Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Tony absently thanked the security guard as he greeted Andrea with a nod, his eyes on the gangly probie behind her.  “This way.”

He led the way back towards the escalator and ushered them both inside.  He pressed the button and turned to his guests.

“I’m really sorry about this, Agent DiNozzo,” Bale began.  “It’s just I didn’t think until my Mom called and then…”

“Shut it, Bale,” Andrea said sharply.  She turned to Tony with an apologetic grimace.  “Officially, Tony, you have the apologies of Metro.  Captain Wu said he’ll put it in writing and we’ll obviously give you a complete rundown of what evidence Detective Bale had access to and what he encountered at the scene.”

Tony nodded.  “Thanks, that will help with the legalities.”  He got out the elevator and led the way down the hallway towards the interrogation rooms.  He paused outside the door.  “Look, Detective Bale, this is where I get serious.”

Bale nodded at him and fidgeted nervously with his visitor’s badge.

“This is an interrogation room,” Tony said bluntly.  “Behind this door, Agents McGee and Lopez will be waiting to take you through your actions and to ask you further questions concerning our investigation.”

Bale nodded again.

“They’re going to remind you of your rights including the right to a lawyer,” Tony continued.

Bale shook his head.  “I don’t need a lawyer.”

“Detective Sparr could stay with you if you’d prefer,” Tony offered.

Andrea shot him a grateful look, but Bale was shaking his head again. 

“I messed up,” Bale said.  “I’m prepared to face the consequences of what I did.”

Tony sensed Bale’s determination; it was edged with something like excitement.  Probies, he thought with an inward sigh.

“Please surrender your weapons, Detective Bale,” Tony ordered briskly.

Bale turned over his service weapon.

Tony raised an eyebrow.  “That’s it?”

Andrea sighed beside him as Bale nodded.

Tony smiled tightly.  “I’m going to have to pat you down to verify that.”

“OK,” Bale agreed.

Tony made quick work of the pat down; Bale had his wallet in his inner jacket pocket, a keyring with a range of keys were tossed easily enough to Andrea, and to Tony’s surprise, Bale’s service weapon was his only weapon.  Clearly, he’d never heard of rule nine.  He let the young detective keep the police badge pinned to his belt.

He opened the door and ushered Bale inside.  He quickly led Andrea into the observation room.  He switched on the white noise machine to prevent Bale from hearing them while he introduced her to Fornell.

Andrea turned and raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at Tony.  “FBI?”

“We might have stepped in a serial killer case the Feds were already tracking,” Tony explained.

“Damn it,” Andrea muttered.

The door opened and Gibbs strode in.  He handed one carry-cup to Tony without fanfare and took a sip from the one he still carried.  “Thanks for bringing him in, Sparr.”

“Probies,” Andrea said dryly.  “Just when you think they can’t do anything stupider than the last stupid thing they did.”

“Oh yeah,” Tony said cheerfully, shooting Gibbs a warm rush of thanks through their bond for the hot chocolate.  “Mine’s all grown up now.”

“Is that a hint of empty nest syndrome, DiNutso?”  Fornell snarked at him.  “You getting broody?”

Gibbs rolled his eyes at Fornell’s teasing but Tony could feel how amused he was by it.

Tony batted his eyelashes at Fornell.  “Maybe I am.”

There was a rush of jealousy over the bond as the Sentinel stirred within Gibbs.  Tony hurriedly glanced over at him and found him frowning, seemingly intent on the interrogation of Bale.  Maybe, Tony considered, with everything that was going on with Carrington being in the building it wasn’t the time to push Gibbs’s buttons with flirting, even if it was harmless and, certainly in the case of Fornell, never ever going anywhere.

Tony tuned back into the conversation.  Lopez and McGee were slowly taking Bale through his actions that morning.  They were going methodically; who had Kevin talked to, what had he seen, what had he touched? 

Bale was nervous; humming with energy, fingers constantly in motion, body twitching from one position to another. 

Tony frowned.  Bale should be relaxing; the questions were softball, easy to answer.  McGee and Lopez were convivial, friendly; just law enforcement guys who understood and who’d made their own probie mistakes in their time.

Gibbs looked sharply over at Tony, a question in his eyes as he picked up on Tony’s unease.

Tony gave a minute shrug.  Maybe it was nothing.  He shifted closer to Gibbs, anchoring himself on his Sentinel as he let his shield thin a touch, let his empathy reach out to Bale.  Nothing he read was admissible, but something was telling him he needed to get a read on him.

Nervous excitement. 

That was what he’d sensed and picked up as wrong, Tony realised.  Bale was excited. His nerves were borne out of that not out of fear at being caught out or at his actions.

“Andrea, what’s your take on Bale?” Tony asked, taking a sip of his hot chocolate as a shiver ran through him.

“Nice enough kid,” Andrea shrugged. “Bit of a Mommy’s boy.”  She shoved her hands deep in the pockets of her jacket.  “Honestly, if you’d asked me yesterday, I would have said that his main fault is trying too hard to be perfect.”

“If he’s a perfectionist why is he excited?” Tony tilted his head.  He flinched as he got a dose of Andrea’s astonishment and Fornell’s envy.

Gibbs shifted closer to him and Tony refocused on Gibbs, on the scent of coffee, wood and Gibbs. 

Gibbs was focused on Bale; his Sentinel instincts aroused by his Guide’s words.  “He’s aware of his vitals; heart rate, breathing…they’re all controlled.”

“Sentinels,” muttered Fornell under his breath.

“He’s hiding something.  Intends to hide something,” Tony noted.

“Which begs the question what.” Andrea’s eyes met Tony’s.  When she turned back to watch the interrogation room, she had the look of a cop observing a suspect, not a detective supporting her naïve young partner.

Tony watched as McGee straightened in his chair and knew they were about to change topic from the latest murder to Kenneth Graham.

“Thank you for your diligence in explaining your actions around the investigation of Michael O’Connor,” McGee began.  “If we could move on, I’d like you to tell us about your relationship with The Great City.”

“Mom is the Guide to the Sentinel who owns the club, John – that’s John Larson,” Bale said rapidly.  “My Mom also helps to manage the club.”

“Were you aware of the link between the death of Kenneth Graham and The Great City?” Lopez asked briskly. 

“I was aware that there had been a murder in the alley behind the club,” Bale nodded.  “I, uh, didn’t really make the connection to how much of a personal conflict it was for me to investigate O’Connor’s murder given the similarities in the two murders.”

“Larson and your Mom told us about the patrolling,” Lopez said.  “You want to explain that?”

Bale blinked and Tony felt his surprise at the question.  “Uh, well.  I was on nights when I started and was waiting to be assigned a partner but had access to the carpool.  Mom was worried because the area had a rep for hookers and druggies.  I thought if I did a patrol past there every so often during my breaks it would help.”  He fidgeted; his fingers worrying at his tie.  “Mom thought it was a Sentinel thing.”

“And on the night Graham got dumped in the alley,” Lopez continued smoothly, “tell us about that night.”

Bale cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips.  He shook his head.  “I don’t really…I mean they all kind of blur together.  I didn’t see anything happen in the alley.”

Deceptive, Tony noted silently.

“Maybe this will help jog your memory,” Lopez slid the photo still of Graham getting into the sedan in front of Bale.

Bale drew the photo closer and a small smile tugged his lips upwards. 

“Smug,” Tony murmured, picking up on his emotion.  “He’s feeling satisfaction.”

“Oh, this guy came out of the club and spotted me.  He needed directions to a bar across town.  I offered to give him a ride and half-way there he decided he didn’t want to go, but he was upset and I offered him a place to stay.  I mean, I had to work, my sister wasn’t home, and I figured I could talk to him in the morning?”

Andrea breathed in sharply beside Tony.

“You took him to your apartment?” McGee checked, sounding a tad bewildered.  Tony knew McGee wasn’t faking it.  Nobody had expected Bale to just admit he’d had contact with their murder victim.

“Oh no, I was staying at Mom’s place.  I hadn’t found somewhere of my own back then,” Bale smiled and shrugged.  “I thought New York prices were bad.”

He was still projecting nervousness, but Tony sensed Bale’s inner surety.

“You dropped this complete stranger at your Mom’s house without knowing anything about him or whether he could be a threat to you?”  Lopez asked sceptically.

“He was a latent Guide,” Bale said defensively.  “He said he didn’t think he was ever going to find his Sentinel.  I figured the risk was minimal.  He seemed like a nice guy and I saw the dogtags he was wearing.” 

Dogtags. 

Had they recovered those at the scene, Tony wondered.  He made a mental note to check.

He shrugged.  “Anyway, when I got off shift and went home, he’d left so it didn’t matter.”

“You didn’t exchange names?” McGee asked, his tone neutral.

Bale cocked his head to the side.  “First names, I think but I really don’t remember…I just…it was a latent Guide in distress so…” he shrugged again.

Tony rubbed his head.  He could feel a touch of guilt from Bale trailing along the deception, but he couldn’t tell why Bale felt guilty.  He was also feeling a hefty sense of righteousness.  Bale thought he’d done the right thing.

McGee and Lopez exchanged a look. 

McGee leaned across the table.  “You weren’t concerned when you heard he had turned up dead in the alley?”

Bale blinked at them and his mouth fell open.  “He’s…he’s…he was the dead guy?”

Tony stared at him through the glass.  He was almost certain Bale was faking the shock.

“Lie,” Gibbs stated softly beside him.  “He knew.” 

“This is Petty Officer Graham.”  Lopez stated evenly, tapping the photo.  “You’re really claiming you didn’t know the latent Guide you gave a ride to and took home, was the dead man found in the alley by your family’s club?”

“Look,” Bale sat forward almost eagerly, “John only told me the body was a Navy guy; that was it.  I hadn’t seen anything suspicious when I’d patrolled the club, so I didn’t think I had anything to offer.”  He squirmed in his chair a touch under the relentless gaze of his questioners.  “OK, so I did try and find out more when I went to work that night, but the investigation was flagged for NCIS, and I…I figured I shouldn’t make waves by poking my nose in you know?  Being a newbie and all.” 

“So, you are stating for the record that Petty Officer Graham approached your car for directions,” McGee began summarising, “that you determined he was a latent Guide in distress and took him to your home; that you left him there and when you returned, he’d just gone?  Only for him to turn up dead in the alley by the club owned by your family and you don’t know how that happened.”

“Yes!” Bale said emphatically.

Tony sighed.  “He’s lying.”

“Damn it!” Andrea snapped.

“Do you have any witnesses who can corroborate?” McGee asked briskly.

Bale ducked his head. “Maybe Noah?  Noah Larson?  He’s John’s son.  He was home when I dropped the guy off.”

Tony whistled in the observation room. “He really doesn’t like Noah.”  The dislike for Noah swamped any other emotion Bale might have had.

Andrea nodded.  “I got that impression the few times his family situation’s come up.”  She crossed her arms over her chest.  “The Larson kid sounds like a mess.”

They watched as McGee took Bale back through events again; what time had Bale picked up Graham, what time had he dropped him off, where was Graham heading to before he’d changed his mind? 

Bale’s story didn’t alter; he stuck rigidly to his story – too rigidly.  Tony didn’t need his empathy to know Bale was lying somewhere in the mix.  He could tell McGee and Lopez felt the same, but despite their efforts, they couldn’t shake Bale.

Tony sipped his hot chocolate and sent them a text.

In the interrogation room, McGee briefly looked at his phone and set it aside.  He waited until Lopez finished another summary of what had happened with Graham before he took out a photo and slid it across the table.  “Do you know this woman?”

It was a picture of Amelia Goode.

Tony sighed.  “He definitely recognises her.”

In the interrogation room, Bale frowned.  “She looks familiar but…” he picked up the photo to get a closer look.  “No…I don’t recognise her.”

“Lie,” Gibbs declared.

Tony pulled out his phone and sent McGee a text as Lopez slid out the next picture of Moritz and passed it across the desk.  “What about her?  You recognise her?”

Bale frowned at the picture.  “No.”

“Well, I don’t need to be a Sentinel to know that was a lie,” Fornell commented.

Andrea snorted.

Tony felt Gibbs’ amusement.

In the interrogation room, McGee glanced at the text and put his phone back.

“Would you like to try that again?” McGee asked.  “While Agent Gibbs’s read of you isn’t admissible, he knows you’re lying.”

Bale’s eyes flashed to the mirror and he swallowed hard. He tapped the photo.  “I don’t know what he means.”  He squirmed in his chair. “What’s this about?  Why are you showing me these pictures?”

Gibbs moved and Tony followed him, sensing his Sentinel’s intent to take over the interrogation.  They both entered the room to hear McGee’s question.

“You were working as a detective in New York five months ago?”

“Yes,” Bale nodded briskly.

Gibbs nodded at McGee and Lopez.  “We’ll take over from here.”

McGee was already on his feet; Lopez frowned but he left without complaining.  Tony took McGee’s empty place, but Gibbs stayed on his feet, choosing to stay just behind Tony.

Without words being exchanged between them, Tony knew Gibbs expected him to take point.

“Let’s be clear, Bale,” Tony said firmly, “we know there’s something you’re hiding.  You need to be straight with us here.”

Bale looked back at him evenly.  Tony could sense Bale was finally nervous…but there was still a deceptive note which Tony couldn’t pin down.

“Amelia Goode was killed January twelfth; her body dumped in Central Park,” Tony continued.  “Pina Moritz was killed February fourteenth and her body dumped in Central Park.  You were working as a cop in New York at the time.”

Bale stayed silent, waiting.

“The FBI thinks there are enough similarities between their deaths and the deaths of Kenneth Graham and Michael O’Connor to warrant investigation,” Tony said.  “What do you think?”

Bale frowned.  “I don’t know, I don’t know anything about the deaths of those women.”

“Lie,” snarled Gibbs.

Bale’s eyes flickered to Gibbs and Tony felt Bale’s anger at the other Sentinel.  “You’re guessing.”

“He’s not,” Tony countered, returning Bale’s attention to him, “he’s just a very experienced Sentinel and despite your efforts you can’t lie without him knowing.” 

Or Tony, but Tony wasn’t about to give away his own secrets, but there was another route…

“You know what I think,” Tony continued, “I think you know all about these murders.  You’re a rookie Detective and these murders would have been hot gossip; two latent Guides killed and dumped in Central Park?  I’m guessing there was a lot of talk among the cops in the city; a lot of theories.  I don’t need Gibbs to tell me you’re lying.  I’m a former cop; I know how it works.”

Bale held Tony’s gaze. “I had nothing to do with those murders.  I was working both nights.”

And that was the truth.  Tony didn’t need Gibbs’ briskly stated confirmation of that to know.  It was also something they could easily verify.

“If that’s true, why are you trying to lie to us?” Tony pressed.

Gibbs moved suddenly to slam his hand on the table.  “Talk!”

Bale flinched. 

Tony felt Bale’s anger at Gibbs surge again and shifted position to draw Bale’s eyes back to him.  “Be sensible, Bale.  We’re going to find out whatever you’re trying to hide.  Is it really worth screwing up your career?”

Bale grimaced at that.

Tony settled back, sensing Bale’s decision to finally speak.  There was a cocktail of emotions storming through the young Sentinel and Tony couldn’t make out anything but the final resolve to do something…

“Look, Noah’s a pain in the ass, but he’s family,” Bale stated.

Tony blinked.

“You’re protecting Larson?” asked Gibbs sceptically.

“I’m not protecting him,” Bale muttered sullenly, “I’m just…look, he’s an idiot and a drunk, but he’s not a killer.”

Another truth, Tony noted, or the truth as Bale believed it.

“Noah joined a few dating sites,” Bale said, “and when information came around about the murders, I recognised them as the ones the killer and the victims had used.  That’s all.”

“You didn’t tell your superiors?” checked Gibbs.

Bale shook his head.  “Tell them what?  That Noah was on the same sites?  A hundred other people used those sites.”

“But not all of them had a beef with Sentinels stealing their fiancées,” remarked Tony dryly, “fiancées who also used to be a latent Guide.”

Bale shrugged.  “If someone told me Noah upped and killed a latent Sentinel or a Sentinel, I might believe them but…Guides?”  He shook his head.  “No way.”

But there was…something, Tony realised. 

“You told Agents McGee and Lopez that Noah saw you leave Kenneth Graham,” Tony noted.

Bale nodded cautiously.

“Tell me, Probie,” Tony said, “we have four murders.  In two of them, the victims may have been on the same dating sites as our suspect, and in a third, he was the last person apparently seen in the same location with the victim.  What conclusion would you draw?”

Bale swallowed.  “He’s a person of interest.”

“Damn right!” Gibbs snapped.

He shot Tony a look and left the room. 

Tony sighed and stood up.  “Get comfortable, Bale.  We’ll bring you a drink and something to eat soon.”

Bale got to his feet, almost sending the chair flying and Tony felt his almost panic.  “Wait!”

Tony paused in the doorway, his muscles tensed and alert in case Bale did something stupid. 

“I can help!” Bale argued.  “Look, I have a key to my Mom’s place still.  I can give you entry and you can search the place.  You’ll see that Noah has nothing to do with these murders!”

There was a fierce intent, a belief in Larson that Tony felt to his bones.  Bale really did believe Larson was innocent.

“You can’t give us entry,” Tony pointed out.  “You’re not an owner.”

“I can help bring Noah in then for questioning!” Bale replied.  “He’ll come with me, I know he would!”

Tony frowned.  Bale’s eagerness to be involved verged on manic but…if it was his family, wouldn’t Tony feel the same?  Wouldn’t he want to be involved?

“I’ll discuss it with Agent Gibbs,” Tony allowed, “but don’t get your hopes up, Bale.”  He shut the door and walked back to the bullpen where he knew Gibbs would already have McGee working on warrants.

He wasn’t surprised when Andrea fell into step beside him. 

“You’re going to hold him?” asked Andrea sharply.

“Until we can get to the bottom of whether he or Larson killed Graham,” Tony shot back.

Andrea grimaced.  “God, this is a mess.”

“You should update your Captain,” Tony reached out and brought Andrea to a gentle stop.  “He’s in trouble, Andrea.  Not disclosing a possible suspect?  Hiding his own movements in picking up someone from the club from law enforcement when his family was under scrutiny for a murder linked to that club?  My first Captain would have kicked me in the ass so hard, I would still be feeling it.”

“I know,” Andrea said, “I know.”  She examined his expression for a long moment. “You think there’s more to it than him just trying to protect Larson.”

“He doesn’t like Larson,” Tony countered.

“Tony…”

He shrugged.  “Truthfully, I don’t know.  He’s deceptive.  Is he deceptive because of Larson or because there’s other things he’s trying to hide about what happened?”

Andrea grimaced.

He felt her churning emotions through his shield and reached out to clasp her shoulders.  “Hey, none of Bale’s mess is on you.”

“Isn’t it?” asked Andrea.  “I’m his partner and…”

“You’ve been his partner for a couple of weeks,” Tony cut in.  “You’re a good cop, Andrea, but your relationship is brand new.  You weren’t to know about his involvement with Graham, or with these other murders in New York.”

“I feel like I should have known,” Andrea said.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I’d feel the same way.”

They resumed their walk to the bullpen.

Gibbs glanced at Andrea, but he didn’t protest her presence.  “Yates and her team are going to follow the evidence chain and keep an eye on Bale.”  He was reaching for his coat.  “We’re heading to Larson’s house.  McGee spoke to Legal; they’re requesting the warrants.  I’ve called Larson and told him to meet us at his house.”

Fornell was already pulling on his own crumpled Mackintosh.

Tony nodded and grabbed his own gear.  “Andrea…”

“I’ll stay here,” Andrea grudgingly conceded.  “Like you said, I need to call my Captain.”

Tony, Gibbs, Fornell and McGee strode off into the elevator.  Tony felt Gibbs’ vibrating with purpose and he inched closer to his Sentinel, just needing to be closer.

Gibbs looked over at him as though surprised, but he shifted, bringing his shoulder flush with Tony’s.  Tony sent a warm rush of gratitude through their buffer.  Maybe, he considered wryly, the buffer would do more than keep Gibbs from going feral; maybe it was going to make it easier for him to make it clear to Gibbs what he needed, even if he was never going to get what he wanted.

The elevator doors dinged open and Tony set aside his thoughts. 

They had a suspect to track down and a case to solve.

-nCIs-

Gibbs loved the buffer.

It was, he mused as he pressed down on the accelerator, the best thing ever for finding out how Tony felt.  Since they’d bonded, he’d always felt a connection with Tony; surges of emotion when Tony’s emotions ran high but those had been only a few times.  Even, when they renewed their bond, Gibbs always felt nothing but affection and respect, sometimes a little weariness crept in, but Tony kept a tighter control over his emotions than Gibbs had ever realised. 

With the buffer in place though, he felt Tony’s unease with Bale; felt his surety that Bale was lying – was still lying despite them pressing the young detective.  He’d felt Tony’s concern for Sparr which had been wrapped up in friendly affection and nothing else – something which had relieved Gibbs even though he had no right to demand Tony’s sexual fidelity when all Gibbs had offered was a platonic bond.  He’d felt Tony’s need to be closer to him in the elevator and he hadn’t questioned it; he’d just moved and felt Tony’s happiness as Gibbs pressed up against him, although it came edged with a note of melancholy.

Maybe the melancholy was Tony’s knowledge that Gibbs wouldn’t have moved if not for the buffer.  He wondered how often Tony needed him closer when they didn’t have the buffer and knew instinctively that it was probably a lot more than Tony ever revealed.

Tony was excellent at undercover; excellent at being whoever he needed to be and showing whatever mask he needed to show.  Gibbs thought he’d had a good handle on Tony’s masks, but Gibbs was beginning to realise just how badly he could misread Tony.  His Guide was masterful at pretending to be fine; at pretending to be comfortable so Gibbs felt comfortable.

With the buffer, Gibbs was literally wrapped up and shielded with their bond and whatever Tony was feeling leaked through a lot.  Possibly, Gibbs considered, Tony would be horrified if he realised just how much was leaking through.

Tony, though, was distracted by their case.  Gibbs loved the feeling of a dedicated, focused Tony.  He knew Tony’s worth – had seen it in Baltimore, had proactively nurtured it by bringing Tony to NCIS.  His Guide was an outstanding investigator – the best Gibbs had worked with.  Gibbs let his own pride in Tony seep through the buffer.

Tony turned to look at him questioningly. 

Gibbs let the corners of his mouth upturn in response.

Tony shifted in his seat as though to speak…

“Warrants have come through,” reported McGee from the backseat, reminding them they weren’t alone.  At least Fornell had opted to take a second car with Shen and Grant.

Gibbs grimaced at the idea of having the FBI agents along for their take-down of Larson.  He took a corner, making both of his passengers brace themselves.

“Probie, text Fornell and give him a heads up on the warrants.” Tony ordered.  He grimaced as his phone buzzed.  He answered it with an internal huff which almost had Gibbs smiling again.  “DiNozzo.”

“Tony,” Cassie replied, loud enough for her voice to carry to Gibbs, “Bale just went missing.”

Gibbs growled.

“What happened?” asked Tony brusquely.

“Banks let him go to the toilet unescorted.”

Tony’s gobsmacked horror at the breach of protocol resonated down their bond and over the buffer.  Gibbs snorted his agreement.

“Cameras?” asked Tony.

“Show him leaving the Yard,” Cassie reported.  “He managed to steal a car straight out of the maintenance pool.”

“Tremendous,” Tony muttered, “I’m assuming you’ve issued a BOLO?”

“And I’ve requested a warrant for his arrest,” Cassie confirmed.  “Sparr has talked to Metro; they’re going to cooperate.”

“She’s got to be pissed,” Tony commented.

“Understatement,” Cassie said.  “The Director reprimanded Banks.”

“Good!” snapped Gibbs as they took the road that would lead to the Larson’s suburb.

Cassie sighed down the phone line.  “If we didn’t need the extra hands, I’d bench Banks.”

“Keep us informed, Cassie,” ordered Tony, “and keep the rest of the team focused on the evidence; something’s not adding up.”

“Got it,” Cassie replied, “good luck.”

“What happened?” asked McGee, a hint of impatience in his voice.

Tony relayed Cassie’s news.  “We’re going to have to assume that Bale has warned his family.” 

“Do you think Bale’s gone feral?” asked McGee urgently.

Tony shook his head.  “Unlikely, McWorry.  He wouldn’t have waited for a toilet break to escape if he was feral.”  

“The warrant for him will alert the Registry,” McGee noted.

Gibbs grimaced.  He hated the complexity of dealing with jurisdiction battles and other agencies, full stop. 

“I’ll call Borin,” Tony said cheerfully beside him and immediately picked up his phone again.

Gibbs recognised Tony was managing him since Borin was the only Registry inspector Gibbs could tolerate, but Gibbs found he didn’t mind.  He swung around a corner and into the road where Larson lived.  Behind him, the FBI SUV followed them at a slightly more sedate pace.

He kept track of Tony updating Borin with his usual panache; Gibbs could hear Borin’s gruff tone tinged with amusement as Tony charmed her.    

Gibbs almost smirked as he realised Tony liked Borin because she reminded Tony of Gibbs.  He screeched the car to a halt. 

Tony hung up on Borin and followed Gibbs from the car; he fell into his usual place just behind Gibbs, watching Gibbs’ six as always.  McGee was close on their heels.

Gibbs directed McGee to the rear of the house.  Fornell followed Gibbs’ signal to go with McGee, although he rolled his eyes as he went.

Shen and Grant stayed back watching the road; it made sense with Bale in the wind.

Gibbs rapped sharply on the door. 

John Larson answered it promptly.  He frowned as he took in Gibbs and the FBI agents at the end of the driveway. 

“Agent Gibbs,” Larson said tersely, “you were pretty succinct on the phone.”  His tone was accusatory; Gibbs had pretty much demanded his presence at the house.

“We have a warrant to search your property,” Gibbs stated bluntly, “and we also need to speak to your son.”

Larson’s expression turned grim.  “Noah’s not here.  I don’t know where he is.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” asked Tony briskly.

“This morning,” Larson grimaced, “we argued about his attitude.  He was meant to go to the bar with me to help out this morning, but he was still in bed, drunk.”  He looked at Tony.  “Do I need to get my son an attorney?”

“I would in your shoes,” Tony admitted.

“I was already making my way home to talk to Noah when you called,” Larson sighed heavily, and ran a hand through his silver hair.  “I was hoping to persuade him to come back to the bar with me, to work the evening shift.  Lynne thought it was hopeless, but I had to try.”  His gaze sharpened suddenly.  “Can I ask why you’re looking at Noah?  He wasn’t even at the bar that night.”

Gibbs answered.  “Detective Bale admitted he picked up the Petty Officer outside the club because he was a distressed latent Guide.  He claimed he left him here and your son was a witness.”

Tony chimed in.  “Your Guide told me that when you came home, Noah wasn’t here.  And I assume as you both didn’t mention it, neither was the Petty Officer.”

“No,” Larson shook his head, “I…I don’t know what to think.  Noah’s a mess but my son…my son wouldn’t kill anyone.”  He gave a short laugh.  “He’s too drunk most of the time.”

“Detective Bale made the same claim,” Tony said, “but you know we have to investigate, sir.”

Gibbs sensed Larson relaxing in response to Tony’s matter-of-fact approach and the subtle respect Tony offered the older man as a former cop.

“Unfortunately, Detective Bale left NCIS without permission,” Tony continued, “maybe to try to help your son.”

Larson sighed heavily.  “It sounds like I need an attorney for both the boys.” 

“Is Alison Bale home, sir?” Tony asked briskly.  Since Bale’s sister lived with her Mom, the high school senior was the other person they’d expected to find at the house.

“At a friend’s place for the night,” Larson motioned for them to enter.  “For the record, you have my full cooperation and my permission to search my premises.”  He turned on his heel.  “I’m going to call my attorney.”

He left them alone.

Gibbs opened up his senses and verified that there was only Larson in the house and on the property.  He gave a sharp whistle and a moment later, Fornell and McGee emerged from the side of the house. 

“I’ll get the evidence kit!” Tony stepped away, nudging McGee into following him.  “We’ll take the upstairs!”

“Why does he get to choose?” Fornell muttered grumpily.

“You want to pick through the bathrooms?” asked Gibbs pointedly.

“No,” conceded Fornell as he followed Gibbs into the house.

Gibbs could hear Larson in the back talking to his attorney, and Tony and McGee heading back, footsteps walking back from the car.  He kept Tony’s heartbeat locked, keeping track of his Guide.

They exchanged a brief glance as Tony and McGee swept past and headed up the stairs.

Gibbs took a glance around the large hallway vestibule as he pulled on the thin evidence gloves.  There was a table for keys and letters by the side of the door.  A cabinet for shoes; a set of hooks for coats.

Fornell pointed at the table as he struggled into his own gloves so Gibbs took the coats.  There was only three hung up; two female and one male.  Gibbs searched them methodically, but there was nothing, but old tissues secreted in the pockets.

Fornell shook his head when Gibbs sent him an inquiring look.   They moved onto the den – the first door to the left.  It was neat as a pin and Gibbs didn’t think they’d find anything there. 

They carefully searched through the shelves that lined the room, the drawers in the desk.  There was nothing but the usual minutiae of family living. 

 “This is a waste of time,” muttered Fornell.  “Any evidence is long gone.”

“Has to be done,” Gibbs reminded him as they took the cushions off the sofa.  There was a dollar but nothing else.

Fornell raised his eyebrows in a blatant non-verbal ‘I told you so.’

Gibbs sighed inwardly and felt Tony’s amusement at his bored frustration resonate through their bond.  His Guide was back in focused mode; happy to be doing his job, content to know Gibbs was in calling distance.  Gibbs let the bond ease his own state of mind and went back to work.

-nCIs-

Abi Borin sighed as she followed the young NCIS agent up through the orange bullpen to the Director’s office.

“Inspector Borin,” Vance rose to greet her.   “I’d like to say it’s good to see you but…”

“I understand, sir,” Abi said politely, swallowing down her automatic response that the feeling was entirely mutual. 

“Let me introduce Detective Sparr and Captain Wu of Metro P.D.,” continued Vance smoothly.

Abi nodded at Sparr and Wu who’d also risen from a visitor’s chair at her entry.  She was acquainted with Wu.  They’d often crossed paths when the Registry and local cases intersected.  The Chinese-American Captain had risen from a beat cop to his current position; Abi had a lot of respect for him.  Wu was built like a bulldog; his blue-black hair gleamed in the lights of the office.  She’d never worked with Sparr but she’d heard of her; the Detective was well-respected.

“And Supervisory Special Agent Yates,” Vance introduced the smartly dressed woman to his right.

“Director Morrow has signed off on my assignment to the case,” Abi stated crisply.  “DiNozzo gave me the highlights, but I’d appreciate your viewpoints.”

“Sparr, why don’t you take this one?” suggested Wu, retaking his seat.

Sparr angled her body towards Abi, her arms were crossed, and her expression was tight.  “Earlier this morning, Metro was called to the scene of a murder.  I was assigned along with Detective Kevin Bale.  Body had been dumped in the alley and we quickly discovered dogtags and Navy credentials beside it.  I called it into NCIS.”

“The MCRT was assigned?” confirmed Abi.

“I actually suggested DiNozzo’s team pick it up,” admitted Sparr.  “I knew we’d handed off a similar case a month before, the body had been dumped by The Great City instead of Sensation, but it was the same M.O; I figured if it was a serial, it needed the attention of Gibbs and DiNozzo.”

“Our young Detective Bale forgot to mention that his family was linked to that similar case,” Wu stated tersely.

“DiNozzo found the link when he redid the interviews,” Yates chipped in.  “Bale admitted the connection himself when he realised his Mom had spoken to DiNozzo.”

“Bale did voluntarily turn himself in for interview,” Wu added. 

“He refused an attorney,” Sparr continued, “and during the interview DiNozzo and Gibbs picked up that he was being deceptive.  However, he readily admitted he’d given Kenneth Graham – the first victim – a ride to the Larson property on the night of his murder.  It looked like he was trying to cover for Noah Larson, the son of The Great City’s owner.”

“He was told he would need to stay put while our agents investigated,” Vance said, “but he used his first toilet break to escape.” He held up a hand.  “One of my agents didn’t take escorting Bale seriously; that’s on us.”

“He managed to acquire a pool car which was in the process of being cleaned, and left the Navy Yard,” Yates reported, “there’s a BOLO out, but Bale’s smart.”

Abi nodded.  “The Registry will prioritise the search for Bale as he’s an online Sentinel.  If he was trying to protect a member of what he considers to be his family, he may be running on instinct, even if he’s not feral.  My team will liaise with your agents in the field.”

“Metro is also cooperating,” Wu said, “I’ve ordered my people to report Bale’s location as soon as they have eyes on him.”

Abi thanked him, but knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.  Police departments were tight knit, and Bale’s fellow officers were as likely to help him as report him, especially to the Registry.

“I’d like to catch up on the case,” Abi said, “and work that angle.”

Vance nodded.  “Yates will give you access.”

“I’d like to assist Inspector Borin,” Sparr piped up, “Bale and I might have only worked together for a couple of weeks, but he’s my partner.  I’d like to work to bring him in safely.”

“I have no objection,” Abi said.

Wu nodded his agreement and Vance shrugged.

“The sooner we find the killer, the sooner we can put this whole thing to bed,” Vance stated firmly.

There was a distinct air of being dismissed and Abi took it as a sign.  She nodded politely and made for the door with Yates following, Sparr at her heels.

“We’re in a conference room,” Yates explained, “follow me.”

They entered to find a bustling evidence room.  Abi waved at a grinning Abby across the room who was deep in conversation with a Latino and a young blonde Abi vaguely remembered from the events which had seen DiNozzo come back online fully and his subsequent bond with Gibbs.  She almost stumbled at the sight of a familiar Sentinel from the same incident charging across the room toward them.

“Cassie, I need to speak to you…”

“You need to do what I asked, Mark, and provide surveillance at the club in case Bale shows up there,” Yates cut in sharply. 

“I just feel…” Carrington tried to insist.

“You are not providing the back-up for the MCRT,” Yates sighed heavily.  “Mark, you’re on thin ground as it is.  Gibbs only accepted you on the case because of your history with it.  You agreed to Gibbs’ rules.”

“I wouldn’t be breaking them!” protested Carrington.

Abi immediately sized up the situation and cleared her throat.  “What you need to understand and accept, Sentinel, is that DiNozzo is a bonded Guide who is with his Sentinel.  You shouldn’t be putting yourself anywhere near them given what happened a month ago.”

Carrington glared at her.

“She’s right, Mark,” Yates said firmly, “you need to do your job and do what I asked.  Find Banks and get to the club.  You should have left as soon as I gave you both the order.  Banks is on shaky ground with Vance as it is.”

For a second, Abi wondered if Carrington was going to go feral, but he seemed to get himself together and stormed out.

“He’s the Sentinel who tried to challenge Gibbs for Tony?” asked Sparr, blatantly curious.

“That would be him,” Yates confirmed wearily.  “I like Mark, but he’s been a pain in the ass since he arrived today.”

“At least your Probie didn’t compromise evidence, admit he’d picked up the murder victim and make an escape,” Sparr offered dryly.

“Nope,” Yates said, beginning to smile, “I just had my Senior Field Agent drop the ball so your Probie could escape.”

Abi smiled along with them.  “Sounds like it’s been an interesting day.”

“And you know the worst thing?” Yates continued quietly.  “Looking back, I can see it wasn’t the first time my team dropped the ball.  DiNozzo found leads when he re-interviewed which led to suspects; we had to get video footage we hadn’t requested the first time…” she sighed.  “I don’t think we’ve covered ourselves in glory at all.”

“DiNozzo’s a good investigator,” Sparr said.

Abi nodded.  “Speaking of witnesses, shall we go through the evidence?”

It took a while for them to work through the two cases.

“Dogtags,” Sparr said as she examined the board.  “We found Michael O’Connor’s dogtags next to the body along with his wallet, but Graham had nothing dumped – it was John Larson who identified him as military.  The dogtags are missing.”

“He was out in a club so he may have left them at home,” Yates mused.  She started to rifle through the files, presumably to see if they’d recovered them from his accommodation.

“Bale said he saw the dogtags when he picked Graham up,” Sparr stated.  “Serial killers tend to hold onto keepsakes.”

“Finally!” Abby said loudly enough to get their attention.

The three of them turned to look over at the other group in concert.

“Oh,” Abby blinked at their interest, “we finally pinned down O’Connor entering and leaving the club.”  She tapped a few keys and the footage went to the main screen.

“Here,” Yates said, pointing at him entering.  “That was at just gone eleven.”

“And here he is leaving at almost midnight,” Sparr noted.  She frowned.  “Didn’t DiNozzo say the manager was in the alley at midnight and again at one?  That’s not a lot of time to grab O’Connor, kill him and dump him back in the alley.”

“Much less time than Graham,” Abi said.  She glanced at her own notebook.  “Graham arrives at eleven, leaves with Bale at midnight, and is dumped back sometime before four when the ex-hooker finds him.”

“Time to the Larson house from The Great City is about thirty minutes in the middle of the night with no traffic,” Sparr said dispassionately.  “That gives our killer two to three hours in Graham’s case.”

“He’s not transporting O’Connor far from the club,” Yates stated, “our killer had to have picked up O’Connor himself.  He had to go find Graham.” She frowned.  “This doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes sense if we have two killers,” Abby threw in.

Abi looked at her with raised eyebrows. 

Abby picked up the remote and zipped the footage of O’Connor leaving to show a car to the very edge of the screen.  “This isn’t a police car.  This is a rental – you can just make out the tag.  O’Connor heads straight for it.  Someone deliberately targeted O’Connor, picked him up, took him somewhere in this radius.”  She walked over to the map of the city someone had pinned to the board and drew a red circle.  “Killed him, and then brought him back to the alley to dump him just like Graham.”

Abi nodded.  “It’s a copycat.  O’Connor’s killer had no idea that Graham’s last known location wasn’t the club.”

“That’s not all,” Abby said brightly, bouncing back to the computer.  “Beverly tracked down the I.P. address of O’Connor’s killer; he used an internet café.”

“Well done, Bev!” Yates said warmly. “We can request the security footage in the morning to identify him.”

Beverly blushed pink.  “Computer-wise I think this isn’t the same guy who targeted Graham.  That guy really knew his stuff.  We couldn’t trace the I.P. at all.”

“Which corresponds with the New York killer still even if they did change their M.O.,” sighed Yates.

“Maybe not,” Abi said, “the New York murders are specific.  I would say they were done by the same person.  Graham’s murder seems pretty stand alone in comparison.  The only thing they really have is that the victims are latent guides and that they were targeted through a date site.”

“Three killers?” Sparr grimaced. 

“It makes sense,” Abby said, gesturing with the remote.  “Someone wanted to use Petty Officer Graham’s murder to cover their own of the Lieutenant.”

“And it’s worked to some degree,” Sparr noted, “the investigation has focused on a serial killer instead of digging into O’Connor specifically.”

“Someone needs to tell Gibbs.” Abi said. 

“Not it!” Abby immediately said, holding up both her hands, one still clutching the remote.

Everyone looked at Yates.

Yates grimaced.  “I guess that’s me then.”

There was a knock at the door.

Yates went to answer it and found Ned Dorneget lurking outside.  “What is it, Ned?”

“Um, Agent Gibbs’ father is here?”

“Jack’s here?!” Abby hurried out.

Yates sighed and rubbed her forehead.  “I guess I’d better go find out what that’s about.”

Abi didn’t envy her at all.

-nCIs-

Tony frowned at the surge of worry, concern and irritation which flooded through the bond and across the buffer.  One thought came through clear as a bell. 

‘Dad.’

Tony got to his feet since he’d been crouched down searching under the bed – how many shoes could one teenage girl have – and called out to McGee he was going to check something with Gibbs.

They met in the hallway, Gibbs striding away from the back of the house, Fornell hurrying after him like a baby duck after its mother.

“Jethro?” Tony got right in front of his Sentinel to block him from the door.

Gibbs jerked to a halt.  “My Dad’s at NCIS.”

“So, we’ll go together,” Tony said, “just let me handover to Fornell and…”

A rush of shame filtered through the buffer. 

Gibbs turned to Fornell.  “Can you give us a minute?”

Fornell looked back at him and huffed grumpily.  “I’ll check in with McGee.”

Gibbs waited until Fornell was out of earshot.

“My Dad doesn’t know about us yet, Tony,” Gibbs confessed.

Tony blinked.  “OK,” he said, drawing out the word. 

He couldn’t deny there was a flicker of hurt at that.  He knew Gibbs spoke to his father every week.  Still, it wasn’t as though Tony had rushed out to tell his own estranged father about bonding. “Neither does mine.”

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.  “Not the same.”

“No,” Tony conceded since he and his father never spoke.  He sighed heavily.  “What do you want me to say here, Gibbs?”

Gibbs grimaced.  “I should have told him.”

Tony nodded.  “But I don’t see what that has to do with you rushing off without me.” 

More than the fact Gibbs hadn’t told Jackson Gibbs, there was a lot more hurt simmering inside of Tony at the idea Gibbs had been about to abandon him at the crime scene.  Sure, it wouldn’t be the first time Gibbs had done that, but it would be the first time he’d done it since they’d bonded.

Gibbs stepped up to Tony, right inside his personal space.  He cupped the back of Tony’s head and held his gaze tightly.  “Hey,” he said, regret and apology seeping through the buffer, “I got caught out here and just reacted.  I would never, will never abandon you.”

Tony almost flinched as he realised how much of his inner hurt had traversed the buffer, but he appreciated the sincerity that he could feel emanating from Gibbs. 

“My Dad isn’t the type to just turn up,” Gibbs continued, “something has to be wrong.”

“OK,” Tony said, regrouping, “like I said, let me handover to Fornell and…”

And there it was again; Gibbs’ reluctance to have Tony with him when he went to see his Dad. 

“You know what,” Tony snapped, stepping out of Gibbs’ hold, “fine.  Go see your Dad; I’ll stay here and finish up the search because that’s clearly what you’d prefer.”

His spirit guide appeared, called by Tony’s hurt and anger.  The black panther pressed up against him, offering comfort.

“Tony…”

Gibbs was truly regretful at how he felt, but Tony wasn’t in the mood to acknowledge it; he was too hurt by the fact that Gibbs felt that he wanted to keep Tony away from his father.  But then, Tony mused, he shouldn’t be surprised – Gibbs had done the same thing during the Stillwater case.

“We’ll talk later,” Tony said tersely, “and you can explain why, and believe me, Jethro, you’re going to explain why, but right now?  You’re too focused on getting to your Dad, not to mention we have a case to run and a killer to find.  So, like I said; we’ll hash this out later.”  He spun on his heel and went back upstairs, aware that the panther was following him.

“Fornell,” Tony said sharply, “Gibbs will give you a ride back to the Yard.  Leave Shen and Grant; we’ll catch a ride back with them.”

Fornell’s eyebrows were halfway up his head.  “DiNozzo…”

“Just…” Tony waved him off, “watch his six.”

Fornell nodded seriously.  “We’d just finished downstairs.  There’s been nothing so far; no sign Graham was in the house.”  He left before Tony could quiz him on that.

“Great,” McGee complained, “maybe Bale lied about bringing Graham here.”

“No, he was telling the truth about that,” Tony countered, checking that their mobile white noise emitter was masking their discussion, “it was one of the few things he did actually tell the truth about.”  He grimaced.  “Noah Larson’s living above the garage, so we’ll check there next.”

His phone buzzed and Tony looked at the display with a frown.  He hit the receive button and put it on speaker.  “DiNozzo.”

“Hey,” Cassie’s voice sounded out of the speakers, “Gibbs hung up on me after I told him about his Dad being here and now he’s not answering his phone.  I need to update him on the case.”

Tony rolled his eyes.  “He’s concerned about his Dad,” he said, “what did you need to tell him?”

“Abby found proof about Michael O’Connor’s murder which makes it unlikely that his killer is the same as Graham’s.”

McGee swore under his breath.

Tony felt another piece of the puzzle click in his head.  “O’Connor was used to bring us in.”

“What?”

That was Andrea’s voice.

“Sorry,” Cassie said, “I’m here with Detective Sparr and Investigator Borin.”

“You’re on speaker too,” Tony said, “McGee’s with me.”

“McGee?” Abi’s voice was sharp.  “Where’s Gibbs?”

“On his way back to the Yard,” Tony said as though he was unconcerned about it.  He put a hand on his panther’s head, carefully stroking its ears.  McGee’s eyes widened and Tony figured it was because he could suddenly see the cat with Tony stroking it.

“DiNozzo…” Abi began.

“Borin,” there was a hint of warning in Tony’s tone, “Gibbs needed to see his father and I needed to stay and finish the search here.  I’m with McGee and Grant is outside keeping watch, which under our new rules means I’m perfectly fine to stay in the field.”

He suspected Abi’s concern was motivated by her genuine like for Tony, and her dismay at his being left by Gibbs, rather than for the rules, but it gave Tony the excuse of explaining.

“Fine,” Abi said, “I’ll drop it.”

By which she meant she’d drop it with him and pick it up with Gibbs, Tony thought.  He was half-amused at her championing him; half-horrified.

“What did you mean when you said someone used O’Connor to bring us in?” asked McGee.

Tony glanced over at him.  “If the killer was just mimicking the M.O. to muddy the water on a serial killer, there was no need to choose a Naval officer.  Another male latent guide would have worked either way.  Why go to all the trouble of selecting a Naval officer?”

“Unless Michael O’Connor was the target himself,” suggested McGee.

Tony shook his head.  “The only red flag in O’Connor’s life was the dating site.  He was well-liked by his colleagues, had solid relationships with his brothers.  Could he have caught the attention of someone who disliked a man of the cloth trying to find a Sentinel so he could lead a gay life?  Maybe, but how likely is it that this unknown guy takes this dislike and instead of facing O’Connor with it directly, stalks him on a dating site, cosies up to him and kills him in the exact same way as Graham was killed last time?”

“Not to mention how many people knew about Graham’s murder and the specifics,” Abi pointed out.

Tony’s mind leaped to a conclusion so startling he blinked for a long moment before shaking himself.  “Cassie, can Powers find out if the dating site link for Graham was planted after the fact?”

“I don’t know,” Cassie admitted.  “I’d have to ask her.”

“Abby can do it if Bev doesn’t know how,” McGee chimed in.  “I mean our Abby not you Inspector Borin.”

“Get Powers and our Abby onto that,” Tony ordered, “I think I know who killed Graham.”

McGee’s eyes widened.  “Who?”

Tony smiled grimly.  “Not here, McGee.”  He was too aware that John Larson was on the property even if the white noise machine would obscure their conversation to the listening Sentinel.  “Let’s get this search finished.”  He turned back to the phone.  “Cassie, is there anything in that evidence Abby found to pin down who killed O’Connor?”

“Maybe,” Cassie said.

“We should be able to find out,” Abi said, “the killer was sloppy; he let the rental be caught on camera and he used an internet café.”

“Good,” Tony said. 

“Do you also know who might have killed O’Connor?” asked Cassie bluntly.

“Nope, but like I said; I’d bet my apartment someone used O’Connor because they wanted NCIS involved,” Tony tossed back.

“Agent Yates and her team should distance themselves from the O’Connor investigation,” Abi said.  “If someone targeted NCIS with O’Connor’s murder…”

“Your team is the likely target, Agent Yates,” McGee jumped in.  “You were the original agents on the scene.”

“The ones most likely to be brought back to the case,” Cassie sighed.  “Damn it.”

“It’s the FBI’s jurisdiction and they’ll need to investigate,” Abi noted.

“I can start tracking down the rental,” Andrea offered.

“If you can help, that would be awesome,” Tony replied.  He sighed.  “You’ll need to tell Vance, Cassie.”

“I just get all the fun jobs today,” Cassie said dryly.

They signed off.

McGee frowned as Tony got back to work, his eyes drifting to the panther.  “Is…is everything OK, Tony?”

Tony glanced over at McGee who had stopped searching the dresser.  “That dresser isn’t going to search itself, Probie.”

McGee grimaced and turned back to his work.  “It’s just…it’s the first time you and Gibbs haven’t been joined at the hip and…”

“Gibbs needed to see his father alone,” Tony stated firmly.

“But you’re his Guide,” protested McGee, stopping again to look over at Tony.

Tony stared at him pointedly until McGee huffed and continued searching. 

“He’s my Sentinel,” he said, trying to explain, and wondering if he could explain it to McGee maybe he would be able to offer himself an explanation at the same time.  “He needed to see his Dad without me, so he’s seeing his Dad without me and I’m supporting him in that decision even if I don’t understand it.”  He repressed the urge to sigh heavily, knowing it would give away too much of how he was feeling.  “Gibbs will explain it when we have time to get into it.”

“It doesn’t matter; he shouldn’t have left you here alone,” McGee grumbled.

Tony shrugged.  “I’m not alone; I have you, McPartner.”

McGee puffed up a touch proudly.

Tony held his gaze.  “Don’t get in the middle of this, Tim,” he warned him gently.  “Gibbs and I are going to have arguments and…” he shrugged again, “our bond is new and we’ve got a lot to get used to, not to mention neither of us was expecting to bond or to bond with each other, so this is a lot to get used to, but…”

McGee raised a questioning eyebrow in response.

“We are bonded,” Tony continued.  “That’s all that matters.”  He almost believed it himself.

McGee didn’t look completely convinced either.  “I just…you deserve to be treated right, Tony.  Gibbs shouldn’t take you for granted like he used to just because he bonded with you to keep you in the field…”

“Don’t get in the middle, Probie, but thank you,” Tony reminded him softly, but he found himself warmed by the younger man’s defence of him.  Hard on the heels of that was concern about McGee’s assumption about why he and Gibbs had bonded. 

McGee huffed.

“By the way, do you really think Gibbs bonded with me to keep me in the field?”

McGee blinked at him.  “Uh…yes?  I mean, it makes more sense than Gibbs fought to keep you safe from Carrington’s unwanted advances and you had to bond because of the challenge thing.”

“Great,” muttered Tony under his breath.  It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard the ugly office rumours about his bonding mentioned, but he’d been doing his best to ignore them.

“Was that not…” McGee caught himself.  “Sorry, sorry; I know it’s none of my business.”

Tony shrugged.  “You’re our partner, Tim.  If anyone should know, it’s you.” He sighed.  “Gibbs and I had what the Registry called a nascent bond, because I was always a Guide and he was always a Sentinel, even if my gifts were completely locked down.  When we realised after the whole challenge thing with Mark, we decided to go ahead and complete the bond.”

“So, you chose each other even though you weren’t aware of it?” asked McGee, openly curious.

Tony nodded.  “But it’s early days, McGee.  Gibbs was set on not bonding with a Guide before he realised that we had formed a nascent bond without either of us realising it; it’s a difficult adjustment for him.”

“And for you,” McGee commented matter-of-factly.  “You’ve had to move in with him, and deal with your gifts, and deal with all the crap that you get about being a Guide with the bigots and…”

“Hey,” Tony interrupted him briskly.  “I’m fine.”

McGee just looked at him.

“Well,” Tony allowed, “maybe not fine fine, but I’m OK, McGee.”  He gestured at the dresser.  “Let’s just get this done.  The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get back to the Yard.” 

-nCIs-

Gibbs ignored the pointed looks from Fornell and focused on getting back to NCIS.  The sooner he got things squared away with his Dad, the sooner he could return to Tony.

“Gibbs…”

“None of your business,” snapped Gibbs.

Fornell huffed.  “It’s everybody’s business when a Sentinel walks away from a vulnerable Guide, his own vulnerable Guide in the field.”

“Tony’s not…” And even Gibbs couldn’t finish the lie that Tony wasn’t vulnerable.  He was a powerful Guide; one who needed the shield of a Sentinel; he was so new to having his gifts fully online.

Guilt swamped him but he pushed it away furiously. 

This, Gibbs determined with a grimace, was all his Dad’s fault.  Why the hell had he turned up at the Yard?

“Is your Dad a danger to DiNozzo?” asked Fornell bluntly.

Gibbs took his eyes off the road for a moment to glare at him. 

“Come on, Gibbs,” Fornell insisted, “you need to clue me in because I promised the kid I’d watch your six and I need to know what I’m walking into when you lay eyes on your father.”

“He’s not a danger to Tony,” Gibbs allowed grumpily.  “But my Dad wouldn’t turn up without warning.  Something’s not right.”

“And you want to keep DiNutso out of the line of fire,” Fornell deduced.

There was a reason why he and Fornell were friends, Gibbs considered wryly.

“You couldn’t have just told DiNutso that?” asked Fornell plaintively, before he sighed and answered his own question.  “No, because then the idiot would have insisted on being with you himself.”

Gibbs hummed under his breath. 

That was pretty much the reason why he hadn’t wanted to tell Tony.  If there was one thing he knew about Tony, it was that the Guide would protect Gibbs at the cost of his own health and wellbeing.  He’d done it in when Carrington had challenged Gibbs; used his gifts to ensure Gibbs didn’t get shot point blank and had ended up ruining his shield and falling into unconsciousness for far longer than Gibbs cared to remember.

“He’s going to kick your ass when he realises,” Fornell commented cheerfully.

Gibbs inwardly winced at that because Fornell wasn’t wrong.

He waited until he was parked in his usual spot at the Yard before he opened himself back up to the buffer he’d locked down after Tony had walked away from him.  Tony’s hurt seeped through along with his concern for Gibbs, for Gibbs’ Dad.

Gibbs pushed the connection away again.  He focused on his Dad’s heartbeat inside NCIS.  It was strong and steady.  He made his way inside the building, uncaring if Fornell kept up or not.  He zeroed in on where his Dad was – the bullpen.

Fornell trailed in Gibbs’ wake as he strode out of the elevator and made for the silver-haired senior citizen parked in his own chair.

“Dad!” barked Gibbs, ignoring Ducky and Abby who had clearly kept his Dad company while he was waiting for Gibbs to show up.  “What are you doing here?”

His Dad’s eyebrows went up and a remonstrative look appeared in his blue eyes which made Gibbs feel about sixteen.  “Good to see you too, Leroy.”

Gibbs rolled his own eyes.  “Dad…”     

“Where’s Tony?” asked Abby, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents.

“Yes, where is your Guide?” Ducky said pointedly.

His Dad’s eyes widened a touch.  “You and Tony bonded?”

Gibbs didn’t need to look at Ducky or Abby to know they were both looking at him askance.  “Let’s take this somewhere private.” 

“Good idea,” his Dad agreed, pushing himself to his feet with the aid of his walking stick.

Gibbs waited impatiently for his Dad to get upright, almost unable to reconcile the sturdy fit man of his childhood memories with the limping elderly man his Dad had become.  He led the way to a nearby conference room and shut the door in Fornell’s face.

“What’s wrong?” asked Gibbs bluntly.

His Dad shot him a look which told him he wasn’t going to get away without explaining about Tony, but obligingly he reached into an inner pocket and pulled out an envelope which had been placed in a plastic food zip-lock bag.  “That came in the mail this morning.”

Gibbs read the typed words aloud.  “‘Your son is in terrible danger.  You must warn him.  Do not trust your phone line as it is bugged.  A concerned friend.’”

“There were photos of you just going about your daily business,” his Dad said.  “I left them locked up in the glove compartment in the truck.”

“I’ll get Abby to retrieve them,” Gibbs acknowledged, lowering the letter.  “How did you receive this?”

“In the mail with the usual crap, envelope’s in the truck too,” his Dad said, “I didn’t open it until lunchtime and then I had to organise for Cal to watch the store before I could drive here and…”

“It’s fine, Dad,” Gibbs said soothingly.  “Was there anything else?”

His Dad shook his head.  “Are you in trouble, Leroy?”

“Agents always carry the risk of being targeted,” Gibbs acknowledged with a shrug.  “I haven’t received any threats lately.”

“And Tony?” asked his Dad worriedly.

Gibbs frowned.  “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” His Dad’s eyebrows were up to the middle of his forehead again.

“Tony usually reports anything serious,” Gibbs allowed, “but a lot has changed with him over the last month and it’s caused some resentment.”

“One of those things being you bonding with him?” queried his Dad almost gently.  “He come online?”

“Long story,” Gibbs said shortly, “but yeah; we bonded.”

“Were you worried I wouldn’t approve?”

Gibbs sighed heavily.  “I didn’t tell you because I’m still getting used to it; that’s all.”  And, he acknowledged to himself, he’d wanted to keep Tony, his Guide, to himself.

His Dad looked at him intently for a long moment before he nodded slowly. 

Gibbs steeled himself for his Dad to make some kind of comment about Shannon.

“He’s a good man,” his Dad said.  “I could tell he cared a lot for you back in Stillwater.”

Gibbs almost jolted with surprise.  He tilted his head and looked at his Dad.  There was nothing but sincerity in his expression.

“He is,” Gibbs said, “he’s the best.”

“You think this,” his Dad gestured at the letter, “is about him?”

And the certainty that it was about Tony shot through Gibbs like an arrow.

“My gut says it is,” Gibbs admitted.

“That why you left him behind, to protect him?” His Dad leaped to the right conclusion.  He gave a decisive nod.  “Well, don’t just stand there, Leroy, let’s get to the bottom of who’s causing your Guide trouble.”

He was out of the conference room before Gibbs could protest. 

“Damn it!” grumbled Gibbs.  He stared at the letter in his hands.  He didn’t know why or how but he knew the letter was somehow connected to Tony. 

His Guide was in danger – and alone.  Gibbs had left him alone.

No.

Tony was with McGee and with two FBI agents watching his back.  The letter was about Gibbs.  Maybe it was as simple as the fact that someone didn’t like that Gibbs had bonded with such a valuable Guide or more likely it was because someone wanted to challenge him for Tony…

Carrington.

His gut agreed completely with that thought.

“Are you coming or what, Leroy?”

He took a deep breath and followed after his Dad.  He had a Sentinel to track down.

-nCIs-

It hadn’t taken Tony and McGee long to finish up the main house; they quickly moved onto the garage and Noah Larson’s apartment.

As soon as John Larson opened the door, Tony’s nose wrinkled.  The place was a mess.  It stank of stale beer and sweat.  The debris of an alcoholic was littered around the room.

“He’s not been in a good place,” Larson said quietly.

Tony nodded briskly.  “Thank you, sir.”

Larson took the dismissal with a nod of his own head and headed back to the house.

Tony and McGee exchanged a quick look of disgust and resignation before they stepped inside. Tony took the main living space and kitchen, and McGee the bedroom and bathroom. 

“I found his computer set-up,” McGee called out from the bedroom.

“Confiscate the hard drive,” Tony ordered.  “You can look at it back at the Yard.”

He continued searching through the kitchen cupboard.  The contents were not inspiring; chips, cereal, some stale bread.  The refrigerator had something mouldy living in the fresher box, a half-finished jar of pickles and a carton of sour milk in the door.  Old Chinese take-out sat abandoned on a low shelf.

Tony tried to keep his mind on the search as he moved into the living room, but he was picking up a lot from Gibbs; anger, worry, and frustration.  He wondered what was going on at the Yard.  He hoped Jack was OK; worried that he wasn’t.

He picked up a picture of Noah with a laughing dark-haired woman – probably the ex-girlfriend, Tony realised.

His thoughts kept drifting back to his argument with Gibbs and the hurt he felt.  Why wouldn’t Gibbs want Tony to meet his father again?  It wasn’t as though Tony and Jack hated each other; they’d gotten along great in Stillwater.  It also wasn’t as though Jack was a terrible father – God, compared to Tony’s father Jack was a saint.  To his knowledge, Jack’s worst transgressions were more to do with moving on after his wife’s death more quickly than Gibbs thought was right and bringing a friend along for support to Shannon’s funeral.  So, Gibbs couldn’t think he was protecting Tony by keeping them apart.  No, Gibbs’ reticence had to be rooted in something else.

Tony allowed a small sigh to escape him.  If he had to make a guess, and given Gibbs hadn’t explained anything, guessing was the only thing he could do, Tony would guess that whatever reason Gibbs had was rooted in his previous bonding and his grief for his late Guide and wife, Shannon.  Which just made Tony feel bad because how could he complain if that was the case?

A wistful jealousy suffused him for a long moment.

He wanted what Shannon had been given; a Sentinel so wholly in love with her that she was the centre of his world.  He wished he could have that.

He wished…

He knew it would be so easy for him to fall in love with his Sentinel; to take the final step in loving Gibbs not just as a cherished friend, as his Sentinel, but as his partner in everything.  Sometimes he figured he was already there, just afraid to admit it because Gibbs didn’t feel the same way – and he pushed that thought away because it hurt too much and he wasn’t ready to look at, to deal with it.

He’d made Gibbs a promise, Tony reminded himself sternly.  Gibbs had never wanted to bond after losing Shannon; the nascent bond with Tony had been an unwanted surprise for his Sentinel.  But Gibbs had accepted the bond and Tony, and Tony had promised to make it as easy as possible on his Sentinel.

And that meant if Gibbs wanted to see his Dad alone, wanted to keep Tony and Jack apart for whatever reason, Tony would accept it.    

Tony set the photo down, his mind absently comparing the ex to the pictures he’d seen of the New York victims; there wasn’t any kind of resemblance.  But then, there had been no real resemblance between the victims either beside their latent Guide status. 

He was grateful for the gloves as he pulled the sofa cushions away, grimacing at the smears of food on the fabric and the smell of spilt beer.  He frowned as he revealed a pull-out mechanism, but tugged it into the bed position to ensure he could search it properly…

A glint of silver caught his eyes.  Something was tangled into the hinges.  Tony set an evidence marker, lifted his camera from around his neck and took a picture.  He took another from a second angle.  He crouched down and gently lifted the chain, the tags pulled free and carefully set them flat in his palm as he took another couple of pictures to capture the stamp on them.

He’d found Petty Officer Kenneth Graham’s dogtags and confirmed that Graham had been brought to the property.

He plucked an evidence bag from his pocket and almost reverently pooled them inside.  They’d have to be tested for fingerprints and DNA.

He spent time gathering evidence from the sofa; there were bodily fluid stains under ultraviolet light on the mattress, a thin stain of blood at the edge.

He finished up the rest of the room carefully, turning his theory around in his head.  He’d just finished when McGee showed up.

“Have you done the bathroom yet?” asked Tony.  He was certain that the apartment was the primary crime scene.

“Done,” McGee confirmed, “I found hair in the bath drain.” He hefted a plastic wrapped envelope.  “I also found this under the bed.”

Tony peered at it.

‘If I am dead, please read.’

“Well, that’s not ominous,” Tony commented.  He gave a light shiver.  “Let’s do the garage and get back to the Yard.”

McGee took the evidence case as they made their way down.  The garage was empty of a vehicle.  Tony figured wherever Noah Larson had taken the car.  They quickly examined the tools and the cabinets but there was nothing suspicious.

Larson hovered in the driveway as they took their leave.  “How much trouble are the boys in?”

Tony glanced at McGee.  “Both Noah and Kevin are persons of interest, Mister Larson.  If either of them contact you, please encourage them to turn themselves in.”

Larson grimaced.

Tony felt sorry for the Sentinel as they hurried down the driveway to where Shen and Grant waited in the FBI SUV.  They stowed the evidence in the trunk and got into the backseat.

Grant turned to look at them while Shen drove.  “Cassie called and updated us.  She said to tell you Gibbs’ Dad received a threat against Gibbs; that’s why he’s at the Yard.”

And why Gibbs had refused to take Tony with him, Tony realised.

Tony blew out a breath, irritated that he hadn’t understood Gibbs’ motivations were all about protecting Tony. 

“Tremendous,” Tony said out loud.  He was so kicking Gibbs’ ass.  He was his Guide!  He was meant to be beside him if there was trouble.  He texted as much to Gibbs before putting his phone away.  “Do we know the specifics or…”

“A letter and some surveillance photos delivered snail mail,” Shen provided crisply.  “The letter was from an apparently concerned friend and encouraged Mister Gibbs to warn his son he was in danger.”

“Gibbs thinks Carrington is the threat,” Grant offered.

Tony rubbed his head, trying to stave off the threat of the headache he could already feel forming.  “Evidence?”

“His gut?” Shen said dryly.

Tony didn’t bother to repress the sigh. 

“He’s probably right,” McGee said.

Grant stared at him.  “You can’t seriously…”

“Gibbs has good instincts,” Tony said, “and a strong connection to the spirit plane.  He rarely accesses it consciously, meditation isn’t his thing, and besides, he needs a Guide to well…”

“Guide him?” Grant offered teasingly.

Tony grinned at her. “But the connection is there so…”

“Besides, we all knew Carrington was going to be trouble,” grumbled McGee.

“He’s too fixated on Tony,” Grant agreed. 

“Where is Mark?” asked Tony.

“In the field,” Shen reported, taking advantage of a stop at an intersection to turn to look at him, “Agent Yates ordered him and Agent Banks to cover the club.”

“Good call,” Tony mused.  Out of all the locations it was the least likely for either Noah Larson or Bale to go to for safety.

“You know who killed Graham, don’t you?” Grant said.

Tony nodded slowly.  “I think so,” he admitted, “I don’t have a motive and I don’t have all the pieces yet, but I think I know who killed him.”

McGee frowned.  “Who?”

The car moved forward as Shen turned her attention back to driving with the change of the lights.

“Two suspects, Bale or Larson; which do you think did it, Probie?” Tony retorted.  “Which of them knew enough about the crimes in New York to stage one here?”

McGee opened his mouth to answer…and Tony’s eyes widened in sudden alarm as he saw something large and white headed at speed for their car…

It slammed into the side of the SUV sending the car hurtling uncontrolled across the intersection…

The car hit the kerb and flipped…

Everything was chaos.

Impact after impact.

And everything stopped.

-nCIs-

Gibbs reminded himself that he liked Abi Borin.  Borin was tough but fair; a good investigator.  She was focused and stayed on the job until it was done.  He just hated that right at that moment, he was the job.

Especially as Vance was parked in a corner watching everything and chewing on a toothpick.

“I’m telling you this is Carrington!” Gibbs stabbed the plastic wrapped letter in the centre of Abby’s evidence table.

“You can’t make that claim without evidence, Gibbs,” Vance said firmly.

“There’s no fingerprints, Gibbs,” Abby chimed in, her hands fluttering nervously.  “I double-checked.”

“He knows enough about evidence not to be that sloppy,” Gibbs pointed out brusquely.  “Who else has motive to target me?  To target my Guide?!”

“The hundred bad guys you’ve put away?” Fornell suggested logically. He stood next to Borin; his suit crumpled and his expression grumpy.

Borin raised an eyebrow as Gibbs whirled away, frustrated.  “You know he’s right.”  She crossed her arms over her chest.  “There is no evidence to suggest that Carrington is behind this.”

“But?” prompted Gibbs, stopping to look at her forcefully.

“But,” Borin conceded, “you’re probably right.”  She sighed.  “He was here when I arrived demanding to watch DiNozzo’s six at the Larson house.  Yates sent him and another agent to watch the club.”

“Good call,” Gibbs commented.  He figured they’d used up all of Cassie’s impressive patience between Carrington’s demands and Banks’ laziness and dereliction of duty with Bale.

Vance shifted, stepping closer to the table.  “Why wasn’t I informed?”

Borin shrugged.  “Agent Yates handled it.”  She held up a hand when Vance went to argue.  “But given this letter and my witnessing of Carrington’s continued obsession with DiNozzo, I’m willing to go on record and formally request his removal from this case.  He needs to be sent back to Norfolk.  I’ll place him under surveillance as a suspected threat.”

“Won’t he go dormant?” asked Abby.  “I mean, I read that Sentinels and Guides can go dormant if they act against the tribe.”

Borin shrugged.  “Not always,” she said. “For every Sentinel who murders someone and who goes dormant, there’s one who stays active and online.  Doctor Sandburg theorised that if they could convince themselves that such acts were in the best interest of the tribe, that they appeased the Sentinel or Guide instinct.  Half the cases I deal with are Sentinels and Guides who have perpetrated crimes and are still active in some way.”

Gibbs felt his phone vibrate and he plucked it out of his pocket.

‘Rule 15.  On our way back with evidence.’

Rule fifteen; always work as a team.  Tony had never needed to learn that rule.  Even as a Marine, Gibbs had found it difficult; it was why he’d embraced being a sniper.

“Ooh.  Rule fifteen. Tony’s pissed at you, huh?” Abby read the text over his shoulder.

Gibbs shot her a look which had her backing off, but she was smirking.

“I’ll send another team to relieve Carrington and Banks at the club,” Vance confirmed, “we can use the fact that it’s late and they need to be stood down for the night to excuse a shift change.  When he gets back here, I’ll inform him he’s back at Norfolk tomorrow.”

Gibbs nodded, relieved.  He raised his phone.  “DiNozzo says they’re on their way back with evidence.”

“Speaking of evidence,” Abby said brightly, “I should get back to helping Bev with the date site coding.  I think Tony was right; I think the date site stuff was faked for Graham.”

Vance’s face brightened with interest.

Gibbs took a step toward Abby and her computer and…

Terror flooded him like a wave catching him unawares and pulling him under.

Tony was terrified and…

Pain.

So much pain.

Gibbs felt the edge of his vision going black; his body collapsing as his mind reached out for his Guide. He clutched at Fornell and Vance as they caught hold of him.  His white panther sprang into view and yowled.

“Tony!” Gibbs forced out, desperately clinging to consciousness, to the presence of Tony in his mind.  “Tony’s in danger!”

Panic and struggle.

Shock.

Horror.

A thought pushed through the buffer, filled with Tony’s fierce determination, it pushed past pain and hurt.

Find me.

Tony’s presence blinked out sharply.

And Gibbs followed him into the dark.

-nCIs-

All Tim felt was pain. 

He was alive.

He went to move and…

Play dead, Probie.

The words whispered through his head; they felt like Tony but more; they were wrapped up in a brotherly affection and concern.  Was that how Tony felt about him?

He kept still.

A gunshot sounded loudly close by and it was all he could do not to flinch.  There was a cry from the front cut short by another shot.  A yelp and groan beside him was followed by a scuffling sound; it almost made him look.

Silence.

A vehicle drove off in a screech of tires, the smell of rubber drifting across the asphalt and through the shattered window by Tim.

Silence.

Shouts from outside the car.

Sirens.

Tim carefully opened his eyes.  He was hanging upside down in his seatbelt.  His head pounded; something dripped down the side of his face.

Thankfully there was no smell of gasoline. 

He glanced over to the other side of the car.  It was empty.  Tony was gone.

Not gone.

Taken.

Someone had taken Tony.

Guilt made his stomach roil.

Gibbs was going to kill Tim.

The front of the car was too silent. 

Tim looked towards the front seats and grimaced at the splash of red decorating the side windows; the gunshots, he realised.  Someone had shot Shen and Grant.

There was a small gasping sound from Grant’s seat in front of him.  She was alive.

Tim grimaced as he reached for the release to his seatbelt.  He had to get free; had to help Grant.  He braced himself and pushed down on the release.  His chest burned as soon as the seatbelt retracted.  He gave a loud groan and gingerly manoeuvred himself out of the window and onto the road.

There were people running to help him.  He waved them off and towards Grant.  He blinked as he realised his hands were hurting; he’d crawled over broken glass.  A police car braked sharply to the side of him, lights flashing and casting colour over the asphalt in the twilight.

Sirens filled the air and hurt Tim’s head; they were too loud and everything was too bright.

A uniformed police officer approached, her hand tentatively on her weapon.  “Sir?  Are you…”

“Special Agent Timothy McGee,” Tim said urgently, “I’m with NCIS.” He tapped the badge attached to his belt and was grateful he was in the windbreaker.  “My partner, Anthony DiNozzo, was in the back of the car and was abducted immediately after we crashed.  Agents Shen and Grant of the FBI were in the front of the vehicle.”

“Understood, sir,” the young officer confirmed.  She sent a look sideways and Tim realised she was accompanied by an older officer who immediately headed back to the car to report.  “Medics are on their way.”

Another police car arrived.

Tim tried to get to his feet and swayed. 

“I’d stay on the ground, Agent McGee,” the officer crouched down beside him.  “You’re hurt pretty badly.”

“I have evidence,” Tim said, “I can’t leave or Gibbs will…”

Gibbs.

God.

Tim patted his pocket.  “I need to call my Boss.”  He retrieved his phone.  There was a crack all the way down the screen, but it lit up and he was able to use his speed dial.  “Boss?  It’s McGee, I need…”

“McGee,” Vance sharply interrupted him, “Gibbs lost consciousness a few minutes ago.  I have medics examining him.  Where are you and DiNozzo?”

Tim’s heart sank.  He pushed his worry for Gibbs and Tony aside and focused on reporting.

“We were ambushed at an intersection,” Tim crisply reported.  “Tony, Agent DiNozzo was taken.  I don’t know how badly hurt he was.  Shen is…I don’t think she’s alive.”  He looked back to where a crowd of people including the newly arrived police officers were gathered around Grant’s window.  “Grant was shot.  They’re trying to help her.”

“They?”

“Metro is on scene,” Tim confirmed.  “I need back-up to my location to take custody of the evidence we gathered.”

“On its way, McGee,” Vance promised.  “Hang tight.  We’ll have agents with you in fifteen.”

Tim nodded and winced at the sharp tug of pain it caused, before it occurred to him that Vance couldn’t see him.  “Yes, sir.”

“Do you have someone with you, McGee?” asked Vance, his tone gentler.

Tim nodded again.  “There’s an officer here.” He read her name tag.  “Officer Drew.”

“Give her your phone,” Vance ordered, “I’d like to speak to her.”

Tim just pushed his phone at Drew.  She took it gingerly and her face settled into a polite mask as she listened to Vance. 

“Yes, Director, I understand,” Drew confirmed.  “My partner and I will stay with him.”  She handed him the phone back and Tim realised she’d ended the call.

Another set of lights joined the flashing brigade and Tim heard footsteps pounding across the road.  One set headed for Grant and Tim was relieved to see it was a paramedic.  A sudden presence beside him had him flinching away.

“Easy, son,” an older paramedic crouched down next to him.  “I’m Pete, can you tell me your name?”

“Tim…Tim McGee, Agent McGee.”  It was getting harder to put a coherent sentence together.  Tim shivered.

“I need you to look in this direction, Agent,” Pete said insistently in a tone which made Tim think he’d said it a couple of times already.

Tim grimaced at the bright light as it shone directly into his eyes.  He belatedly clutched at the silver blanket someone had covered him in.

“Pete!” Someone urgently called from near to Grant.

“I need to help my partner, but then we’ll get you into the ambulance,” Pete said soothingly.  He left without waiting for a reply.

There were more cars stopping just beyond the cop cars.  Their doors opened and a flood of NCIS agents poured out, including the Director himself.

Tim breathed a sigh of relief.  He saw Detective Sparr heading for the most senior officer on site which appeared to be Drew’s partner.  Vance followed after her doggedly.

Yates reached Tim first.  She knelt beside him and put her hand on his shoulder.  “God, McGee.  That’s quite a bump on the head.”

“We flipped,” Tim explained, realising it was probably unnecessary because the car was upside down.  He gestured at the trunk.  “The evidence is in there.  I need to transfer custody…”

“I’ll complete the paperwork, Tim,” Yates said firmly, “don’t worry about it.”

“We need it,” Tim said insistently.  “Tony knew who killed Graham and he thought the evidence would prove it.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Yates promised again.

Tim wanted to argue but he was tired.  Everything seemed to be moving slowly like it was covered in molasses.

He blinked.

Vance was suddenly in front of him; crouched down and his hand on Tim’s cheek.  “You with us, Agent?”

“Yes, sir,” Tim replied automatically.  He frowned and tried to get up again.  “I need to check on the evidence.  There’s evidence…”

“Agent Yates has taken custody of the evidence; she documented everything about the transfer,” Vance said firmly, “it’s on its way back to NCIS.”

“Right,” Tim said, wondering when that had happened.

“Two questions and we’ll get you on the ambulance,” Vance said, “what happened to DiNozzo?”

“Taken,” Tim blinked heavily.  “I don’t know how hurt he was, but he didn’t speak.”

“Did you see who took him?” asked Vance urgently.

Tim went to shake his head and stopped at the searing pain in his temple.  “No, he told me to play dead.”

Vance frowned.  “I thought he didn’t speak?”

“I heard him in my head,” Tim explained. 

And wondered if that made sense.  He didn’t think that made sense.

He frowned again as something occurred to him and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t already realised.  “Gibbs? Where’s Gibbs?”

“On his way to Bethesda to the Sentinel unit,” Vance said.  “He dropped around the same time as the accident.  Inspector Borin was concerned he’d be feral when he regained consciousness.”

Right.  Gibbs in a feral state.   That wasn’t something anyone needed.  Well.  Except Tony.

Tim shivered again.  They had to find Tony.

“Let’s get you into the ambulance, Tim,” Vance said almost kindly.

It seemed to Tim like he blinked and suddenly he wasn’t on the road anymore, but he was lying staring at the ambulance ceiling.  He stared up at the fan and frowned at the stains.  Was that hygienic?  Small brown spots began to differentiate themselves as he stared at the blades.  Was it blood?  Or some other kind of…

“He’s coming online!”

He flinched at the loud voice as it scraped over his eardrums, screeching like an out of tune guitar.  But his skin suddenly felt aflame; pain erupted in his hand making him yell.  He turned to the side and vomited noisily, the stench of it assaulting him and making him gag.  He slumped back, exhausted, overwhelmed and focused on the brown spots, trying to block out the noise around him and…

You’re zoning.  Close your eyes, McClueless.

“Tony?”

Eyes, Probie.

Tim closed his eyes.  “Have to save you…”

Then listen to me, Probie Sentinel.  You’re coming online.  You need to find your dials.

He was Norm.  Why was he coming online?

Don’t worry about that, Probie.  Focus on your dials.

“Dials,” murmured Tim, sinking to the brotherly warmth of Tony’s mental voice.

Visualise them.  One for each of your senses.

Tim followed Tony’s instructions.  He imagined an old-fashioned radio with five dials.  He started to tweak his dials, returning his senses to normality.  His pain eased; his nausea subsided.  He wrinkled his nose at the smell and taste of sick, but it didn’t affect him as much.  The noise in the ambulance was still loud but manageable.  He didn’t want to open his eyes.

Good, Probie.  You’re good.

“Where are you, Tony?” asked Tim, as he blinked his eyes open.

Buffer.  Tell Gibbs to use the buffer.  Got to go, Tim. 

“No…” Tim whispered, trying to reach out mentally to keep the connection with his friend, with his partner.

The ambulance suddenly stopped and the doors were flung open.

“Sentinel Unit!” barked Pete.  “He’s just come online! Traumatic event!”

Tim closed his eyes again.  There was the sensation of movement as he was transferred to a hospital gurney and they began to race down a corridor; an elevator; another corridor.  He tried to focus on sensing Tony’s voice, but his head was quiet except for his own thoughts.

“McGee?!” Fornell’s voice had his eyes snapping open.

“Fornell?” Tim tried to sit up, wriggling against the blankets and hands trying to hold him still. 

“Easy, Agent McGee,” a doctor appeared in his eyeline, “easy.”  He pursed his lips.  “You’re in the Sentinel Unit at Bethesda.  We’re admitting you as an injured Sentinel.”

“I need to speak to Agent Fornell,” Tim insisted.  “I need…”

Fornell stepped up, shooting someone out of Tim’s vision a look to back off.  “I’m here, kid.”

“You have to tell Gibbs,” Tim said urgently, “tell him to use the buffer.”

Fornell frowned, but he nodded, his expression grave.  “You get a look at who took him?”

“Tony had me play dead,” Tim said, shaking his head and regretting the movement as light spiked across his vision.

“You did right,” Fornell said, “Shen’s dead; she took one point-blank to the head.  Grant arrived just before you; she’s got a head graze, but she’ll make it.”

Tim was pleased to hear it.  He felt a twinge of regret for Shen.  She had seemed like a really good agent and he figured Grant would be devastated at losing her partner.  He was devastated at losing Tony…but Tony wasn’t dead yet.

“The evidence…Tony worked out who killed Graham,” Tim said quickly as the doctor moved back into his view.  “Maybe if we took a look at it and…”

He blinked and Fornell slipped out of Tim’s vision.

Another blink.

Tim felt a sharp pain in the back of his hand and then…drugs flooded through him, chasing away the pain. 

He was so tired.  His eyes blinked slowly, once, twice…he slept.

-nCIs-

Gibbs snapped awake to the sound of his father’s voice, his comforting steady tone giving him something to immediately anchor himself on.  He kept his eyes closed for a long moment, searching mentally for Tony.

The buffer was still there.

Gibbs breathed out slowly, relief flooding through his veins.  Tony was alive.  But there was something wrong.  The connection was muffled.  He wasn’t receiving any bleed-through from Tony at all.

His Guide was hurt.  Unconscious maybe.

His Sentinel roared but the buffer was there protecting Gibbs from going feral.  He needed to be coherent to find his Guide. 

“You might as well open your eyes, Leroy,” his Dad remarked briskly. 

Gibbs sighed out loud and complied.  He blinked in confusion at the teal decorated room.  He sat up in the bed and frowned heavily, plucking at the teal hospital pyjamas. 

“Tony?” He asked urgently.

“He’s missing,” his Dad told him bluntly.  “From what your friend, Tobias, is it?  He told me that there was an ambush at a set of traffic lights.  One of the FBI agents died; the other and your young Agent McGee were brought in injured.  Tony was taken at the scene.”

Fury rushed through him.  His Guide was gone.  Taken.  Memories of losing Shannon surfaced; panic that he was going to lose his Guide again fought with the anger that rolled through him…

Unacceptable.

But.

He’d left him.  Gibbs had left him alone and his Guide had been taken. 

And guilt stole up in a rush of bile which Gibbs swallowed down.  Guilt wouldn’t help him find Tony. 

“Clothes?” asked Gibbs brusquely.

His Dad just pointed with his cane across the room at Gibbs’ go-bag. 

Gibbs started to unhook himself from the various monitors, peeling off the stickers with a grimace.  They might have been Sentinel friendly, but they stung his skin anyway.  He grimaced at the needle in the back of his hand. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Leroy,” his Dad began.

He undid the sticky plaster, held the needle steady and tugged it free of his vein.

The door opened and a doctor entered at a brisk pace.  Gibbs vaguely recognised him from the night Tony had regained his gifts.  The doctor had been the one to look after Ziva.  Sorrell, Gibbs remembered; his name was Sorrell.

“Agent Gibbs,” Sorrell began, “please return to your bed and…”

“I’m leaving,” Gibbs announced, cutting across Sorrell like a scalpel.  “My Guide is missing.”

Sorrell sent his Dad an unimpressed look.  “I thought we had agreed to wait on telling Agent Gibbs about Guide DiNozzo?”

“No,” his Dad said, “you decided.  I decided my son needed to know the truth about what happened.”

“For what it’s worth,” Gibbs said, continuing to strip off the pyjamas, “my Dad made the right call.”

Sorrell frowned.  “You’ve just experienced a major trauma in losing your Guide and…”

“My Guide is alive and waiting for me to find him,” Gibbs stated firmly.

“It’s not unusual in these cases for Sentinels to go feral,” argued Sorrell.

Gibbs stopped and glared at Sorrell.  “Do I look feral to you?”

Sorrell looked at him hard for a long moment before he sighed.  “No,” he conceded, “you look pissed off but not feral.”

“Damn right,” Gibbs said, marching over to his bag and hunting out his clothes.  He glanced back over at the doctor.  “I’ll sign whatever paperwork you need me to sign but I’m leaving.”

“I could commit you,” Sorrell pointed out dryly.

“You’d need two other medical professionals to sign off that I’m actually feral,” Gibbs recited the law brusquely.

Sorrell held his hands up.  “I’ll get the paperwork.  It’ll be at reception when you’re ready.”  He left without arguing further.

Gibbs pulled on his clothes briskly.

“Are you sure you should leave?” asked his Dad.

Gibbs glowered at him.  “I’m not going to find Tony staying here.”

His Dad hummed and nodded. 

Thankfully, someone had placed his boots nearby, neatly lined up.  He sat down to put them on, tying the laces tightly.

“You going to see your Agent McGee before you go back to work?” asked his Dad.

Gibbs nodded.  He accepted the coat his Dad held out to him.  He patted his pockets relieved to find his wallet and his phone.  He clipped on his badge and his gun. 

“I’ll meet you in reception,” his Dad said.

He whirled out of the hospital room with one aim; finding his Guide.  He cocked his head to the side, trying to listen for McGee’s breathing.  He zeroed in on it and headed for the treatment room down a side corridor.

Fornell was hovering outside of a door, arguing with someone on his phone.  His eyes widened at the sight of Gibbs and he hurriedly wrapped up his call and snapped the phone shut.  “Are you supposed to be out of bed?”

“McGee in there?” Gibbs asked instead of replying.

Fornell sighed.  “Kid’s come online which has the doctor flummoxed by the way since he was supposed to be a Norm, and he’s got a helluva concussion.  He’s pretty out of it.”

Gibbs nodded but pushed past Fornell to enter the room anyway, ignoring Fornell’s hurried ‘Wait!’ in favour of action.  He left the door open behind him.  He approached the bed and repressed the urge to sigh.

McGee looked a mess.  There was a massive bruise on the side of his head with a nasty scrape; his hands were wrapped in bandages.  Bruising was beginning to mottle his bare chest.  Gibbs swallowed hard.  If McGee was so injured…

McGee’s eyes fluttered open.  His gaze immediately went to Gibbs.  “Boss.”

Gibbs reached for the nearby water cup and held the straw so McGee could sip.  “You alright, McGee?”

“Sorry, Boss,” McGee frowned heavily.

“Nothing to be sorry for, McGee,” Gibbs countered.  He could hardly blame McGee for failing to protect Tony given his own dereliction in the matter.  “Tell me what you can.”

Fornell cleared his throat.  “You told me to tell Gibbs to use the buffer?”

McGee grimaced as he tried to nod his head.  “Tony…he reached out to me when I came online, he helped me with my dials…” he reached a hand up shakily to touch the side of his head gingerly.  “He said to tell you to use the buffer.”

Gibbs’ heart sank.  He had no idea what Tony meant; he’d never been interested in learning about Guide gifts and it was biting him in the ass. 

“Boss, Tony knew who killed Graham,” McGee said urgently.  “The evidence should tell you who.”

Finding out Tony had solved Graham’s murder didn’t surprise Gibbs. 

“I’ll look into it,” he promised McGee.

“He said,” McGee frowned again, “I remember before the crash he asked me when we were…just before…he asked me who would know the details of the New York crime scenes enough to stage one here?”

Bale.

Tony had figured out it was Bale who killed Graham. 

“Goddammit,” Fornell bit out. He stormed out of the room, already reaching for his phone.

“Bale,” McGee stuttered out, “it has to be Bale, right?  He had access because of his status as a detective.”

Gibbs nodded.  “Good job, McGee.”

McGee frowned again. “No, I lost Tony.  I shouldn’t have played dead like he said and…”

Gibbs put his hand on McGee’s cheek and held his gaze intently.  “You did what Tony told you to do and you survived.  You did good.”

McGee began to clumsily pluck at his covers.  “Give me a minute, Boss, and I’ll…”

“Stay here,” ordered Gibbs.  “Get some rest.  You’re a newly online Sentinel, McGee.  They’re not going to let you out until they know you’re stable.”

McGee frowned even more at that.  “You’ll find Tony.”

“Damn right,” Gibbs confirmed.  He patted McGee’s cheek gently and headed out.

Fornell fell into step beside him.  “Gibbs, there’s something you need to know…” he caught hold of Gibbs’ arm and brought him to a stop.  “There’s a jurisdiction fight.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Tobias,” Gibbs barked impatiently.  He started walking again.  “We’re going back to the Yard, I need Abby to hunt down Bale’s known locations.”

They both slowed at the sight of Borin in reception; she wore a too serious expression.  Gibbs’ Dad stood next to her an unhappy glower turning his face hang-dog.

“Borin,” Gibbs greeted her tersely.

“Carrington and Banks are in the wind,” Borin informed him crisply.  “Their relief turned up at the club to find them AWOL.  Yates has sent Lopez to find them.”

“Fantastic,” Fornell snarled.

Gibbs paced back and forth, trying to get his Sentinel under control.  The buffer wrapped around him, comforting him.  He came to a halt next to Borin. 

“Tony?”  He figured the Registry would take point on a missing Guide.

“No news,” Borin reported with a shake of her head.  Her pinned back red hair stayed within its tight ponytail.  “There was surveillance cameras at the intersection and I have my team working on it.  As things stand, I don’t know if his abduction is to do with the murder case or with Carrington.”  She held Gibbs’ gaze.  “I have point on Tony’s abduction at the moment, Gibbs, but I’ve agreed with Morrow that we’re not going to keep you out of it.”

Gibbs gave a sharp nod to convey his thanks.  He also registered Borin’s use of the word ‘moment.’ Combined with Fornell’s warning he was beginning to realise something was happening behind the scenes.

Politics, Gibbs thought disgusted.

“What am I?” demanded Fornell.  “Side dressing?”

“Same goes for you, Fornell,” Borin confirmed with a sigh.

“Well,” his Dad declared, “let’s get the paperwork sorted and get out of here.”

Gibbs could get behind that; he headed to the desk.  His body vibrated with energy.  He needed to find his Guide.

-nCIs-

Tony wondered what it said about him that he’d constructed the spirit plane into the bullpen.  His panther and his Sentinel’s were perched side by side on Gibbs’ desk.  There was a faint sense of the buffer which told Tony Gibbs was back on his feet and searching for him.  It comforted him.

He leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on the desk and threw a ball into the air.  He knew he was unconscious wherever he was.  His attacker had been quick to stab him in the thigh with some kind of epi-pen while Tony had been restrained and restricted by the car crash.  The drugs were affecting his gifts.  His empathic sense was muted, almost gone.  It felt like it had when he’d had his gift locked down; barely there.

He just thanked his lucky stars that he’d been able to fool the Sentinel who’d taken him into believing McGee was dead before he’d been injected with the drug.  He was also grateful that the drug hadn’t shut down his access to the spirit plane.  He’d been able to feel McGee’s distress and help his Probie before the distance to McGee had grown too much to keep a connection. 

He refused to worry about whether the drug was permanent, choosing to believe it was temporary since he’d never heard of something which could suppress a Guide’s gift ad infinitum.  More likely it was the kind of drug the Registry or hospitals used to deal with Guides who needed to be briefly suppressed due to trauma.

He threw the ball again.

He had a good idea who’d taken him.  The Sentinel had been disguised and he’d masked a lot of himself, but Tony had received a faint empathic read before being stabbed with the epi-pen.  But he couldn’t figure out the motive for kidnapping him.

A form emerged from the elevator; the Shaman he often found on the spirit plane, dressed incongruously for NCIS in native tribal wear. 

“Shaman,” Tony righted his chair and got to his feet.

“I see you have found your place here,” the Shaman said approvingly.

Tony nodded.  “I’m at home here.”

“Your Sentinel is here,” the Shaman said.

“Yes,” Tony agreed.  He perched on his desk as the Shaman walked over to his panther. 

The Shaman looked over at him curiously.  “You feel guilty for wanting more than the platonic bond you have created with him.”

Tony blushed.  “This wasn’t his choice.”

“Wasn’t it?” The Shaman countered.  “He chose for you to stay in his life by offering you a place beside him.”

“Not as his Guide,” rejoined Tony.

“No?” The Shaman’s eyes flickered with something Tony was sure was amusement.  “Was he not a Sentinel when he chose you?”

Tony’s eyes widened.  “I hadn’t thought about it like that,” he admitted.  “But he still…he still mourns his first Guide and he doesn’t feel the same about me as did about her.”

“We love differently for each person we love,” the Shaman said. “Love cannot be measured nor more importance placed on one love than another.”

Tony smiled sadly.  “I don’t doubt Jethro loves me,” and he didn’t, “but I doubt he will ever love me the same way I love him.” 

Because here on the spirit plane, he couldn’t deny his own heart, his own feelings, his own want to be everything to his Sentinel and for his Sentinel to be everything for him.    

He felt the tug of the real world pulling him back.  “I’m about to wake up.”

“Do not give up hope, Anthony,” the Shaman said.

Tony nodded as the spirit plane faded away…

-nCIs-

As soon as they reached the Yard, Gibbs honed in on Abby, aware that Borin and Fornell were close on his heels. 

Thankfully, he’d managed to convince his Dad to be escorted back to Gibbs’ house.  Borin had arranged for someone to watch the place and keep his father safe.  Without his Dad to worry about, he could focus on Tony.

He followed Abby’s heartbeat and voice to the evidence garage where his ears also picked up Sparr’s voice.  He barged through the elevator doors as soon as they opened and stopped at the sight of the mangled car, mentally reaching for the buffer again to have proof that Tony was alive and breathing.

“GIBBS!”

A second later, he caught an armful of Abby as she hugged him hard.

“It’s so good to see you and you’re not feral!” Abby babbled.  “And don’t worry!  We’re going to find Tony and…”

“Abs!” Gibbs barked.

She eased away from him and gave him a remonstrative look.  She wagged a screwdriver at him.  “Testy, but I’m going to forgive you because you’re worried about Tony.” Her eyes held his seriously.  “Is Tim OK because they said he was out of it at the scene and…”

“McGee’s fine,” Gibbs cut her off.  “DiNozzo took care of him.  He’s online though so he’s going to be in the hospital for a while.”

Abby nodded.  She turned back to the car with a flourish, the red jumpsuit a blur as she whirled around.  “So, I haven’t got much yet, but the SUV was hit by a white vehicle…” she gestured at the white paint along the side of the car, bright against the black of the SUV, “and we recovered two bullets from inside the car.  Standard .45 calibre.” She swallowed hard and Gibbs figured she was thinking about Shen and Grant.  “No bullets in the back of the car, but we did recover this!”

She walked over to an evidence table and picked up a pen in an evidence bag. 

“That’s an epi-pen,” Borin noted.

“There’s traces of a drug,” Abby agreed, “and blood on the needle.  Carol’s helping me out in the lab so she’s running the analysis.”

“It’s Tony’s blood,” Gibbs stated.

“Wow,” Abby said, staring at him, “I know you’ve got super senses, Gibbs, but there’s no way that you can tell that.”

“Sure, he can,” Borin asserted, “the abductor killed Shen, attempted to kill Grant, and left McGee conscious for some reason; he had to render DiNozzo unconscious or inert somehow.  The epi-pen was for DiNozzo.”

“Nice deduction,” Fornell commented.

Borin looked at Gibbs.  “You haven’t sensed Tony in your bond since you woke up?”

“He’s down,” Gibbs agreed, “or something’s inhibiting him.”

“Makes sense,” Fornell said, “even if DiNozzo was injured, kid’s a scrappy fighter.  I’d want him unconscious if I was kidnapping him.”

Gibbs glared at him.

Fornell just shrugged.  “Hypothetically.”

Abby cleared her throat and led them over to Sparr.  The detective was focused on her monitor where video of the intersection was zipping by at speed.

“You have the video already?” questioned Borin, reaching for her phone and frowning.  “I didn’t hear we’d gotten hold of it.”

Sparr shrugged.  “I hit up a contact.  They released it to me.” She glanced back and caught Borin’s unimpressed look.  “I sent it onto your team too.”

“There!” Gibbs snapped, pointing at the monitor.

Sparr paused and rewound to the start of the action.  They all watched as the lights changed and the SUV moved forward only to get broadsided by a white truck. 

“It’s a rental,” Borin noted.

Sparr hummed an agreement as they watched a masked figure in black exit the truck and head to the crashed SUV.

Abby grimaced and visibly flinched at the gunfire into the front of the car.  The figure stepped up to McGee’s window to aim again, but paused and backed away, rounding the vehicle to get to Tony.

“Why didn’t he shoot Tim?” asked Abby out loud.

“DiNozzo,” Fornell replied.  “He told McGee to play dead.”

Borin glanced at Gibbs and he ignored her.  He knew Borin was aware Tony’s gift was strong.  There was no doubt in Gibbs’ mind that Tony had protected his Probie and made the Sentinel think McGee was dead.

“He’s swapping to the epi-pen,” Sparr noted, almost dispassionately except there was a tremor in her tone, a note of worry. 

They watched as they saw Tony weakly struggle before he was rendered unconscious.  The masked figure dragged Tony out of the window and carried him in a fireman’s lift to the truck.  He dumped him in the passenger seat before getting in himself and driving away.

“Metro was already responding to nearby pedestrian calls for assistance,” Sparr said with a sigh.  “He had to have heard the sirens.”

“And knew which routes to take to avoid them,” Fornell concluded.

“This doesn’t tell us if it was Bale or Carrington,” Borin began.

Sparr shook her head and tapped the monitor where she’d reversed the feed and frozen it on a picture of the figure.  “That’s Bale.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked Abby.

“His gait,” Sparr replied, “and this.”  She unfroze the picture and replayed the moment he’d gotten into the vehicle.  “That’s Bale’s body shift.  I’ve watched him do it every day we’ve worked together for the past couple of weeks.  He’s tall so he does this leaning to the side thing whenever he gets into a car.”

“I don’t get it,” Abby said, “I mean, if I was Bale I’d just destroy the car with the evidence and run off.  Why take Tony?”

“It’s a good question,” Borin said.

The elevators dinged and Gibbs half-turned to look at who was entering the garage.  He turned fully when he realised the number of suits exiting. 

“Agent Harker,” Fornell identified the tall blond man in the lead.  “What are you doing here?”

“FBI has jurisdiction,” Harker said pompously, “you’re all off the case.  We’re here to take the evidence into our custody.”

“No way!” exclaimed Abby, sharply.  She folded her arms over her chest and glowered angrily at Harker.  “This is our case!  We have an agent missing!”

“An FBI agent died,” Harker replied snootily, “that takes precedence.”  He made a circular gesture at them all.  “My team will take it from here.  You’re all to stand down.”  He pointed at Borin.  “Except you, Investigator Borin, you’ll be working with my team from the Hoover building since you still have a Guide missing.”

“Excuse me while I verify that with my Director,” Borin said evenly.  She glanced sympathetically at Gibbs as she walked away, pulling her phone out.

Fornell stepped up to Harker.  “Listen, Harker…”

“You’re ordered to report back to the Hoover building,” Harker said forcefully.  “The Deputy Director wants to know why you’ve been dodging her calls for the last hour.”

Fornell sighed, a guilty expression on his face.  He looked over at Gibbs and Gibbs gave a subtle shake of his head.  Fornell could get them more info he remained on the inside.  Fornell gave a similar subtle nod, a salute and walked away.

“Metro agreed to support and cooperate with NCIS following…” Sparr began, making her own bid to stay on the investigation.

“Metro is stood down,” Harker said sneeringly.  “We don’t need help from cops given one of your own is a prime suspect.”

Sparr bristled angrily and stalked to stand a couple of paces away, her hands clenching at her sides.

“Morrow signed off on my working with Borin,” Gibbs began gruffly, knowing it was fruitless even as he made the attempt.  He’d come across too many agents like Harker not to know how the other man was going to play it; hell, he played the same game sometimes.

“He’s not in charge now, and you’re emotionally compromised,” Harker said bluntly.  “You’re at risk of going feral and I’m not going to take that risk.  You’re going to go home and wait for us to bring your Guide to you.”

Gibbs glowered at the agent and stepped up to him even as he registered the elevator dinging and Vance exiting.  “If you think you’re going to keep me from searching for my own Guide…”

To his credit, Harker didn’t back down, he just met Gibbs glare for glare.  “You’re a liability, Gibbs.  You interfere in my investigation and I’ll have you locked down in the Sentinel Unit where you belong.”

“Are you threatening my agent, Agent Harker?” Vance said sharply behind Harker.

“Director Vance,” Harker blanched and whirled around, “Agent Gibbs and I were just…”

“I heard,” Vance snapped out.  He looked around and waved at Abby.  “You’re needed in your lab, Ms. Scuito.  The transfer of the evidence to the FBI needs your attention there.”

Abby sent Gibbs a questioning look and he jerked a head at the exit, signalling for her to leave.

“I suggest, Agent Harker, you focus on the transfer of evidence and leave the informing of the current jurisdictional terms to me,” Vance continued in a hard angry tone which told Gibbs exactly how much Vance was pissed off.  He gestured for Sparr and Gibbs to follow him.  They made their way back to the elevator and waited for the elevator to arrive in silence.

The lack of talking lasted all the way to Vance’s office. Gibbs nodded at Cassie who was already there waiting.

Vance closed the door and made for his chair.  Gibbs loitered with Sparr and Cassie on the other side of the desk.

“The Attorney General made the call,” Vance began.  “Shen’s Division Chief was unhappy that the Registry had the lead when Shen wasn’t a Sentinel.  She made waves with her Deputy Director, who made waves with the Director who referred it to the AG.” He shrugged and sat down with a thump.

Gibbs stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared intently at Vance.

Vance ignored him and Yates.  Instead he focused on Sparr.  “Captain Wu has asked me to inform you that Metro has been stood down from being involved with the investigation at all, except for an expectation to respond to BOLOs as required.  He also said that Agent Harker has asked for you to be suspended given Bale’s status as a suspect.”

Sparr’s eyes flashed furiously.

“However, Captain Wu will not make a determination on that request until you report back to him in person at Metro,” Vance continued.

Sparr blinked.  “I see,” she said dryly.

“Sir, I have to protest at being removed at this point in the investigation…” Cassie began.

“And yet that is exactly what has happened because two of your team are AWOL, Agent Yates, and a third is out looking for them,” Vance hit back verbally.  He held her gaze.  “Given where the case was going your team would have had to take a step back anyway.  Someone used O’Connor to get your team back on the case.”

Cassie huffed and folded her arms across her chest.  She reminded Gibbs of Abby down in the garage.

“Gibbs,” Vance turned his attention to where Gibbs almost vibrated with impatience.  “Harker wants me to suspend you.”

“And, Leon?” Gibbs pressed.

“Suspending you sounds like standing between a Sentinel and his Guide,” Vance sat back with a hint of smugness, “and that sounds like bond interference to me.”

Gibbs’ lips quirked upward.  Sometimes he appreciated Vance’s ability to wheedle his way through the politics and rules.

“Officially, you’re off the case and without McGee and DiNozzo, the MCRT is out of rotation,” Vance stated.  “Unofficially, what you do in your own time…” he glanced meaningfully at the clock which was showing it was almost midnight. 

Gibbs allowed a small smile to drift across his lips.  He nodded at Vance and headed for the door.

Sparr almost jogged to catch up with him, falling in beside him.  “Gibbs, I want in.”

Cassie appeared on his other side.  “What she said.”

Gibbs shot her a look, turned to give Sparr the same look, and stabbed a finger on the button to call the elevator.  He stepped inside with both women.  He let the elevator set off before he stopped it. 

“You want in, Sparr?” he asked brusquely, getting in front of her.  “Why?  To protect Bale?”

Sparr stepped into his space; she held his gaze.  “Bale just killed one federal agent, Gibbs, shot another, and stole a third,” she stated crisply, “he’s one of the bad guys.  I got in this to take the bad guys down.  I don’t partner with them.”  Something flickered in her gaze.  “Look, Tony’s a friend, a good friend.  He wouldn’t leave me out there; I’m not going to leave him.” Her eyebrow rose a little as she challenged him.  “And while he’s missing, you need a partner.”

Gibbs saw nothing but sincerity in her gaze; he heard nothing but truth in her body tells.  He nodded briskly.  “You’ll need to keep up.”

Cassie bristled.  “What about me?”

“Get hold of Powers and Abby,” Gibbs ordered, “McGee did background on Noah Larson and Bale; I want to know everything he found out; focus on Larson.”

“Why?” asked Sparr.  “Bale’s the one who took Tony.”

“He’s setting Larson up as the patsy,” Gibbs said as he restarted the elevator. “That’s his play.”

Sparr nodded grimly in understanding.

The elevator came to a halt.

Cassie nodded at Gibbs.  “We’ll find him, Gibbs.”

“Cassie…”

Cassie turned back to look at him inquisitively.

“Find Carrington,” Gibbs ground out.  He couldn’t shake the idea that Carrington was behind the letter to his Dad.

Cassie grimaced but she nodded and let go of the doors as she completed her exit.  The elevator set off again when Gibbs poked another button.

“If they’re on Bale’s location, what are we doing?” asked Sparr.

“Checking on a lead Tony gave McGee,” replied Gibbs. 

The elevator opened at the autopsy floor and Gibbs strode out and into Ducky’s domain.

Ducky was just in the process of shrugging into his coat.  “Ah, Jethro, there you are!”  He looked at him critically with the assessing eye of a doctor.  “If you’re after my findings about Shen, I’m afraid I had to give the body to the FBI and…”

“I need a Guide,” Gibbs got straight to the point.

Ducky blinked rapidly.  “Jethro…”

“Tony told McGee to tell me to use the buffer,” Gibbs said, “I got to understand what that means.”

“And you can’t do that without the help of a Guide,” concluded Ducky sagely.  His lips pursed as he considered the problem.  His eyes suddenly brightened.  “I think I know the very person to assist.  Leave it with me, dear boy.  I’ll come round to yours as soon as I have retrieved her.”

Gibbs nodded and swept back out.

Sparr was at his side.  She put her hands on her hips and turned to him as the elevator ascended again.  “We’re headed to your place?”

“You got a problem with that, Sparr?”

“Nope, but maybe you’d like to make a stop on the way?” suggested Starr.  She pulled out a keyring.  “Want to bet one of these is Bale’s apartment?”

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow.  “Guess we’re making a stop.”  He reached out to the buffer, to wrap himself in the reminder of his and Tony’s bond. 

Hold on, Tony, he thought hard at the buffer; hold on.

-nCIs-

Tony gasped awake between one breath and another, blinking spots out of his vision as his eyes snapped open, unconsciously seeing his surroundings in a flash of vision.

For a moment, his sense of Gibbs was so strong that he could almost feel him.  Boss, he thought desperately, find me.

A split second later, the haze of the drug swept back over him and made him lose the connection.  It was swiftly followed by a rush of pain.  It took him a moment, but he quickly assessed his physical condition as battered and bruised, but thankfully not broken. 

His head ached with a dull throb and his stomach swam with a faint hint of nausea; enough to tell him he had a mild concussion.  His chest burned and breathing hurt; he had no doubt he’d bruised his ribs and that the seatbelt had probably left a spectacular bruise of its own.  His side stung and he vaguely remembered being dragged out of the broken window…so it was likely some kind of scratch.  His wrists were bound by rough rope and felt sore; his ankles the same. 

He’d lost his shoes and as a waft of air hit him, he realised he’d been stripped of the NCIS windbreaker he’d been wearing over his Henley and shirt.  His gun was missing and he felt another loss of weight at his ankle; his backup was gone.  But he had his belt which meant rule nine was in play.  From his position he could tell he was lying on a concrete floor, a wall to his back. 

His empathy was locked down; his mind felt sluggish.  He shivered at the loss of his Guide gifts.  He could barely feel the buffer and his connection to Gibbs; they seemed as though they were on the other side of a mental abyss Tony would have to cross to get to them.

He tentatively looked around.

The space around him was dark and shadowed.  There were boxes to his left and in front of him, hiding him from view of the doors.  He could make out the side walls of the room which looked like corrugated iron and they were too familiar.

He was in a storage container.

A large storage container. 

Memories of being locked in a shipping storage container flooded his mind for a long moment before he pushed them back.  Different circumstances, Tony reminded himself briskly.  He’d made the decision to get into the container because people had been shooting at them – and he hadn’t been alone, he’d had Ziva with him.

Ziva.

He shook his head and winced at the pain that shot through his side from his brow.  Goody, he mused; a mild concussion. 

Tony closed his eyes and forced himself to think past the initial horror.

The storage container clearly had a vent of some kind because air was getting inside.  He wasn’t going to run out of oxygen and suffocate.  He didn’t have a Mossad liaison panicking and shooting at boxes beside him.

But there was someone else in the container, Tony realised as he shuffled into a sitting position, tugging on the ropes which had him tied up and finding they’d been chained to the side of the container.

There was a snuffling sound coming from behind the boxes. 

It was unlikely to be his captor, Tony thought.  There was no light except for whatever was seeping through from the cracks at the edges of the door at the front, and given it was likely the middle of the night, the best Tony could hope for was the neon lights of electricity wherever the container was housed.  He didn’t think his captor would be content at just sitting in the dark.

Tony cleared his voice and wished he had water.  He pushed that thought to the back of his mind.  “I’m Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, NCIS!” He called out, identifying himself.  “I know someone else is here.  Please identify yourself!”

A long sigh, almost a sob, drifted out of the darkness.

“Look,” Tony continued, “we’re both locked in.  We could help each other.”

“It’s too late,” a voice whispered, slurring slightly. 

“It’s not too late,” Tony argued, wetting his lips and trying to ignore how dry his mouth felt.  “My Sentinel will be looking for me.  My team will be looking for me.  They’ll find us.”

There was a rough laugh in response.

“That’s what he wants,” the voice whispered.

Tony turned that nugget over in his head even as he guessed at the identity of the other man.  “You’re Noah, right?  Noah Larson?”

“Does it matter?” Noah replied.

“Noah,” Tony began, “I know it was Kevin Bale who killed Kenneth Graham.  I know neither of you killed those women in New York.”

For a long, long moment, there was silence.  Tony had just begun to think his gambit had failed, was wishing his empathy wasn’t out of whack so he could know how Noah was feeling, when Noah spoke again.

“How do you know?” asked Noah.

Tony pressed his lips together and tried to think of the best way to explain without revealing too much of the case.  “Whoever killed Graham knew the details of the New York murders.  Bale had access to that information as a detective.”

“I could have killed them,” suggested Noah tentatively.

“Bale wasn’t wrong about the psychology where you’re concerned,” Tony admitted, “you loved your ex-girlfriend who is a Guide.  You’re angry at the Sentinel not her.  Neither of the girls looked like the picture of your girlfriend.”

“I went on a date with Amelia,” Noah confessed in a rush.  “I went on a date and…”

Tony’s heart beat a touch faster as he realised that he was getting to the bottom of how things had started.  “What happened, Noah?” he asked gently.  He manoeuvred to get to his belt.  He slowly managed to work it free.

“It didn’t go so well,” Noah sighed heavily.  There was a dull thud as though he’d hit the box with the back of his head.  “I was…I talked about Sandy a lot.  I drank a lot.  I’d just been fired so I was really depressed and she just…she patted my hand, said it was clear I wasn’t ready to be dating and walked out, said she’d catch that new taxi service, Ubert?  I carried on drinking…and drinking and…the barman called my Dad, but Kevin picked up and he came to get me.”

“He took you home,” deduced Tony, paying attention even as he fumbled with his belt and drew out the knife secreted there.

“The next day, when he came home, he told me the police had found Amelia dead in the park,” Noah continued, his intent to tell Tony everything now that he had started heavy in his tone.  “He told me to lay low; not to tell the police anything.  That they wouldn’t believe that I’d just fallen drunk in the bar after she walked out on our date.  He made me change the records on the dating site so they wouldn’t know it was me.”

Tony stayed silent even if he wanted desperately to point out that the police would have checked in with the barman; that they would have interviewed Kevin…but would Bale have told the truth?  Tony was beginning to think he knew Bale’s motivations.

“When the other woman was found and she’d been on another dating site that I’d been on too…” Noah’s voice shook.  “Kevin told me I’d be their prime suspect.  He made me go back and alter the dating sites’ records again to make it look like someone else had dated them both.”

“Did you date them both?” asked Tony, frowning.  He reached for the rope that bound his legs and began to saw at it.

“No, just Amelia, but…” Noah sighed.  “It made sense when Kevin said to do it.”

Tony weighed up whether to continue or gently point out to Noah that he’d just confessed to a felony; conspiring to cover up a murder, interfering in a police investigation. 

“But then your Dad moved here,” Tony gently prompted, hiding his relief as the rope gave way at his legs.  He had no doubt Abby would find the evidence of what Noah had done with the New York murders when she started tracing the situation with Graham down.

“I thought it was a new start,” Noah’s voice caught in a sob.  “I thought…”

“Your Dad said you had a bad weekend when you got the news Sandy had married,” Tony slid in, trying to get Noah to focus.  His own focus shifted to the rope binding his hands to the wall.  He grimaced at the idea of sawing between his hands and instead focused on getting free from the wall itself.  He’d deal with his bound arms after.

“I just…I started drinking again,” Noah said.  “I just drank and drank…I kind of wished I wouldn’t wake up from it, I didn’t want to live, I didn’t have any reason to live anymore…”

“You were depressed,” Tony said sympathetically.  He could relate.  He’d spent the weekend after Wendy had dumped him at the altar drinking and wondering if he was destined to never be enough; to never have someone love him the way other people were loved; unconditionally.

“Kevin arrived and my Dad had Kevin stay with me in the garage,” Noah began again, “he doesn’t realise that…”

“That Kevin’s not one of the good guys,” Tony finished as he tried to cut through the rope.  He rested his own head against the back of the container and closed his eyes for a second.  “Do you know what happened with Graham?”

“Kevin killed him just like you said,” Noah sighed.  “I don’t…I don’t think he meant to do it.  He said it was an accident.  He was…I heard noises and woke up.  They were having sex on the sofa bed when I went to see what the noise was.  I thought…I thought I was dreaming…” he gave a short laugh, “I mean, a crazy stupid drunk dream about Kevin having rough sex with a man, which I thought was odd because Kevin’s pretty buttoned-up but…it was surreal.  Kevin was pounding the poor guy’s ass, holding him down and the guy was grunting like he was in pain, but he yelled for Kevin to do….to do him harder…Kevin, he reached out to hold the guy’s throat and when…when Kevin got off, he…he choked the guy dead.”

There was a beat of silence.

Tony thought back to how he’d accidentally touched Graham’s body in Ducky’s morgue; the rage and the arousal he’d felt left on the body.  Kevin had definitely intended to kill Graham.  Tony figured he had an idea about why, but only Bale could confirm it.

“I thought it was a dream,” whispered Noah.

“Until Kevin made you help him with the body to make it look more like the New York murders,” Tony deduced, “and made you lay a false trail for the police by inserting someone from a dating site meeting Graham at the club.”

Noah was quiet.  He sighed eventually.  “I know it was wrong.”

“You probably have a case for diminished capacity and duress,” Tony offered, “but yeah; it was wrong.”

“It’s not like I’m going to live long enough to go to prison for it, right?  I don’t even…I can’t remember doing it except in snatches and…we’re not getting out of this alive.”

Tony frowned at Noah’s certainty.  Part of the rope which held him gave way; he was almost free.  “You said Bale wanted my team to find us.”

“He’s going to frame me for your murder,” Noah stated matter-of-factly, “and that guy he killed.  He’ll come across as the big hero who tried to save you and…” he stopped suddenly.

Tony frowned.  “Noah?”

“Keep quiet,” whispered Noah, “there’s a car pulling up and…I think it might be him…”

Tony held his breath, stopped holding his breath; he tried to breathe normally.  He didn’t have his empathy fully on, but his empathy had been locked down when he’d rescued Atlas in a sewer, when he’d survived Jeffrey’s serial killing ways.  He was good at his job; he didn’t know how, but he swore he’d get himself and Noah out alive. 

He pushed the discarded belt to one side, hiding it in the shadows of the boxes, he rearranged the ropes hoping to hide just how close to being free he was, and grasped his knife.

The bolt on the door thudded loudly as it was pulled back and the door began to open…

-nCIs-

Andrea felt like a fool. 

It wasn’t a comfortable feeling nor a familiar one. 

She was a smart, ambitious woman who worked in a male-dominated environment; she had worked hard to ensure she was never a fool or foolish as she had made her way to her Detective shield, following in her late father’s footsteps.      

But as she opened the door to her Probie’s apartment, she felt like one.

Possibly, Andrea considered, as she and Gibbs entered, weapons drawn and cautious as they proceeded to clear the small studio space, it was fitting that the last time she’d felt like a fool was when she’d realised she’d completely misjudged Tony DiNozzo.

Her first impression had been of a typical good-looking Fed who considered himself better than her just because he had time as a cop.  But Tony had been dogged, diligent, and brilliant.  He was a great investigator.

Her lips twitched a little as she remembered their failed attempt to make something of their attraction.  Maybe it had been for the best that they’d never managed to make it into a bed together, Andrea mused, glancing over at Gibbs.  Fate had a funny way of working things out and she found herself appreciative for the fact that she had such a good friend in Tony. 

And she wasn’t losing her friend to a psychopath even if that psychopath was her Probie – former Probie because Bale was so very done.

Her lips firmed.

She hadn’t worked with Bale for long; had just been getting to know Kevin in truth.  But she still felt like a fool for missing the psycho part that lurked behind his innocent good-boy persona.

“Clear,” Gibbs called.

Andrea holstered her weapon and pulled on evidence gloves as she surreptitiously checked on her unexpected partner. 

Gibbs had stumbled on their way out of NCIS; he’d recovered almost immediately and shrugged off her concern in Gibbs’ own dismissive style.  She knew he was worried about Tony; she’d seen the flickers of guilt in Gibbs’ ice blue eyes when Tony was mentioned.  She was glad to see how much he cared. 

She’d been worried when she’d heard Tony had come online and had bonded with Gibbs.  Her impression of their relationship had been that while Gibbs appreciated Tony’s professional gifts, he had a tendency to take Tony for granted on a personal, human level.  And Tony was almost too invested in Gibbs, in gaining Gibbs’ approval and respect.  Seeing Tony and Gibbs that morning, she’d been reassured that Tony looked settled, almost content in his bond.  But knowing Tony she wondered at just how much he’d compromised in accepting a bond with Gibbs.

Gibbs made for Bale’s desk, but Andrea eschewed that.  Bale was trying to frame Noah Larson, definitely for Graham, maybe for the murders in New York.  He was smart but not as smart as he believed.  He would have kept evidence back somewhere not as obvious as the desk, but easily accessible.  She peered under the bed and her eyes landed on a suitcase.

She took a photo with her phone, pulled it out and placed it on the bed.

Gibbs was suddenly beside her.  He frowned as she carefully unzipped it.  The lid peeled back and…there was a stack of journals; two USBs slotted into a space in the holdall’s side.  She paused to take another photo.

Andrea reached in and plucked the journal on top.  She laid it on the bed and took another photo before she leafed through it. 

“This is the most recent,” Andrea confirmed out loud to Gibbs.  She swallowed as she read the last entry.  “He must have come back and written this after we finished our shift this morning.  He confirms he didn’t kill O’Connor but he’s gleeful that someone is copying his kill of Graham.” 

Gibbs gave a grunt.  “Here,” he said, showing her a file which had been buried at the bottom of the case and turning her attention away from the journal.  It was labelled ‘Contingency Plan.’

“He’s a nutcase,” Andrea muttered.  She took a photo before she spread out the contents.  There was a passport with Bale’s own name, an envelope with cash.  There were two documents; a deed on a property back in New York State and a lease for a storage container in D.C. which was in Noah Larson’s name.

Gibbs tapped the lease.  “He’s taken Tony there.”  There was a note of certainty in Gibbs’ voice which convinced Andrea without any explanation.  She put it down to the Sentinel and Guide bond.  Hopefully it was giving Gibbs some kind of insight.

Gibbs opened his phone.  “Borin? We’ve found something at Bale’s apartment.  He had Larson take out a lease on a storage container downtown.”

“Tell her I’m sending her the photo of the lease,” Andrea instructed.  She flicked to Borin’s newly entered contact details from earlier that evening and sent the photo. 

Gibbs nodded briskly at her.  “She’s got it.”  He tuned back into the phone conversation.  “We’ll meet you there.”  He cut off the call before Borin could protest.

“We should take this with us,” Andrea repacked the suitcase and carried it out as they left, closing up the apartment as they went.

Her footsteps slowed as they hit the sidewalk. 

Another car had pulled up in front of her own; a cop car.  Two men were slumped against the side of their car waiting for her.

One of them straightened, sweat gleaming off his bald pate under the streetlights, and approached, his stocky body waddling with excess weight.  “Sparr.”

Andrea handed off the case to Gibbs.  “Get this in the trunk,” she ordered lowly.  She turned back to face her colleague.  “Kipper.”

The heavy-set and swarthy detective looked suspiciously at Gibbs and back at Sparr.  His partner, a young Latino detective with a thinning hairline, fidgeted by the car.

“You working for the Feds now, Sparr?” asked Kipper caustically.

Andrea’s chin went up a touch.  Kipper was an old-school old-timer.  He believed women had no place on the force and had low-key hated Andrea from the moment she’d arrived in the department.  He had a lot more influence on the rest of the men than she liked, but for all his attitude stunk, he was fundamentally a good cop.

“What do you want, Kipper?” asked Andrea bluntly.  She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.  “What are you doing here?”

“Someone needs to watch out for Bale,” Kipper stated gruffly.  “More to the point, Sparr; what are you doing here?  Scuttlebutt has it that the Feds said you’re not supposed to be anywhere close to this case.”

Andrea simply lifted her eyebrow.  “If Bale comes back here, report it, Kipper.”

Kipper wrinkled his nose.  “You on the side of the Feds?  You giving up on the kid before he’s even had a chance to say his piece?”

Andrea squared off against her colleague.  “I saw the video evidence myself, Kipper.  Bale shot two FBI agents, killed one of them.  He’s kidnapped a Guide.  He’s a bad guy, and the last time I looked, we’re the good guys; that’s my side.”

“Sparr…” Gibbs said impatiently.

Andrea stepped back from Kipper and made for the car. 

“You do this, Sparr, and you won’t be welcome among us,” Kipper called out.

Andrea ignored him and got in the car.  She drove away in silence, turning the car in the direction of the storage company.  It was across town and it was going to take them some time to get there.

Gibbs shifted in his seat impatiently.  She could almost feel his annoyance that he wasn’t driving.

“He going to be a problem?” asked Gibbs, breaking the silence.

Andrea shrugged.  “No more than usual.”  She sighed as she considered the wider ramifications of her siding with Gibbs; of her not returning to Metro; of the perception that she’d abandoned her Probie.  Cops had a code of their own with unspoken rules, most of which were against going against their own.  It was protection; it was sticking together, but it could be misplaced sometimes and abused by cops who dirtied their badges and expected to hide behind their colleagues’ trust in them.

Gibbs tapped his fingers impatiently against his leg.  His phone buzzed.  He reached for it, peered at the screen and answered the call on speaker.

“Abs?”

“Gibbs!” Abby’s excited voice resonated through the tiny speaker.  “I managed to back-trace McGee’s searches on Larson and Bale, I think I know where they are…Bale took out a lease in Larson’s name when he arrived in D.C. for a…”

“Container at Lucky Storage,” Gibbs finished.  “Borin’s on her way; so are we.”

There was a beat and Abby spoke again.

“I hate it when you do that, but I have something you can’t know!  Carol got the results back on the epi-pen analysis,” Abby said, a hint of worry entering her voice, “Bale dosed Tony with Epathine; it’s a drug designed to close-down a Guide’s empathy when they’re overloaded.  Short term side effect is loss of consciousness and nausea, but it can also have dizziness and loss of sensation in his body’s extremities.  I talked with Ducky and he said that Tony was given a dose when he collapsed after you know the whole show down with Carrington in the corridor and suffered no extreme side effects.  He said that Tony should recover from the dose shortly.”

“What happens if Bale keeps dosing him?” asked Andrea.

Abby hummed. “The longer his empathy stays locked down, the more likely it is that it will come back on top volume when released; it may have an impact on his ability to shield.”

Gibbs’ worry was written all over his face.

“We’d best find him before that happens then,” Andrea said firmly.

“One more thing, Gibbs,” Abby said, “before the Feebies took the evidence, Bev managed to confirm that the dating site evidence for Graham had been planted, but get this: when she checked the evidence for both Goode and Moritz had the same signs.  Someone wanted us to think that their killer was from the dating sites but that’s not the case.”

“Send that onto the FBI,” Gibbs ordered.  “Any news on Carrington?”

“No,” Abby said, “but Cassie’s got Bev tracking him down and Lopez is still in the field looking.  I’ve got a trace on his phone, Gibbs, so if he puts it back on, I’ll be able to find him like straight away.”

“That’s a good move, Abby,” Gibbs said.

“You’ll find Tony, Gibbs, I know you will,” Abby said, “and everything will be OK.”

Gibbs cleared his throat.  “Got to go.”  He ended the call.

Andrea didn’t need any prompting; she tapped the sirens on and pressed down hard on the accelerator.  The sooner they got to the storage container, they sooner they found Tony.   

-nCIs-

The creak of the steel door shrieked through the night sky and echoed into the metal chamber.  Tony blinked at the light which seeped inside; car headlights, he realised. 

Bale appeared as a silhouette in the doorframe.  He moved inside easily.  He wasn’t masked and he was dressed back into the work clothes he’d had during his interview.

Tony adjusted his position as best he could and held the knife so Bale couldn’t see it.  The first order of business was keeping Bale away from Larson.

“Hey!” yelled Tony.  “Let me out!”

Bale made his way over without any haste.  “Agent DiNozzo.”

“Detective Bale!” Tony greeted him with a smile full of teeth.  “I thought I’d told you to wait in interrogation.”

“I knew I had to help Noah,” Bale began, “he’s tribe even if he’s a mess.”

Tony cocked his head to the side.  It was obvious that Bale was no longer hiding his intelligence or his psychosis; that didn’t bode well for his chances to escape the lunatic.

“Tribe, huh?” he held Bale’s glittering eyes in the dim light.  “I could have sworn you hated him.”

“I don’t hate him,” Bale denied, “I just don’t like him.  He’s weak.”

“He’s the weakest member of your tribe,” Tony restated.  “The tribe is only as strong as its weakest member, right?  That’s why you’ve targeted him.”

“Noah puts us in danger,” Bale agreed. 

“So, you’ve been working to remove him from the tribe,” Tony concluded.  “You took the opportunity to compromise him because of his connection with one of the New York victims, got him to commit a further crime to implicate himself.”  He regarded Bale with cold eyes.  “You were probably planning on driving him to suicide, right?  But then he moved to New York and sobered up.”

“Not for long,” Bale said tauntingly.  He shrugged.  “Nobody would have been surprised when they found Noah dead.”

Bale was crazy, Tony thought.  It was going to make getting out of the container with Noah alive a lot harder.

“Why?” Tony asked, stalling for time as he debated how best to get past Bale to the door.  “Why take him out?”

Bale looked at him with disgust.  “You’re a Guide.  You don’t understand what’s best to protect the tribe.”

“You don’t like Guides,” stated Tony, another piece of the puzzle falling into place.

Bale smiled tightly.  “Guides make a Sentinel weak.” He gestured.  “Like the bitch who brought me online.  She wouldn’t hide, wouldn’t stop screaming.  Her husband wouldn’t stop stabbing her…and the smell of her blood…” his face twisted.  “I can’t stop smelling it.”

“Your Mom is a Guide, your sister is latent,” Tony commented, sensing that he’d found the reason why Bale had killed Graham, but needing to work around to that.

“Alison won’t be a Guide, she hates what coming online did to our family!” Bale snapped.  “She hates how we had to leave Dad behind because of Mom!”

“Your Mom found her Sentinel,” Tony countered.  “That wasn’t her fault.”

“She wanted to be a Guide!” Bale growled.  “She used me to reach the spirit plane.”

Or Bale had used her, Tony concluded.  He’d used her to centre his senses and keep himself stable and then his Mom had found her actual Sentinel.

“It must have been difficult when she found John,” Tony said, pretending a sympathy he didn’t feel, and refusing to even think about his own past with how his mother had used him.

“John was a good Sentinel before he met her,” Bale allowed, “but he’s let her make him weak.  She forced him out of his job.  No Guide will do that to me.”

And everything clicked.

“Kenneth Graham was your Guide,” Tony said out loud, “that’s why you killed him.”

Bale snorted.

“Graham came over for the directions just as you said,” Tony surmised, piecing together the truths that Bale had told.  “Only when he and you met, you knew.  You took him home, not because he was distressed but because he was your Guide.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bale said firmly, “he’s dead now.”

“Because you killed him,” Tony pointed out briskly.  “You killed your Guide.”

“I killed a weakness,” Bale snarled.

“You fucked him first,” Tony continued, “you felt the need to bond with him; you couldn’t help marking him as yours even before you killed him.”

“He wanted it,” Bale said defiantly.  “He begged me to take him.”

“He dreamed about his Sentinel,” Tony said softly.  “Finding you was a gift in his eyes.” 

His heart wept for his fellow Guide.  Graham’s last moments had been a betrayal; the online status and bonding he’d wanted and longed for turned to pain and agony as his Sentinel not only rejected him but snuffed out his life in a brutal and violent way.

“He wasn’t a gift!  He was a booby prize!  All he talked about was the Navy and how it would be great to have a Sentinel with him!  Like I was going to give up everything I’d worked for just to be with him as some junior Navy guy!” Bale said angrily.  “Killing him was necessary!  It protected the tribe!  Kept me as a Detective!”

Tony knew it was fruitless to argue with Bale, to point out that Graham had just been excited.  If they’d sat down sensibly and contracted their bond as they were supposed to have done, Bale could have ended up with Graham agreeing to be his partner as a Detective.

Bale shifted his weight and the harsh electric light pouring in from the door glinted off a weapon on his hip.

Tony cleared his throat.  “You made sure Noah was in the frame for Graham’s murder; used him to help you clean up and dump Graham back at the club; you had him plant a dating site history that was fake but mimicked the New York murders.  You had to know that we’d find evidence at Noah’s apartment.”

Bale shrugged.  “Noah was drunk.”

“So, what now?” Tony asked, trying to ready himself to move without giving anything away to the Sentinel.  “You’ve killed a man, framed Noah, and abducted me.”  He regarded Bale with a fake questioning look.  “Why?  You have to know that my Sentinel is looking for me; my team is looking for me.”

“Sparr says you’re the best investigator she’s worked with,” Bale said.  “My Mom told me about your interview.  You were starting to put the pieces together.  I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d track down Graham’s killer.”

“Before I tracked you down,” pointed out Tony softly. 

“I needed to give you a killer before that happened but…” Bale grimaced, “you wouldn’t wait for me to implicate Noah fully and you tried to keep me locked up rather than helping.”

“So, you broke out to stop me?” Tony was genuinely surprised.

“I knew I would need to make sure that you’d look at Noah rather than me,” Bale said.  He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair.  “I’d already gotten Noah to come out here and hide before I met with you at NCIS.  I was planning to find you at the apartment, lead you to the evidence I’d left…”

“Graham’s dogtags,” Tony murmured.  “You left them there on purpose.”

“I’d be shocked and horrified, and we’d put a BOLO out for Noah,” Bale continued as though Tony hadn’t spoken.  “But you made me stay at NCIS.”

“And you couldn’t trust that we’d interpret the evidence the way you wanted it interpreted,” Tony prompted him gently as he shifted position.

“You didn’t,” Bale said shortly.  “Did you?”

“If Noah had attacked Graham, the sex would have been on the floor,” Tony replied crisply, “or in his own bed, not on the pull-out.”

Bale grimaced.  “You’re good,” he said, “you would have been an acceptable Guide for me.”

“Gibbs is my Sentinel,” Tony automatically said, even as the ‘would’ registered.

“Radio chatter is that he collapsed and got taken to Bethesda,” Bale reported.  He looked at Tony with sudden intent.  “Apparently so did your Probie.”

Tony kept his face expressionless. 

“I thought he was dead,” Bale continued, “I was certain of it.  I couldn’t hear a heartbeat; I couldn’t hear his breath.”

Tony didn’t say anything.  He wasn’t about to admit to Bale that he’d planted the suggestion in his head that McGee was dead; used his gift to force that impression upon him. 

“I would have killed him,” Bale said almost casually, “I would have pointed the gun and shot him, but he was dead.”  He held Tony’s gaze.  “Just like I killed the women in the front of the car.”

Tony grimaced.  He’d hoped he’d been able to jolt Bale empathetically at the moment he’d reached out to shoot Grant.  But maybe he hadn’t been quick enough.

“But when I shot you up, I thought I heard him breathing,” Bale admitted.  He regarded Tony thoughtfully. “You’re a dangerous Guide.  High level.  I didn’t realise Guides like you existed.”

Tony shrugged, realising the game was up.  He had to get Bale a little closer so he could use the knife… 

“So now what, Bale?” asked Tony caustically.  “You kidnapped me for a reason.”

“Noah kidnapped you,” Bale countered.  “He brought you here to his storage container and tied you up…”

“And I was found by you but just not in time, right?” finished Tony.  “You think it’s going to be that easy?  There’s evidence.”

Bale smiled grimly.  “All the evidence is tainted by the car crash.  Noah will do whatever I want him to do and…”

“No,” a voice whispered out of the dark, “no, I won’t!”

Noah barrelled out of the corner where he’d been hiding; keeping as still and as quiet as a mouse.  He launched himself at Bale, despite his bound hands.

The two men hit the side of the steel container with a thunk…

Tony desperately sawed at the remaining rope, yanking at the fraying thread.  If he could get free…

Noah tried to get Bale’s gun, the two men tussling wildly as they careened away from the wall and back against the stacked crates.

Tony wished he could help Noah, but he was still tied to the wall.  He hacked at the rope and finally it gave way…

Bale slammed Noah’s head into the sharp corner of a crate and tossed him aside…

Noah didn’t get up.

Bale whirled around to face Tony…

Tony stilled.  The knife was thankfully hidden by his arm.  His heart was beating loudly, ricocheting in his chest, echoing in his ears.

Bale stalked towards him, breathing heavily, his breaths rasping in the cold air of the container. 

Tony readied himself.

Bale reached into a pocket and pulled out a pen…

It was another epi-pen, Tony realised.  Bale intended to drug him again.

Tony held himself still, waiting.

Bale grimaced.  “You’re going to regain your gifts soon and I can’t have that.  Besides, with you unconscious I can set everything up.  Make it look right.”

“You’ll fail,” Tony said confidently.  His grip tightened on his knife.

Bale reached down and…

Quick as lightening, Tony struck.

The knife stabbed upwards and into Bale’s neck…

Bale jerked forward and Tony grimaced as the epi-pen stabbed into his exposed arm, the burn of the drug making him hiss. 

Bale’s wide shocked eyes met Tony’s even as Tony tried to scuttle backwards out of the way.  Bale grotesquely reached for the knife; he dropped to his knees; his furious eyes met Tony’s as he yanked the knife out of his neck and…

Blood spurted like a fountain in a gush of red…

Bale desperately tried to staunch the flow of blood but it drenched his neck and shirt…dripped onto the concrete floor…

Bale keeled over; his eyes rolling back in his head.

Tony gasped for breath.  His vision was going fuzzy.  He felt sick.  The drug was taking effect again.  He staggered to his feet and stumbled around Bale’s body.  He held onto the side of the cold steel container; he took one step then another…

If he could reach Noah, if the other man was alive…they could get out to the car…

Tony felt his knees weaken; his body turn to water.  He sank to his knees by Noah’s feet.  He crawled up to try and assess Noah’s condition, frantically holding on to his own consciousness even as his body tried to drag him under…

Suddenly, there was the sound of a car screeching to a halt…footsteps running towards the container…a silhouette in the doorway…

Gibbs, Tony thought desperately.  His mind sucked him under once more, and his panther roared across the spirit plane.

-nCIs-

The steel security gate was broken.

Gibbs exchanged a look with Sparr, but she didn’t stop; she drove right through following the hint of flashing red and blue lights to their left.  She pulled up with an impressive stomp of brakes and was out of the car her gun poised almost as fast as Gibbs.

They circled the FBI vehicle which covered the front of the open shipping container. 

Gibbs winced.  Tony would not have reacted well to being locked into a shipping container.  He switched on the small torch he carried; holding it steady with one hand as he aimed with his other.  His senses were already reaching out, but he couldn’t sense Tony anywhere.  His heartbeat wasn’t close; there was no sound of Tony’s breathing so unique because of the plague he’d suffered.

His heart sank in disappointment.

Tony wasn’t there.

There were three heartbeats though in front of him; Sparr held Tony’s usual position, just behind Gibbs, guarding his back.

“NCIS!” He called out as he caught a hint of movement in the container.

“Gibbs!” Borin shouted back.  “Back here!”

Gibbs hurried over but stopped as he caught sight of a body.

Fornell looked up from where he was crouched beside it.  “I think he’s one of yours?”

Gibbs shone the torch light on the face; Lopez.  His heart began to sink.  “Tony?”

“Your Guide was here,” a raspy voice confirmed from the shadows. 

Gibbs turned and found Borin pressing a hand over a bloody chest wound on a badly injured man.  His head was a bloody mess; his face half-hidden by blood.  Gibbs could tell he wasn’t going to last long.

“He was taken…” the voice continued, “Kevin…” he gasped in pain, “Kevin drugged him.” He panted.  “I don’t know…he was out cold the first time for a while.” 

Borin looked up at Gibbs.  “Bale is back there,” she jerked her head toward the rear of the container, “he’s dead; knife wound.”

“Who took my Guide?” growled Gibbs.

The man grimaced heavily.  “Two men were arguing when I came to…one said…Mark shouldn’t be anywhere near Tony…”

Gibbs’ Sentinel roared in fury before the buffer soothed him. 

“…they…there was a scuffle, I didn’t see properly…the other man he shot the guy and…I tried not to move, to make a sound but he…he shot me anyway.”

The sound of sirens pricked Gibbs’ ears. 

“Ambulance,” Gibbs identified.

Borin breathed a sigh of relief.  He didn’t want to tell her they’d be too late.  He crouched down beside the injured but alive man as Andrea moved past to investigate the back of the container.

“You’re Noah Larson,” he identified him briskly.

“Yes…”

“What happened here before Tony was taken?” asked Gibbs, unconcerned at the chiding look Borin sent him.

“Tony…I told him everything…” Noah gasped.  “He…Kevin came back.  He was…he was going to frame me…for Tony’s murder, like he did for Graham.  He was…he was going to…kill me too…” he swallowed hard, “he would have been a hero.”

There was a sharp bitter edge to his voice.

“No,” Gibbs assured him, “Bale screwed up.  We knew he’d killed Graham, not you.”

Noah blinked back tears.  “My Dad…tell my Dad…love him and my family…not his fault…not Lynne’s.”

“I’ll tell him,” Gibbs promised.

And Noah was gone.

He and Borin moved out of the way as the paramedics moved in. 

Borin grimaced at the blood on her hands.  “I’m going to clean up and make a call.  A dead Sentinel and a missing Guide should give Morrow the ammunition to get this back to the Registry.”  She moved off before he could ask her anything.

“Where is Harker?” Gibbs asked as Fornell approached.

“Didn’t believe there was a lead,” Fornell replied as they went to join Sparr.  “I came with Borin to give her some back-up when he refused to send anyone.”  He grimaced.  “He’s handed this case back to the Registry with his inaction.”

“Sparr,” Gibbs barked, “what d’ya got?”

“Tony was definitely here,” Sparr reported crisply, unfazed by Gibbs’ bad mood as she gestured at a NCIS windbreaker stuffed on a crate at the side of the container.  “There’s a belt I recognise as his.”  She pointed at the floor.

Gibbs followed her finger and winced at the sight of the belt.  It was Tony’s secret weapon; the buckle doubling as a short knife – it was also on the floor a short distance away.  Blood splatter indicated it had been pointed downwards dripping before falling. 

Bale’s body and the surrounding ground was drenched in blood. 

“I figure Tony stabbed him in the neck,” Sparr said dispassionately, “Bale was an idiot and yanked it out.”

There was a discarded epi-pen close by.

Gibbs swallowed at the sight of it.  Tony had been drugged again. 

“Carrington has him, right?” asked Fornell brusquely.  “That’s what Larson said Lopez was arguing about before he was shot.”

“Sounds like Banks was helping him,” Sparr said.  “But if they have Tony, where did they take him, and why didn’t they call it in?”

“That’s the sixty-million dollars question,” Fornell snorted, pushing his hands deep in the pockets of his rumpled coat.

“Carrington wants to break Tony’s bond with me,” Gibbs stated harshly.  “He’ll be taking him to his own territory.”

“His apartment?” asked Fornell, perking up.

“Too obvious,” Sparr countered.  “Carrington’s had time to plan this.”

Fornell looked at her sceptically.

“Not this,” Sparr waved around the space, “but getting Tony alone, taking him somewhere?  That had to have been Carrington’s aim since his return to the Navy yard.”

His phone vibrated. 

Gibbs answered it impatiently.  “Gibbs.”

“Jethro,” Ducky sounded puzzled, “I’m at your house and with…”

“We’ll be there in fifteen,” Gibbs cut him off.  He closed the call and knew he’d pay for his rudeness later.   

“We need to go,” he told Sparr.  “I need to get back to my house.”

Understanding sparked in Sparr’s eyes and he was grateful that she’d understood they needed to get back to meet with Ducky without him having to explain it out loud.  He was beginning to appreciate just how competent Sparr was as a cop and as a partner.

They left the scene as they had found it.

The paramedics were working on Larson; they’d got him back, but his pulse was thready and he wasn’t breathing.

Gibbs barely spared Lopez a look as he walked past; knew he should care more about the agent’s death, should probably be arguing about jurisdiction because of it but…Gibbs was focused on Tony; he had to find his Guide.

Borin greeted them as they got out of the container.  “We’re back in the lead and Harker is going to be reprimanded for not following a viable lead when we have a missing Guide at stake.”

“We’re headed back to mine,” Gibbs informed her.

“You going to try and use the buffer thing?” asked Fornell, blatant curiosity on his face.

“You’re buffered?” Borin’s eyes widened before she gave a very un-ladylike snort.  “Well, I guess that explains why you’re not feral.”  Her eyes met his.  “Tony’s drugged; he won’t be able to use the buffer himself until the drug is out of his system, but you could use it.”

“Ducky’s brought me the help I need,” Gibbs said shortly, but he was already walking, impatient.

“Good luck, Gibbs,” Borin said loudly, “call me when you find him!”

Sparr and Borin exchanged a look which meant Sparr would call Borin if Gibbs didn’t.  Fornell gave him a salute but he remained behind with Borin; watching her back. 

Gibbs rolled his eyes and got in the car.  Sparr got in the driver’s seat and gunned the engine.  They peeled away from the container and made their way back out to the main road. 

Gibbs noted idly that it was obvious from their new angle that the gate had been broken by a car exiting not entering.  He wondered how long Carrington had waited before making a move to take down Bale and grab Tony.  The thought of Tony anywhere near the other Sentinel made his stomach turn.

He reached for the comfort of the buffer; at the visible proof Tony was alive and his; of their bond.  The idea of losing him was wrenching; devastating.  Gibbs was beginning to realise that his own feelings for Tony ran a lot deeper than he had thought.

“You want to talk about what you’re chewing on?” asked Sparr, yanking him back to the car.

“Nope,” Gibbs said succinctly.

“Fine, I’ll talk,” Sparr said dryly.  “Carrington killed O’Connor.”

Gibbs’ gaze snapped to her.  She glanced at him briefly before returning her attention to the road. 

“It’s a theory you had to have considered, Gibbs,” Sparr said.  “O’Connor was killed to mimic Graham; to deliberately bring back the team which had investigated the first murder.  Carrington had to believe he’d be recalled to the Navy Yard if there was a potential serial killer attached to his last case.”

“There’s no evidence,” Gibbs said mildly.

Sparr shrugged.  “There will be; he rented a car, used an internet café to join the dating site.  There’ll be video of him.”  She paused as she navigated a turn.  “Why is he so focused on Tony?  He lost the challenge you guys had, right?”

“He wants Tony,” Gibbs stated briefly, “his Sentinel thinks Tony’s his and he’s prepared to go to war to get him.”

“Would you go to war for Tony?” asked Sparr bluntly.

Gibbs glared at her.  “What the hell kind of question is that?”

“A valid one,” Sparr said, not backing down.  “Rumour mill at the Yard has it that you only bonded with Tony to keep your Senior Field Agent in the field, or because Tony had to bond with you because you challenged another Sentinel for him.”

“Is that what you think?” challenged Gibbs harshly. 

“I think Tony would do anything for you,” Sparr returned sharply.

Gibbs blew out a breath and he ran a hand through his silver hair unthinkingly.  Hearing the rumours so bluntly irritated him, although he was aware of both.  He hated the idea that people didn’t realise his bond with Tony was more than just for convenience or that people thought he’d forced Tony into it – but hadn’t he forced a bond in truth?  He’d been the first one to lay hands on Tony; he’d used Tony to ground his senses and he should have known that regardless of Tony’s status as an online Guide or not.  He took responsibility for creating the nascent bond, so maybe the idea that he had forced Tony was closer to the truth.

Sparr was right too; Gibbs knew Tony would do anything for him.  He remembered Ducky’s remonstration just after they’d discovered the bond; that Tony was hardwired to please Gibbs as both his SFA and his Guide.

“My bond with Tony is none of your business,” Gibbs said out loud.

Sparr lifted an eyebrow, but she conceded it with a terse nod.

Gibbs directed her down into his neighbourhood, focusing on getting to his home; getting the help he needed to get to his Guide, to Tony.

-nCIs-

Tim woke up in a jungle.

He sat up and took his bearings, bemused to find himself sitting in a patch of grass surrounded by tall trees that seemed to end in a blanket of blue-green foliage.

His head didn’t hurt.

He looked down and found himself in his favourite home clothes; an old MIT t-shirt and threadbare sweats.  His feet were bare. 

He wasn’t cold.

He was comfortable despite the glare of the sun even though he knew he should be burning.

“I’m on the spirit plane,” Tim realised.

He got to his feet and looked around.

His body was in Bethesda, Tim remembered.  He’d been injured in the ambush; hurt.  He’d come online.

Tony.

Tony had helped him.  He’d reached through the spirit plane and helped him.  He wondered if Tony was responsible for his trip to the jungle.

He frowned. 

Tony had to be desperate if he was reaching out for Tim. And why, Tim wondered, why couldn’t he reach Gibbs?

“Tony!” Tim yelled.

“He is not here, youngling.”

Tim whirled around and found a Shaman standing behind him.  The tribal dress and the wizened features marked the Guide as ancient.  “Tony’s not here?”

“He has created his own place in the spirit world,” the Shaman replied.  “His place is not here in the jungle of his ancestors.”

Tim nodded because he could understand that.  Tony’s jungle was urban; the prey and the predators human.  “Why am I here?”

The Shaman looked faintly amused.  “Why do you believe you are here?”

“Tony,” Tim replied automatically, “I thought Tony…he helped me when he was on the spirit plane before and I…I thought maybe he reached out again?”

“Did he reach for you or did you reach for him?” The Shaman questioned gently.

Tim rubbed his chin.  Had he reached out for Tony?  He’d been thinking about Tony when he’d been in the ambulance, worried about him…and he’d been worried when he’d fallen asleep in the hospital…

“I’m reaching out for Tony,” Tim said out loud.  “That’s why I end up on the spirit plane.” He blanched.  “Gibbs is going to kill me!  Tony’s his Guide!”

“You look to your mentor for help, for guidance,” the Shaman said.  “There is no shame in this.”

“Mentor?” Tim opened his mouth to deny Tony being any kind of mentor but stopped.  Tony had been his mentor.  He’d taught him a lot.  So had Gibbs, but Tony had been the one to teach Tim even when Tim hadn’t been interested in learning from him. 

“You cannot lie to yourself here in the spirit plane,” the Shaman said.

Tim blew out a breath.  “I just wanted to make sure Tony was OK.”

The Shaman’s expression turned grave.  “He is in grave danger.”

Tim’s heart sank, but just as quickly, his frustration erupted.  He paced back and forth.  He had to find a way to help Tony; to help Gibbs find Tony.  But he couldn’t because he was online and a Sentinel and stuck in a hospital bed!

He stopped and glared up at the foliage.

Something nudged his hand and he jumped back.

A yellow Labrador puppy wagged its tail at him.

“You…you’re…you’re my spirit guide,” Tim murmured, kneeling to rub the puppy’s head.  “Can you find…can you find Tony?”

The puppy gave a whine.

“Perhaps in time,” the Shaman said, “but time is slipping away.”

Tim took refuge in his puppy as his mind whirled, thinking the problem over.  “You said I reached for Tony; I was the one who found him on the spirit plane the last time.”

“Rather your distress called to him,” the Shaman said.

Tim stood up and yelled.  “TONY!!”

The puppy whined and barked at his feet.

“TONY!!”  Tim yelled again.  He geared up for a third yell and…

“What hell, Probie?!” Tony snapped as he manifested in the jungle beside Tim with a snap of power that rippled across the plane.

The Shaman smiled and faded away.

“Sorry,” Tim said, “but I needed to find you!”

“Tim, this isn’t a good time,” began Tony.

“It’s a perfect time, Tony, you’ve been abducted and I’m worried and…”

“HEY!” Tony brought his rant to an abrupt halt.  He cupped Tim’s shoulders and held his gaze.  “Easy, Probie.”

Tim took a breath. 

“Who’s this guy?” Tony asked, stooping to stroke the head of the puppy.

“My spirit guide,” Tim said, brightening.

Tony grinned.  “Have you named him yet?”

“No,” Tim said, a hint of grumpiness entering his voice, “I’ve been too worried about you!”

Tony sighed.  “Did you tell Gibbs…”

“I told him, but…”

“He needs a Guide to help him,” Tony finished with a sigh.

Tim nodded, but a sudden thought had him smiling.  “We did work out it was Bale, Tony, so you don’t need to worry.  Maybe Gibbs doesn’t even need to come here and…”

“Bale’s dead,” Tony cut in.

Tim stared at him.

“He did kidnap me; there were threats, but…” Tony shrugged and folded his arms across his chest as he leaned against a tree.  “Rule nine, Probie.”

“Then where are you?” asked Tim, confused.  “Has Gibbs rescued you or…no.  If you were safe, you wouldn’t have asked me if I’d told Gibbs so…”

“Bale drugged me again,” Tony said with a lot of disgust.  “Physically I’m out cold.”

“But he’s dead so you’re safe, right?” asked Tim, wondering at Tony’s unhappiness.  Sure, being unconscious wasn’t great but if his kidnapper was dead…

“Just as I was passing out, Mark Carrington and Arnold Banks showed up,” Tony informed him briskly.  “Somehow I don’t think that bodes well for me, Probie.”

Tim stared at him in horror.  He vaguely remembered that they’d talked about Carrington being behind Gibbs’ Dad turning up.  “Carrington?  He was supposed to stay away from you!”

“He’s fixated on me,” Tony sighed.

Tim’s mind leaped to a startling conclusion.  “You don’t think he killed O’Connor, do you?”  He stooped to stroke the puppy; to comfort himself.  “I mean, he needed an excuse to come back to the Yard and…”

Tony shook his head.  “I don’t think Mark did it,” he said, “but I think someone wanted him back at the Yard to mess with me and Gibbs.”

Tim sighed heavily.  That meant the number of suspects was huge.  There were too many people at the agency who’d reacted badly to Tony being a Guide; to him bonding with Gibbs; to Gibbs bonding with Tony.  Where did they even start?

“If Carrington has you, he’ll want you safe though, right?” Tim tried to assure his partner – his friend.  “He’ll believe he’s protecting you.”

“This isn’t going to end well, Tim,” Tony said quietly, “Mark believes I should be bonded with him.  The only one way that will actually happen is if Gibbs dies.”

Tim froze in horror at that.  “You’re worried Carrington will kill Gibbs.”

“He already tried in the last challenge, Tim, and he thought Gibbs was just a rival then.”

Tim grimaced.  “So, we need to rescue you from Carrington and keep Gibbs alive.”

Tony nodded, but there was something about the glint in his eye…

Tim looked at him sharply.  “And keep you alive.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled somewhat crookedly.

“Tony…”

“Let’s focus on the first part of the problem, McWorried,” Tony cut off Tim’s remonstration before it could begin.  “How do we find me?”

Tim sent him another knowing look but acquiesced and focused on the puzzle.  “You were hoping Gibbs would use the buffer?  What is the buffer?”

“It’s a shield made up of our bond; I placed it around Gibbs’ mind,” Tony explained.  “The bond means we feel connected, but the buffer takes it to the next level.  It’s a really intimate connection which also means sometimes thoughts and feelings can get through.”

“So, theoretically, you could tell him where you are,” Tim realised.  “Only…”

“Only Gibbs doesn’t really know very much about Guide gifts so he’ll need some help to work out how to use it,” Tony frowned.  “Also, I’m drugged, and I think that’s affecting how much connection I have with the buffer.”

“But you can access the spirit plane, and we can find you here,” Tim pointed out.  “If Gibbs can get to the spirit plane, you can talk with him.”

“We’ve connected only when I’m unconscious,” Tony rejoined.  “I don’t know how helpful that will be if I can’t tell Gibbs where I am – and I have no clue right now, Probie.”

Tim sighed.

Tony shifted position, standing straight suddenly.  “We’re going about this the wrong way,” he declared.  “We…I can’t rely on the Sentinel and Guide bond or buffer providing Gibbs with a way to find me.”

“So, what do we do?” asked Tim plaintively.

Tony grinned, wide and charming and so Tony it made Tim blink.  “We do what we always do.  We work the case.”

“Right,” Tim muttered.  But he knew Tony was right.  They needed to work the case – find the clues and the evidence to put together the answer.  He met Tony’s eyes with a sense of determination.  “Where do we start?”

Tony clasped his shoulder.  “Where we always start: at the beginning.”

-nCIs-

The Lead Guide from the Registry was in his house.

Gibbs closed the front door and suppressed the urge to sigh.  He might have known Ducky would have gone to his old friend for help.  He ignored Ducky’s beaming face and his father’s smirk.

Sparr looked at the sliver-haired stout woman with blatant curiosity as he ushered her inside the den.

“Sparr, my father and you’ve met Ducky; this is Doctor Henshaw,” Gibbs introduced them tersely, “Doctor Henshaw, Dad; Detective Sparr of Metro; she’s working with me to find Tony.”

“Lovely to meet you, Detective; call me Maggie,” Henshaw offered as she held out her hand to Sparr.

Sparr shook hands and smiled warmly at her.  “I’m pleased to meet you.”

His Dad offered Sparr a charming smile and ushered her onto the sofa with an offer of drinks which Sparr eschewed.

Gibbs noted that Henshaw was dressed the most casually he had ever seen her; lounge pants, a plain top, and a cardigan in the same fabric and colour as the pants.  She wore tennis shoes in good condition rather than her usual heels.  Her make-up was minimal too. 

It was late, Gibbs reminded himself.  Henshaw had likely been about to retire before Ducky called on her to help him.

Henshaw’s eyes narrowed on Gibbs.  “Perhaps we should speak privately, Agent Gibbs.” 

Gibbs didn’t argue; he led her to down to the basement.  He offered her a glass of bourbon which she refused with a shake of her head.  

“Tony’s missing,” he began as he set the jar down.

“I heard,” Henshaw interrupted him.  Her blue eyes were icy.  “You left your Guide in the field alone.”

Her British accent made the words cut even sharper.

“I left him to protect him,” Gibbs snapped back, “and he was protected by another Sentinel!”

“He is your Guide!” Henshaw stated relentlessly.

Gibbs glowered at her.  “He is and I was doing my best to keep him safe!”

Henshaw glared right back at him.  “And a fine job you’ve done of it!”

Guilt swamped him again because she wasn’t wrong.  He whirled away from her to the other side of the basement and collected himself.  He took a breath and turned back to her.

“Are you going to help me or not?” He asked bluntly.

“Help you, of course,” Henshaw retorted.  She folded her arms over her chest.  “But I will not drop this, Agent Gibbs.  As a Guide, Tony is one of mine.  I’ve had concerns about your bonding, and your abandonment of your Guide in the field only tells me those concerns are valid.”

Gibbs’ glare could have seared paint from the walls.

Henshaw sighed, anger seeping from her expression and leaving only weariness.  “Tell me, Gibbs, what comfort have you offered your Guide beyond the bond itself?”  She waved a hand towards the ceiling.  “You all but demanded he move in with you, and while I appreciate you went to some lengths to ensure he had a suitable space within your home, you never considered whether it was the right thing for him or what he wanted.”

Gibbs kept silent, knowing he had no words to argue.  Hadn’t he thought the same hours ago?  That he’d made too many singular decisions without involving Tony?  Hadn’t he already sworn to do better?

“I would also guess you offered only a platonic bond,” Henshaw continued harshly, “and you didn’t give him any other option.  Tony was evasive when I asked him about how you had both contracted the nature of your bond.”

Gibbs swallowed hard at Henshaw’s words.  He hadn’t considered any other kind of bond with Tony.  Not until he’d realised how jealous he was at the idea of Tony dating someone else…hadn’t even realised how much he felt for Tony as a man until he’d been filled with the fear of losing him…

“And for the past weeks since you have been fully bonded,” Henshaw said, “I have watched Tony be incredibly tentative about placing any kind of demand on you, his Sentinel, the one person in the world who should put him first, shield him, who should never be a source of doubt for him.  And all the while, I have watched as he puts you first in every thought.”    

Gibbs pushed a hand through his hair and rubbed furiously.  “I know, alright!  I know.”  He swallowed around a lump of his own guilt.  “I know I need to do better,” he conceded gruffly, “I know there is a lot for Tony and I to still work out about our bond, a lot I hadn’t let myself think about…but my motivation today in leaving him in the field was to keep him safe.”  He stabbed a finger at her.  “That’s it.”

Henshaw cocked an eyebrow.  “And Tony agreed with your decision?”

Gibbs sighed heavily.  “No,” he admitted, “he didn’t.”  He met her gaze.  “I know Tony puts me first and I know Tony puts his own safety last.  He’ll step in front of a bullet for me.  I knew there was something wrong when my father turned up without warning and I put Tony’s safety first even though he didn’t like it.”

Henshaw shook her head.  “You have a lot to work through with your Guide, Gibbs, and I’m going to be watching.  He deserves to be treated better than an inconvenience, or a subordinate who must jump to doing what you want all of the time.”

Gibbs’ inner Sentinel roared at the insult of having anyone believe he didn’t care about his Guide.  He charged across the room and stood right in front of her even as the buffer soothed him.  “You have no right!  Tony is mine!  My Guide!  Mine!”

Henshaw sniffed and peered at him.  “Well, you’re definitely buffered.”

“Yes,” Gibbs bit out. He stepped back, realising with chagrin that she’d been testing him. 

“Oh, I meant every word,” Henshaw said, reading his face. 

“Can we focus on finding him now?”  Gibbs asked impatiently, furious all over again.

Henshaw sighed.  “How much do you know about buffering?”

“Not a lot,” Gibbs admitted.  He hadn’t been bothered learning about Guide gifts when he’d been with Shannon, and her death had meant that he’d turned away from anything Guide before he’d bonded with Tony.

“The buffer is an extension of your bond and Tony’s empathic shield,” Henshaw began in a slightly lecturing tone which reminded him of Ducky.  “It reminds your Sentinel of your bond; of your Guide’s care for you and so helps keep the more primal instincts corralled.”

Gibbs nodded.  Even he knew that much.

“It says a lot about how much Tony cares for you that his buffering can contain your Sentinel in the face of the threat to him and to your bond,” Henshaw continued.

And Gibbs couldn’t deny any longer that their bond had always resonated with Tony’s love for him.  There had never been a moment since they’d buffered when Gibbs had questioned Tony’s devotion to him; his Sentinel was assured that Tony loved him; that Tony was his.

Guilt curdled in his belly again.  He had to wonder if Tony realised just how deep Gibbs’ feelings for Tony ran.  Maybe Tony didn’t know for all he was empathic; he went out of his way to assure Gibbs’ privacy.  Gibbs frowned at the idea that Tony believed Gibbs only cared for him as a partner, a friend, and nothing more.

“Buffers allow both the Sentinel and Guide to be mentally connected,” Henshaw’s words cut through his musing and Gibbs refocused.  “An open buffer allows the Guide and Sentinel to communicate without words; thoughts, feelings, images…all can be passed between them.”

“So, I can use the buffer to find him,” Gibbs said.  “How do I open it up?  Tony said he’d put some filters on it.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy,” Henshaw said.  She ran a hand through her own spiky silver hair, sending it into disarray.  “Ducky said that Tony has been drugged with Epathine.”

“Yes,” Gibbs confirmed.

“Epathine acts to block the empathic gift, the buffer will not work on Tony’s end while he is under the influence of the drug,” Henshaw said.

Gibbs closed his eyes briefly, defeat gnawing at him.  But then he remembered something.  “I think Tony briefly managed to overcome the drug; he sent me an image of where he was.”

Henshaw regarded him seriously.  “What were you doing just before you received the image?”

“I was thinking of him,” Gibbs realised.

Henshaw pursed her lips, visibly thinking things over.  “Tony’s a powerful Guide,” she said, “it’s possible that you made a momentary connection and he was able to overcome the drug.  He may be able to do that again.”

“He was able to help McGee too,” Gibbs noted.

Henshaw looked at him quizzically. 

“McGee, our Probie, came online in the crash when Tony was originally taken,” Gibbs said, “he said Tony was able to connect with him, help him.  He was the one who told me that Tony had said to use the buffer.”

“Tony can still access the spirit plane then,” Henshaw said.  “That’s the only explanation.”

“How do we make that happen?” asked Gibbs impatiently.

Henshaw glanced around the basement.  “Tony tells me you did your bonding here in the house?  Was it here in the basement?”

“Yes,” Gibbs admitted, a touch uncomfortable at giving away what felt to his Sentinel like an intimate secret only for himself and his Guide to know.

Henshaw nodded decisively.  “Let’s clear a space, we’ll attempt to reach Tony spiritually.”

Gibbs waved her to sit on the small stool at the far side of the basement and set about restoring the spiritual bonding circle he and Tony had used earlier to set the buffer.  He noted Henshaw’s surprise, but didn’t comment.  His inner Sentinel was of the opinion that their bond with Tony was none of her business.

They sat down on the blanket-covered mattress Gibbs had settled on the floor.  Gibbs was pleased when Henshaw confirmed they didn’t need to get naked for the attempt.  He really didn’t want to get naked with anyone but Tony.

Henshaw held out her hands and Gibbs took them.  They closed their eyes.

“Think of Tony,” Henshaw said quietly.  “Think only of your Guide.  Remember the first moment you saw him.”

Gibbs let himself sink into his memory of meeting Tony; of hearing his shouted warning, of the footsteps pounding behind him; the weight of the tackle and the sense of Tony above him as Gibbs’ fist snapped out and hit his jaw before…Tony aiming his gun so steadily, his green eyes hard and cold on him…

His.

Gibbs frowned at he remembered the flash of knowledge, of how he’d pushed it away in fierce denial, his confusion because how could a Guide be a detective…

And how he’d been so bemused to realise that Tony wasn’t a Guide.

He’d wanted to keep him close.

That was why he’d offered him a place at NCIS; wrangled with Morrow to make Tony his partner; head-slapped to make contact with him and to remind Tony of his presence, of who Tony should pay attention to. 

God.

Every action he’d taken had ensured Tony was beside him even if he’d blind to it.

Guilt rose up again.

He had bound Tony to him.  He’d been the one who had initiated and reinforced the nascent bond.  It was his fault.

“It was not your fault,” Henshaw said softly, “any more than it was Tony’s.  You are a Sentinel and he a Guide.”

Gibbs hated that she had access to his feelings, to his thoughts…

“Think about Tony,” Henshaw instructed again.

Gibbs breathed in and tried to centre himself.  He brought to mind the moment earlier that day in the very spot where he sat; Tony placing the buffer.  He remembered the warm rush of their bond; it sang with their love and affection for each other.  He’d wallowed in Tony’s love for him; revelled in it, even as he’d denied that he felt the same.  He knew Tony believed Gibbs only cared for him as a friend; that his love was platonic and affection for a partner.  He knew because it was what he himself had believed until that day; until the knowledge that he might lose Tony had shot through him as he’d felt Tony’s panic and horror; felt their connection snap out.

A shudder ran through him.

It had felt so much like losing Shannon all over again.

Gibbs dropped Henshaw’s hands unwilling for her to feel his pain.

Henshaw regarded him with a piercing stare.  “Your fear of revealing your heart prevents you from making a connection with Tony.”

Gibbs couldn’t speak.  He hated the idea of opening up his innermost feelings and thoughts.  But he needed to find Tony.

Henshaw sighed.  

A creak on the stairs had them both turning. 

Sparr grimaced.  “Sorry,” she waved back up the stairs, “Ducky and Jack wondered how it was going.  I’ll just…” she made to go back up a step.

“Wait!” instructed Henshaw.  She looked at Sparr speculatively.  “You know Tony well?”

“We’re friends,” Sparr said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Join us,” Henshaw instructed.  “We need an additional bridge to Tony.”

Gibbs stared at her in disbelief.  If he wasn’t opening up with her, did she really think he’d open up with Sparr in the mix.

Sparr stopped just at the edge of the bonding circle.  “Are you sure…”

“Gibbs cannot reveal himself to another Guide; he doesn’t trust me enough,” Henshaw said crisply, “I will try to use you to make the connection to Tony – if you are friends, Tony may consider you part of his tribe.  Gibbs can piggyback.”

Sparr glanced over at Gibbs.

Gibbs sighed and jerked his head, indicating for her to enter.  As much as it burned that he could not make a direct connection to Tony, he appreciated Henshaw trying another method.

Sparr settled beside Henshaw and they established a circle, Gibbs holding one of Sparr’s hands, one of Henshaw’s. 

He closed his eyes. 

Henshaw drew him and Sparr into a shared spiritual space; he could feel her – solid, determined, smart…and focused on finding Tony.

Gibbs renewed his own focus; he needed to find Tony.  He focused on Sparr’s sense of Tony; her fondness and affection for him, her admiration, her worry.  He let his own bleed through and mingle with hers; his love for his Guide, his own admiration for Tony, his own worry and concern…

Let’s find him.

Her mental voice was crisp and clear.

And Gibbs just knew how for the first time; he reached for the buffer and his bond; reached for confirmation of Tony’s life. 

He conjured up their bonding at the Yard in the morning; of Tony’s scent and freshly washed skin; of Tony’s damp hair; the tattoo proclaiming ‘Rule 5’ and the way Tony’s skin had moved under Gibbs’ thumb when he’d brushed over it.

The spirit world snapped into place.

Gibbs blinked.

He was in the bullpen.

Tony and McGee stood in front of the main monitor.

McGee.

Tony’s head snapped around and a smile broke across his face.  “Jethro.” 

He took an aborted step toward him and Gibbs almost flinched at the visible proof of how Tony repressed how he felt, what he needed.  He closed the space between them swiftly and hugged his Guide.

Tony’s arms encircled him and Gibbs breathed out a breath.  His hand clasped the back of Tony’s head tightly before he inched back and looked at Tony carefully.

“You OK?” He asked.

“I’m OK,” Tony confirmed.

McGee cleared his throat noisily in the background.

“A bit battered,” Tony rolled his eyes, even as he admitted his hurts with a chagrined smile, “and my gifts are locked down, but I am OK.”  He shot a look over his shoulder as he said it.

“You’re drugged,” Gibbs explained succinctly.  “Should wear off.”

“Figured,” Tony said.  His eyes caught on Sparr.  “Andrea?!”

“Gibbs needed an assist,” Sparr said, sounding a little shaken under her bravado.  “Henshaw thought I could help.”

Tony glanced at Gibbs. 

“Didn’t trust Henshaw,” Gibbs said succinctly.  But he had trusted Sparr, he realised.  He turned to her.  “Good job, Sparr.”

Sparr blushed and turned back to Tony.  “It’s good to see you, Tony.”

“Good to be seen,” Tony smiled at her, “and thank you.”  His gaze swept over them.  “As you’re here, I’m going to assume Banks and Carrington haven’t told you they found me?”

Gibbs shook his head.  “We found the container; we were too late.  They’d already taken you.”

“Damn it!” Tony paced away.

“They killed Lopez,” Sparr continued crisply, “shot Larson.  He was barely able to tell us what happened.”

Tony’s eyes widened.  “They…they killed Charlie?”

Gibbs gave a terse nod.

McGee cleared his throat again and pointed at the monitor.  “Tony and I think we have something, Boss.”

Gibbs looked over at McGee and cocked his eyebrow.

“Oh,” McGee stammered nervously, “I was trying to find Tony when I fell asleep and ended up on the spirit plane, and the Shaman said I could probably get him to come to me because…well, it doesn’t matter, I mean, absolutely he’s your Guide, Boss, but I’m just…it’s just…”

“You’re a part of our tribe, McGee,” Gibbs cut in before McGee ran out of air.  “Tony’s going to watch over you until you find a Guide of your own, and you’re going to be protective of him.  I get it.”

McGee’s relief washed over his face.  “Right.”

“What d’ya got?” Gibbs asked, moving to stand in front of the monitor where a picture of O’Connor was displayed.

Tony fell in beside him, Sparr following him to stand beside McGee.  “We were working the case.  Before all the kidnapping,” he said lightly, “we’d worked out that O’Connor had been killed to bring Yates’ team back…”

“Explicitly we think to bring Carrington back to the Yard,” said McGee.

Gibbs frowned.  “Carrington…”

“Carrington wants me as his Guide,” Tony agreed, “but I don’t think he’s the one who orchestrated this.”

“Obviously we can’t check phone records or alibis from here,” McGee said, an edge of frustration in his voice, “but it should be easy enough to do that when I wake up.”

Gibbs held Tony’s eyes.  “Why do you think Carrington didn’t kill O’Connor?”

“He’s too focused on me,” Tony said simply. 

“That doesn’t say he wouldn’t kill to get to you,” Sparr pointed out, and Gibbs was grateful that he hadn’t had to say it.

“Gibbs, yes,” Tony agreed, “others?  If they were stood between me and him right now?  Maybe.  But, premeditated murder?”  He shook his head.  “I don’t believe he’s in his right mind enough to have worked this out.” He waved at the picture of O’Connor.

Gibbs grimaced.  He wanted to blame Carrington.  He frowned as a thought floated to the surface of his mind. 

“Someone took photos of me and you,” Gibbs said out loud.  “Someone knew where we were and took surveillance of us.”

“Hard to do from Norfolk,” Sparr said.

“But easy enough if you’re based at the Yard,” McGee suggested.

Gibbs felt his blood begin to buzz; the feeling that they were putting the pieces together, that the case was falling into place.

“Someone accessed the case file,” Tony continued, “someone in NCIS.  That should be easy enough to establish.”

“There’s video,” Sparr contributed tersely.  “They set up the dating thing at a café; they rented the car they used.”

“Sloppy,” Tony said.

“But I don’t get why anyone want Carrington back that badly,” McGee commented.  “They violently killed a latent Guide; made a copy-cat of a murder…all that just to get Carrington back in the Yard?”

“They love him,” Tony said.  “They’re as focused on him as he is on me.”

Gibbs glared at him.

“Don’t get growly,” Tony grinned at him, “I didn’t say I loved him.”

McGee bit his lip.  “Do you know who it is?”

Tony regarded his Probie fondly.  “Don’t you, Tim?”

Gibbs tilted his head as the answer came to him.  “Banks.”

It made sense.

“Why him?” asked Sparr.

“He hates Guides,” McGee said, no hint of surprise on his face giving away that he had come to the same conclusion.  “He blamed Tony for Carrington leaving.”

“Banks loathed my friendship with him before Carrington fixated on me as a Guide,” Tony sighed.  He pushed a hand through his hair.  “I’m not sure how this helps us find me though.”

Gibbs turned to McGee.  “Wake up, call Abby and start tracking down any location Banks and Carrington might take Tony.”

“Right,” McGee acknowledged the order crisply.  He turned back to Tony.  “Tony…”

Tony tugged McGee into a brotherly hug.  “Keep your dials straight, McSentinel.”

McGee nodded as he eased back.  “Take care, Tony.”  He nodded at Gibbs and faded away.

“Sparr…” Gibbs turned to her expectantly.

“I’ll head back and get hold of Borin,” Sparr said.  She stepped forward and Tony hugged her.  “Stay safe, DiNozzo.”  She moved closer to Tony’s ear.  “I promise; I’ll watch his six.” 

Gibbs knew she hadn’t meant for him to hear the words, but he felt gratitude as he saw Tony’s relief snake across his face for a long moment even as he told her to watch her own too.

Sparr stepped back; she looked about her uncertainly for a moment and suddenly blinked out.

Gibbs was left alone with his Guide.

“Boss…” Tony turned to him tentatively.

Gibbs moved to hold him again, surprising Tony whose arms came up to hold him back a moment later.

“I was trying to protect you,” Gibbs said in his ear, “and I fucked up.”

Tony shook his head.  “This isn’t your fault.  Bale was a psychopath.”

“Banks isn’t much better,” Gibbs said. 

He frowned suddenly.  “I’m waking up.”

“You can overcome the drug,” Gibbs cupped Tony’s cheek with one hand, kept his gaze intent on his Guide’s, “reach out to me through the buffer.  I got your last message about the container.”

Tony nodded slowly.  “I’ll try.”

Gibbs stroked a thumb over Tony’s cheekbone.

Tony’s brow creased and his hand came up to cover Gibbs’ as he regarded his Sentinel with concern.  “Jethro…” he sighed. “I really wish my empathy wasn’t broken again.”

Gibbs felt Tony’s spirit flicker under his touch.  In another moment he would lose him again.  He couldn’t help himself; he reached forward and gently kissed Tony’s lips.

Tony stared at him, shock written across every feature.  But before he could say anything, Tony faded away.

The bullpen disappeared with Tony and Gibbs was left in a jungle.

His spirit guide and Tony’s sat in front of him.

And suddenly an image appeared in his head…

A piano.

And the feeling of Tony…

Tony.

Gibbs smiled grimly. 

He opened his eyes back in the real world to find Henshaw looking at him with concern, Sparr with the same fierce determination he’d felt from her in the spirit plane; his Dad and Ducky lurked on the stairs, worry painted on their faces.  The spirit guides circled the room, snarling, ready for a fight.

His phone buzzed and Gibbs opened it with a snap.

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!  McGee just called me and I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before, but I checked Banks’ phone and…”

“He’s at Tony’s apartment,” Gibbs said.  He closed the phone before Abby could do anything more than squawk.  He caught Sparr’s eye.  “Let’s go; Tony’s waiting on us.”

-nCIs-

Tony stared at the ceiling of the bedroom in his apartment and hoped Gibbs had gotten his message.  There had been a surge of determination which had filtered through just before Tony had lost the connection, so he hoped so.

His mind drifted back to the kiss Gibbs had laid on him in the spirit world.  It had been tender and loving and…

Tony wrenched his mind away from it; stomped on the hope building in his chest.  He couldn’t think about it; he needed to focus on getting free – on getting back to Gibbs.  His empathy was offline, and he figured it would be another thirty minutes or so before it came back.  He had just started to feel the flicker of it when Bale had injected him again.

He was only faintly startled to realise he’d been partially stripped to the waist since his injuries had been addressed.  There was a thin bandage strapped over the cut on his side; a bandage over the cut and bump on his head; bandages circled his wrists.

He still had his pants, Tony reminded himself briskly.  Shoes and socks were gone though, but it wasn’t as though he needed them in his apartment and he only needed to make it to his landline to contact someone.

Thank God, Tony mused, that he hadn’t found time in the last month to stop his utilities.

His hands had been freed from the rope, but he’d been restrained again with one hand – the least torn by the rope – with a handcuff to the headboard.

That wasn’t a problem, Tony mused, as he shifted carefully around to ease his free hand to reach for the bedside table drawer and the paper clip he had secreted there. 

He wasn’t truly into bondage, but they’d been a few partners he’d had who had liked to play around with cuffs, especially when they’d found out he was a cop.  After being left by one for too much time without a key, he’d made it a policy to keep something nearby he could use to free himself.  He’d also realised after being handcuffed to a serial killer that he hadn’t practiced getting free enough and made it a policy to practice every month.

He paused as he heard footsteps walking towards him.  He quickly put the paperclip into his pants’ pocket and closed the drawer shut.  He fell back onto the pillows breathing roughly.

The bedroom door opened and Mark entered.

“Tony!” Mark hurried over, closing the door behind him.  “You’re awake.”

“Why am I here?” asked Tony bluntly, shifting away as Mark moved to stand beside the bed.  He kept his expression guarded, wary.  “Why haven’t you taken me to Bethesda?  Where’s Gibbs?”

Mark glanced towards the closed door and sighed.  “Arnie is…he’s just being cautious.  He thinks you might still be in danger.”

“From who?” asked Tony.  “I killed Bale; Larson was down and out.  Graham’s killer is accounted for and I’m not the target of O’Connor’s.  They wanted your team back on the case, not mine.”

Mark hesitated before replying.  “Arnie thinks Ziva David might have set things up to involve you; to drive a wedge between you and…and Gibbs.”  His lips twisted.

Tony’s eyebrows were almost at his hairline.  “Ziva?!”  He laughed shortly.  He had to admire Banks’ imagination.  “Ziva is in Paris with an old friend, contemplating what she wants to do with her life.  She’s definitely not interested in what happens to me!”

Mark’s jaw tightened and his lips flattened into an unhappy line.  “O’Connor was killed with prejudice.  That sounds like David to me.”  He straightened.  “I’m going to keep you safe.  That’s my job as your Sentinel.”

Tony sighed and met Mark’s intent gaze.  “Gibbs is my Sentinel; not you.  I’m not yours.”

Mark glowered.  “You’d be mine if you hadn’t stopped me from…”

“Shooting my Sentinel,” supplied Tony, cutting in sharply.  “Gibbs and I have been bonded since Baltimore, Mark.”

Mark’s shock flashed over his face.

“Doctor Henshaw worked it out,” Tony continued.  “We didn’t have a full bond obviously, but we were bonded from the moment we met.”

“I don’t…”

“The Sentinel in him recognised I was a Guide and chose me,” Tony said firmly.  “The Guide in me always chose him as a Sentinel, Mark.”  He held his gaze determinedly.  “Do you know how many times I wished I wasn’t broken so I could…” he broke off and took a breath.  “Of course, I also thought Gibbs hated Guides so I didn’t let myself believe it, wouldn’t let myself think it.  But…I wanted to be his, Mark.”

“Gibbs doesn’t deserve you,” Mark bit out.

Tony laughed softly at that.  “I don’t deserve him,” he said, “but I’m selfish; I’ll take whatever I can get from him.”

“He isn’t even prepared to offer you a full relationship,” Mark said disgustedly. 

The kiss flashed through Tony’s mind.  “That’s between Gibbs and me,” he said out loud.  “We have a lot still to work out.”  He raised an eyebrow.  “But whatever the situation between Gibbs and me…that’s none of your business.  You might want me, Mark, but I’m not your Guide.”

Mark paced away.  “I could still challenge Gibbs.”

“And I would still protect him with everything I have,” Tony swore.  “He’s my Sentinel and I’m his Guide.  I won’t see him harmed.”

Mark’s shoulders slumped.  “He really doesn’t deserve you.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” Tony said again.

“Look, Charlie knows we have you; he agreed when he found us at the storage container, and…” Mark’s head cocked to the side suddenly.  “Arnie’s getting a call from someone…”

“Mark…” Tony sighed heavily, wondering what had happened to Lopez and fearing the worst.  “You need to do the right thing and call into the Yard.  Tell them you found me and got me to a safe place.  Call the medics.”

Mark frowned and looked away from him. “Arnie…”

“Is wrong about Ziva,” Tony said.  “Ziva had nothing to do with any of this.”  He swallowed the urge to groan at Mark’s intractable expression.  “Fine.  Can I be released and go to the bathroom then?”  He wiggled his hand causing the cuff to clink on the headboard.

“I’ll get the key,” Mark said and hurried out.

Tony wasn’t surprised when he returned with Banks at his heels.  “Banks.”

“DiNozzo,” sneered Banks.

Mark moved in between them and released Tony from the headboard.  He unlocked the cuff and Tony was free.  He held back from tackling either man.  He knew he had to play it smart.  He was almost certain Gibbs was on his way, and Sparr would have informed Borin and the Registry.  He gently held his freed wrist with his other hand and carefully stretched the muscles in his arm and shoulder.

He ached badly.  The shoulder which Rivkin had dislocated only weeks before shivered with short stabs of pain.  He swallowed down the discomfort.  As far as he was concerned, he was undercover at that moment.  He had to convince Banks and Mark that he was no threat while working to stop them.

He let Mark help him off the bed and he limped over to the bathroom, suddenly aware that his ankles were bandaged.

Tony let go of Mark and held onto the sink.  “I think I can take it from here.”

Banks frowned in the doorway even as Mark smiled sheepishly and backed out.  The door closed.  Tony made use of the facilities first.  He washed his hands and ran the water in the sink, rinsing his face and hair quickly to give an excuse to the running water.  He lifted the cistern lid as quietly as he could and gently pried the hidden gun off the ceramic.  He checked it was loaded before he reused the tape to strap it to an ankle, hiding it under his jeans.  He stopped the water, checked everything was back in place and grabbed a towel to add to the washing lie as he hobbled a touch from the bathroom back into his bedroom.

Mark was caught in a heated discussion with Banks in the doorway.  He stopped as soon as he saw Tony.  “Tony, let’s get you back to bed…”

He just had to delay Banks and Mark at the apartment until Gibbs arrived, Tony reminded himself.

“Look,” Tony said firmly, “I still think we need to call Gibbs, let the Registry know where I am and sort things through back at the Yard,” he paused, “but I’m willing to hear you out on this Ziva theory first.”

Mark’s relief danced clearly across his face.  He shot Banks a look as though to say ‘I told you.’

“Now,” Tony began again, “I don’t know about you guys, but the last time I ate was a long time ago and I’m starving.  Can we do this over food?”

Mark nodded eagerly.  “We have some Chinese we got earlier.  We saved you some.”

“Great,” Tony said, “let me put some clean clothes on and lead me to it.”  He made for the dresser drawer and Banks shifted uncomfortably. 

Tony looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.  “Are you going to watch me dress?”

“Of course not!” Mark proclaimed and ushered Banks out, closing the door behind Tony to give him privacy. 

Tony stripped out of the jeans and into sweatpants and an old sweatshirt.  He felt a moment’s relief once he was covered, even if the sweatshirt had been left behind because it wasn’t something Tony liked to wear anymore; the insignia of the Baltimore P.D. on the breast.  He tucked the gun into the waistband at the back of his pants and covered it with the sweatshirt.  He took a breath.  He just had to stall them.

He moved out cautiously to the kitchen and Tony slid onto a stool at the bar, placing it between himself and the other two men who had gone to retrieve the food. 

Banks hovered by Mark’s elbow, his dark eyes suspicious as he kept his gaze glued to Tony’s slightest movement.

Tony accepted the unopened carton of noodles Mark pushed in front of him and took the offered fork.  He began eating because the truth was that he was hungry.

“OK,” he said, waving his noodle bedecked fork at Mark, “lay it on me.  Why do you think Ziva killed O’Connor?”

Mark cleared his throat.  “Why don’t you explain it, Arnie?  It’s your theory.”

Banks heaved a sigh.  He folded his arms over his chest and glared at Tony.  “I don’t believe you really want to hear this.”

“Why not?” asked Tony, swallowing his mouthful of noodles.  “According to Mark, I’m in your protective custody because of this theory. So, yes: I’m interested.”

Banks glowered at him fiercely, but Tony just held his gaze despite the anger he could almost feel. 

Almost feel.

His empathy was beginning to spark, Tony realised.  It was coming back quicker than it had done with Bale.  Maybe seeing Gibbs on the spirit plane had helped speed things along.  Maybe it would be back before Gibbs arrived…

“Tell me,” Tony coaxed, “why Ziva?”

“She wanted you dead for killing her boyfriend,” Banks stated brusquely.  “Everyone knows that.”

“Point,” Tony agreed.  He’d figured Ziva’s final wave to him had been a sign that she’d moved past that, but he couldn’t argue with the proposition that she had wanted him dead because it was true.  “I’m not seeing how killing O’Connor helps Ziva kill me.”

Banks shifted his weight, a sign of his nerves. 

And Tony felt the echo of them along his skin. 

“She wanted you and Gibbs off guard,” Banks continued explaining, a gruff roughness to his voice.  “She knew a copycat murder would bring Mark back to the Yard and disturb you and Gibbs.”

“Hmmm,” Tony gestured with his fork.  “well, we know that O’Connor was probably killed by a copycat, because Bale definitely killed Graham. He and Larson confessed to what happened when I was with them in the container.”

“I heard,” Mark said tightly.  He shot Banks a look.  “We had to wait until they confessed before we could rescue you.”

Tony focused on Banks.  “So, you think Ziva murdered and raped O’Connor to get Mark back to the Yard to mess with me and Gibbs?”

Banks shrugged, his eyes glittering with defensiveness.  “Who knows what her motivation is?  She’s psycho.”

“How did she even know about Graham’s murder?” asked Tony, redirecting Banks.  “She was in custody during the period Yates’ team was called out and investigating.  Her access was revoked.”

“She’s Mossad,” Banks stated, his voice edged with so much disgust, the feeling of it crawled along Tony’s skin, seeped through his non-existent shield and made his shiver.

“She saw us with the evidence,” Mark broke in, causing both Banks and Tony to look at him. “When she went to say goodbye to your team in the forensics lab.  She could have gotten the idea then.”

Tony made a humming sound as though agreeing.  It was plausible if improbable. 

There was a buzz – an incoming message to a cell phone.  Banks pulled out his and looked at it with a frown.

Tony stopped eating and kept one hand holding the fork by the noodle box even as he reached with the other to the small of his back.

“You don’t believe us,” Banks said bluntly, stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

Tony kept his eyes on the other man.  “Do you honestly think I haven’t kept track of exactly where Ziva is and what’s she’s doing?”

Banks smiled grimly.  He moved suddenly…

Tony snatched the gun from his waistband and aimed it just as Banks got his own gun aimed at Tony.

They stood silently, guns aimed, breathing harshly.

Mark looked between the two of them frantically.  “Arnie…what are you doing?!”

“What I should have done when we found him in that container,” Banks snapped.  “Putting him out of his misery.”

Tony kept silent as Mark took a step towards Banks.

“Arnie,” Mark said placatingly, “you don’t mean that!”

“Gibbs is on his way,” Banks said roughly, “it’s over.”

“What’s over?” asked Mark, who seemed genuinely confused.  “We’ll explain about David and…”

Banks laughed harshly, cutting him off.  He grimaced and looked at Tony.  “Do you want to tell him or shall I?  Because you know, don’t you?”

“Is this a confession, Banks?” asked Tony crisply.  “Because I should really read you your rights and…”

“What do you mean read him his rights?!” Mark exclaimed.  “He hasn’t done anything…” and the truth hit Mark like a cannonball.

Tony felt Mark’s shock jolt through him; his empathy sparking only to die again like a damp firework.

“Arnie…” Mark shook his head.  “Tell me you didn’t…”

“You wanted him to be your Guide,” Banks said grimly.  “You were in pieces after what happened!  I was just…it was all to get you him.  You couldn’t do that stuck out at Norfolk!” He screwed up his lips.  “God knows why you want him.  Guides.”  He spat the word out.  “They’re an abomination!  They’re weak!”

Mark grimaced and shook his head.  “You’re wrong, Arnie!  Sentinels are not complete without their Guide!  They’re the other half of our souls!”

“You think I don’t know that?  That’s the only reason I did this!  I know you need a Guide, Mark,” Banks said painfully. “I just wish you didn’t want him – he’s a joke!”

“He’s the best investigator at the Yard,” Mark defended him, “and we both know it!  You’ve always hated that Gibbs hired him and wouldn’t look at you!”

Tony kept his gun trained on Banks, watched as Banks held his gun firmly on Tony.

“I hated that Gibbs wouldn’t look at you!” Banks shot back.  “You deserved to be the Senior Field Agent for Major Case!”

“I’m not in Tony’s league, Arnie,” Mark laughed humourlessly, “he solved the Graham case despite the muddle with O’Connor in less than a day!” He took another step towards Banks, inching in front of him to partially block his view of Tony.  “And speaking of O’Connor, you…you killed a Guide, Arnie?!”

Banks grimaced.  “I didn’t enjoy killing him, but it was the only way to bring you back to the Yard!  Just like I killed Charlie to make sure he wouldn’t interfere!”

“You…you…” Mark shook his head and held out his hand.  “Give me the gun, Arnie!”

Banks was sweating.

Tony kept his gun steady.  “It’s over, Banks.”

Banks glowered and…

Anger erupted through Banks like wildfire…

Tony felt the scorch of it wash over him, burning away the remnants of the drug’s haze…his shield was down and he took the blast of it, gasping and fighting to stay on his feet, his gun wavered…

A shot.

“NO!”

Mark’s pain as he dived to save Tony and was hit…

Tony fought to stay on his feet and returned fire automatically…

A thud as the bullet hit its mark…

Banks’ astonishment at being hit; blood on a white shirt, spreading.

Tony staggered under the weight of other emotions – shock, curiosity running through the apartment block…fierce protectiveness running up the stairs…

Gibbs.

Tony felt Banks blink out, a pain tearing through Tony’s mental plane.

He tried to bring up his shield and managed to block most of the rest of the building out although things seeped through the tatters of it.

He hurried to Mark who was slumped behind the kitchen bar, a hand pressed to his wound. There was blood – too much blood.

Tony grimaced.  He took off his sweatshirt and pressed it clumsily against Mark’s side.  “It’s OK,” he said, “I just…Gibbs is…”

There was a thump on the door – a kick and it gave way.

“…here,” Tony sighed, “we’ll get an ambulance and…”

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Mark said, gasping for breath.  “So sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Tony said, trying to comfort his friend.

“I challenged your Sentinel,” Mark replied with a short laugh, blood bubbling from his nose.  “I just…” he raised his free hand and clasped Tony’s cheek shakily, “you don’t know how special you are.”

Tony felt the rush of love and admiration that Mark felt for him.  Tears pricked his eyes. 

“You deserve…everything…” Mark gasped.

Tony swallowed around the lump in his throat.

Mark’s eyes flickered up and beyond Tony’s shoulder. 

Tony didn’t need to turn to know Gibbs stood behind him.  He was barely aware of Sparr moving to disarm Banks’ corpse; of Borin and Fornell arriving at the door…

“He deserves better than you!” said Mark.

Gibbs’ anger was tempered by a surprising amount of agreement.  Tony reached a hand backwards to comfort his Sentinel and Gibbs clasped it.  It strengthened his shield, allowed him to push more of the world back.

“He does,” Gibbs said, “but he’s mine.”

Mark nodded jerkily.  “Yes, yours.”

“But I thank you, brother,” Gibbs said gruffly, “I thank you for protecting my Guide when I could not.”

“My duty and yours,” Mark said faintly, “protect the Guide.”

Gibbs squeezed Tony’s hand.  “I will do better; I will protect him from here; I swear it.”

Mark gave another jerky nod.  His eyes met Tony’s and the light faded from them.

Tony felt Mark’s presence leave like a knife to his stomach; his shield wavered and his vision darkened…

“I’m here,” Gibbs said, folding himself around Tony, bringing him into the safety of his Sentinel’s embrace.  “I have you, Tony.”

And his Sentinel’s love and protection surrounded him; their bond flared to life to comfort him and ease his pain.

Tony gave a sob, tucked himself close to his Sentinel, and let the darkness take him away.

-nCIs-

Andrea hefted the box into her trunk and closed it with a dull thud.  She looked back at the station house and grimaced.

The fallout from her helping Gibbs had been exactly as bad as she had imagined.  Kipper had stirred up enough bad feeling that she felt the weight of her colleagues’ disgust every moment she spent with them in the past week.  There were one or two who still had spoken with her; had reassured her she’d done the right thing but…

She’d resigned and Wu had reluctantly accepted it.

She sighed heavily.

Being a cop was everything she had always wanted to do.  She got in her car and checked her phone.  There was a text from Tony.

‘Drink? Registry just released my apartment. Come and join me.’

Andrea smiled.  She could do with a friendly ear, and Tony was the best.  She would be pleased to just see Tony too.  She hadn’t been able to see him since the Registry had removed him, unconscious and battered, from the apartment. 

Of course, Tony had almost rescued himself, because he was Tony, but the death of Carrington had hurt him empathically.  He’d been at Bethesda until the day before under observation in the Guide Unit, with only his Sentinel to help him recover. 

She took one last look at the station house and got in her car.  The drive to Tony’s apartment took hardly any time.  She frowned as she got out of the car and glanced across the car park.  She wondered why Tony had retreated to his own apartment rather than the studio he had in Gibbs’ attic.  She pushed her hands into her pockets and headed inside.

Tony greeted her at the door.  “Andrea!”

Andrea grinned and she hugged him tightly.  “Good to see you, Tony!  You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

There was a bruise on his forehead; a still raw scrape that bisected it.  He looked paler than usual; thinner like he’d lost weight in the week he’d spent at Bethesda.  But he looked calm; his green eyes clear and steady.

Tony ushered her inside.  “Come in!  I didn’t get a chance to say thank you so…” he reached for a glass of wine on the coffee table.  “Here.  Thank you.”

Andrea accepted the glass of red wine he offered her.  She knew it would be of good quality.  She sniffed it appreciatively.  She settled onto one end of the sofa.

“I don’t need thanks,” Andrea demurred, “but…thank you.”  She regarded him fondly as he took the opposite end of the sofa.  “I’m surprised to see you here.  I thought you’d go back home.”

Tony’s smile didn’t flicker but there was the faint hint of a flicker in his eyes.  “I needed to come back and reclaim my space.  After everything that happened here…” his gaze drifted in the direction of the kitchen.  “I still don’t know what Banks and Carrington were thinking bringing me here.”

“I’m sure Doctor Henshaw has a theory,” Andrea remarked.

“Yep,” Tony said, sipping his own wine, “she thinks Mark thought I’d feel safer in my own space and Banks went along with what he wanted.  Mark would never have taken me to Gibbs’ house so…”

Andrea regarded him thoughtfully.  “Gibbs’ house, not your home?”

Tony grimaced. 

Andrea caught his gaze.  “What’s going on with you?  Is everything OK?”

“Just…” Tony sighed.  “I have no idea.”  He set his wine down and clasped his hands together in front of him, elbows on his knees.  He stared towards the kitchen.  “Everything’s just a mess.”

Andrea set her own wine down.  “I’m listening.”

Tony took a gulp of wine.  “Do you know where Gibbs has been for the last few days?”

Andrea frowned.  She’d assumed Gibbs had been with Tony.

“He’s avoiding me,” Tony confirmed. “Visited me after hours when I was asleep; didn’t even come to pick me up at the hospital this morning when they released me.  He sent Ducky.”

“So, you came here,” Andrea surmised.

“I just…I couldn’t stay there just waiting for him, you know?” Tony gestured at the room.  “When Borin called, it seemed like serendipity.”

“And Gibbs is at the Yard still?” questioned Andrea, interested to know if Tony knew where Gibbs was.

“Either there,” Tony agreed, “or in his basement.” 

Andrea looked at him.  “I thought you guys could just know from…” she wiggled her hand up by her head.

“I don’t peek,” Tony said firmly.  “Gibbs likes his privacy and I respect that.”

“I’m not sure I’d be so honourable if he was avoiding me,” Andrea commented dryly.  Her hand itched with the urge to storm out and slap Gibbs.

“He’s freaked out again,” Tony sighed.  “I think he thought I’d make more of…well, it doesn’t matter now anyway.”  He looked down into his wine.

“Make more of what?” asked Andrea.

Tony shifted position before he deflated.  “There was…when Gibbs was on the spirit plane, he kissed me.”

“And?”

“And I admit I thought it might mean he wanted more with me,” Tony said.  He shrugged and winced as the movement caused him pain.  He picked up his glass of wine again.  “I was wrong.  Avoiding me means he freaked out.”

Andrea rubbed his shoulder.  “Maybe he freaked out because he does want more.”

“Nope,” Tony tried to smile.  “I think he’s made it very clear he doesn’t.  He can’t even stand to be in the same room with me.”

“But you want more,” Andrea stated almost gently.

“Doesn’t matter if I do, Gibbs doesn’t,” Tony took another sip of wine.  “We contracted for a platonic relationship.”

“Look,” Andrea said firmly, “you know when I heard the news that you and Gibbs bonded, I was worried about you.”

Tony looked at her, surprise warring with curiosity in his eyes.

“I knew you cared about Gibbs,” Andrea said, “and I was worried he didn’t care about you the same way.” She held up a hand to stop him when he would have interrupted.  “But working with him to find you?  He loves you, Tony; don’t doubt that.”

“I don’t,” Tony said softly.  “Our bond…I know he loves me.  He just doesn’t want me.”

Andrea wasn’t immune to the crack in Tony’s voice, the hurt that seeped through.  She made sure both their glasses were on the coffee table and tugged him into a cuddle.  Tony hid his face in the crook of her neck for a long moment.

He sighed heavily and shifted wriggling out of the cocoon of comfort she’d created for him.  He reached behind and pulled out a brown envelope from behind the sofa cushion.

“I didn’t bring you here to listen to my tale of woe,” Tony began with a hint of his usual mischievous smile.  “Here.”

Andrea took the envelope and opened it.  She tugged the papers within to the top and her eyes widened at the title on the first page.  “This is an application to join NCIS.”

“Yes,” Tony said.  “I heard you resigned.”

She rolled her eyes.  “I swear you have more contacts in Metro than I do.”

Tony’s lips twitched in amusement.  “Honestly, Andrea, they’re idiots for letting you go.  You don’t deserve to be given the cold shoulder for not protecting Bale and working with Gibbs to find me.”

“Nope,” Andrea agreed evenly.  She set the application down, picked up her wine and took a gulp.  “But life isn’t fair.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Tony raised his own glass and they gently clinked them together.

Andrea sighed and picked up the application again, placing her wine glass down.  “Is this a pity offer, DiNozzo?  Because…”

“You’re good, Andrea,” Tony cut in, “and you worked well with Gibbs.  He trusts you.”  He tapped the application lightly.  “This isn’t just about joining NCIS, this is an invitation to join our team.”

Andrea felt her mouth drop open and she snapped it shut.  She stared at him, completely flummoxed.  “What?” She finally managed.

“Do you remember the spirit plane?” asked Tony.

Andrea shot him a ‘are you kidding’ look.  “Hard not to since as a Norm, it’s my one and only time there.”

Tony smiled.  “Don’t be too sure,” he said, “McGee thought he was a Norm and he came online as a Sentinel.”

“How does that happen?” asked Andrea momentarily diverted. 

“Probably a screwed-up genetic test that said he wasn’t latent enough to be latent and registered him as Norm instead,” Tony said dryly.  He waved off the issue with a dismissive gesture.  “Anyway, on the spirit plane, you slotted right into place with us.  And quite frankly, we need you.”

Andrea refocused on the application and reached for her wine.  “OK,” she said, “tell me why I should be interested in getting involved with all your NCIS madness.”

The next hour proved to be entertaining if for no other reason than the reasons Tony plied her with about why they needed her to join the team.

She finally called a cab to make her way home and waved Tony off when he would have walked her down to the sidewalk. 

“You know,” Tony said as they hugged goodbye by his apartment door, “you still haven’t given me an answer.”

“I’ll think about it,” Andrea conceded.

“Just imagine Kipper’s face when you turn up at a crime scene wearing an NCIS badge,” coaxed Tony. 

They both laughed at the mental image.

“That,” she said, poking him in the chest, “might be the best argument you’ve used!” She hugged him a final time and made her way out.  She wasn’t surprised to see a figure lurking by the cab.  After all, she’d spotted him earlier in the car park, sitting in his car, the faint outline of a coffee carry-cup in his hand.

Gibbs straightened as she approached.  “Sparr.”

“Gibbs,” Andrea said dryly.  She looked back at the building before turning back to him.  “You need to stop being an ass.”

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow.  “None of your business, Sparr.”

“It is when you hurt my friend,” Andrea retorted. 

Gibbs visibly flinched at that and looked away. 

Andrea cocked her head to the side.  “You might think you’re giving him space to decide if he wants what you’re going to offer, but he doesn’t do well with space.”

Gibbs’ eyes snapped back to her.

“He thinks you don’t want him,” Andrea spelled it out.

“He’s wrong,” Gibbs muttered almost unwillingly.

“So, go tell him that,” Andrea said, “or better yet; show him.”

Gibbs held her gaze for a long moment before he nodded sharply.  He took a step towards the building and she made for the cab.

“Hey, Sparr,” Gibbs called out, turning back to her.

She looked over her shoulder towards him, only raising her eyebrows to question why he’d stopped her from leaving.

“He give you the application?” asked Gibbs.

Andrea nodded.

Gibbs gave a satisfied nod.  “Don’t expect me to go easy on you!” He called and started walking again.

“I haven’t applied yet!” Andrea shouted after him.

“You will!” Gibbs said and disappeared inside.

“Hey, Lady!” The cab driver stuck his head out of the window.  “Are you getting in or what?”

“Yeah,” Andrea breathed out and shook her head in disbelief, “I guess I’m in.”

-nCIs-

Gibbs entered the elevator and stabbed the right button to take him to Tony’s floor.  He shook himself briskly, trying to dislodge the nerves which settled in his belly after his exchange with Sparr. 

He wished he still had the buffer.  Unfortunately, Henshaw had advised Tony to withdraw it to help rebuild his shield soon after Tony had regained consciousness in the hospital.  Gibbs had been unwilling to speak against doing so since Henshaw had argued it was in Tony’s best interests.

Tony’s best interests.

Gibbs grimaced.

He’d been trying to do what he thought was right and in Tony’s best interests by giving him space, but given Andrea’s comments and the fact that Tony was in his old apartment and not in Gibbs’ basement asking to renew their bond, he had failed at that.

He sighed.

Sitting beside Tony in the hours when Tony was unconscious, recovering from the empathic trauma of feeling Mark Carrington die and the physical trauma of the car crash and his time in captivity with Bale, Gibbs had thought he’d worked out a reasonable way forward.

He’d kissed Tony on the spirit plane and made his own wishes clear.

Hadn’t he?

He would give Tony time to consider what Tony wanted and when Tony was certain, he was sure his Guide would seek him out.  He’d made too many decisions for his Guide.  He wanted to give Tony the chance to decide without Gibbs pressurising him or pushing him into a full relationship before Tony was ready.

After all, he and Tony had been linked on the spirit plane – Tony had to have felt how Gibbs felt about him?

But Tony had been drugged and his empathy locked down…

Damn it.

Gibbs smacked the back of his own head.

He was an idiot.

No, Gibbs considered ruefully, he was the ass Sparr had called him.  

For a second he let himself feel the satisfaction of knowing she’d be a part of the team soon enough.  He liked Sparr.  She was smart, capable and not afraid to call him out on his bullshit.  She’d get on well with McGee and Tony; Abby liked her and so did Ducky.  More importantly, she could be trusted with Tony, with his Guide.

Which right then was more than Gibbs could claim for himself.

What had he been thinking leaving Tony so alone for the past few days?  Sure, Gibbs had sat with him when Tony had slept, kept tabs on him through their friends visiting with Tony while Gibbs had returned to work to deal with the paperwork and wrapping up the loose ends of the cases with Yates.

Hadn’t he learned anything from how he’d left Tony alone after they’d found out about their nascent bond?  Ducky had been the one to face him with how Tony had been left feeling rejected then…

God.

He hoped Tony didn’t feel rejected. 

Gibbs sighed.  He owed Tony an explanation and hoped that would be enough to soothe his Guide’s hurt.

The elevator dinged and Gibbs walked down the corridor to Tony’s door.  He could faintly hear piano music.  He rapped on the door briskly.

The music stopped behind the door.

A few seconds later, Tony opened it with a frown.  “Gibbs?  What are you doing here?  Is everything OK?”

Gibbs’ heart sank as he took in how Tony’s gaze raked over him, checking to make sure Gibbs was fine.  “I’m fine, Tony.  May I come in?”

Tony nodded and stepped back to allow Gibbs entry. 

Gibbs took in the classy décor; the comfortable sofa in front of the mostly empty shelves.  The piano sat at the back of the room; a glass of red wine sat on top of it.  Tony had been playing the instrument, Gibbs deduced, shocked.  He frowned.  How had he not known Tony played piano? 

“Jethro!” Tony was suddenly in front of him, concern written all over his face.  He’d been calling Gibbs’ name for a while, Gibbs realised.  “What’s wrong?”

Gibbs sighed and met his Guide’s eyes.  “I need to break rule six.”

-nCIs-

Tony wondered at the deep regret in Gibbs’ icy blue eyes.  He cleared his throat.  “Is this about you freaking out for the last few days because it’s OK.  I mean, I understand that…”

“Tony!” Gibbs broke into his ramble before it could really get going.  He waved them both onto the sofa.

Tony sat down gingerly at one end while Gibbs took the other.  He bit his lip to stop himself speaking again.  The apology he wanted to give Gibbs for feeling more for the other man than Gibbs felt about him; the reassurance that he wouldn’t press Gibbs for more…all of it clamoured to be said and he could barely keep it behind his teeth.

Gibbs’ lips twisted.  “Sparr told me I was being an ass.”

Tony couldn’t quite help the flicker of amusement that ran through him at that.  He knew Andrea was going to make a good addition to their team.

“Are you expecting me to argue?” asked Tony, his amusement seeping into his tone.

“You gave her an application,” Gibbs stated.

“Yep,” Tony confirmed, determined to defend his decision if he had to because they really couldn’t just work with just three people in the team.

“Good,” Gibbs said.

Tony cocked his head, hesitant.  “You don’t mind that…”

“Team’s as much mine as yours, Tony,” Gibbs said.  “More, really, since you’re the one who argued for McGee.”

Tony felt warmed by the praise. 

“Yates suggested we take Powers as another Probie,” Gibbs continued, “said we’d consider it.”

“What’s happening to Yates?” asked Tony, surprised by the news.  “I thought Vance would keep her on as a team lead.”

“Agent Afloat,” Gibbs said succinctly.  “Her choice.”

Tony nodded slowly.  He could understand why Yates had taken a step back.  Her team had been torn apart by Banks’ actions; forensics and the rest of the video evidence the Registry had uncovered had confirmed he’d killed Lopez and O’Connor.

“We’d have a team of five if Andrea joins us,” commented Tony.

Gibbs shrugged. 

“McGee could train Powers,” Tony considered out loud.  It would be good for Tim to have his own Probie.  “She did good work on the case.”

Gibbs nodded.

“Of course, putting her and Abby together a lot might mean they take over the world, but they could be our secret weapon,” Tony concluded with a smile.

Gibbs’ lips twitched into a faint smile of his own. 

For a long moment, they simply looked at each other.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Gibbs said suddenly. 

The change in subject and tone hit Tony like a punch in the stomach.  He felt breathless.

“I wish we were still buffered,” Gibbs said.

Tony’s eyes widened at the admission.

“I knew what you needed when we were buffered,” Gibbs grimaced. “You don’t ask me for anything.”

Tony felt a touch defensive.  “I’m your Guide.  It’s my duty to be there for my Sentinel.”

“And it is my duty as your Sentinel to be there for you,” Gibbs shot back.  “Only I keep screwing up!”

The guilt Gibbs felt shivered along their bond.

Tony shook his head and tried to soothe him.  “You’re allowed to freak out, Jethro.  We’ve talked about this before.”

“Carrington got one thing right,” Gibbs stated, surprising Tony.  “You deserve better.”

Fear skated up Tony’s spine.  Was Gibbs so horrified at Tony’s feelings for him that he wanted to break their bond?

Something of his worry must have transmitted itself to Gibbs because Gibbs reached over and took hold of his hand.

Tony clasped it back, careful to keep his shield in place.

“I’m sorry,” Gibbs repeated.  “Sparr was right; I’ve been an ass.  I thought…I thought I was giving you the opportunity to decide what you wanted, but all I did was leave you alone again.”

Tony stared at Gibbs, not understanding Gibbs’ logic.  “You were giving me the opportunity to decide what I wanted?”

“I thought…” a light blush stained Gibbs’ cheeks, “I thought I’d made my own feelings clear.”

“When you kissed me,” Tony stated, his agile mind leaping to fill in the gaps with Gibbs as it always did. 

Gibbs nodded.

Tony felt hope start to stir in his heart again.  He tried to stop it, but it began to bubble and grow despite his wariness.  Gibbs still held his gaze; his hand held onto Tony tightly. 

“You kissed me,” Tony repeated.  He cocked an eyebrow.  “A friendly gesture?”

Gibbs shook his head.

“You were overcome with worry?” Tony’s voice took on a teasing tone, as the real reason started to settle in his mind; started to become real to him rather than a whimsical hope.

Gibbs stared back at him steadily.

“It was a pity kiss,” Tony said bluntly, “a consolation prize in case I died.”

Gibbs glared at him.

“So, if it’s not any of those reasons, you wanted to kiss me,” Tony said softly.  “Why?”

Gibbs ran his free hand furiously through his silver hair.  He ran his thumb over Tony’s knuckles.  “I didn’t realise that I wanted…that I wanted you.”

Tony tried to keep the hope from swelling up inside of him; Gibbs proclaimed to want him – that was all.  Not to love him.  But it was a start, Tony told himself.  Desire was a start.  If he was disappointed that Gibbs just wanted what everybody else did…that was his secret to keep.

“Nobody should touch you but me,” growled Gibbs.

“You were jealous,” Tony said, thinking about the emotions he’d felt from Gibbs that day. 

Gibbs grimaced but didn’t deny it, sending another flutter of hope through Tony.  “If we deepen our bond…it should be your choice.”

“Mine?” Tony frowned, not understanding why Gibbs was so insistent.  “Shouldn’t it be our choice if we decide to amend our bond?”

Gibbs tightened his grip on Tony.  “I know I haven’t been fair to you.  I’ve made a lot of choices without your input.” He gestured with his free hand to the piano.  “Hell, Tony, I didn’t even ask you where you wanted to live or what you needed to bring with you!  You play the piano and you shouldn’t have had to leave it here!”

Tony pressed his lips together because he couldn’t actually argue the point.  Gibbs had made a lot of decisions for them, about them.  And Tony had complied because he loved Gibbs; because he’d sworn a promise to himself to make their bond easy for Gibbs; because he and they were too used to the power dynamic of ‘Boss’ and his loyal Saint Bernard.

“This…” Gibbs’ eyes were intent on his, “this is too important.  You don’t agree because it’s what I want; you need to want this too.”

Tony suppressed his wince. 

Gibbs was right.  Tony should take a moment to consider the implications of just going along with Gibbs’ sudden desire for him.  He couldn’t just leap ahead thinking that it would all work out.  He needed to think about whether getting himself physically involved with Gibbs was the right thing.

He carefully withdrew from Gibbs’ grasp and got up.  He paced back to the piano and stared sightlessly at the keys for a long moment.

What did he want?

The wish he’d had since his gifts had come back, the one he had buried deeply inside of him, rushed back through him once again.  He wanted a full relationship with his Sentinel.  He wanted his Sentinel to love and cherish him; to desire him; to want more than a platonic partnership.

But he’d never thought Gibbs would entertain that.

And Gibbs still didn’t want that, Tony mused.  Gibbs wanted him physically, but not the full partnership of a Sentinel and Guide Gibbs had enjoyed previously with Shannon.  He knew the Sentinel within Gibbs was possessive and it was probably an extrapolation of that.  Gibbs had likely considered the possibility of Tony dating again and come to the conclusion that he didn’t want Tony sexually involved with someone else.

Depression settled on him like a shroud.

Could he do it?  Could he let their relationship, their friendship, turn into something physical?  Friends with benefits? 

His heart ached just at the thought of it.

He wouldn’t survive it, Tony realised, unwilling to lie to himself.  He’d go slowly hollow in such a relationship; he loved Gibbs too much to be happy with just a physical relationship.  He’d end up hating himself, hating Gibbs.  No.  Just accepting a physical relationship…he couldn’t do it.

Gibbs fidgeted on the sofa, a hint of his impatience at how long Tony was taking to think.

Tony took a breath, forced himself to say the words.  “I can’t.”

Surprise then disappointment drifted over Gibbs’ face.

Tony rushed to explain.  “I know you don’t feel the same, Jethro, and I can’t settle for just something physical and…”

“Physical?” Gibbs stood up suddenly and within a heartbeat was stood in front of Tony, cupping his face in his hands.  “You think I just want you physically?”

Tony raised his eyes to meet Gibbs and nodded.

“Tony…” Gibbs sighed heavily, although his blue eyes held Tony’s still. 

He seemed to struggle momentarily and Tony knew he was thinking about to say, trying to find the words.  Tony tried to keep his hope from flaring up again.  

“I want what I didn’t think to offer you in the first place; all of me, all of you, a true and full bond,” Gibbs said carefully.

Tony’s heart stopped; his breath caught in his throat.  He stared at Gibbs in disbelief.

“You don’t believe me,” Gibbs said, “and I don’t blame you.” He gave a small crooked smile.  “Only have myself to blame.”

Tony took a shaky breath and reached up to take one of Gibbs’ hands in his.  “You mean it.”

“I mean it,” Gibbs confirmed.

And Gibbs didn’t say things he didn’t mean…but Tony just couldn’t reconcile it.

“I don’t understand,” Tony blurted out.  “You’ve never…I mean, you and Shannon and…”

“Tony,” Gibbs cupped the back of his neck, the exact spot he usually used to cuff him, shutting him up effectively.  

He looked so stricken that Tony couldn’t help but try to soothe him.  He shifted until they were hugging, holding each other tightly.

“When I thought I’d lost you…” Gibbs began hesitantly, whispering in his ear; he tightened his hold when Tony would have moved, “when I thought I’d lost you, I knew I’d been lying to myself.”

“Me too,” admitted Tony, a heady relief sweeping through him.  “I mean, I realised I’d been lying to myself too.”

Gibbs eased back and their gazes snagged and caught with a tenderness which took Tony by surprise.  “Henshaw was right; I didn’t do right by you when I found out about our bond.”

“We were both taken by surprise, Gibbs, there’s nothing to forgive,” Tony protested, feeling a little angry at Maggie for taking Gibbs to task. 

Gibbs quirked an eyebrow at him.  “Rule fifty-one.”

Tony frowned; he didn’t think he’d ever heard that one.

“Sometimes I am wrong,” Gibbs expanded. 

Tony’s lips twitched into a smile. 

Gibbs’ eyes darkened and Tony met him half-way; their lips catching and holding in a kiss that was far too fleeting but absolutely perfect.

His heart hammered in his chest.

Gibbs cupped his cheek again and held his eyes.  “Open our bond, Guide.”

Tony bit his lip, fear rising up to choke him.  If he opened the bond and Gibbs didn’t love him…he didn’t think he’d survive it.

Gibbs’ gaze bored into him; trust me, it begged.

Tony loosened his iron grip on his shield and reached for their bond, let it ease open between them.  Their panthers appeared behind them; watching.

Love.

So much love, Tony was almost overwhelmed.  He could feel Gibbs’ wonder at loving Tony, his fear of losing him ever present; he felt Gibbs’ own shock at feeling Tony’s deep love for him, his sense of unworthiness, the unspoken promise to do better, to be found worthy in the future.  Tony returned the promise with one of his own; they could both do better.  There would be a lot of talking, a lot of work they needed to do together to amend their bond, to grow the partnership they both desperately wanted to develop between them, to rebalance the power and allow them both a voice in their future decisions. 

Tony felt Gibbs’ lips touch his, the press of a hand against his hip bone where his tattoo lived.  The physical anchor let him soothe their bond from a raging river to the gentle trickle of a brook; the contentment and quiet happiness of loving and being loved in return still flowing between them.

Gibbs held Tony’s gaze one more time as his panther roared in approval.  “I offer you my bond and life, mine Guide.”

Tony felt his emotions swell up, felt sure he was unable to speak, but he cleared his throat and nodded as his own spirit guide pressed against him in support.  “I accept and offer you my bond and life in return, mine Sentinel.”

Gibbs smiled, happy.  His blue eyes lighting up and Tony closed the distance between them to kiss his Sentinel.  He had everything he had always wanted and more.

fin.