the Haswari case.”

“I didn’t know her then,” Gibbs defended himself. “And we found out how ill-used she was by her father. DiNozzo should give her some slack, considering how he talks about his.”

“And what of how she treats Anthony? All sins should not be pardoned because of a tragic past, Jethro,” Ducky said in admonition. “Miss David might be looking for a new start and a chance to prove herself, which is admirable, but should she get this at the expense of other people, our own friends?”

“There won’t be at anybody’s expense, Ducky” Gibbs shrugged off the suggestion. “Like I said, I’m not even sure if DiNozzo will be able, or want, to be a field agent again. Two bad injuries in a row. He might just give it up.”

Ducky’s eyebrow rose in a mixture of surprise and censure. “Anthony DiNozzo giving up on being a field agent?! Are we talking about the same person?”

Gibbs waved as if banishing the question. “He has changed since the plague, Ducky, you know. Asking metaphysical questions, talking about changing things he believed were going the wrong way. Maybe he will see this as a sign and decide to move on or something.” There was a pang in his chest after the comment, but Gibbs was a pro at ignoring any signs of regret.

At that comment, Ducky nodded. Young Anthony had become a bit more serious and focused after coming back from the plague and his cardiac arrest. He appeared to have a clearer vision of what he wanted of his future, and he didn’t hesitate to follow up on it.

“Well, we will see this coming Monday, my friend. I will see you then,” Ducky waved his goodbye, walking out of the kitchen and the house without looking back.

Gibbs sighed, accepting how uncomfortable he was with the situation, even if he would never let anyone else know. He’d depended for so long on DiNozzo’s sharp investigative skills and his easy nature to push their work forward, making sure MCRT always appeared in the best light. Maybe it was time for Gibbs to change. He shook his head. He would wait for Monday’s conversation and then decide. Walking down the stairs for another round with his boat, the agent planned his work week, already distributing tasks in his head to integrate Ziva into the team. He never noticed how Tony DiNozzo didn’t feature even once on that planning.

ITNC

The last month, four weeks and some change, was full of physical pain related to the surgery and physical therapy but also more emotionally relaxing than Tony ever expected a sick leave to be.

The shoulder surgery was easier and less invasive than first expected, which made his time in the hospital shorter than he feared. Keeping on with the theme, the rehab was easier and with quicker and better results than he imagined.

Overall, DiNozzo felt good about his situation. He had the physical eval Monday morning and then a meeting with Gibbs and the director Monday after lunch. He had been cut off from his team again, much like after the plague, but this time was because none of his teammates made any effort to visit or even talk to him.

Tony didn’t expect much from Gibbs, whom he hadn’t seen since his injury, especially after he found out there was a TAD working with the team. The only thing Gibbs would want to know was when Tony was ready to work, so if there was someone else there, the older man wouldn’t even remember DiNozzo’s existence.

McGee contacted Tony once, a couple of days after the thing with Rivkin to request some paperwork that needed to be added to the case and Tony felt like any other victim that the team dealt with. No personal questions or comments, just an administrative task to be performed.

Abby left just a quick message, wishing him well but saying how busy the lab was and left a little dig, saying she wouldn’t visit to avoid any possible banishment this time. It would be funny if she had come by his apartment when he went home, but even when Tony called her, the tech wasn’t interested in chitchat.

Ducky called his doctors for information and talked only once with Tony, on the very first day he was out of the hospital. The medical examiner insisted the younger man should not worry about work and focus on taking care of himself. DiNozzo heard the worry for himself in the other man’s comments but was also unhappy with the undercurrent that seemed ready to push him out of the MCRT. Tony lamented that now he wasn’t as close to the young assistant, Palmer, as he was in his dream-memories. The guy seemed nice, if even more awkward and nervous than McGee, and the friendship in those dream-memories was rightly treasured.

DiNozzo felt he appreciated Balboa and his team more this time around. They were friendly in his dream-memories but with Tony putting so much effort into pleasing Gibbs, he left more than one friendship to slide. He promised himself that no matter where he ended, he would keep cultivating that group’s friendship.

On the other side, his frat brothers, especially the triumvirate of Henry, Jake and BJ, were of great help again. He was back doing exercises with Henry and Jake as much as possible. BJ was good for quick chats on the phone while Tony had to wait at doctor’s offices. Even Harrison and Frank were interested in a few beers and games night or a weekend afternoon. Steve had broken up with Kate when she said she was leaving NCIS and moving back with her parents for a while, but his singleness never lasted long, and he would show up for the brothers’ meeting only if the new girl wasn’t available.

His situation now was really alien. DiNozzo was never not busy with training, studies or work. He felt adrift but also attracted to the idea to move about without so much baggage. If everybody in the MCRT were so predisposed to push him away, maybe he would let the idea get momentum and look for something else to do. He believed he still had something to offer to NCIS but if Tony wanted to avoid the same future from his dream-memories, it might be best to get away from Gibbs’ team.

ITNC

Monday morning went pretty much as DiNozzo expected. He did his evaluation, heard the same advice that his doctors gave him, about being careful and that he was not getting any younger, but he believed he had a few more years as field agent in him, so not to worry too much for now.

Tony planned his arrival at the Navy Yard as an operation. He stopped and talked with security, getting the lowdown of what was happening in the building, especially related to his team. He went to HR to provide his signed off papers and again got a bit more information of the comings and goings. Autopsy was next and he felt lucky that Ducky was out for lunch, and he could talk with Palmer without interruptions. The guy was timid and a bit in awe of Special Field Agent DiNozzo, having heard so much about his antics, but Tony tried to create a connection. He really wanted that friendship to flourish as in his dream-memories.

Lunch time was finished and DiNozzo escaped before Ducky was back, to stop by Abby’s lab.

“Hey, Abby,” Tony called from the door, observing the tech jumping around her equipment.

Abby turned quickly at the call, a surprise expression on her face. “Tony! I didn’t know you were coming back!”

Tony cocked his head to the left. “Coming back today or coming back at all?”

She shrugged. “Today! Or at all! I haven’t heard much from you much.”

“You didn’t seem to have time to talk to me.”

Abby turned her back to him, fiddling with the objects on the countertop. “We have been busy.”

“Abby,” Tony called softly, advancing inside the lab. “What’s going on? What happened that you don’t want to talk to me anymore? Or even have me around?”

Her shoulders sagged; her head dipped against her chest. “You changed, Tony.”

“I changed…” DiNozzo repeated in acceptance.

“Yeah, you aren’t the goofy guy anymore! You are always so intense and looking at people like you know their secrets!” She turned to him, her eyes flooding with tears. “It’s like you don’t approve of us anymore! You were against Ziva even before talking to her!”

Tony made a conscious effort to not cringe at the comment. He took a deep breath and pushed his hands into his trousers pockets so Abby couldn’t see his fists were clenched.

“Yeah, almost dying was a bit of a wakeup call, Abby, and I thought I needed to change the way things were going. I’m still me, maybe a little more tame. How many times has Gibbs told me that I need to grow up and act my age?” He tried to joke.

She waved rapidly in front of her, like shooing the idea away. “You were good the way you were! Nothing needed to change! Gibbs is the intense silver fox; you are the goofy side geek with the spooky way of solving things! Kate is the ballbuster that intimidates the perps! Timmy is the timid genius that brings in the information! I’m the queen of science! Ducky tells us stories while extracting details from the bodies! We were a great team! Nothing needed to change!”

“Life happened, Abby. I didn’t choose to open that damned plague-ridden envelope! Or to have a heart attack! The smugglers were responsible for the explosion that injured Kate! Sorry that you don’t like change, but these are really out of our control, Abby! We deal with violence and risk all the damn time!”

“It worked out before!” She screamed at him. “Things changed after you came back!”

“So it’s my fault?!”

“Yeah, it is!” Abby shouted.

Tony deflated and took a step back. The young woman was crying now, her chest heaving, her whole posture emanating upset.

“Okay then.” Tony took a deep breath, looking down, finding it hard to witness the loss of his connection with Abby. In his dream-memories things went downhill kind of slowly, almost imperceptibly. His memories showed a good friendship between them and then he was in a corner as the half-hated cousin that nobody wanted but couldn’t get rid of. And Abby was the spoiled princess, getting what she wanted through tantrums. Ziva was there, getting away with actual murder because Gibbs, and even Vance, couldn’t, wouldn’t deny her anything. And McGee felt so entitled, so sure of himself that there wasn’t any space for Tony anymore.

DiNozzo looked at Abby, watching her tears dispassionately. Yes, things had changed. Kate was out of NCIS. Gerald was slowly getting better, but he would never work as a medical assistant again. They were on the second director since Morrow. His frat-brothers were as close as when they were at OSU. And Tony didn’t want to live that dream-memory life at all. He wanted his friends close by. He wanted to feel valued in his place of work. He wanted to feel hope instead of despondency. If the price of a different life was cutting ties with MCRT, so be it.

“Sorry life can’t be frozen in that perfect moment you chose, Abby. I would suggest you do some therapy because the world will keep turning and change is unavoidable. Goodbye, Abby,” Tony didn’t wait for her response and just walked out of the lab towards the back stairs without a backward glance. Maybe he was being too harsh with Abby, but his dream-memories showed him that bending and twisting himself to please others didn’t lead him to a good place.

The tech girl collapsed on the floor, hugging herself and let the tears roll down her face, hiccups shaking her body. Everything was always an emotional explosion with Abby Sciuto.

ITNC

The encounter with Abby put DiNozzo in a bad mood. He expected changes in his relationships considering all the experiences and extra memories stuck in his head. He did not expect the complete refusal of his workmates to accept this new version of him. Now, more than ever, he expects Gibbs to kick him out of the MCRT, especially if Ziva was sticking around.

DiNozzo climbed the backstairs with purpose, going directly to the Director’s office level. He would prefer to know his chances with the agency before confronting Gibbs. With Abby’s attitude and the overall chilling distance everybody kept from him during this absence, it was more a question of if there’s space for him in NCIS instead of even considering staying with MCRT.

The young man entered the office, stopping at the secretary desk with a stiff smile. “Hi, Cynthia, I have an appointment with the Director.”

“Agent DiNozzo,” she raised her head and smiled back. Her expression dropped upon observing the agent’s rigid posture. “Are you well?”

“Passed my physical evals and have all the doctors’ clearances,” Tony answered, pushing his hands into his trousers pockets. He was feeling lost after all. “I’m here to see where I’m going now since it seems the MCRT doesn’t need me anymore.”

The surprise was clear on Cynthia’s face. Tony was just unsure if it was because he was out of the team or that he knew about it.

“Aahh… Sure, I’ll let Director Vance know you are here…” She stumbled a bit before picking up the phone to inform the director of DiNozzo’s presence.

Tony stepped away from the desk, looking around the walls, comparing the art on it to his dream-memories. He needed to keep fresh in mind the discomfort and pain from those memories so he wouldn’t slip and beg to stay on Gibbs’ team. Since he woke up from the cardiac arrest in the hospital he was going through those memories and feelings and choosing at every opportunity and situation not to fall back on that remembered behaviour.

The door to the Director’s office opened behind him and Tony took a deep breath to centre himself before turning.

“DiNozzo, come in,” Vance invited in a stilted tone.

Tony nodded to Cynthia, who was watching the scene with worried eyes, and followed the older man into the room. Vance went to sit down behind his desk, motioning quickly to the chair in front of it for the younger man.

“Everything sorted out?” Vance asked, without looking directly at the man in front of him. He moved some papers around his desk and then went for the cigarette box in his jacket pocket, picking up a toothpick and stuffing it in his mouth. He only looked up when the other man answered.

“I handed all the documents to HR before coming up,” Tony stated in a clipped tone. He hadn’t had much time under Vance, but the man sent out vibes that he didn’t like DiNozzo much. But this time, he wasn’t sure why it was since things happened differently from his dream-memories.

“All good on your physical evals?” Vance tried again.

“Fighting fit, Director,” Tony would not help the man.

“Humm…” Vance masticated his toothpick. “So… While you were away… Well…” The Director had never felt out of sorts before, and he didn’t know why it was so hard to tell DiNozzo he was off the team. After reading the full file Vance finally got a better understanding of the younger agent’s abilities and why so many praised the man. Vance would like to believe that, in the end, he was doing DiNozzo a favour, taking him from under Gibbs’s thumb. With a heavy sigh he decided to just dive in and push through. “I brought a TAD for the MCRT, and it seems Agent Langer is doing very well as the SFA.”

Tony nodded but didn’t comment. Vance sighed again and ploughed on. “So, Gibbs agreed to keep Langer, McGee and Officer David, who just came back from a training session with FLETC.”

At that information DiNozzo’s eyebrow went up. ‘Gibbs agreed to send Ziva to FLETC?!’ That was a surprise. And now Tony knew which agent had taken his place on the MCRT. He shuffled through his dream-memories and Brent Langer popped up as one the agents put on the MCRT during the mole investigation while DiNozzo himself was afloat. The guy ended up dead. Tony hoped that things would get solved differently this time around.

Vance waited for some comments that DiNozzo refused to make.

“So, well, that means that the MCRT is full now and we’ll need to move you to a different position,” Vance threw away the destroyed toothpick. To avoid the urge to pick up another one, the Director flattened his hands on his desk. “I looked into options that would work with your experience.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, his hands loosely resting over his lap. He was going for a calm and nonchalant attitude, no matter how he felt all tied up in knots on the inside.

Vance moved the papers in front of him again, piled them in a certain order. “Well, the first option would be as agent afloat, something that NCIS expects you to do to be able to progress to team leader,” he pushed a page towards the top of the desk, closest to the young agent.

DiNozzo moved to sit straight. “You said you’d checked my full file, Director,” he pulled his jacket down. “There’s a note there that specifies the type of medical support needed on a ship for me to be on board for more than a day or so. The plague left scars that most Navy ships are not equipped to deal with if anything happens. I have 2 years of foot patrol as a uniformed policeman, 2 years undercover in a special police operation and almost 2 years as a detective, investigating vice and homicide experience before being selected to come into NCIS, first as a partner to Agent Gibbs and when Director Morrow created the MCRT, as his Senior Field Agent. I believe my experience speaks for itself without risking my health in an agent afloat position.”

The page stayed on the desk, almost like an invisible wall between the two men. Vance’s expression tensed up. He was unhappy at that response; he should have noticed. “Humm… I didn’t know that there were allowances about the requisites for progression,” he murmured. “I will have to revise the policy manual,” Vance completed, the closest he could come to an apology.

“There are acceptable equivalents and adjustments available, on a case-by-case basis,” DiNozzo answered.

“Okay,” but Vance didn’t move the page from its position. “We have a position for a second agent at the RU Fallon, Nevada,” another page was moved on top of the first, but DiNozzo didn’t show any reaction. The Director waited a moment before continuing. “And the SFA position for Norfolk Cold Cases Unit will be available next week,” the third page went on top of the others. There was still one paper in front of the director. DiNozzo just kept his eyes focused on the other man’s face.

Vance waited another moment before letting another heavy sigh and looking down to the last paper in his hands. “The last position available is as TAD, basically as liaison with other agencies when there’s a crossover case where NCIS is not the lead. Probably requiring travel.” he raised his eyes to look at DiNozzo. “The FBI BAU has a case they need help with. A serial killer who had a few veterans as victims, Marines, Army, Air Force. After that, could be anything,” Vance completed, still staring at the younger man. “That would come with a promotion to SSA, of course, considering the access level required from a liaison position,” the director added quickly, trying to sweeten the deal. All positions needed filling, but the liaison one was the hardest to find competent, capable agents for, and Vance was honest enough with himself, after reading his whole file, to think that DiNozzo was perfect for it, and offering him only sideways moves was not the way to keep him.

DiNozzo kept looking at the director, letting the information percolate through his brain. Agent afloat was seriously a no-go. Not only because of his possible health issues but he certainly wouldn’t deal well with the isolation and hostile environment and had zero interest in trying to revive the experience of his dream-memories.

RU Fallon was a dead end, usually used more as punishment than an actual position with advancement chances.

Norfolk wouldn’t be too bad and DiNozzo was pretty good with cold cases, and SFA wasn’t exactly a visible place to be if you want to advance to team lead. Tony didn’t want to stay in the cold case unit until retirement.

The liaison position had more chances to give him visibility and connections, giving him options if not inside NCIS, somewhere else in the federal law enforcement field, especially with the promotion, something Tony hadn’t expected Vance to throw in, although hell, he’d earned it. Yeah, travelling all the time wouldn’t be his preferred option, but it might be a price he was able to pay for a short while.

Tony stood up, nodded towards the director and extended his hand. “Yes, the liaison position seems to be a good opportunity for me, to use my experience and expand on it. Thank you, Director,” he pulled the paper from the other man’s hand gently. “I’ll collect any personal things I might still have at the bullpen and stop by HR to sort this out. Have a nice day, sir,” he finished decisively, turning to leave the office without waiting for a response.

Vance leaned back in his director’s chair and unconsciously picked up another toothpick to chew on. He shook his head, not sure about how the conversation went. In a few moments he let it go and went back to his work, relieved that the whole thing didn’t take that much effort after all. MCRT had the structure he wanted, the agents he believed would represent the best of NCIS for the rest of the federal government. And DiNozzo was out of his hair without much fuss. Vance could go forward modernizing the agency as he wanted.

Epilogue – I really don’t know life at all

In the end, Tony tried to leave the MCRT with a whisper, but others seemed to always go for the bang.

DiNozzo left the Director’s office and went down to the bullpen to find out that the MCRT was out on a call, a possible homicide. So he went through his old desk to find everything neatly packed in a box hidden underneath it. At least Langer didn’t throw anything out like Gibbs would probably do.

Tony collected the box and did the rounds, saying goodbye to the other agents he was friendly with. Balboa’s team was the last one and he did spend longer talking with them. Balboa himself walked with Tony to the HR to sort out his new position.

“You know, Agent DiNozzo,” Marilyn, the person sorting out his professional life at NCIS, informed. “That you will have to hot-desk if you need to come to the office, any office.”

“No problem, Marylin,” Tony smiled winningly. “I’m sure I’ll be able to sweet talk someone to let me sit around for a bit.”

The young woman giggled. Actually giggled. “Yes, I have no doubt about it.”

Balboa slapped DiNozzo’s back playfully. “Keep honing the charm, Tony! I know it’ll help you going around the agencies.”

The two friends left the HR office, talking and joking, with Balboa insisting on carrying the box for DiNozzo. They went through security, Tony again saying his goodbyes since he didn’t know when he would stop by again at the Navy Yard. The two agents walked towards the parking area, discussing a weekend get together with Tony’s frat brothers to watch some sports and have a barbecue, when they met the MCRT coming back from their call.

Balboa and DiNozzo stopped by the side of the building, observing the group coming in. Balboa had chosen to say little about the new MCRT structure, first because he didn’t want to interfere even more in DiNozzo’s relationship with the group, but also because he was still on the fence about it. Langer was a good agent but also set himself apart from everybody. It was clear he was there to do a job and not to make friends. Nothing wrong with the attitude, in general, but after DiNozzo’s gregarious personality, the guy rubbed Balboa in the wrong way.

McGee was back to swinging between shy and unsure to the other side of the balance, acting like he was the best investigator to ever walk the land. While with the team, he would stutter and trip over his feet. In the presence of the director or other team’s agents, he would puff out his chest and put on a show. Balboa didn’t see the whole act working well for the guy, at least, not for making friends and allies through the agency and other law enforcement personnel.

Gibbs was also see-sawing between being happy with the performance of the team, that was solving cases and keeping up a high solving rate for NCIS and being pissed off because JAG was not as happy as they used to be when DiNozzo was the SFA. The MCRT dropped some positions on the overall solving rate between all the federal agencies in these last months, and JAG were at their throats about the quality of their reports. Gibbs didn’t know who to blame because Langer wouldn’t just carry the older agent’s anger as Tony used to. McGee would say the SFA was the one to revise all the reports, and Ziva dismissed everything as bureaucratic nonsense. Gibbs’ explosions were entering the realm of legend, and Balboa was sure someone, probably his own agent Mick Andrews, started a YouTube channel with the recorded outbursts.

Ziva David was still a mystery for Balboa. She did well on the FLETC course, according to the information he was able to gather, but she was still dismissive and uncaring about their regulations and laws. She did the bare minimum related to her reports, just enough not to be called on it, and would usually go off script during a case, for what he heard of Langer’s complaints. Gibbs treated her as a daughter, even more than he did with Abby. So far, the two women seemed to be friends, but Balboa didn’t believe that would last if Gibbs’ attention were not satisfactorily divided.

Balboa observed his younger friend while the MCRT approached them. DiNozzo had a mixed expression on his face. There was some longing in his visage, and he could understand it. Since Gibbs brought the young man from Baltimore, skittish and posturing, their relationship had evolved quickly, and Balboa saw the mentor and mentee getting wrapped around each other. DiNozzo became what Gibbs needed in a partner and even friend. Balboa was sad to see that relationship start breaking up with the addition of Todd and, after that, McGee. With more people around it seemed Gibbs didn’t need to invest as much time and effort and preferred to let the others chase after his approval. Balboa had feared that DiNozzo would just keep going, twisting and turning to become whatever he thought would make Gibbs happy, would give him some of the older man’s attention and respect as he’d had when had been just the two of them working cases. It was a sad situation to be in, to be happy about the health scare DiNozzo went through just because it had seemed to wake him up, but glad it had made him respect himself again. Balboa was sorry to lose Tony from their daily life, but the younger man would have another chance to prove to himself, and others, the great investigator he was.

The MCRT stopped in front of the other two agents. McGee pulled the backpack higher against his shoulder.

“What are you doing here, Tony?” McGee’s question sounded more like whinging.

“Paperwork is never done, Probie,” Tony responded calmly, with a smirk to poke fun at the other man.

“Not a probie anymore,” McGee retorted sharply.

“Nicknames can stay with you for life, McGee,” Tony answered without paying attention to the younger man. “Hi there, Langer, long time no see,” he greeted the SFA.

“DiNozzo, how’s the shoulder?” Langer wasn’t fazed by the slightly tense atmosphere.

“Back in working order,” Tony responded, rotating the previously hurt shoulder to showcase the movement.

“That might not last,” Ziva made the comment with a bite in her tone.

DiNozzo turned to look at the Israeli, while McGee took a step back, showing clearly, he didn’t want to get in the middle of that conversation. Langer made an aborted motion to approach the Mossad liaison, but Gibbs moved first, getting in between the SFA and the young woman, positioning himself shoulder to shoulder with her, an unequivocal sign of his choice. Balboa inhaled sharply, surprised by the blatant attitude, something he saw that Langer also didn’t like. Gibbs was literally throwing down the gauntlet, showing how he would side with the Israeli even against someone he was close to for years.

“Age gets all of us, Officer David,” Tony said without much inflection but his eyes running over her, from her face to her feet, and then another glance towards the MCRT team leader, spoke for itself. “I prefer to keep my mind sharper than even my physically healthy body, but I understand that this isn’t an option for just anyone.”

Langer coughed, clearly trying to disguise the scoff that escaped his mouth. Balboa had more experience holding his entertainment contained but he let out a smirk, nonetheless.

David made a move to advance against Tony, who didn’t even flinch. Gibbs put a hand on the younger woman’s elbow to hold her in place.

“DiNozzo, getting ready to go afloat?’ Gibbs threw in, knowing that it was the most hated option of placement available to the younger man.

“I like my cruises to be intimate and fun, Gibbs,” Tony let a predatory smile grace his features while turning to the other man without letting the Israeli out of his sight. “A navy ship with 5 thousand people doesn’t qualify.”

“Going to Fallon, then?” Gibbs was still holding on to Ziva, but he injected derision on his question.

“Again, not fun. Only jarheads to worry about. What’s the challenge in that?”

The anger was visible now on the older man’s face. “What? Given up on NCIS?”

“You’ve certainly done your best to make me, but not yet, no,” Tony glanced around the group. “Looks like your protegee gave the Director ideas.”

“What do you mean?” It was McGee asking this time.

“I’m the new NCIS liaison to other federal agencies,” Tony informed.

“Ha, he made you the message boy, rushing behind others then?” Ziva jeered.

“Why? Is that what you do?” Tony shot back.

“I am a highly trained agent!” Ziva screamed.

“So the liaison position is something to appreciate?” Balboa interfered.

“Not for a meatball,” Ziva retorted.

“Someone’s hangry… You back to not letting your agents stop to eat during a case, Gibbs?” Tony asked condescendingly. “How can they function if they can only think about food?” He joked.

“You are the one that is incompetent!” Ziva shouted.

“Well, that’s your opinion, which you are entitled to,” Tony retorted. “But I’m the one back to work with a promotion, as a field agent, am I not? I think your favourite Kidon agent is walking around with a cane and at the mercy of Interpol now.”

Gibbs had to press hard to hold Ziva in place when she tried to jump again. Her hand moved into the waist of her trousers, trying to pull something out.

“I sincerely hope you are not trying to attack me in the Navy Yard parking lot, Officer David, with so many witnesses about,” Tony declared with forced calm.

The woman finally looked around, seeing not only her team, but Ducky and Palmer who had just arrived with their truck, and a group of evidence technicians that were attracted by her screeching. She took a step back to be closer to Gibbs, her face darkening.

“You will not have protection all the time,” she said rashly.

“Are you really threatening him?” Balboa asked, really surprised at her audacity.

“Ziva is upset, you provoked her,” Gibbs responded, looking around discreetly.

“And she didn’t try the same with me?” Tony shot back. He shook his head before the older man could answer. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I would ever trust her anyway. But the threat is duly noted, Officer David. Be prepared to answer questions if something actually happens to me.” DiNozzo waved to the group watching. “See you around guys,” then he looked directly at Ziva and Gibbs before moving away. “Not you two though. I would prefer not to ever see you two again.”

DiNozzo shook Balboa’s hand and picked up his box, waving again to the group watching the altercation. He gave a friendly slap to Langer’s shoulder, and a pat to Palmer’s arm. He walked towards his car without looking back. He put the box in the passenger seat and moved towards the driver side when Gibbs caught up with him.

“Couldn’t leave it alone, heh, DiNozzo?” He sneered.

Tony opened the driver’s door, putting it between himself and the older agent. He then leaned against the car’s roof. “I was not the one to shoot first, Gibbs, but I’m not the doormat that allows your favourites to walk all over me anymore. Keep your pet Mossad agent under control and everything should be alright.”

“Are you happy with all the changes you made?” Gibbs sneered again.

“Actually yes, I’m pretty happy with how things are going for me.”

The team lead was visibly unhappy with the answer. “Aren’t you worried about the destruction you left behind?”

DiNozzo’s head cocked left. “What destruction are you talking about?”

“Jenny’s being removed as director before her time. Rivkin’s leg being mangled…”

Tony was surprised by the comment. He didn’t expect the attitude from his old boss. “Wow! Revisionist much? Jenny,” he stressed the name. “Made her own bed, sick or not. I wasn’t the only one weirded out by her actions. You didn’t like what she was doing either. As for Rivkin, I did my best to stay out of his way, but the guy chose to attack our suspect and then tried to attack McGee and myself. Not sorry that I defended myself and my teammate. If your pet Mossad is unhappy, she should have warned him to not get in the way. I’m not going to double down on her fantasies, like some people,” DiNozzo counteracted sharply, a hardened glance fixed on the older man. “Aren’t you the one itching to get the smuggler? Gonna back on that because Miss Mossad is pissed her boyfriend was a crook?”

“Leave Ziva out of it,” Gibbs roared. “Nothing to do with her.”

“Everything to do with her, Gibbs,” Tony said tiredly. “You asked about the changes I made, what about how you changed? You were fired up about Shepard’s bullshit and pretty set on getting the smuggler responsible for the explosion that hurt Kate. That changed because Ziva David is somehow involved? Or things didn’t work the way she wanted and she’s throwing a tantrum now? If I had any say on it, she would never be part of the operation, or NCIS, and certainly not MCRT. You’re the one to bring her onboard, and Vance just saw the political connections and was happy to go along.”

“What is this? Are you acting up like a moody teenager cause you’re jealous?” Gibbs poked.

Tony locked eyes with Gibbs. “Have you heard anything I just said? Jealous? Maybe in a past life I was. Now? I want to be far away from this mess. Good luck with your surrogate daughters and McGee’s ego that Vance is nurturing.” DiNozzo answered and started turning to enter the car.

“Nothing sarcastic to say about Langer?” Gibbs prodded.

“If he’s as smart as he looks, he’ll jump ship sooner rather than later”, DiNozzo replied, sitting down and closing the car door. He started the car and left the parking lot at a leisurely pace, leaving a fuming Gibbs behind.

DiNozzo drove towards Quantico, letting his mind wander during the trip. He had tried to avoid the confrontation, but maybe it was needed so he would get rid of the idea that there was any space for him with the MCRT.

He parked in the first empty visitor’s space he found, collected his backpack, got out of the car and locked it. Tony looked around the carpark and the movement in and out of the building. The vibe was quite different from the Navy Yard. He sighed, pulled the bag higher up on his shoulder and started walking. Going through security was the same as in any federal building but he tried to start getting to know the security people there. If he was going to work here for a while, he would do his best to get integrated. To hell with Gibbs’ prejudice against the FBI and every other law enforcement agency and police. From his experience, being it from his dream-memories or now, NCIS was certainly not above anyone else.

DiNozzo passed through security, got the directions to where he needed to go and caught the elevator with a group of dark suit-wearing agents. For all he wanted to fit in and build bridges with this whole liaison position he wouldn’t go to any Gibbs’ stores to get a cheap suit. People would have to accept him with his branded clothes.

He got out of the lift on the correct floor and went through the glass doors to find a bullpen style area, where a group of people were talking and laughing together. The atmosphere was friendly and warm, closer to what he had seen with Balboa’s and even Rita’s team, and nothing like the biting tone the MCRT had most of the time, after Kate joined in. Tony coughed discreetly to get their attention. The group turned to him.

“Hello, I’m Agent DiNozzo from NCIS. I was told to report to SSA Hotchner as a liaison for any military issues?”

“Ah, DiNozzo, huh?” A bald black man pulled himself from the group and approached, a hand standing in greeting. “I used to see you at YMCA playing basketball from time to time. Been a while.”

DiNozzo held the other man’s hand, head turning with thoughtful expression. “Morgan, right?” He waited for the nod confirming the other man’s identity. “Yeah, had a few health issues that kept me away from the court, but I’m in ship-shape now, all signed off by official doctors and all,” Tony joked, not ready to go into details about the whole plague, cardiac arrest and knife to the shoulder thing.

Morgan ran his eyes from his head to feet, checking DiNozzo’s overall appearance. He let go of the handshake and smiled. “We’ve all been there, law enforcement work, heh?” He smiled and crossed his arms loosely, leaning against the desk behind him. “So you are our military liaison now?”

Tony let the backpack slip from his shoulder to the floor. “You need an expert, I wanted something different,” he shrugged. “What can I say? This position seemed a match made in a LEO’s heaven,” he joked with a seductive smile.

The group laughed with him, stopping only when two older men approached from the overhead mezzanine.

“Agent DiNozzo?” A sharply suit dressed man, probably in his early 40s, discreet grey hair at his temples, approached, offering his hand for a shake. “I’m SSA Hotchner”.

DiNozzo nodded in agreement, accepting the handshake and turning to the older man following behind. This one had salt and pepper hair, going for more salt than pepper and a nice, trimmed goatee, and was in his mid-50s or so. He also offered his hand for shaking, offering his name while doing so.

“I’m SSA Rossi.”

“Nice to meet you all.”

“Welcome to the BAU, Agent DiNozzo,” Agent Hotchner said. “Looks like you will fit right in,” he commented considering the amicable atmosphere. “Please, call me Hotchner, or Hotch, like everyone else.”

“Thanks, Hotch,” Tony answered. “Please call me Tony,” he offered to the group around. “And yes, I hope this will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” DiNozzo completed, smiling broadly when he heard the exclamation from the youngest member.

“Ah, Casablanca!”

“Right, pretty boy,” Morgan joked with Spencer.

“Humm,” a bubbly blond approached from the side. “What about it? Are we planning a movie night? Oh please, let’s plan a movie night!”

“This is Penelope, our all-seeing, all-knowing computer technician,” Rossi introduced the blond. “And I agree, movie night with some Italian antipasti. Are you game, DiNozzo?” The question was a friendly challenge.

“My friends swear by my crostini,” Tony offered. “I also make a mean lasagna, traditional or vegetarian.”

“Oh, I think you are my new best friend,” Penelope jumped to approach DiNozzo, intertwining her arm into his left one. “How are you with desserts?”

“Well, my tiramisu is acceptable, but my three leches cake is divine,” Tony said, smiling wolfishly.

“Oh, yes, this will be a beautiful friendship,” the svelte brunette said while the rest of the group laughed.

Tony laughed with them, feeling comfortable and welcomed into their mist. Maybe not what he expected, or planned, when he woke up with a head full of dream-memories, but the changes seemed to work in the end. He could say he was happy with the new direction his life was taking. If tomorrow never came, he would go with a clean conscience about his choices this time around.

THE END

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