Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Gibbs was outside McGee’s room looking through the window, his eyes pinned on the unconscious form of his junior agent. The only way in was to go through an interim chamber which involved stripping and putting on clean scrubs. They wanted to keep the risk of infection minimised.

John watched silently before he moved forward and took up a position slightly behind Gibbs to his right.

McGee looked badly injured. The left side of his face was bright red, the colour deepening as it travelled down his neck. His left arm was swathed in dressings and propped up on a foam pillow. His torso looked like it was also drowning in bandages. His left leg had a frame holding off the blankets and was clearly in a cast. He had a breathing tube and was hooked up to several monitors and IVs.

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder at John.

John indicated the exit and Gibbs followed him back down the corridor to the elevators. They rode back down and got back in the car in silence.

It wasn’t until Gibbs pulled out onto the main road that he finally spoke. “You got news on DiNozzo?”

John rubbed his chin. “Pam says they’re close on the wire.”

Gibbs gave a short nod and the car accelerated again.

“Agent Donnelly is going to take Agent David’s amended statement.” John informed him briskly. “I’d appreciate if you do a review of it once it’s done.”

Gibbs’s jaw tightened but he nodded again.

John wondered whether to say anything else but he had a feeling whatever he did say wouldn’t be welcomed. Tony had always told him his Boss was a functional mute and John was beginning to understand that better. If Gibbs was going to talk to someone about what had happened with Ziva David, it wasn’t going to be him.

Which was fine with John.

He’d effectively crossed off one item that Secretary O’Neill had wanted; they’d gotten to the truth about what had gone down in the field with NCIS. It was time to focus on Tony and getting him back.

“What exactly happened to DiNozzo?” asked Gibbs abruptly. “The whole story not just the bits you’ve doled out.”

It was a fair question and John knew in Gibbs’s place he would hate being stuck in the dark. John explained as much as he could about Haskell; about Lane and Nelson.

“Damn it.” Gibbs muttered, hitting the steering wheel in frustration.

John figured Gibbs had deduced the plain truth of it; that if McGee and David had done their jobs as back-up properly, Tony would have had help way before the bomb was set, or before he’d been taken.

“We’ll find him, Gibbs.” John said.

“Like you found Lyle Holland?” snapped Gibbs.

John lost his breath. As a sucker-punch, it was a doozy. He pressed his lips together and focused on the road, on breathing.

Gibbs sighed audibly. “You didn’t leave him behind.”

There was the hint of an apology in the sparse words.

John debated whether to accept it. “Forget it.” He rarely talked about Lyle and he wasn’t about to start with Gibbs.

An awkward silence filled the car for the rest of the journey. John didn’t question the pit-stop Gibbs made for coffee and a giant Caf-Pow. He was relieved when they finally got to the Hoover building.

Gibbs followed John into the building almost like a recalcitrant dog which knew it had upset its owner and was on its best behaviour.

John led the way out of the elevator and to his team’s work space.

Pam’s office was empty. Frankie was doing a vid-conference with the lab, a woman in military fatigues who John assumed was Cadman looking over her shoulder.   Neither looked up to acknowledge them.

Nancy gave him a wave from his own desk; her phone was pressed up against her ear.

There was a sudden squeal from the direction of Charlie’s desk.

Scuito waved frantically at them. “Gibbs!”

Gibbs handed her the Caf-Pow and she seized on it immediately, wrapping lips around the straw to suck up the liquid.

Scuito disengaged with a sigh. “Wow, I really needed that.” Her expression sobered suddenly. “Tim?”

“Hanging in there.” Gibbs said. “His mother and sister were there; the Admiral’s on the way.”

Scuito nodded.

John figured McGee’s family must have been in the family room he’d passed.

“And Ziva? She’s OK, right?” Scuito asked.

“She’s fine.” Gibbs said tersely. “What have you got, Abs?”

“OK,” Scuito said enthusiastically, “Charlie and I, we think we have a way to find Tony, or at least his wire.” She bent down and tapped rapidly on a keyboard; the main computer screen on Charlie’s desk shifted to a map of the area. “So, the wire’s transmission range is ten kilometres that isn’t going to change and we have no way for Tony to boost it unless he’s been kidnapped and held in a Radio Shack somewhere, which you know is unlikely.”

John cocked an eyebrow in Charlie’s direction.

Charlie grinned at him. “So, we need some way of picking up the frequency even if we’re out of range.”

“Exactly.” Scuito said, directing a warm smile at Charlie, “which is when we came up with the Twilight Bark.”

“One Hundred and One Dalmatians.” John identified the reference immediately. His niece loved the film.

Gibbs looked at him blankly.

“What do you know,” mused Scuito brightly, giving John a considering look, “maybe you really do know Tony, Agent Sheppard.” She turned back to Gibbs who looked on the verge of exploding and ignored his bad temper. “In the film, Gibbs, the dogs are trying to find the puppies so they bark to the nearest dog, and that dog barks to the next nearest dog, and he barks to the next dog and…” she swivelled back to the computer at Gibbs’s eyebrow rise, “so obviously we’re not using dogs but satellites bouncing off various receivers.”

The map on the computer lit up with orange spots.

“Based on the backgrounds Frankie and Abby did on our suspects,” Charlie continued, “we’re targeting their potential holiday and second homes, and in the case of the Nelsons, their hunting grounds.”

“If we can pick up the wire, we may be able to pinpoint Tony’s location.” Scuito finished with a wide smile.

“Good work, Abs.” Gibbs said. “And, uh…”

“Doctor Charlie Wong, Gibbs.” John stepped in and did the introductions, “Gibbs, Charlie Wong.” He smiled at his team-mate. “And Gibbs is right; good work.”

“Let’s see if it works first.” Charlie said but he was smiling.

Nancy waved a piece of paper at him. “Got him!”

John looked at her in surprise.

“Deeter Johanson.” Nancy explained with an apologetic grimace. “Airport security spotted him at Dulles. He had a one-way ticket for Dubai. Homeland agents are picking him up. I’ve asked them to bring him here.”

“Our tax dollars at work.” Charlie said under his breath.

Nancy shot him an annoyed look. “We’ve also traced how Military At Home paid for their bombs.” She gestured for John to join her at his desk.

“Keep at it.” John said to Charlie.

John was faintly aware that Gibbs followed him as he made his way over.

Nancy had her own laptop open and she pointed at the screen where there was a flashing red Homeland alert and underneath a series of numbers.

John hurriedly made introductions and resolutely didn’t react to Gibbs’s sharp glance when he recognised Nancy’s surname as his own.

“What exactly are we looking at?” asked John, moving them on quickly.

“You’re looking at an Al Quaeda account which Homeland tagged and froze over a year ago.” Nancy said. “This account was accessed last month by Arthur Haskell. He worked for an investment company and had a high level of access. He made a series of under the radar transfers which in total equalled five hundred thousand dollars to an account held by an alias of Johanson’s.”

“Investment one-oh-one.” Gibbs said.

John nodded, lightly resting his hands on his hips. “Use someone else’s money.”

“It also probably gave these guys a thrill to use the money from terrorists who have driven the need for military abroad.” Nancy said. “I’ve been on the phone gathering some intelligence on the Military At Home lobby.”

“Hit us with it.” John said.

“The political lobby started soon after nine-eleven, unsurprisingly.” Nancy said, tucking some hair behind an ear. “Various Senators and Congressmen and women have championed the lobby since that time. It gained a lot of support in the early days but it’s popularity has waned since.”

“There’s been limited terrorist attacks on U.S. soil since then.” Gibbs commented.

“Exactly.” Nancy said. “Most terrorist attacks have been centred on Europe or within the Middle East itself. Of course, what most people don’t know is the number of attacks which are foiled through intelligence and military activity here and abroad.”

“So, these guys figured to gain more support for their cause they’d stage a terrorist attack in the States.” John deduced.

“Replace the word stage with the word perform and you have it right.” Nancy said. “I did some calling around to various contacts. Most of the people I spoke to say the tone of the lobby has changed within the last eight months. They’ve put that down to a change in the leadership.”

She hit a button on her laptop and a picture appeared.

“Senator Richard Goring out of Ohio. Republican. He’s the main face of the Military At Home movement on the Hill.” She tapped the button again. “Goring has made five speeches in the last eight months which have obliquely referred to another terrorist attack being required before people start paying attention or demanding our military spend is spent at home.”

“Nice.” John muttered sarcastically. “Any connection to our motley band of suspects?”

“And that would be a yes.” Frankie inserted herself into the conversation with a grin. “Hi, I’m Frankie.” She stuck out her hand with an expectant look at Gibbs.

Gibbs shook it politely. “Gibbs.”

“Do you prefer Leroy or Jethro?” Frankie prompted cheekily.

“Gibbs.” Gibbs said, but there was a hint of a smile.

John cleared his throat and gave Frankie a pointed look.

“Right.” Frankie eased in beside Nancy and switched on John’s computer, a few keystrokes later and she brought up her findings. “Meet Annie Nelson; Richard Goring’s niece. She attended Liberty University and met her husband Zach Nelson there. Zach comes from old money – his family came over on the Mayflower. He works in his family’s law firm as a partner looking after corporate clients. He had one younger brother who died when Zach was eleven. The details were sealed by the juvenile court. However, newspaper articles around that time noted an eleven years old boy had shot his seven years old brother in a hunting accident.”

“First kill.” John said.

Frankie nodded. “There are a couple of other suspicious deaths in Zach Nelson’s history; a young partner at the law firm died in a similar hunting incident only a couple of years after Zach joined the company. There’s also his secretary committed suicide two years ago.”

“Eliminating competition.” Nancy suggested.

“Or someone who had something on him.” John noted. His gut was churning. “Something tells me he’s our guy for the radio murders. I’m going to bet he has a Remington 7400.”

“No bet.” Frankie quipped.

“Makes sense.” Gibbs said gruffly. “The guy who walked into that radio station didn’t hesitate.”

“Quick and confident killer. He’s done it before.” John agreed.

“Zach Nelson has political ambitions.” Nancy stated. “Goring has mentioned Nelson’s plans to run for Congress to friends.”

“You think they’re using the cause to launch a political platform.” John realised.

Nancy nodded. “Stir up passion with a few foreshadowing speeches, underline that with terrorist attacks, and build on the public’s want to feel safe in their own homes…Nelson and Goring could secure enough of a platform to make a play for real power.”

“That’s a bit of stretch.” Charlie called out from his desk.

John waved him back to what he was doing and sent Nancy a warning glance not to rise to the bait. She raised her eyebrows at him but held her tongue.

“We should have Rebecca do a psychological profile on him when she gets back.” John murmured.

“Send the info to Ducky.” Gibbs suggested. “He’s a qualified forensic psychologist.”

John nodded. He wasn’t above using all their resources.

“Send it to me, Frankie.” Scuito called over. “I’ll send it to him.”

Frankie nodded and bent to the computer. “Sent.” She straightened. “The Nelsons moved to Royal Woods just over eighteen months ago. If we consider them the core of the Military at Home militant group then they’ve spent their time recruiting to their cause.”

She tapped a button and a picture of a balding mature man appeared.

“Donald Altman.” Frankie sighed. “This is kind of sad. He lost his son in Kuwait. His grandson joined the Marines to honour his father and died in his first tour.”

John winced.

“Plenty of reason to sign up to the idea of spending money to protect ourselves at home.” Nancy said compassionately.

“Agreed, and it looks like the Nelsons targeted neighbours who had some level of personal trauma.” Frankie tapped the computer. “Haskell lost his wife in a home invasion. The outlier here are the Bridges. No big drama. However, I did find a series of telephone calls between the cell phone owned by Zach Nelson and the one owned by Gloria Bridge.”

“An affair?” posed Nancy.

“Maybe.” Frankie shrugged.

John’s phone buzzed and he picked up the call swiftly. “Sheppard.”

“I’m downstairs with Rebecca, John.” Pam said briskly. “You should join us. She and Ruben have brought in the Bridges.”

“On my way.” John jerked his head at the monitor. “Speak of the devil. Gloria Bridge and her husband are sitting in our interrogation rooms downstairs.”

Gibbs’s eyes widened. “Then what are we waiting for?”

John rolled his eyes as Gibbs strode away. Frankie smirked at him but Nancy offered him a sympathetic grimace as John went after him.

o-O-o

The interrogation rooms were John’s least favourite part of the building. With grey walls and old pocked ceiling tiles, they smelled of old sweat and the chemical tang of cleaning fluid. A single table bolted to the floor took up the centre; a flimsy plastic chair sat either side. All the interrogation rooms were wired to a central monitoring room run by security. The design was meant to negate the idea of corruption of evidence or intimidation because everything was recorded and transparent. There was still a mirror which backed onto an observation room and took up half a wall.  

For all the interrogation rooms were terrible, John didn’t care much for the observation rooms either. They were narrow grey rooms; cheerless and suffocating with standing room only. The pervading smell in them was bitter stale coffee.

John ushered Gibbs into the right observation room and nodded towards Pam and Ruben who were watching Rebecca question an overweight balding man on the other side of the glass.

There was a brief rush of introductions and handshakes before Gibbs turned his attention to the glass.

“He the husband?”

“Harold Bridge,” Pam confirmed, “financial director of Binnical Pharmaceuticals. Gloria is his second wife. She used to be his Executive Secretary.” The scathing tone of her recitation told John everything he needed to know about what Pam thought about that. “His first wife Elizabeth lives off the alimony and raises their three children in up-state New York, close to her family. Bridge spends most weekends there visiting with his children.”

On the other side of the window, Rebecca gathered her notebook from the table and excused herself. A moment later she entered the observation room and John quickly made another introduction.

Rebecca gestured to the other room and the despondent looking Harold who was mopping his perspiring brow with a white handkerchief. “He has no idea how trace elements of explosives were found in his freezer. He’s telling the truth.”

“In your opinion is he involved at all with Military at Home?” asked Pam.

Rebecca shook her head, the neat ponytail of strawberry blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. “He made a monetary contribution for tax purposes, but his reaction was one of distaste. He referred to it as Nelson’s kooky bandwagon and he believes that.” She grimaced. “He showed distaste in general for Nelson but that’s probably because he’s aware that his wife is having an affair with him. Speaking of…”

She hit a button which turned the glass dark, obscuring Harold from sight and gestured at the wall behind them. They turned around and she hit a second button which lit up the glass and revealed the second interrogation room beyond.

Gloria Bridge sat nonchalantly in her chair, examining her manicure. Her dark hair was down, artfully tousled. She wore a green pant suit with a wide black belt, and there was a flash of a low-cut black tank top which showed a moderate amount of cleavage. Her feet were encased in sharp black heels. Diamonds flashed on her ears, wrist and finger.

Ruben shook his head. “She is one beautiful woman.”

Rebecca shot him an amused look and turned to John. “She’s going to respond best to you.”

“Me?” spluttered John. He shook his head. He hated interrogations. His strengths lay in tracking evidence, seeing patterns, and deducting. He also wasn’t bad at chasing down bad guys, and on the odd occasion, shooting at the bad guys. Sure, if there was the opportunity to do bad cop, John had silent and brooding in the corner nailed, but contrary to popular culture, the FBI preferred for their agents not to intimidate and threaten suspects – it usually led to lawsuits. There was a reason why he usually left the interrogations to Pam, Rebecca and Donnelly.

“According to Frankie she flirted with DiNozzo on the tape; she’s having an affair with Zach Nelson.” Rebecca said. “You’re her type; tall, dark and handsome. She’s going to flirt with you, think she can manipulate you. All you have to do is play along and she’ll tell you everything.”

“I’m terrible at flirting.” John shot back.

“I know,” Rebecca said, even as she manoeuvred him out of the room, “but she’ll find it adorable.”

And with that he was outside of the observation room and in the corridor, Gibbs smirking at him as the door closed.

John swore under his breath. He rolled his shoulders. “OK, John,” he murmured to himself, “you can do this.”

He stepped up to the interrogation room and walked confidently inside.

Gloria Bridge’s interested gaze swept over him.

John offered her a sheepish smile as he closed the door. “Mrs Bridge, I hope you haven’t been waiting long. I’m Special Agent John Sheppard.”

“I’m not sure I mind the wait if you’re at the end of it.” She replied with an easy smile.

John smiled back nervously and took his seat. “Do you need any water or…”

She shook her head and sat back, crossing her arms in such a way that it displayed her cleavage prominently.

John cleared his throat. “So, thank you for coming in to answer our questions. I’d just like you to confirm for the record that you’ve been informed this interview is being recorded and you’ve also declined the presence of your attorney, Mrs Bridge.”

“Call me Gloria.” She said.

John smiled. “Gloria.” He gestured at her. “Sorry, but for the record…”

“I can confirm I understand we’re being recorded,” Gloria said making it sound very suggestive, “and I’ve declined an attorney.” She smiled at him again. “I have nothing to hide.”

“Well, let’s begin.” John said quickly. “Tell me about your day so far from the beginning.”

Gloria regarded him with a curious stare, tilting her head a little. “Sure.” She said in a tone that told John she was humouring him. “I got up around seven, had some breakfast with Harold. Harold went to his study and I changed into my swimsuit to do some laps in our pool with a cool-down in the Jacuzzi.” She leaned forward with a wide smile. “Getting wet is my favourite way to exercise.”

John felt his cheeks start to warm with the blatant innuendo. He managed an embarrassed smile. “So, you went swimming?”

“Hmmm-hmmm.” Gloria said. “Well, before that we had someone come to the door to ask about the area; dark, green eyes, handsome.” Her eyes were travelling over John as she said it. “I invited him for a Jacuzzi but he said he was married. Are you married, John? I can call you John, right?”

“That’s fine, Gloria.” John said. “And no, not married.” He was half-tempted to tell her he was gay but he figured that would shut her down too much. “Did your visitor come inside your house or…”

“He insisted on talking with Harold. I left them talking on the doorstep.” Gloria said, dismissively.

“And then?” prompted John.

“I got wet.” Gloria smiled widely.

John gave a short laugh. “And after your swim?”

“My manicurist came over and we did a full manicure in the den.” Gloria said, displaying the results. “We’d been invited to an evening barbeque at the Haskells…” she stopped and her eyes went wide, “do you think that’s when the bomb was supposed to go off? When we were all there?”

“We know the bomb was set to cover-up a crime.” John assured her. “Tell me, who else was meant to be at the barbeque?”

“Well, the Baptistes.” Gloria said. “Doralee and Bill. People say you can’t trust blacks but they’re just adorable.”

John winced inwardly at the blatant racism. “Anyone else?”

“Don Altman, he’s a grumpy old bastard; hates everyone. The Goldmans.” Gloria shrugged. “I think Arthur invited most people.”

“Was Zach and Anne Nelson due to be there?” John asked bluntly.

“I think so.” Gloria shrugged and sat back.

“Hmmm. We’ve found a pattern of phone calls between you and Zach Nelson.” John offered. “Are you close as neighbours?”

“Oh, honey.” Gloria gave a regretful smile. “There’s really no mystery in that.”

“No?” John said.

“Harold and me, well, we’ve got an open relationship. He’s had some dysfunction problems and a woman has needs.” Gloria said, smirking at him. “Zach and Annie…it’s more of a business arrangement than a bedroom relationship if you see what I mean, so Zach and I,” she shrugged, “we get together occasionally and use each other.” She batted her eyelashes. “Physically.”

John refused to squirm under her intent gaze. “Did Zach get you involved with his Military at Home lobbying?”

“God, no.” Gloria leaned forward again, accentuating her assets. “Listening to him babble on about all that political stuff? That’s Annie’s domain.”

John hummed. He could tell she was lying but there was nothing he had as evidence to pin her down on it. “Has Zach asked you to do him any favours recently of the non-sexual kind?”

Gloria regarded him carefully for a very long moment. “The only favours I’ve offered Zach are of the sexual kind.”

“So you have no idea how trace elements of an explosive might have gotten into your freezer?” asked John bluntly.

Gloria reared back in a pretence of surprise. “Believe me, I don’t go anywhere near the freezer.”  

John nodded; that he could believe. “Well, I think that about covers it.” He said brightly. “Before we finish though it would be remiss of me not to warn you.”

“Warn me?” Amusement coloured her slightly doubtful tone.

“Yes,” John said seriously, “Zach Nelson along with a second accomplice is a person of interest in the explosion that killed Arthur Haskell and seriously injured three people today. Nelson has a history of killing anyone he thinks is a weak link.” He smiled suddenly, shark-like and biting. “I’m sure though as you know nothing about his Military At Home activity and involvement with explosives you have nothing to worry about, Gloria.” He slid out of his chair. “I’ll arrange for someone to take you and your husband back to the hotel.”

He took one step and then another toward the door.

“Wait.” Gloria said.

John turned back to her and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“If I did have some information, would I get some protection?” Gloria asked bluntly.

John sat down again. “If you were a material witness we could arrange for protective custody. If you want to change your mind about a lawyer, I can arrange that.”

“No, that’s OK.” Gloria said. “Just…I will need protection from Zach.”

John nodded. He levelled his best ‘start talking’ look at her.

“Look,” Gloria said spreading her hands as though letting go of something, “Zach talks a lot.”

“About?” prompted John.

“When we moved to Royal Woods, they approached us into making a political donation for their cause, this Military at Home thing. Harold gave them some money,” she shrugged, “some tax break or something. Anyway, it was all talk for a long time. Zach kept telling me he and Annie were going to become the next Presidential family off the back of this but nobody took them seriously.”

“What changed?”

Gloria sighed heavily. “About a year ago Zach brought Matt Lane along to the soiree he and Annie were holding. He’d met Matt on some hunting trip and they were both really gung-ho about the cause. Matt was the one who started saying only an act of terrorism was going to get them any attention; Zach and Annie were agreeing with him.” Her eyes met John’s sombrely. “Honestly? The rest of us all laughed at the idea.”

John inclined his head in acknowledgement. “When did you stop laughing?”

“Arthur Haskell moved in soon after. His wife was shot to death by an intruder in their home.” Gloria shook her head. “He was heartbroken and Zach hooked him almost immediately.”

She crossed her arms and used her hands to rub at her upper arms briskly as though to warm herself.

“About six months ago, Zach called me. He wanted to meet up.” She shrugged. “We met out at his hunting cabin and he was revved up, ready to go. He jumped me the minute I was inside the door. We were drinking champagne after and he said he was celebrating because they’d just discovered a way to get the money to make a real statement; Arthur knew how to get the cash for them.” She grimaced. “After that, it just snowballed. Suddenly they were contacting bomb-makers and there were actual bombs.” She looked at him again. “I didn’t think they’d actually use them.”

“The trace in your freezer?” asked John.

“Zach needed somewhere to keep one.” Gloria shrugged. “I wasn’t going to tell him no.”

John nodded. “What are the targets?”

Gloria sighed and shifted position. “They talked about taking out a military target. Matt said as a mailman he could get access to the Norfolk base. Haskell thought no-one would actually get hurt, but Zach…” she winced visibly, “he would say to me that only another nine-eleven was going to make an impact; people dying.” She leaned forward again. “I really, really didn’t think he would actually do anything. I thought he was all talk.”

John swallowed the urge to rail at her for her stupidity. If she had come forward, the deaths that day could have been avoided.

“Where would Zach go to hide?” asked John.

“He and Annie have properties all over.” Gloria waved a hand. “Maybe the hunting lodge out by Luray? I don’t know. He has a pilot’s license and a plane, you know?”

That was unwelcome news. He pressed her for additional information a couple of times more, but it was clear she’d said as much as she was going to say.

“Someone will come by with your statement.” John informed her. “Once you’ve signed it, you’ll be transferred into protective custody.” There’d be a conversation about whether to charge her for conspiracy but John figured they’d make it a part of the deal to keep her compliant.

“Will you be there?” Gloria asked, rallying. She tried a slightly vulnerable pout which did nothing for John.

“I’m going to be hunting down Zach Nelson.” John said to her, getting up and heading for the door.

He shut it quietly for all he wanted to slam it.

Pam and Ruben joined him in the hallway; Gibbs leaned on the wall beside the open observation room door. Somehow John wasn’t surprised to see Fornell lurking behind him like a shadow.

“Good job, John.” Pam said warmly.

John shrugged away the praise. “We didn’t learn anything new.”

“But we know where they might hit.” Pam said.

“I’ve called the Director.” Gibbs stated gruffly. “Norfolk will go on alert but it’s unlikely they’ll hit there now.”

John crossed his arms; he didn’t disagree with Gibbs. “They want to make a big statement.”

“Bombing one of the boats out there would give them that though, right?” Ruben asked. His young face was creased with confusion, knowing the two older agents had picked up on something which he wasn’t seeing himself.

“Maybe.” John sighed. “But if they’re going for something like nine-eleven, they wouldn’t just focus on a military target. Sure, the Pentagon got hit on nine-eleven but what most people focus on is…”

“The Towers.” Pam concluded, nodding. “Well, still a good job, John. Why don’t you take a break?” Her phone rang loudly. She sighed and answered it. “Agent Bellows speaking.” Her dark eyes went suddenly wide and they shot to Gibbs.

He looked at her inquisitively.

“Understood, Donnelly. You and Major Davis come back to base. We’ll get a BOLO out.” Pam disconnected the call, her eyes never leaving Gibbs’s. “We have a problem.”

“Another one?” asked John, grabbing her attention briefly before her gaze returned to Gibbs who straightened to meet the challenge there.

Pam lifted her chin. “Ziva David is missing; they’ve searched the hospital and she is no longer there. She’s in the wind.”

Problem was an understatement, John thought with dismay as Gibbs whirled away, Fornell following after him. It was a goddamn disaster.

o-O-o

“You OK?”

Nancy’s question had John pausing momentarily as he stirred creamer into his coffee, although ‘stirred’ was probably an overstatement given the small plastic device only seemed capable of drawing weak lines in the liquid. He glanced over his shoulder at his best friend, who stood in the break-room doorway, and shrugged.

She crossed the space between them and hugged him. “He’s going to be OK, John.”

John tentatively hugged Nancy back, letting the familiarity of her comfort him. He sometimes thought he didn’t deserve Nancy in his life but he loved her too much to let her go.

She eased back and cupped his cheek, searching his eyes. “It’s OK to be worried, John.”

John sighed and stepped away from her. He hated talking about his feelings, and he didn’t want to dwell on how he felt about Tony; it was too much and too distracting; he needed to stay focused. “Coffee?”

Nancy leaned against the counter as John put a cardboard cup underneath the machine nozzle and pushed in the code for a cappuccino.

“You know I’ve been teasing you for months about your hot neighbour,” Nancy commented softly, “and I’ve known you liked him, that you’ve been really interested for the first time since Lyle. But I think I’ve been blind to just how much you already feel for him.”

“Nancy…”

“You’re already half way in love with him, John.”

He looked away from her too perceptive gaze and focused on stirring his coffee while the machine hissed and spluttered its way through Nancy’s drink. He didn’t confirm she was right. Nancy knew him too well.

She nudged him gently. “Lyle would have wanted you to be happy, you know.”

He did know. It was almost the last thing Lyle had said as his life drained out of him under a hot Afghani sun. He’d made John promise to live his life; to go on without Lyle. John forced the memory out of his head as pain, even dulled and muted by time, washed through him again.

“I’m looking forward to meeting him.” Nancy said, pulling him back to the present. “He must be pretty special.”

“You’re pretty special yourself.” John blurted out. “You know that right? I don’t say it a lot but…”

“I know.” Nancy smiled at him. “Anyone who’s loved by you understands you’d rather face going naked to the opera than talking about feelings, John.” She picked up her cappuccino and reached for a thin tube of sugar. “I blame your father.”

John decided that needed no response and handed her the sugar along with another pathetic plastic stirrer. “Dad does hate opera.” He joked.

Nancy nudged him again. She frowned at the way the stirrer wasn’t even breaking through the fluffy artificial cream on the top of her drink. “By the way, you don’t need to worry about meeting Brent.”

John looked up sharply from blowing on his coffee.

“I ran into his boss as I was leaving the office yesterday. There was no meeting that meant he missed our breakfast. When I faced Brent with it at lunch today, he admitted he’d been with someone else.” Nancy’s lips twisted. “He said he hadn’t realised I thought we were dating exclusively yet.”

“You need me to hit him?” John offered, feeling a touch helpless as he always did when he had to comfort her.

Nancy leaned into him and kissed his cheek, reaching up to rub the lipstick off him. “Thank you but I already accidentally dropped my chocolate mousse in his lap.”

“Classy.” John said admiringly.

“Worth it.” Nancy sighed and held up the plastic stirrer. “This is about as much use as a fish on a bicycle.”

John smiled and rummaged around the break room until he dug up a proper piece of cutlery. It was a fork but its handle still did a better job than the stirrer.

They walked back out to the bullpen. Pam, Donnelly and Frankie were absent, organising protective custody for the Bridges and organising the re-questioning of the neighbours Gloria had mentioned would be at the barbeque. Rebecca and Ducky were bent over the conference table, papers and photos spread out in front of them, talking quietly as they pulled together their profiles. Fornell had dragged Gibbs away for better coffee and hadn’t brought him back. John just hoped they hadn’t gone off the reservation completely and decided to try and find Ziva David on their own.

John wandered over to Charlie as Nancy retook his desk.

Charlie held up a hand to stop John from speaking. “Try it again, Abby.”

Scuito tapped a series of commands into the main computer and hit enter. There was a crackle of static and…

“…and an unbelievable headache.”

Tony DiNozzo’s voice had John’s knees go weak with relief. Tony was alive. He closed his eyes briefly, finally acknowledging the fear which had been his constant companion since he’d discovered Tony had been taken.

Scuito turned around and high-fived Charlie, whooping loudly.

John leaned on Charlie’s desk as naturally as he could and reminded himself to breathe as the others gathered round them to congratulate Charlie and Scuito.

He nodded at Scuito who was grinning ear-to-ear; her relief at finding Tony alive written all over her face. “Good work, Doctor Scuito.”

“Abby.” She offered with a wide smile.

John nodded an acknowledgement of the olive branch.

“Seriously, why haven’t I practiced getting out of cuffs more?” Tony complained. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve had to do this although bonus that I don’t have a knife-wielding serial killer cuffed to me this time.”

“He’s kidding, right?” asked Nancy.

Abby shook her head, her pigtails bouncing. “It was a few years ago. I told him then we should have chipped him!”

“As much as we like to joke he is as loyal as a Saint Bernard, Abigail, Anthony is not actually a dog.” Ducky pointed out dryly.

“But if he was chipped, we could find him.” Abby argued.

“Can you narrow it down to a property based on which communication tower is relaying?” John asked.

Charlie sighed and wheeled across to a different laptop. “Yes and no.”

John followed him and stared at the monitor as Charlie brought up the map.

“This is the end-point for our Twilight Bark.” Charlie pointed at a red spot on the map. “It’s near Luray.” He tapped some keys and a circle appeared around Luray. “The wire is somewhere within that radius.”

“Overlay with known properties from our main players.” John ordered.

Three orange blips appeared all within the circle but spread out.

John grimaced and stared at the map. They could arrange a coordinated assault; hit all three locations at the same time. It would take a lot of manpower but they could argue it.

“Record everything he says.” John ordered. “See if Tony mentions something that will narrow the options down. I’ll round up everyone; we need a planning session.”

John strode away without waiting for a reply. A quick text to Frankie and Donnelly had them confirming they were on their way; a brief phone call to Pam did the same, and she pointed him at Fornell’s office for Gibbs.

Fornell’s seniority afforded him a corner office, tucked away on the seventh floor of the opposite wing in a maze of corridors. Someone needed to know the building very well to find their way to it and John swore under his breath as he finally got the right corridor.

He found himself slowing as he neared the office; the door was marginally open and he could hear the low rumble of Fornell’s voice.

“…and like I told you; Sheppard’s got a good head on his shoulders. You need to leave this with us.”

“It’s my team, Tobias.” Gibbs protested immediately.

There was a moment of silence and John took a cautious step forward.

“I screwed up.” Gibbs’s voice had John abruptly stopping again.

“Alright.” Fornell said. “I know I’m going to regret this but I’ll bite. How did you screw up?”

“I let her back on the team.” Gibbs said.

John held his position, quiet as a mouse just like the Air Force had trained him.

“You didn’t do that alone, Gibbs. You wanted to give her a second chance. Vance wanted to give her a second chance. DiNozzo and McGee put their lives on the line in that op. It’s not all on you.” Fornell said.

“My gut told me it was a bad idea, that she still had an issue with DiNozzo. Ducky warned me that she hadn’t worked through everything enough.” Gibbs argued. “But I didn’t listen to him!”

“Woah, woah, woah. Now hold on a minute! You think she targeted DiNozzo deliberately?” Fornell asked, saving John from having to burst in and ask Gibbs himself.

“I don’t know.” Gibbs admitted. “But if anyone was going to set-up a hit and make it look like an accident…”

“Did you tell Sheppard that?!” Fornell bit out angrily.

Gibbs’s answer must have been non-verbal.

“Damn it, do you really think Sheppard would have left her there with just a single Marine guard, who was more interested in keeping others out than her in, if you’d told him what you just told me?”

The answer was no; John would have had her under watch. But as much as he might think Gibbs had been wrong not to say something, he knew there was no proof that she had set-up events. And it was such a long shot if she had. She couldn’t have known Tony would run into trouble.  

“Listen,” Fornell was saying, “you need to…”

John knew he couldn’t continue eavesdropping; he moved and rapped on the open door, sticking his head in as the conversation ground to an immediate halt. He nodded at Fornell but looked over at Gibbs who was clutching at a travel mug as though it was his life’s blood.

“Charlie and Abby tuned into DiNozzo’s wire. We’ve got three possible locations. We need to confer.” He moved back, confident Gibbs would follow.

Gibbs caught him up at the elevator and John wasn’t surprised to see Fornell bringing up the rear. He raised an eyebrow at the other agent’s presence but Fornell stared stubbornly back at John as though daring him to protest.

They all got in the elevator.

John stabbed the button.

“Well,” Fornell said, “this isn’t awkward.”

Both John and Gibbs turned to glare at him.

He lifted his hands in a gesture of peace.

“Is DiNozzo actually talking on the wire or is it dead air?” Fornell asked.

“He’s talking.” John answered.

“Sounds like DiNozzo.” Gibbs muttered.

John led the way out, through the connecting corridor to the right wing and his own team. They were all gathered around the table except for Charlie who continued to be hunched over at his computer, headphones on and presumably listening to Tony. John slowed as he saw the Director.

Cross gave him a nod of acknowledgement and looked vaguely amused at the sight of Gibbs with Fornell. “Special Agent Gibbs, I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“Director.” Gibbs shook his hand politely.

“Shall we get on with it, gentlemen?” Cross waved at the conference table. “Secretary O’Neill is joining us by phone.”

The spider phone in the centre of the table was glowing with its green lights lit up.

John glanced at Pam who gave him a quick nod before she spoke up. “Secretary O’Neill, let me get straight to it. We’ve identified a credible threat to national security. I’m going to handover to Deputy Director Nancy Sheppard to provide Homeland’s assessment.”

Nancy leaned over the table toward the phone. “During the past year an element of Military at Home have moved from lobbying to militant. Intelligence did note increased reference to another act of terrorism being required on U.S. soil to galvanise support. However, this was not given serious consideration or priority given the lobby is predominately white, middle-class college-educated Americans. Forensic examination of email accounts held by the main suspects in today’s bombing reveal a systematic conspiracy to terrorise the American people with the ultimate aim to gain the White House and political power under the banner of Military at Home.”

John folded his arms across his chest.

“Warrants have been issued for all identified members of the group involved in the email conspiracy including Senator Goring.” Nancy continued. “We have a continued national security threat with four known members of the group at large. They had procured four bombs from a known South African bomb-maker, Deeter Johanson who was arrested attempting to leave the country. Johanson had confirmed during interrogation this evening that all bombs require a detonator as they will only combust when they reach a temperature of four hundred degrees Celsius.”

Pam leaned forward. “This is Agent Bellows, Mister Secretary. The FBI can confirm that one bomb was used today at Royal Woods using a barbeque as the detonator.”

“It’s possible alternative detonators may be MacGyvered in a similar way.” Nancy confirmed.

“We have confirmation from another member of the group that Norfolk base was considered a viable target.” Pam continued. “The base is now on alert. However, analysis suggests Norfolk may not have been the ultimate target; nine-eleven is often referenced by the group. Both Agents Sheppard and Gibbs have suggested the target may have changed.”

“Homeland are considering this a clear and present danger.” Nancy said.

“Well, I guess better late than never.” O’Neill commented sarcastically. “Do we have any lead on these yahoos?”

Pam looked across at John.

He stepped forward, using both hands to lean over the table and talk into the spider phone. “Sir, with assistance from NCIS we have got a read on Agent DiNozzo’s live wire. He’s alive and being held somewhere in Shenandoah at one of three possible locations.”

“Assistance from NCIS.” O’Neill repeated. “You just forget about my third objective, Sheppard? Agent Sheppard not other Sheppard. Obviously.”

“No, sir. We didn’t forget. We investigated NCIS as instructed.” John replied, ignoring the shocked look on Abby’s face. “The NCIS investigation was conducted appropriately in regards to Military At Home. Their assessment of the threat level was conducive with the information they had at the time, and as you know they did confer with Homeland and with the FBI.”

“I’m guessing there’s a but coming.” O’Neill said, caustically.

John sighed. “Special Agents McGee and David should probably face some kind of disciplinary action. According to Special Agent David there were minor breaches of protocol in the field; problematic but not necessarily negligent if each is viewed in isolation. However, she revealed that the protocol breaches were compounded when she knocked the audio device switching it off and incorrectly switched it back on in playback mode.”

John didn’t look at Ducky and Abby but he sensed their distress.

“That ultimately delayed their understanding that Agent DiNozzo was in trouble. She claimed it was accidental.” John continued. “We’re waiting on Agent McGee waking up and being cognisant enough to validate her statement, but David’s since gone AWOL from the hospital which raises a concern.”

“Major Davis?” O’Neill said. “Did we not have Marines guarding the hospital? Did they all go to sleep?”

“Agent David asked to visit with her colleague.” Paul moved forward to respond. “Captain Ford did not see any issue with giving into her request. She went missing between her room and his.”

“Tremendous.” O’Neill said cuttingly. “Fine. She’s not a priority. What are our options for the next step, Agent Sheppard?”

“First option is we launch a systematic and coordinated take-down of all three probable locations for Agent DiNozzo.” John said. “It’s likely that at least one member of the four MAH suspects is guarding Agent DiNozzo. They may be able to provide additional information on the potential target. Raiding the other properties may also turn up additional intelligence or members of the group. This option has the benefit of also securing the safety of Agent DiNozzo without delay.”

“And the disadvantages?” asked O’Neill.

“We play our hand.” John said. “They haven’t discovered the wire on DiNozzo yet. They also don’t know we know they are the primary suspects.”

“That’s right, Mister Secretary.” Rebecca said. “They’ve ran to give themselves alibis; to pretend not to have been present and to try to ride out the immediate investigation.”

“But targeting their properties will mean we give those members of the group notice we know who they are, and if they’re not there we may send them further into hiding.” O’Neill said. “Second option?”

“Gather more intelligence. Try and identify where they are going to hit.” John said. “Go after Agent DiNozzo when we have a confirmed location.”

“And maybe lose him in the meantime when they realise what an astoundingly bad idea it is to hold a federal agent hostage especially if they discover that wire.” O’Neill commented.  

“Yes, sir.” John said.

O’Neill sighed.

John kept his eyes on the spider phone as O’Neill evidently took the time to consider what needed to happen.

“Start planning your op to take all three locations but gather as much additional intelligence as you can. I want you in the lead on this, Sheppard. You have the tactical background.” O’Neill said finally. “We need to get these guys before they have a chance to hit a target. Coordinate with Major Davis any military assets you need. I’ll need the President to sign off so Colin – you and Agent Bellows can meet me at the White House to help explain all this.” He sighed. “I’m going to have to wear a goddamned suit.”

“Yes, sir.” Cross said.

“And Sheppard?” O’Neill said stopping John from straightening up. “The priorities haven’t changed; bring DiNozzo back.”

John wished he’d had O’Neill as a CO. He nodded sharply. “Understood, sir.”

o-O-o

John rolled his shoulders and tried to ease the knot of tension lodged between them and wrapped around his spine.

Maybe he’d been slightly biased but he’d called in the Hostage Rescue Team to lead and work with the Marines they had. HRT were trained for the type of operation that was going to be needed; the rest of his team would act as secondary support. Gibbs had argued to be part of the operation as had Fornell, and while John had some concerns he’d acquiesced. Better to know where they were than having them do their own thing.

The HRT lead Max Guerra cast a look across the table and sent him a wordless query of concern. John gave a slight shake of head dismissing the concern and bent again to their planning.

“First location is a cabin; wood structure; single living and kitchen room; single bedroom on the same level; outdoor amenities. No car port; nothing fancy.” Frankie reported crisply. “Belongs to Matt Lane’s brother. According to his bank and credit statements, Lane visits there regularly for hunting trips.”

“It’s unlikely this is where they’re keeping the hostage.” Max noted. “Not enough space even if it’s remote enough not to draw attention.”

“Agreed.” John said. “It’s also got a single accessible road.” He pointed at the map.

“Matthew Lane was the one who brought terrorism to the table for Military At Home.” Rebecca said. “His older brother was a serving Marine injured by drunk teenagers who were protesting the Iraq war; the brother, Peter, sustained a brain injury which effectively gives him the mental age of a small child. Peter lives in a care home which is paid for by the government.”

“Lane is a believer.” Ducky chipped in. “His faith is absolute. He believes he is a soldier of the cause and will act in defence of the mission.”

“He’s a cool customer.” Rebecca agreed. “Following his part in Agent DiNozzo’s abduction and setting the bomb, he finished his mail round and returned the truck to base. He left in his own vehicle and headed to a mall; his vehicle is still there and Lane is gone.”

“Rebecca and I both agree; Lane is likely the person who has chosen the target for the remaining bombs and is likely to be the one tasked with setting up the next attack.” Ducky finished soberly. “While it is not likely you will find Anthony or Lane at the property, it is probable that he has plans for the mission as he sees it secreted somewhere there.”

John exchanged a quick look with Max. “Ground op; Agents Armitage and Donnelly should go in as support for the first location.”

“Agreed.” Max confirmed.

“That takes care of Team Alpha’s objective. Team Beta will focus on the second location which is also unlikely to be where Agent DiNozzo’s being held.” Frankie said. She pointed at the map. “This cabin is owned by Donald Altman as an investment. It’s within a small select community of cabins which are generally used for high-end vacations. Security has confirmed that there have been no unexpected vehicles entering the community. The property company employed to upkeep the cabin have already confirmed that Altman’s cabin is empty but the two surrounding cabins are rented out and have been occupied today.”

“So difficult to sneak an unconscious man in there without being seen.” Max commented.

“Altman has also never used the cabin.” Frankie said. “That said, we have growing evidence that Nelson and Altman pulled a switch after Nelson drove away from the Haskell house. Looking at the camera footage on the security gate of Royal Woods, we can clearly see Altman driving the Haskell car when it exits.”

“Theory is that Nelson drove straight to Altman and got him to drive the car.” John said, folding his arms. “Possibly to throw us off. Altman has also been heard on the wire since we tuned in.” He nodded at Frankie who pressed a button on her laptop.

“Here’s your food.” Altman said gruffly.

“Room service.” Tony quipped. “Fantastic. What is that? Tomato soup, a roast beef sandwich and some chips? You’re really spoiling me.” There was a chink of metal. “I don’t suppose you can let me out of these? I mean, I’m already shackled like a dog to the post here, it’s not like I can go anywhere.”

There was a pause.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Tony remarked. “I think I’m going to have to pass on the sandwich. Pretty sure I have a concussion; stomach’s a little queasy. Your friend hit me pretty hard.”

“He’s not my friend.” Altman responded.

“Then why are you covering for him?” Tony said almost conversationally. “You seem like a reasonably decent guy. You might be prejudiced against anybody who isn’t a white protestant Republican, but I’m guessing you worked hard before your retirement; did the traditional marriage and kids thing. And I’m guessing until today, a completely law abiding citizen. Why are you helping them keep me hostage?”

“You don’t know anything.” Altman said. “You’re just a punk who stumbled into a discussion at the wrong time and place.”

“Is that what they told you? What I am is a Special Agent with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service.” Tony said calmly. “You’re currently holding a federal agent hostage.”

“You’re lying! They don’t want to hurt anyone just blow up a communication tower; make a statement!” Altman argued fiercely. “They want to bring our military home! That’s where they belong! At home not dying in some Godforsaken country!”

Tony’s voice was gentle; compassionate. “Who did you lose?”

“My son.” Altman said. “My grandson. They wanted to serve, to protect us.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Tony said.

Altman huffed. “Like you care.”

“I care.” Tony replied passionately. “I told you; I’m a federal agent. I took an oath to protect and serve too. I wear my badge with honour knowing every time I wear it that it might be the last time; that I might die serving the men and women of the Navy; making sure they get justice.” He paused. “That’s what I was doing in your community today; trying to find justice for Commander Walter Daniels. He was gunned down in a radio station yesterday by a member of the Military At Home group. The radio show host was going to expose the group as terrorists. We traced a call to him back to your community. Your friends? They’ve already killed three people.”

“Do you really think I’m going to believe you?” Altman said.

“What do you think is going to happen to me?” Tony asked bluntly. “I’ve seen your faces. I can identify you. Do you really think the others in your group are going to just let me go? They already knocked me out and have taken me hostage.”

“I’m not going to listen to you!” Altman growled. “Eat, don’t eat. That’s all you’re getting.”

“You really think your son and grandson would want you to be an accessory to murder?” Tony shouted.

There was the sound of a bang.

“Well, I guess we convinced him.” Tony sighed. “I guess soup it is. Yum.”

Frankie stopped the recording.

John let out a breath slowly, realising he’d somehow started holding it as Tony had tried to convince Altman.

“As you can see Mister Altman’s belief in Military at Home is rooted in loss.” Ducky said sombrely. “It is very likely that Zachary and Anne Nelson played upon his grief to inveigle him into their scheme.”

“We believe Arthur Haskell was manipulated in the same way.” Rebecca wrapped her arms around her torso as though to comfort herself. “Haskell was considered expendable and we fear Mister Altman is considered the same. It’s unlikely anything concerning Military At Home is at the cabin but we know of at least two occasions when Nelson used it for a liaison with Gloria Bridge.”

“Agent Bellows and Tyler will support HRT on the cabin takedown.” John said. “I’ll be with you on the third location as will Agents Gibbs and Fornell.”

Max nodded and pointed at the map. “This third one causes a logistical problem. There’s barely a road in and out; security fencing all around it, probably a significant security system, and a number of outbuildings.”

“The Nelsons’ hunting lodge.” Frankie confirmed. “It has a primo security system and the Nelsons registered two guard dogs, Dobermans.”

“Ducky and I both agree that it’s likely Agent DiNozzo is being held here probably in an outbuilding.” Rebecca said.

“Anne Nelson was already in situ at the hunting lodge.” Frankie stated. “She’s been there all week and was only due to return for the Haskell’s barbeque this afternoon.” She frowned. “Nelson left the community approximately twenty minutes after Altman. He made his way to work. Security there confirmed he left after the reports of the bombing. I’m trying to find his vehicle route through street cameras but it’s slow going. He could be at the lodge; he might be with Lane.”

“He just went to work after setting that bomb?” Max whistled. “Cold.”

“The Nelsons are the architects of this scheme.” Rebecca chipped in. “Both show signs of psychopathy although we’d have to sit down with them to properly assess and diagnose.” She sighed and scratched her head absently. “My money is on Anne Nelson being the one wearing the pants in the relationship; she’s ambitious, used to getting her way and is highly intelligent. There’s a history of…bullying and intimidation in her past – rivals who went away, in one memorable case got food poisoning, or dropped off the map completely.”

“However, it is unlikely that you will find any direct evidence linking Anne Nelson to any criminal activity.” Ducky said gravely. “She is very careful and, in her husband, she has the perfect weapon and scapegoat. I expect that unless we catch her with a smoking gun, she will claim to be as much a victim in this as anyone.”

“Zachary Nelson is most likely a psychopath.” Rebecca continued. “He has a record of violent behaviour and suspicious deaths in his background. He enjoys hunting as it provides a legitimate excuse for him to kill. It’s worth noting that Nelson wanted to leave DiNozzo with the bomb; it was Lane who suggested he would have value and to keep him alive.”

“It is almost certain that should Zachary Nelson alone determine Anthony’s fate, he will not hesitate to kill him.” Ducky confirmed.

John kept the flinch he felt from showing with difficulty. “Max?”

“So, this is where we’ll utilise the Marine support.” Max confirmed. “Three coordinated approaches; remote computer support to hack the security system, turn it off, open the gate; ground operation, Team Charlie-Gamma, to sweep from the gates up to the house and secure the house; Team Charlie-Alpha will be the air operation with fast-rope deployment into the grounds to secure DiNozzo and the rest of the property.”

“One bomb may be on site.” John noted.

“That’s where I come in.” Cadman said. “I’ll join the Marines in the ground operation.”

John nodded. “Gibbs, Fornell…”

“We’ll go in on the ground.” Fornell said. He caught Gibbs glaring at him. “Don’t even try to claim you could fast-rope in.”

“I’m assuming you’ll fast-rope?” Max grinned at John.

John nodded. “We’ll leave at oh-one-hundred with operations to commence in parallel at oh-three. It’s now twenty-two-oh-five. I’d recommend power-naps for those who don’t need to be involved with the prep.” He looked around the table at his team, at Gibbs and Fornell, at the others drafted in to help. “Let’s do this.”

o-O-o

John sat at his desk.

Nancy had gone home reluctantly barely thirty minutes before. He’d be surprised if she wasn’t back at first light.

The women in his team had bedded down in Pam’s office. It wasn’t the first time they’d had a sleepover there. Donnelly had curled up under his own desk. Charlie hadn’t bothered to sleep; he was beavering away trying to establish where Zach Nelson and Matt Lane had gone.

Fornell had ushered the NCIS team out earlier and John suspected Gibbs was hiding out in Fornell’s office cuddled up to the coffee machine.

John had eschewed going home himself, but it was past midnight and he’d taken over monitoring Tony’s wire. He was comfortable; feet up on his desk, leaning back in his chair, earbuds in so the whole office wasn’t disturbed.

It was clear that Tony was hoping that the wire was transmitting to somewhere; that he had deduced it might be a way to find him. Tony had commented that he hoped his team were listening. He had explicitly wondered out loud what had happened with McGee and David; had hoped they were alright. But he’d also immediately told himself to stop thinking about that, and it was clear to John that Tony was fully aware of what it meant that they hadn’t stopped him being taken, and was contemplating the reasons. But other comments were very useful; he’d described the entire space he was in and it was clearly an outbuilding. It had helped solidify John’s plans even more.

But Tony was tiring. By his own admission, he’d barely managed half the soup and one bite of the sandwich had made him too nauseous to continue eating. Tony had also started coughing about thirty minutes before; his voice turning hoarse. It was obvious he was trying to stay awake but struggling.

“I have a concussion.” Tony sighed heavily. “Not supposed to sleep. Why do they ask you the President’s name? I mean, you might have lost an entire year of memory and you’d still get the President’s name right. Although I guess not so much in an election year. Well. If the President changed. Which you know Obama’s going to get a second term. I like the guy which may be a flimsy way to decide a vote but that’s what swings it for me.”

John smiled at that. He’d voted for Obama too and his father would probably shoot him if he knew. Patrick Sheppard had voted Republican all his life.

“Woah, is this heavy? Too heavy.” Tony murmured. “I…” he broke off to cough, “I should be thinking about something else and not politics. Favourite film maybe. That would be a hard concussion question; what’s your favourite film? Although maybe that’s not such a great question for me because there are so many. OK so maybe what’s your favourite Jack Nicholson film? That would be a good concussion question, right?”

John wasn’t sure he could remember all that many Nicholson films.

“A Few Good Men, for the record. ‘You can’t handle the truth!’” Tony coughed. “Maybe Nicholson’s too obvious. Maybe Harrison Ford? Something like the best Ford film other than Star Wars and Indiana Jones? The Fugitive. Of course, Tommy Lee has a lot to do with that too and…” He coughed again abruptly cutting himself off.

John bit his lip as he waited for Tony to regain his breath.

“OK, I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit, rest my voice, stop wondering why these people have really tight and horrible to unlock ankle-shackles on hand.” Tony said softly. “Just…promise to check every outhouse, henhouse, doghouse…don’t, don’t stop looking.”  

We won’t, John thought at him as strongly as he could; we won’t.

He almost jerked in surprise as Gibbs suddenly appeared beside his desk. John removed one earbud and frowned as he took in a guilty-looking Abby wringing her hands again beside the NCIS agent, with Fornell lurking behind. He raised a finger to silently ask them to wait.

John motioned for Charlie to take over monitoring Tony and then signalled for Gibbs, Fornell and Abby to step away from the bullpen and into an empty office across the hall. Fornell settled near to the door, almost guarding it.

“What’s up?” asked John, perching on the desk and resisting the urge to play with the stress ball Agent Keeler kept there.

Gibbs stared at Fornell before shifting his gaze to Abby; he jerked his head at John. “Tell him what you told me.”

Abby bit her lip and sighed. She met John’s curious gaze. “So Gibbs told me what Ziva said about knocking the device and switching it into playback by accident?” She grimaced and shook her head. “I, uh, demonstrated the playback mode to both Tim and Ziva and there’s this flashing yellow light that comes on for the first minute so you know it’s in playback. Just like I showed them the green one would be for real time transmission.”

It hadn’t been an accident.

“Look, I’m sure Ziva just made a mistake.” Abby said turning pleading eyes towards Fornell and it was obviously not the first time she’d made the plea. “She got confused or something. Tell him, Gibbs. She wouldn’t do this deliberately!”

Fornell snorted. “She already admitted abandoning their post for a toilet break, not actually listening to what was going on and reading instead, and then barrelling in without a clue of what had actually gone down! She’s AWOL! Does any of that sound like just a mistake to you?!”

Abby looked crushed and she turned to Gibbs with another pleading expression. “Gibbs!”

Gibbs looked over at John. “What happens now?”

John rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to need you to make a full on the record statement, Abby.”

Abby grimaced.

“Look, on its own it proves nothing.” John said. “Maybe she did get confused, maybe she didn’t. Maybe it was an accident. Frankly, I don’t know but I know when we find Agent David your additional evidence will be something we question her about and which she’ll have to have a damned good answer for.”

“Any luck on the BOLO?” asked Fornell gruffly.

John shook his head. “She’s gone to ground.” He looked at Gibbs. “We had a police unit check your place and she’s not there. There’s a watch on her apartment and the Israeli embassy.”

“She won’t go back.” Gibbs said with certainty.

“She’s Mossad.” John shrugged. “I’m sure she had a dozen plans lined up for disappearing if she ever needed to disappear.” He sighed. “As much as I hate to say this, we may not be able to find her but this and running isn’t exactly making it look credible that it was all just an accident.”

“There has to be some other explanation.” Abby said fiercely. “She wouldn’t hurt Tony; she wouldn’t!”

Her face crumpled and Gibbs moved to comfort her, wrapping his arms around her. John slid off the desk and waved Fornell out of the room too, leaving them alone.

Fornell raised an eyebrow. “You have a plan.”

John smiled at him humourlessly. “I always have a plan.”

“You intend to share this plan anytime soon?” Fornell asked gruffly.

John looked at Fornell pointedly. “Drop the notion that David did this by accident and it doesn’t take a genius to work out what she’ll do next one way or another.”

She’d attempt to finish what she had started; she’d go after Tony again, or she’d attempt to protect herself probably through an appeal to Gibbs. John was prepared for either eventuality.

Fornell got it. John could see the realisation hit in the sudden gleam of understanding in his eyes. His gaze snapped back to the office. “He won’t like it.”

John smiled again. “He doesn’t have to like it.” He walked back to his desk and signalled that he was back monitoring the wire.

“…thought I’d be asleep but it’s cold in here and my head hurts.” Tony coughed again. “I just hope I get out of here before the weekend. I have this really hot date lined up.”

John froze; his body stilling at the words. Tony had a date at the weekend? He swallowed hard against the pain of disappointment…

“Not that they know pizza and football is a date.”

John closed his eyes at the relief which poured through him.

“We’ve been dating a while and they still haven’t caught on. Maybe I didn’t catch on either at first because well, complicated.” Tony continued whimsically. “Ducky said I should tell them and maybe I will. Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me to get a move on and take a chance.” He coughed again. “OK, need to stop talking.”

John sank back in his chair, his heart pounding. Tony thought they’d been dating. He closed his eyes against the rush of emotion and knew he couldn’t deal with the revelation. Not then; not while Tony’s life hung in the balance. But after…well, John had high hopes Tony was going to say yes when John asked him to the movies.

o-O-o

It had been a while since John had worn tactical gear to the extent required by HRT. But somehow being at Quantico and putting on the black BDUs, strapping on a thigh holster for his primary weapon on one leg, and his knife on the other; placing the flak jacket over his jacket, rolling up the sleeves and pulling on the wristband he had once worn when going into battle…it all brought back memories.

He inserted the earbud and attached the thin microphone to his collar, securing the power pack in the top pocket of his jacket.

Max waited until all the men had left the locker room before approaching him. “You OK, John?”

“I’m good.” John said.

“You going to keep it together if DiNozzo’s dead when we get there?”

The blunt question took John’s breath away. He shot Max a furious look. The wire was still live but Tony had seemingly fallen asleep or into unconsciousness about an hour before.

Max raised his hands. “The word is that he’s your friend and you know I have to ask.” His expression softened, his brown eyes going almost liquid with compassion. “Especially if he has the same kind of friendship with you like I did.”

John sighed heavily. He didn’t regret the friends-with-benefits arrangement he’d had once with Max, but it had been years before and they’d both ended it amicably knowing they were never going to be more than somewhat in like with each other. “Tony and I…we’re not together, Max.”

Max cocked his head to the side, the dark strands flopping artistically over his forehead. “But you’re interested.” He smirked suddenly. “I’ve seen pictures; I can see why.”

John didn’t bother replying. He tugged on his boots and made sure they were laced correctly. He grabbed his gloves.

“He must be pretty special, huh?” Max said almost contemplatively.

“He’s a good guy.” John said shortly. “He deserves to come home.”

“Then let’s go get him.” Max slapped a hand on John’s shoulder.

John nodded and pushed past Max, tapping the microphone on. “Comms check. Alpha Team confirm status.”

“Alpha Team is en route to location; twenty minutes out.” Donnelly replied.

The ground teams had left almost an hour and a half before. Traffic was quiet in the middle of the night but the trip out to Luray still took time.

“Beta Team confirm status.” John said, following the corridors out to the helipad.

“Beta Team is ten minutes out.” Pam replied. “We’ll confirm when in position and will wait for the go signal.”

“Roger that.” John said. “Charlie-Gamma Team confirm status.”

“Charlie-Gamma are twenty minutes out from location.” Cadman replied crisply.

“Home Base confirm status.” John said as he hit the open air.

“We have eyes and ears on all of you.” Cross responded. “Good luck out there, people.”

“All teams be apprised that Charlie-Alpha is now airborne.” John said as he climbed into the helicopter and patted the pilot’s shoulder to confirm lift-off. Max settled in the seat next to him and handed him earphones.

The flight didn’t settle the nerves shifting in John’s belly. He’d never felt comfortable flying after what had happened with Lyle and…

He took solace in the fact that the pilot was good; it was a steady flight with confident shifts in airspeed and direction when needed. John glanced out of the window and checked the other two helicopters were flying in perfect coordination with them.

Max gave him a thumbs-up.

Time ticked away on the flight; the ground teams for all three locations took position, waiting…

“Coming into range of the target location.” The pilot confirmed.

John cast one last look around the cockpit. “Charlie-Alpha Team Leader to Home Base; Operation Homefront requesting go.”

“You have a go.” Cross confirmed.

Two ropes deployed either side. Max went first and John followed after him. He was glad he had insisted on keeping up his skills, on keeping up his gym time but he still felt his breath catch; felt the burn in his muscles as he descended, winced at the heat that burned through his gloves…

He landed and moved away from the rope, taking a covering position as others descended and joined them.

Max checked with his tech guy who was looking at a heat scanner. He raised two fingers and pointed at the barn they had figured to be the prime location for Tony’s captivity based on the acoustics and from the descriptions that Tony himself had provided about his situation.

John kept silent as they ran up to the barn and took positions around it. In the distance he could hear barking; the sound of engines approaching, shouts…

Max gave the signal and one of his men ran up to deal with the lock using a small amount of explosive; just enough. It burned and sparked in the dark.

John went through smoothly, pushing the door open. The barn was in darkness except for a square patch where the moonlight flooded through a skylight. It gave just enough light to reveal a glint of a steel bucket.   John knew Tony had been using it as a toilet; the wire had recorded when Tony had moved it as far as he could with the chain on his ankle from where Tony himself had been secured. John scanned to the left and his heart jumped at the sight of a slumped figure up against a supporting post, a figure who was beginning to stir.

He hurried over and into Tony’s eye-line. He placed one hand on Tony to keep him still and lifted his finger to his lips.

Tony blinked up at him but gave a quick nod which was swiftly followed by a wince and a rough cough.

John glanced around the barn. Max’s men were in position guarding the door. “Package is secure. I need a medic over here.” He ordered in a low tone. He shoved his rifle to the side and bent back down to deal with the cuffs.

Tony grinned at him lightening quick and discarded the cuffs himself. John couldn’t help smiling back at him as Tony rubbed his chafed wrists. He gave Tony his hand-gun, a silent question in his eyes over whether Tony was OK to use it.

Tony took it with a grateful look.

John made way for the medic and took out his torch to deal with the ankle-shackle Tony was wearing. He placed the torch between his teeth and took out his lock-picks peripherally aware of the medic, Barry, checking Tony’s vitals and frowning heavily.

“Headache?” Barry hissed quietly.

Tony cleared his throat roughly. “Yeah, it’s a doozy.”

The admission made John hurry with the lock-picks and he was pleased when he heard the loud click.

Suddenly the dull thud of gunshots somewhere beyond the barn ripped through the hush.

John and Barry immediately turned to cover Tony, aiming their weapons at the front door of the barn.

“Charlie-Gamma report.” John ordered.

“We’ve got shots fired up at the house.” Fornell reported grimly. “We’re investigating.”

John motioned for Barry to continue seeing to Tony.

A soft groan had him glancing over his shoulder.  Barry was examining Tony’s ankle it looked raw.

Barry frowned heavily and reached into his bag. “This is going to sting and we’re going to need you to stay quiet until we have the location secured.”

“Right.” Tony said and closed his eyes.

John smelled the sharp acrid scent of antiseptic and winced as Barry swiped it over the ankle area. He wasn’t surprised when Barry took out an injection pen and motioned for Tony to turn over. John motioned for the man to his left to cover and stooped to support Tony as he twisted around to give Barry enough access to inject his upper buttock.

Tony gave a low moan as the first shot went in and Barry stopped him from turning back. Barry held Tony’s head still for a long moment examining the bloody patch; hairs dried red and stiff. Barry glanced up at John conveying concern without saying a word.

“I need to cover this but when we’re more secure.” Barry said in a low almost dispassionate tone. “That was a tetanus shot. I need to start you on an antibiotic; you’ve got two open wounds.”

John wrapped his hand around Tony’s and wasn’t surprised when it was gripped hard as the second shot went in. “Almost done, Tony.”

“My team?” whispered Tony. “John, is my team OK?”

John squeezed Tony’s hand. “Gibbs is up at the house with Fornell. David and McGee are injured but they will recover.”

Concern was written all over Tony’s face.

“You’re not telling me something.” Tony said and coughed again.

John nodded. “It needs to wait.”

“But you’ll tell me.” Tony insisted.

“I’ll tell you.” John promised.

“Charlie-Gamma reporting; house is secure.” Fornell reported in his ear. “Altman is dead. Nelson is claiming self-defence; we have her cuffed and ready for transport.”

“Understood. Charlie-Alpha Lead,” John said, “report.”

“All out-buildings cleared. We’ve got the two Dobermans tranq’d.” Max confirmed.

“Send in a stretcher and clear a space for the medevac of Agent DiNozzo.” John ordered. “Alpha Team, report status.”

“Cabin is secure.” Donnelly reported. “We found a stash of papers and a hard drive in an old tin box. We’re reviewing now.”

“Roger that.” John said, watching as Barry finished strapping up Tony’s ankle and turned his attention to his wrists. “Beta Team, report.”

“Vacation cabin is secure and we’re searching.” Pam confirmed. “We have a lot of excitable holiday guests to calm.”

“All teams; report back to Home Base if you find anything. I will be accompanying Agent DiNozzo to Bethesda.” John glanced down at Tony who looked back at him with a surprised expression. “Home Base, you have control.”

“Home Base has control.” Cross confirmed.

“You’re coming with me?” Tony asked.

“Consider yourself in protective custody.” John said.

Barry put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I need to cover that head wound now.”

John helped situate Tony into a more comfortable position, Tony leaning a lot of his weight on John as Barry worked on him quickly and efficiently.

Gibbs came running up with two men in flight suits and John belatedly realised he still had hold of Tony’s hand. He gave a final squeeze and Tony offered a chagrined smile as they let go. John stepped aside as Barry helped Tony up and onto the stretcher.

Gibbs gave John a sharp narrowed look as he stooped to check on Tony, a hand reaching out to cup DiNozzo’s chin. “You OK, DiNozzo?”

“I’m fine, Boss.”

Gibb’s eyes flitted to Barry demanding answers.

“If by fine he means he has a serious concussion, a possible skull fracture, bruising and a scraped raw ankle.” Barry listed out dispassionately. “And he’s dehydrated with an inflamed larynx.”

“See?” Tony joked. “Nothing wrong with me.” He spoiled it by coughing.

“Go to the hospital, DiNozzo.” Gibbs straightened and looked at John. “You keep him safe, Sheppard.”

John nodded. He jogged alongside the stretcher as Tony was carried out of the barn and across a yard to a field where an air ambulance waited.

Barry stopped John as he went to clamber in. “I need to make him comfortable and prep him for travel.”

John waved Barry inside the helicopter and patiently took up a position with his back to the door. He could see across to the house. It was all lit up; vehicles strewn outside of it like discarded toys with their headlights blazing. He breathed in and the scent of earth, bark and leaves filled him up. He reached into his top pocket and shut down his mike, almost absently.

There was noise behind him and John glanced over his shoulder to see Barry waving him inside.

Tony was swaddled in blankets with an IV ported into the back of one hand providing him with fluids; he’d been given a headset to protect his ears. Barry pointed at the large plastic evidence bag to the side which contained Tony’s pants and jacket and John gave a quick smile of gratitude as he pulled on his headset.

John shifted up to sit by Tony’s head as Barry closed the doors and patted the back of the pilot’s seat confirming they were clear. He put a hand on Tony’s shoulder to catch his attention.

“You comfortable?” John asked.

“Not really but I’ll deal.” Tony coughed again.

“No talking.” Barry instructed sharply. He pinned John with a glance. “He needs to rest his larynx.”

Tony rolled his eyes. John’s lips twitched.

“So what happened? You can tell me…” Tony plastered an innocent ‘wasn’t me talking’ expression on his face as Barry shot him a look of pure exasperation.

“Don’t think I won’t inject your ass again.” Barry warned.

Tony held up a hand in apology. He turned beseeching eyes on John as soon as Barry subsided; the demand to talk evident in the dim lighting of the helicopter cabin.

John pressed his lips together as though to stop himself but the debate was short and sweet; he knew he’d be going insane if their positions were reversed.

“Blink once for yes, twice for no, OK?” John said seriously.

Tony blinked very deliberately once.

John shifted position to move a little closer even though Tony would hear him through the headphones. “You’re going to have to give a statement later about what happened to you so I’m going to avoid giving you any info on that. Deal?”

Tony grimaced but he blinked once again.    

“Some time after your abduction from Royal Woods, Agents McGee and David became aware that the audio device they were listening to you on had been switched onto playback mode.”

Tony frowned, his forehead creasing with puzzlement lines.

“Agent David informed Gibbs of what happened.” John said evenly. “They’d been listening for a long while, needed a toilet break. They found the nearest service station; she and McGee took turns listening. While McGee was on his break, David says she knocked over the device and although she switched it back on immediately, she didn’t realise it was in the playback mode.”

Tony closed his eyes and when he reopened them, John realised he’d retreated behind a mask.

John kept going. “They returned to the residential community and eventually McGee recognised the address you gave as being one he’d heard before; he checked the device, realised the error. They discovered your last known location and went to check it out. The Military at Home group had set a bomb and left two people tied up in the house. McGee and David got caught in the blast rescuing them. The male home-owner died; his daughter is in serious condition as is McGee. David sustained minor injuries and left the hospital AMA.”

“How bad is McGee?” Tony asked, ignoring Barry’s look of disapproval.

“He’s got third degree burns over twenty per cent of his body; he may lose his left arm; his left leg is pinned together.” John said bluntly. “He’s expected to recover but he’s going to be out for a while.”

Tony coughed and John placed a hand on his shoulder again to offer some comfort. He knew how he’d feel if someone had given him that news about his brother or sister.

“My fault.” Tony croaked out. “I got myself caught and…”

“Hey.” John held Tony’s gaze and was thankful that Barry seemed to be purposefully ignoring them. “You did nothing wrong.”

Tony turned his head away and blinked furiously; John could hear the way his breath sounded more like a sob; see the way he swallowed, that he was struggling. But he eventually turned back.

“I saw someone approaching – reflection on the car.” Tony grimaced. “I just – it was a mailman and I didn’t think anything of it until he was…it was probably Matt Lane.” He blew out a breath. “He hit me with something and…I don’t remember anything until waking up once in the car, then in the barn.”

“Your wire picked up the encounter and abduction.” John said firmly. “This was not your fault.”

Tony looked unconvinced and partially opened his mouth, presumably to argue when Barry turned and looked at him pointedly. Tony’s mouth snapped shut again.

John squeezed Tony’s shoulder drawing his attention back to him. “The Secretary of Defence called in the FBI after the bombing.” He continued, moving the story along to get Tony past McGee’s situation. “My team were assigned the case. My team is tracking down the Military at Home group. They have another two bombs which may be in play. You don’t need to focus on that though; just get yourself better.”

Tony grimaced.

“So,” John said, desperately searching for a topic to distract Tony, “I was listening to your wire earlier when you were talking about how they should ask you which is your favourite Jack Nicholson or Harrison Ford movie as your concussion check.”

Tony’s eyes widened, alarm written all over his face briefly until he covered it with another mask.

John realised his mistake. Tony knew what he’d said and he had to be wondering if John had listened further and heard how their pizza and football was a hot date. He debated whether to say anything else, whether it was the right time to say anything. They weren’t exactly in a private space since the headsets meant everyone was listening in. But he wanted to reassure Tony and maybe that was more important.

“Personally I prefer Batman for Nicholson.” John offered. “Heard you had a hot date lined up for the weekend; maybe you should watch the movie with them.”

Tony’s mask melted away and he gave John a tentative but genuine smile. They sat looking at each other.

“The Witches of Eastwick.” Barry said suddenly, breaking the silence.

John and Tony looked over at him inquisitively.

“My favourite Nicholson film? The Witches of Eastwick. One word: Cher. Man, what’s not to like?” Barry shrugged and grinned at the horrified look on both their faces.

o-O-o

John came awake in an instant.

He sat up and took immediate stock of his surroundings.

Tony was still asleep in the hospital bed. The bed was at an angle and there was an artistic architecture of pillows deployed so his chest was propped in an upright position. Tony had protested at the nasal cannula but given in eventually. There were two IVs attached; one for fluids and one providing a broad-spectrum antibiotic. Machines were attached to monitor his breathing and heart-rate.

While it might have seemed like overkill John had been present for the discussion of scarred lungs and risks of chest infections and infection in general. He understood why the medical professionals had been so insistent on the treatment. Tony had argued despite having no voice until his lung specialist had turned up – and seriously it was completely whacked that it was the same guy who’d put an end to Tony’s professional sports career.

Luckily Tony’s scans had come back negative for a skull fracture, swelling or visible bleeding or clotting. The blow had broken the skin and had required three stitches but it wasn’t serious. The same was true for the chafing on his wrists and ankle from the restraints. Tony had been dosed with a suitable level of painkiller and allowed to sleep.

The stream of medical tests and treatments had allowed no time for any private interaction with Tony. When it had finally been the two of them alone, the sun was beginning to rise and Tony had been half-asleep between the drugs and the absence of the adrenaline which had kept him going during his captivity.

John had arranged a wingback visitor chair so he was between the door and Tony, and had settled into rest with a gun in his hand. He’d briefed the Marine guarding the door to knock first before any personnel or visitors were allowed through. The instruction had been followed when a nurse had come to check on Tony’s vitals around oh-ten-hundred.

But it hadn’t been a knock which had woken him.

John checked his watch. It was almost thirteen hundred. His stomach growled at him. Loudly enough that he threw an anxious glance toward Tony. John rose noiselessly and stretched, still seeking the element which had disturbed him.

Voices.

There were voices coming down the hallway and faintly through the door.

John sighed, holstered his gun and slipped silently out of the room. The Marine came to immediate attention.

“Nobody enters without me.” John said even as he zeroed in on the voices at the end of the corridor. He glanced back at the Marine and read the name stencilled onto the fatigues. “Understood, Sergeant Stackhouse?”

“Understood, sir.” Stackhouse responded briskly but without attitude.

John nodded at him. “Good man.” He set off to the end of the corridor.

Gibbs and Ducky immediately turned toward him but Abby carried on arguing with Ford who stood firm against her passionate diatribe and the wavering balloons she was carrying.

“Ford, what’s the problem?” John cut through Abby’s volume and Ford threw him a grateful look as Abby stumbled to a halt.

“Sir, only Agent Gibbs has been cleared by the FBI to enter the area.” Ford confirmed John’s suspicion.

John held up a hand as Abby went to open her mouth. “Doctor Mallard and Doctor Scuito can go on the list.” He indicated for the three to follow him and paused still some distance from Tony’s room. “McGee’s area is further down and is a clean zone; if you wish to visit you’ll have to go through sterilisation, change into protective gear and masks.”

“I anticipated as much.” Ducky said. “They’re trying to minimise the risk of infection.”

John nodded and didn’t add that it looked like McGee was going to lose the arm anyway. “He usually has a member of his family with him.”

“Has he come round?” asked Gibbs brusquely.

“According to my last update early this morning, McGee regained consciousness yesterday night. He was in extreme shock and was immediately medicated again.” John replied. “We’re going to have to wait until his recovery is further down the track to find out what he remembers.”

Gibbs grimaced but his pale blue eyes showed a reluctant acceptance.

Ducky sighed. “Abigail, as we discussed earlier, I know you wish to see Timothy but perhaps it would be best for you to wait. I will approach his family and request a visit. It is probably best to ensure the number of visitors is minimal until such drastic cleanliness measures are no longer required.”

Abby bit her lip before she surged forward and hugged Ducky. “You’ll tell him we miss him and love him. And you have to tell him that Tony and Ziva are fine; you know he’ll be worried. Oh, and tell him he was a hero and…”

Ducky patted her on the back and hushed her. He glanced at Gibbs and stepped away to continue further down the corridor.

“We can see Tony, right?” Abby asked.

“Let me check he’s awake.” John said firmly. “If he’s still sleeping you’ll have to wait; the doctors wanted him to get some rest. Also, if he is awake, the docs are going to insist on seeing him before you.”

“We’ll wait.” Gibbs said, shooting Abby a quelling look.

John pointed at the chairs on the other side of the corridor and walked away. He opened the door to Tony’s room carefully and stepped inside silently.

Tony blinked back at him from the bed. “Abby’s here?” His voice was very hoarse and almost non-existent.

“You heard her?” asked John surprised.

“Good ears.” Tony waggled his eyebrows. He gestured at John to help him. “I need to pee.”

“Shouldn’t we call a nurse to unhook you from everything first?” asked John walking up and pressing the button to call one.

Tony deflated as he looked at all the wires and tubes he had connecting him to medical apparatus. He sighed. “I really need to pee.”

“You could have had a…”

“No.” Tony said immediately.

John could understand the refusal of a catheter. He turned at the knock on the door and went to answer it.

The grandmotherly head nurse, Ethel, who’d situated Tony and taken the vitals earlier that day, entered and ignored John completely as she went to assist Tony. She was tiny and terrifying; a grey cap of hair, sharp blue eyes and orange blush that must have been in fashion at some point in her life.

“Need to pee.” Tony explained urgently.

Ethel raised her eyebrows. “Good morning to you too, Agent DiNozzo.”

Tony attempted a charming smile. “Good morning, Ethel. Can I go pee now?”

“Hrmph.” Ethel glanced back at John grumpily as she began to assist Tony. “Step out, Agent Sheppard. I’m sure Agent DiNozzo can manage to pee on his own. Doctor’s on his way.”

“Right.” John said because he wasn’t going to argue with Ethel; he figured he’d lose. “I’ll step out.”

“Coward.” Tony mouthed as Ethel turned to unhook the IV.

John grinned at him, gave him a wave and left him to Ethel’s devices. He was not surprised when Abby sprang to her feet at the sight of him.

“He’s awake?” She asked excitedly.

“Awake.” John confirmed. He had a feeling Gibbs knew exactly what had woken his agent too from the indulgent look Gibbs sent Abby. “Doctor will visit and once he’s taken a look, you can visit.”

Abby squealed and launched herself at him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

John patted her back tentatively and glared at Gibbs who wasn’t even attempting to hide his glee at John’s reaction to being hugged. He was relieved when she stepped back.

“Right.” John said awkwardly as she beamed at him. He had never been so relieved to see a doctor approaching in his life. “Doctor Pitt.”

“Bradley!” Abby hugged the doctor tightly.

Gibbs gave Pitt an approving nod as he shook hands. “Glad to see Tony has the best care available.”

“Gibbs, good to see you again.  He’s a unique case.” Pitt confirmed with a grin. “I’m guessing you want to visit?”

Abby nodded enthusiastically. “We brought balloons.”

“So I see.” Pitt said. “Actually if he’s in good enough shape we’ll probably release him later this afternoon.”

John could see Gibbs’s shoulders drop a touch as the realisation Tony was probably OK if he was likely to be released.

Pitt glanced at John. “Agent Sheppard, the exam should take around thirty minutes if you want to grab something to eat and drink.”

John acknowledged the implicit order to stay out of the room with a nod, and absently noted how Abby’s face dropped as she processed the waiting time.

“Let me see you inside and I’ll go do that.” John said.

It only took a moment to usher Pitt inside and to revise his instruction to Stackhouse to allow anyone Pitt authorised. He made his way back to Gibbs.

“We’re going to go and pick-up some clothes and things for Tony. He’s going to need his stuff if he’s getting discharged.” Abby informed him excitedly before Gibbs could speak. She handed the balloons to John.

John took them.

Gibbs smirked at him and went after Abby.

John rolled his eyes at the ceiling and walked back towards Tony’s room where he tied the balloons to the door handle.

“Not a word, Stackhouse.”

“No, sir.”

John plucked his phone out of his pocket as he walked away from Stackhouse. He speed-dialled Pam who picked up gratifyingly quickly.

“John, good to hear from you. Any further news?” asked Pam.

“Tony is likely being released later today.” John confirmed.

“Damn.” Pam sighed. “Not that I want him to be injured badly enough to need the hospital but…”

“But it’s easier to protect him if he’s in here.” John agreed. “It’s going to raise some questions when I stick with him.”

“You can handle it.” Pam said dryly. “By the way, Rebecca is on her way with your go-bag and food. I thought you might need a break and a change of clothing.”

“Thanks.” John said, grateful that Pam was the type of boss who considered the practicalities and didn’t expect her agents to be superhuman. “Any news your end?”

“There’s a lot of information to shift through but Lane talked a lot about taking out a group of kids at a local softball match; kids of important figures. He was due to referee one today and there’s an onsite barbeque for the kids and parents following the game. We’re going along to provide security and see if Lane shows up.”

John grimaced. “Do you think he’ll keep to his target?”

“Maybe.” Pam said. “He bombed a local community yesterday. This would make sense; a house, then a group of school children.”

“Yesterday was to cover for them discovering Tony.” John argued. “Lane knows NCIS identified him as a suspect in the shooting. He has to think we would figure that there was a mailman at the estate and identify him.”

“And he becomes the top suspect for who might have recognised the NCIS agent who went missing and so figures we might find out his planned movements.” Pam concluded with a sigh. “You could be right. But that means any of the information we got might not be useful.”

“Or it might just mean that he’s not going to show up where he’s expected to be.” John frowned as something Tony said came back to him. “Tony said he caught the reflection of someone approaching but he didn’t register it as a threat because he saw the uniform of a mailman.”

“The uniform.” Pam repeated. “People automatically register the uniform and…”

“Grants them a lot of access.” John said. “You can get into buildings, through security…and people don’t register that it’s a threat; it’s just a mailman.”

“Damn it.” Pam muttered. “I’m going to have Frankie mine the information again; see what hits.” She sighed. “We can’t just let the game thing go unwatched though…”

“Put the Marines on to it.” John suggested. “What’s the chance of some of those kids not belonging to military parents?”

“Little to none.” Pam said. “OK.” She sighed again. “Anne Nelson has lawyered up. She’s not saying a word.”

That wasn’t a surprise.

“Lane have anything around which could implicate her?” asked John.

“That’s…possible.” Pam said. “We haven’t been looking but it’s a possibility. I’ll get Charlie on to it.”

They finished up and John went in search of Ford. One brief conversation later, another check to confirm that Tony was still deep in the middle of his medical assessments, and John wandered down to the staff locker-room which the Marines had apparently negotiated for their additional use.

He stripped off his gear, placing the weaponry underneath the small stack of clothes and headed into the shower. Five minutes later he was feeling more human. He used the generic soap and shampoo from the dispensers stuck on the walls and while they were slightly antiseptic in smell they did a reasonable job of getting him clean. He tied one of the available towels around his waist and was rubbing another over his head as he walked back out to the locker room, not looking forward to pulling on his dirty clothing. He almost yelped at sight of Rebecca sitting next to his clothes.

She grinned at him. “John.”

“Rebecca.” John stood clasping one towel to his chest like a Victorian damsel as he took in her appearance.

She had changed clothing from the practical gear she’d worn for the raid during the night, opting for one of her usual black pantsuits with a green blouse. Her boots had a low solid heel and were a practical choice. She carried her weapon holstered on her right hip, her badge clipped to her belt.

He sniffed suddenly. “Burger?”

“Yep with fries.” Rebecca confirmed, handing over the take-out bag.

He immediately reached inside and stuffed a handful of the fries inside his mouth. He was suddenly ravenously hungry.

“Brought your go-bag. Charlie added a couple of things he said you asked for?” Rebecca patted the backpack beside her. She stood and winked at him. “I can see you and the burger need time alone. I’ll step out.”

John was too busy eating to respond except to flip her a finger. She disappeared laughing.

Ten minutes later the burger and fries were demolished and John was dressed in clean black jeans, a matching black t-shirt and his usual leather jacket. He used the thigh holsters for his weapons keeping the knife and the handgun. He wished he’d kept the rifle but he’d handed it to Barry to return to HRT once they’d arrived at the hospital.

He checked the bugs that Charlie had given to him and wondered whether he would need to use them. They were a similar type to the one Tony had used in the field. Limited in range but still a force to be reckoned with.

He stuffed his dirty clothing into the backpack and carried it out.

Rebecca was waiting for him in the corridor. “Pam sent me to get DiNozzo’s statement.” She said. “I understand he remembers?”

“He remembers.” John led the way back to Tony’s room.

It looked like good timing; Pitt was just exiting.

“Doc?” John asked as they all came to a halt just outside the closed door. “What’s the verdict?”

Pitt smiled. “He’s still a Buckeye.”

John smirked.

“Seriously,” Pitt continued, “we’re going to discharge him in a couple of hours if there’s no change. Knowing Tony he’ll do better resting at home.”

“Well enough to give a statement?” Rebecca checked.

Pitt nodded. “Although try to keep his talking to a minimum; he needs to be resting his larynx.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Rebecca promised.

“Gibbs not here?” asked Pitt, glancing around bemused.

“He and Abby went to get Tony’s stuff.” John explained.

Pitt nodded. “Well, I’ve got rounds. I’ll be back in two hours to do his final check.”

John introduced Rebecca to Stackhouse, knocked briskly on the door and ushered her through.

Tony sat in the wingback chair John had previously bagged for himself. He was dressed in a thin hospital robe over white scrub pyjamas. He’d clearly showered because his hair was still damp, and he’d shaved the scruff off his face. He was positioned over by the window and there was a portable table on wheels in front of him with a desultory meal of broth and pudding sat on top of it. The lack of machinery and monitoring eased something in John.

Tony looked up with a warm smile, his gaze flitting to Rebecca with curiosity. “Please tell me you’ve come to save me from this.” He pushed his spoon back through the thin brown liquid.

His voice was very hoarse and only just audible.

“If I’d known I’d have brought you a happy meal like I did for John.” Rebecca quipped.

“I like her. John, can we keep her?” Tony joked.

“Tony, Agent Rebecca Armitage; Rebecca, Agent Tony DiNozzo.” John waved between the two of them.

“Very Special Agent.” Tony corrected with a wide grin which didn’t make his eyes as he shook hands with Rebecca.

“Rebecca’s going to take your statement.” John said. “We can wait until you’ve eaten?”

Tony grimaced and shook his head. “Go ahead. Ask your questions. It’ll be a good distraction.” He valiantly swallowed a spoonful of broth and pulled such a disgusted face, John couldn’t hide his amusement.

Rebecca pulled over the other chair in the room; a plastic monstrosity. She sat down and took out a digital Dictaphone from her handbag. She switched it on and prefaced the usual mandatory information before she placed it on the tray alongside the pudding.

“If we could begin with the reasons why you were at Royal Woods.” Rebecca said encouragingly.

Tony went over the initial murder investigation and the trail to Royal Woods succinctly. His report was professional and clear; John was impressed.

“Who determined the task allocation in the field?” Rebecca prompted.

“Agent Gibbs had a scheduled call in MTAC. He instructed me to gather the voice samples – I was the obvious demographic choice.” Tony detailed dispassionately. “Agent McGee has a stronger technical skillset; he was best placed to look after the audio receiver equipment; Agent David could provide additional back-up and support.”  

“In your own time if you could provide a report of what occurred.” Rebecca said crisply.

Tony stirred his soup and with a sigh pushed it away. “I managed to get most of the samples without issue. My last stop…I saw a car leaving a driveway with a male at the steering wheel, I ran up, waving at him to stop. He did. He was Caucasian, dark hair, suit and tie. I engaged him as I had done the other residents; said I was moving to the area, asked about the commute times to D.C.”

He shook his head and winced. When he looked back at Rebecca, his expression was masked.

“I saw a reflection in the car; a mailman. I didn’t think anything of it. I’d noticed the van a few times while I was walking around but hadn’t seen the actual guy.” Tony continued hoarsely. “I went to ask the driver another question to get more of a sample, and he looked behind me as though surprised. I think he asked ‘what are you doing?’ or something like that. I half-turned and saw something coming at me; I think I tried to duck, maybe?” His hand drifted up to the back of his head where he’d been bashed. “We’d interviewed a mailman the day before. Matt Lane. It’s possible it was him but I didn’t see enough to make an ID. That’s all I remember until I woke up in the trunk of a car. I tried to get myself free, kick out a taillight but I…I think I passed out. The next time I came round I was in the barn.”

“Tell me about that.” Rebecca coaxed.

“I was cuffed; shackled by the ankle.” Tony sighed. “I was visited twice by the same guy; Caucasian, glasses, balding; flannel shirt and pressed cream pants. He was at the first house I visited; not the same as the driver. I can ID both of them.”

“Did you see anybody else?” Rebecca pressed.

“No.” Tony said. “Nothing until I was rescued.”

Rebecca gave a nod and shifted position slightly. “Agent Sheppard said he’d informed you of what happened to Agent McGee and Agent David.”

Tony reached for his pudding. “Yes.”

“Tell me about your relationships with them.” Rebecca said.

“What do you want to know?” asked Tony, spooning up the pudding into his mouth.

Rebecca cocked her head to the side. “What do you think I want to know?”

Tony huffed a breath of squeaky laughter. He pointed his spoon at her. “You’re good. Psychologist, right? You do the profiles for John’s teams.”

Rebecca shot John a look.

“I may have told some stories.” John admitted.

“Doesn’t change my question.” Rebecca said, turning back to Tony.

Tony made a show of licking the spoon before he pointed at her. “Here’s the thing you need to know: prior to this incident Agent McGee or Agent David have never provided me with cause to believe they wouldn’t provide me with back-up in the field.” He set the spoon down carefully on the tray.

Rebecca stared at Tony for a long while. “Agent David went missing after she left the hospital. Do you have any idea where she’ll go?”

Tony sat back. “Ziva will turn up when she wants to turn up.”

Rebecca nodded and brought the official recording to a close. She picked up the Dictaphone and switched it off. “I’ll step out and let you finish your pudding.”

John watched as she manoeuvred her way out of the room.

“Is she expecting you to sweet-talk me into something more on Ziva?” asked Tony, pushing the tray-table away.

John helped him get it completely clear. “Sweet talk isn’t really my style.”

“No,” Tony agreed, looking momentarily amused despite his weariness, “I guess not.”

John perched on the bed opposite Tony.

Tony looked at him directly. “What do you think happened?”

“Bottom line? McGee and David were too relaxed about the task and bent protocol, which increased the risk that your back-up would be delayed, and so you didn’t get back-up when you needed it.” John said bluntly.

Tony’s lips pressed together hard.

“I haven’t spoken with him because of his injuries, but from everything I’ve heard I think McGee didn’t maliciously place you at risk. I think he did it thoughtlessly, because nothing had happened and the area was affluent and atypical for where we believe terrorists to live, and he had a woman needing the bathroom and being insistent on it.” John continued. He was also certain that McGee wouldn’t return to field duty given his injuries, and NCIS would probably eschew any disciplinary action.

“And Ziva?” prompted Tony, holding John’s gaze.

John sighed. “I think Agent David by her own statement initiated the need to bend protocol increasing the risk to you. She was directly responsible for the technical snafu although she’d been shown how to work the device, and that snafu masked your need for back-up until it was too late. The pertinent question is; did she do any of it with deliberate intent to harm you?”

Tony’s gaze didn’t move from John’s. His expression gave nothing away.

John shrugged. “I don’t know. What we know is that you two have a history which gives her motivation to harm you. We know she went AMA after telling Gibbs what happened, even though she’d claimed it was an accident.”

Tony was silent but John could tell he was thinking everything over.

“What I also know is that if it was a deliberate attempt to hurt you, she would have had to have known you’d ran into trouble otherwise she got very lucky on a longshot and proving that needs some exact number crunching on times.”

Tony lifted an eyebrow. “You do calculations on game statistics in your head all the time.”

“I do,” John confirmed, “but I don’t have exact timings to do these calculations; I have verbal estimates and on the estimates, I won’t lie, I think it’s close. I think there is a chance which is why I have a member of my team lined up to check it out once their work on Military at Home and tracking down the missing bombs is done.”

Tony sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He looked tired and in pain.

“Hey,” John said, “it’s possible this was just bad luck; that they relaxed too much, bent the rules and got caught out.”

Tony opened his eyes. “Even if…” he trailed away looking so uncertain but John could fill in the rest; even if it was just bad luck, how was Tony meant to trust them in the field to provide him with back-up ever again?

There was a loud knock on the door.

Tony gave him a small smile, another mask slipping over his hurt.

John slipped off the bed and went to answer the summons. It wasn’t too much of a surprise to see Gibbs and Abby standing there. Abby ignored him and bounded across the room to hug Tony.

Gibbs dropped a back-pack next to John’s and gave him a nod as John closed the door.

Tony squeaked and mouthed the word ‘help’ at Gibbs and John over Abby’s shoulder. Both of them ignored him in favour of smirking.

“Abs…” Tony finally said. “Breathing!”

Abby inched back in her platform boots and beamed at him. “I’m so glad you’re alright, Tony.”

Tony smiled at her as she wrapped her arm around his and perched on the arm of his chair. He looked over at Gibbs. “McGee?”

“Ducky says they’re taking him into surgery.” Gibbs said, losing any trace of humour. “He’s going to lose the arm.”

“Damn.” Tony said.

“But it’s not the end of the world, right?” Abby said quickly. “He can get voice recognition software to help him with the computer work and it’s not like it’s his shooting arm and…”

“Abs.” Gibbs said firmly.

Her expression was fierce. “We are not giving up on him, Gibbs.”

“No, we’re not.” He agreed.

“Has anyone heard from Ziva?” asked Tony, jumping in and looking directly at Gibbs. It was clear who he believed she would contact.

Gibbs gave a single shake of his head.

Abby sighed heavily. “She’s probably just upset and confused and not thinking straight and…you know she’d never do anything to hurt you! She just got things confused! That has to be it and…”

“Abby.” Gibbs said sharply.

Abby offered an almost mutinous glare. “Gibbs.”

Tony suddenly pouted dramatically. As a tactic to change the subject it was an obvious one but it worked. “Did either of you bring me anything to eat?”

Gibbs pointed at the discarded meal. “What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s right with it, Boss?” Tony shot back.

Abby jumped up. “I’ll go find you something from the cafeteria.”

“Thanks, Abs.” Tony said gratefully.

Gibbs waited until Abby was out of the room and the door was closed before he spoke again. “You got something to say, DiNozzo?”

John frowned at the challenging tone but Tony replied before he could speak.

“Rule one, Boss.” Tony’s words didn’t lose their impact despite the lack of volume and the measured delivery.

Gibbs turned and walked out.

John watched him go but hurriedly turned back to make sure Tony was OK.

Tony grimaced, rubbing the side of his head. “It never goes well when he knows we fucked up and it gets pointed out to him.” He pushed himself out of the chair and made for the bathroom. “Can you give me a minute?”

John nodded. “I’ll be just outside.”

Gibbs hadn’t gone far; he was pacing in the corridor, his dark overcoat swirling behind him.

John closed Tony’s door gently. He resisted the urge to rub a hand furiously through his hair.

“Take ten, Stackhouse.” John ordered.

“Sir, yes, sir.” Stackhouse turned smartly and marched off.

Gibbs came to a halt.

John leaned a shoulder up against the wall and crossed his arms. Even with Gibbs standing with his back to John, he could tell Gibbs was processing, mind whirling.

“Rule one?” asked John. For a long moment, he thought Gibbs wasn’t going to reply.

“Never screw over your partner.” Gibbs answered tersely.

“Good rule.” John said. “You know I have a sister. She’s my father’s favourite. Dave and I learned pretty quick if we weren’t going to get into trouble for something she had done, Mom was the best person to get involved.”

“I’m not their father!” Gibbs said dismissively.

“No, you’re their boss,” John agreed almost conversationally, “which means you don’t get to play favourites.” He waited until Gibbs whirled around fury in his eyes. “No matter how much she might play the daughter card.”

Gibbs took a step toward him, stopped and whirled away again. He took a couple of steps away as though leaving.

“Has she contacted you?” John called out.

Gibbs stopped and turned back. He walked back up to John until he was right in his face. “Stay out of this.”

John pushed off the wall and straightened. He was the same height as Gibbs and it put them squarely in each other’s faces. “You and I both know I can’t do that.”

Gibbs’s gaze flitted to the door behind him. John could see him putting two and two together and…

“That’s why you’re here?!” Gibbs stated angrily. “You think she’s what? Going to come back and finish the job?!”

John simply held his ground. “I read the reports of what happened in Israel last night.” It had kept him occupied as he’d waited for the operation and listened to Tony.

Gibbs’s eyes widened with surprise.

“O’Neill is very obliging about ensuring I have access to all pertinent evidence in what is still an ongoing investigation into NCIS’ actions in the field.” John explained shortly. “Officer David as she was then put Tony on the ground and pointed a loaded gun at him. This, after he was transported abroad within hours of sustaining injuries and being interrogated by the Director of Mossad about killing Rivkin in self-defence despite Rivkin killing an American agent.”

“He did his job!” Gibbs snarled.

“Yes he did.” John said calmly. “Why didn’t Ziva David come back with you?”

Gibbs froze.

“The reports are interesting.” John commented. “Of course, I also have the advantage of having talked with Ducky and hearing the unofficial story of how she asked you to choose and you chose Tony. Only that’s not the whole story, is it?”

“You don’t know anything!” Gibbs stated.

“I know Vance’s report makes mention of how you were informed that David had been under orders to kill Ari Haswari to specifically gain your trust.” John said firmly. “And I know from Agent McGee and Doctor Scuito’s reports that you were informed that David had given intel to Rivkin and withheld evidence from NCIS investigations.”

Gibbs was too much of a Marine to give ground but he couldn’t quite prevent his disconcertment at John finding out the information he had from showing.

“So I figure the truth is that until then you had believed David saved your life when she killed Ari Haswari at a great personal cost to herself.”

John was close enough to see the alarm that flared in Gibbs’s eyes.

“And that got her a free pass onto your team,” John continued undaunted, “because you felt you owed her; felt you had a responsibility to her.”

He closed the inch between himself and Gibbs.

“So standing on that tarmac in Israel, when she asked you to choose, I think you finally looked at her and for the first time saw Officer David for what she was; a foreign operative who had successfully manipulated you, and who was attempting to manipulate you again.”

Gibbs glared at him but John wasn’t finished.

“Leaving her behind? That was her punishment.” He kept his eyes locked to Gibbs’s. “What has you riled, Gibbs, is that after Somalia, you took her back; punishment over. And now you don’t know whether or not she’s played you again.”

John inched back and stepped out of the stand-off, turning back to knock on the door to go back inside with Tony. He shot Gibbs another look over his shoulder as he waited for Tony’s permission.

“I really hope for Tony’s sake, Gibbs, that yesterday was an accident. Because as bad as knowing his team-mates fucked up when he needed them is, it won’t be as bad as finding out she deliberately chose to leave him in a bad situation to get some weird screwed-up form of revenge.” He held Gibbs’s gaze with a fierce one of his own. “Whichever it is, I can guarantee you this: he won’t have to take one for the team this time.”

He opened the door and went back in to Tony.

o-O-o

Pitt had discharged Tony right on schedule.

John was glad that once Abby had returned with pizza, Gibbs had corralled his wayward forensic scientist and left. Tony had been managed a couple of slices before he’d pushed the box away and settled for sipping on the banana milkshake she’d brought to go with it.

They’d spent the rest of the time with Tony asking John about the Military at Home case and the two of them mulling over the information John had shared.

John stood beside the wheelchair on one side; Rebecca on the other as they made their way down in the elevator. Tony had complained about using the wheelchair but Ethel had simply stood there with the wheelchair blocking the door until Tony had sat in it.

Tony had changed into sneakers, sweatpants, a grey t-shirt which proclaimed his status as a Buckeye, and a soft grey hoodie. He was also wearing a shoulder holster underneath the hoodie. Tony had crowed at the sight of the weapon and replacement credentials when he’d opened his go-bag.

The balloons had thankfully been left behind and Rebecca had turned up early to take any luggage to the car leaving all their hands free in case they were needed.

John let Rebecca lead the way out of the elevator and into the busy lobby area of the hospital.

“Ten o’clock.” Tony said suddenly.

John glanced over and saw the back of a mailman’s uniform there was a package tucked under his arm. He was heading to the elevators on the other side of the lobby and went into them. John stopped them abruptly in the middle of the lobby.

“John?” asked Rebecca.

“It was Lane.” John said taking out his cell phone. He speed-dialled Pam. “I need immediate back-up and bomb squad to Bethesda. Identified suspect, Matt Lane, seen entering premises with suspicious package. Agent Armitage and myself responding.”

“Acknowledged. Stay safe, John.” Pam responded. “Back-up on its way.”

Tony was getting out of the wheelchair as John signed off.

“Where do you think you’re going, Agent DiNozzo?” asked Rebecca shortly.

“To assist.” Tony replied. “He needs a heat source to make the bomb work, right? Bethesda has one of the only onsite medical waste incinerators left. It’s in the sub-basement.”

“We got this. You assist with the evacuation.” John said firmly. Tony was injured and as much as he didn’t like the idea of leaving Tony alone without protection, the bomb threat took priority. “We need everyone who can be evacuated out of the building.”

Ethel grimaced. “With me, Agent DiNozzo.”

Tony shot John a partially exasperated, partially concerned look as he moved to follow her.  “Stay safe.”

John was already running for the stairs and took out his weapon. He moved at a steady pace and without looking knew Rebecca was just behind him. He went through the stair door to the sub-basement in standard procedure; he opened, Rebecca went in low, gun aimed; he followed, gun aimed high.

They were soundless as they followed the corridor; John on the left, Rebecca on the right. There were large double doors labelled with warning signs of hazardous area; medical waste. They required a security access to enter.

John took out his phone and called Charlie. “We’re standing outside the doors to the medical waste area. No security card. I need access.”

“Give me a minute.” Charlie said.

John could hear tapping in the background.

“Go.” Charlie said and the doors beeped green in front of John.

Rebecca opened up one side and John slipped through, sliding his phone into a pocket still connected to Charlie. There was a security guard down; a medical technician splayed in an unnatural position next to her. Rebecca slipped forward confident John would cover her. She placed two fingers against the security guard’s jugular and shook her head. A similar check of the technician had the same response.

John moved forward, gun aimed.

Steady and silent.  

Around one corner.

Another.

Voices drifted over to them.

Loud.

Threatening.

John directed Rebecca to the left. He went to the right.

He paused at the edge of the wall and looked around it cautiously.

Lane stood to one side; he was unwrapping the package. There was another man – Zach Nelson, John realised – in blue overalls and a baseball hat who had a gun pointed at two technicians in protective gear who were kneeling with their hands behind the backs of their heads.

“Tell me how to override the temperature control!” Nelson screamed, pointing the gun at one of the men’s heads.

John moved. “FBI! Put down your weapons! Move away from the incinerator and the personnel! We will shoot!” His gun was levelled on Nelson.

Rebecca had joined him; crouched low but her weapon securely aimed at Lane.

Lane exchanged a frantic glance with Nelson.

Nelson moved at the same time as Lane…

Lane threw the package he was holding toward Rebecca…

Nelson shot in John’s direction causing him to hit the floor to avoid being shot…

When John looked back up, the two were running for the back exit.

Rebecca shouted at him. “I’ll stay with the bomb!”

John took off running.

A shot rang out and he ducked automatically, his instincts surging forward. They took the back stairs and were going up.

“Charlie!” John snapped out breathlessly as he checked he was clear to follow before diving through the doors after them. “I need back-up! Back stairs!”

He couldn’t let them get too far up the stairs which were no doubt being used for evacuation. He sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time but his gun was always aimed, his eyes on the targets above.

Lane was falling behind Nelson; harsh pants filled the stair well.

John fired.

Lane crumpled; he slumped onto the stairs with a harsh cry.

Nelson continued up.

John passed Lane, kicking the gun Lane grasped away from him. The mailman was sprawled face down; the back of his uniform showed a single bullet entry, mid-spine. He wasn’t going anywhere.

There was a shriek from further up the stairs. Young. Female.

John turned the corner…and stopped.

Nelson had grabbed a young girl from the stairs in front of him; arm wrapped around her torso, under her ribs, pinning her arms. She was dressed in pyjamas; a robe; a cap covered her head. She was a patient.

He was using her as a shield and a hostage; his back to the wall, the gun pressed against her head, a few steps up on the next set of stairs.

A doctor stood on the landing above blocking his path up…mature, female and brunette with her sable hair pinned up. She was resolute and the uniform under the white coat gave away her status as an Air Force captain.

“Get out of the way!” Nelson screamed.

“I can’t do that, sir.” The Captain said. “Not while you have Lisa.”

John’s eyes flickered upward. Someone was ushering the rest of the civilians out of the way; clearing the stairs.

The doors to John’s right opened slowly and Tony eased his way through, weapon drawn to pin Nelson in further.

“Give it up, Nelson!” John shouted. “It’s over.” He knew he could take a head shot but it would traumatise the little girl. “Let Lisa go!”

Nelson looked frantically from Tony to John and back to the Captain blocking his way. “I’ll kill her! I’ll kill her if you don’t move, lady!”

“You shoot her, we shoot you.” John said immediately.

“You have nowhere to go, Nelson.” Tony added. “Give the girl to Doctor Fraiser.”

“I want a helicopter on the roof! And a clear path!” Nelson demanded. “NOW! Or I swear I’ll kill her!”

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists, Nelson.” John said firmly.

Tony’s gaze flickered momentarily to John and John gave a slight nod; he had the shot. There were sounds drifting down the stairwell. John knew without checking that if he looked up he’d see Marines pointing their guns at Nelson.

Lisa sobbed; her whimpers terrified and heart-breaking.

“She’s seven years old, Mister Nelson.” Fraiser said. “Please give her to me!”

“MOVE!” Nelson snarled.

Tony glanced toward John again with an apologetic look. John wondered what he was apologising for when Tony suddenly moved.

He shifted his gun from pointing to Nelson to holding it up to the ceiling, his other hand held up to show it was empty.

“Hey,” Tony said, “let’s all take a breath.” He slowly moved to set his gun on the ground, standing up with both hands raised, open and empty. “I was taken before because a federal agent is a valuable hostage, right? So, I’ll come with you and we leave Lisa here with Doctor Fraiser.”

John’s lips pressed together unhappily but he couldn’t fault Tony’s motive to get the girl out of it unharmed.

“Take Agent DiNozzo, Nelson.” John advised grimly. “Give Lisa to the doctor. Take Agent DiNozzo and we’ll give you a clear path to the roof.”

Nelson looked uncertainly at Tony, his eyes flickering to John and up the stairs.

“Captain Ford!” John raised his voice. “Move your men back!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” came the reply.

Nelson gestured at Tony. “In front of me! NOW!”

Tony grimaced but moved. He stood in front of Nelson, blocking John’s shot. Tony’s eyes found John’s.

A second later, the girl was dropped and Nelson’s gun was shoved up against Tony’s chin. Nelson’s hand on his shoulder.

“Get the kid and scram!” Nelson screamed.

Fraiser had already gathered Lisa to her. She picked up the girl and swept past Tony and out of the stairwell door to the safety of the lobby.

“Sideways! Keep in front of me!” Nelson ordered Tony.

John followed slowly as Nelson dragged Tony upward a step. He tried to find a vulnerability but couldn’t see one. His best bet was to catch them on the roof.

“STOP FOLLOWING!” Nelson shouted. “STOP FOLLOWING!”

John stayed on the floor just outside the doors to the lobby until he lost sight of them. He charged through the doors and got his phone out of his pocket.

“Charlie, I need an express way to the roof!”

Pam, Donnelly and Frankie ran up to him and he waved them towards the stairs. “Get a medic and see if Lane is alive! I left him on the stairs! Rebecca’s with the bomb in the incinerator room!”

Donnelly and Frankie left; Pam stayed with him.

“Far right elevator.” Charlie informed John. “I’ve hacked the hospital system and have control. I’ll take you straight there, my friend.”

John ran for the elevator. Pam stepped through with him.

“Charlie, find another route for Captain Ford and his Marines. Get them to meet me on the roof.” John pocketed his phone as Pam handed him an earbud and a microphone.

“All operatives, Agent Sheppard now has ears.” Pam said dryly.

“Nelson has Agent DiNozzo.” John reported. “He’s on the way to the roof. Ford, coordinate ambush on roof via elevators.”

“Understood, sir.” Ford replied.

Pam shot John an amused look.

“What?” demanded John.

“You in Major mode. I know I had doubts you were really a Major? I mean, the hair alone…” Pam began.

“And slouching.” Frankie’s voice sounded in his ear. “Don’t forget the slouching. Oh, and Lane is like the dodo; extinct. Bullet went straight through the spine, into the heart and out. There’s a lot of blood.”

“What’s the situation with the bomb?” asked John, his eyes on the ascending numbers.

“Captain Cadman and her team are containing it.” Rebecca reported. “Myself, Michael, Agents Fornell and Gibbs are on our way to you.”

“Bethesda is almost evacuated.” Paul Davis said. “Three critical surgeries could not be moved. Medical teams refused to leave their patients.”

John nodded; it was what he had expected.

The elevator was almost at the roof.

He signalled for Pam to move to the left; he took the right. The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. John did a visual sweep.

“Roof door is on the far side to your right.” Charlie instructed. “DiNozzo’s doing a good job keeping Nelson slow and steady, he’s got maybe five more minutes before he hits the roof; Ford is a minute behind you. Rebecca and co are two.”

John swore as he set eyes on a stationary helicopter. “Do we have a pilot on the way up? We have a helicopter just parked here!”

“Sir, the pilot was evacuated. I don’t have anyone qualified.” Ford responded.

John wrestled for all of a second with his surging panic; he had a job to do and Tony was relying on him getting this right. He needed to get his tactics straight. “I’ll take a position in the helicopter. Nelson will head straight for it. Ford, get your men hidden in positions around the helicopter. Rebecca, get your team to cover the exits. He’s not getting off the roof.”

“I’ll take the back of the helicopter.” Pam said.

“Right.” John muttered.

They’d just got inside when Ford’s Marines started to deploy. They spread out evenly taking covering positions and faded out of sight.

“We’re all set.” Rebecca said. “Gibbs and Fornell have eyes on the stairs.”

“Nelson’s had DiNozzo secure his hands with zip-ties – DiNozzo not Nelson.” Charlie reported. “On the roof in five, four, three, two…”

The roof door was flung open and John kept his body low in the well of the front seat.

“Do not fire unless you have a clear shot.” John ordered.

Nelson was good. Similar to how he’d used Lisa as a human shield, he’d effectively put Tony in the same position except the arm which was keeping his hostage close was looped up under Tony’s left armpit, across his shoulder and had a gun at the end of it under Tony’s chin. He had a second gun aimed outward in his other hand.

Nelson kept to the walls, keeping Tony in front of him. He was slightly smaller than Tony and able to thwart any line of sight.

John swore as Gibbs broke cover and took a couple of steps out into open space.

“NCIS!” Gibbs shouted. “Give it up, Nelson! You’re surrounded!”

Nelson didn’t hesitate; he swung and fired at Gibbs. Gibbs dived trying to get out of the way of the shot and back behind cover.

“Every time someone comes at me, I’ll find a way to hurt this guy when I’m clear! Understood!” Nelson shouted.

“Gibbs is shot.” Fornell said, changing position to deal with Gibbs. “Through and through to his arm but it’s bleeding.”

“John?” Pam asked urgently.

“Out now.” John said.

They’d left the far doors open on purpose and slid out easily. Pam hurried around using the tail to hide her path to a nearby vent for cover. John stayed hidden by the main body of the helicopter and the sliding door of the back cabin. Nelson’s attention was away from the helicopter but he was using the far wall as a guide-rope to reach it.

“Anyone have a shot?”

“Negative.” Ford answered.

“We’ve got the exits covered.”

“Everyone stay back.” John ordered, a new strategy coming to him quickly. “I’m going to hide in the back of the chopper. When he takes it up, I’ll deal with him then. He’ll relax if he thinks he’s gotten free.”

“Hell of a risk.” Fornell’s voice said.

“Best chance we get of getting out of this without Agent DiNozzo getting shot or hurt.” John said as he clambered into the back of the chopper and hiding under the stretcher there in the centre between the benches. He covered himself with a blanket and prayed Nelson wouldn’t check.

“Ford, give me a commentary.” John ordered.

“Nelson is almost at the chopper.” Ford said. “He’s keeping Agent DiNozzo between him and everything, moving him so we can’t get a clear shot. He’s at the chopper; making his way down the tail using DiNozzo and the chopper.”

Shadows fell over John and he tuned Ford out as Nelson and Tony made their way around the side of the chopper.

“He’s coming around to the side of the chopper with the open doors.” Ford said tersely.

John held his breath as he heard Nelson roughly push Tony into the front and follow in behind him; pushing him into the seat closest to the roof exits. He shut the door and John felt the chopper jolt.

“What now?” asked Tony, hoarsely.

There was a dull thud and an agonised groan.

“He just knocked out DiNozzo!” Ford reported crisply. “Repeat; DiNozzo is out.”

Nelson muttered. He started the helicopter up; the rotors beat above their heads.

John held his breath. He felt the helicopter lifting-up; swinging wildly around.

“Sir?” Ford asked urgently.

John stayed silent. He needed Nelson in the air before he tried anything.

“Keep silent, kid.” Fornell advised Ford.

He tuned out the voices in his earbud and focused on the feel of the chopper. They were gaining altitude. He could feel the breeze rushing in from the open back door.

Nelson gave a whoop. He thought he was free and clear.

John stirred slowly, carefully moving the blanket away before crawling out keeping the stretcher between him and the front seats. Nelson was busy flying; Tony looked to be unconscious slumped over with his head resting on the far door.

John pressed his lips together and slowly inched toward the back door. He’d lucked out that it was an old-fashioned UH-1 type helicopter with struts rather than wheels. He slid to the outside of the helicopter holding on tightly.

Nelson hadn’t noticed him.

John clung to the outside and looked down briefly. He closed his eyes; felt the rush of the wind around him; he could barely catch his breath they were so high. Good going, John, he thought tiredly. He was clinging to the outside of a helicopter.

Tony was relying on him, John told himself briskly.

He moved.

In one swift motion he opened the front cabin door and punched Nelson viciously in the face before he reached down tossed the gun Nelson had put on his lap, and undid the lock holding his restraints together.

Tony twisted around suddenly and grabbed the gun Nelson had left in the well beside him. He pointed it at Nelson’s head.

Nelson shook his head, dazed. He blinked in owlish astonishment at the sight of John before turning to look at Tony with shock. “I knocked you out!”

“Just made you think you did.” Tony said dryly.

John kept his grip on the helicopter and pointed a gun at Nelson’s head with his other. “It’s over, Nelson.”  

Nelson glanced back at Tony.

“Give me an excuse.” Tony said firmly.

“Tony, keep the gun on him but climb into the back.” John ordered.

Tony wasn’t restrained – Nelson hadn’t bothered to strap him in. He kept his grip on the weapon as he made the awkward move to the back of the helicopter.

“Shift over.” John ordered Nelson. “One wrong move and we’ll shoot.”

“You need me to fly.” Nelson said confidently even as he slid across, his hand moving from one cyclic to the other smoothly.

John climbed in and looked at him darkly. “No, we don’t.” He didn’t bother looking into the back. “Tony, you got him?”

“Got him.”

John put his gun down on the far side of the seat from Nelson and put the spare headset on. His belly filled with butterflies; nausea churned in his gut, the taste of bile rising as he reached for the cyclic, as his feet found the pedals and his left hand grazed the collective.

He could do this, John told himself as he heard Tony order Nelson off the controls.

His heart pounded.

Lyle.

He steadied the helicopter automatically.

Afghanistan. Anti-aircraft missiles all around them.

He changed direction, back to Bethesda.

Panic as they were hit. Lyle beside him already injured, too much blood. Spiralling down. Nothing he does stops their descent.

Crash, crash, crashing…

He kept breathing, aware of Tony talking to Nelson without listening to the words, just letting the sound anchor him.

Lyle in the wreckage, dying in John’s arms…a last goodbye.

Be happy, John.

Tony.

He had to focus on Tony.

Who was apparently reading Nelson his rights.

John glanced over. Tony was holding steady; the gun pressed against the back of Nelson’s head almost painfully. Nelson was pale.

Bethesda was ahead of them.

“Ford,” John said, “I’m bringing back a present. Will be with you in five.”

“Yes, sir.” Ford said gleefully.

“You know this should be a NCIS bust.” Tony complained but there was no heat in his words, and his green eyes twinkled at John as he looked back briefly again.

John smiled. “The news would just say it was federal agents anyway.”

Tony laughed.

And it was that sound which carried John through. He set the helicopter down on the roof. Marines converged all around them.

Nelson glowered as John picked up his gun and gestured at the door.

“Out.” John ordered. “On the ground. Hands behind your head.”

“I want a deal.” Nelson argued.

John smiled, nasty and fierce. “Like I said. We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Nelson’s head flinched forward as the gun pressed into his head made itself known forcefully.

“So sorry. My hand slipped.” Tony apologised brightly.

“Perhaps you should follow my orders before it slips again?” John suggested in the same tone.

Nelson opened the door, slipped off his headset and got out. He sank to the ground. Ford was on him in a heartbeat, securing him with zip ties and yanking him to his feet to haul him across the roof and away.

“OK?” asked Tony softly, his voice barely a whisper.

John took a breath.

He’d flown.

He’d flown and he’d made it.

His hands weren’t shaking and he hadn’t thrown up.

He looked at Tony and nodded. “OK.” He grimaced as he took in the bruise forming on Tony’s forehead; there was another bruise under his chin. “You, on the other hand…”

“What?” Tony gave a weak laugh. “I’m fine!” His voice was barely more than a squeak.

John just looked at him.

“Damn it.” Tony sighed. “And I was so close to going home.”

John was laughing as the rest of his team ran up to help them.

o-O-o

The rain was lashing down in straight sheets that made driving more of a challenge than an enjoyment. The roads were drenched with a layer of water; headlight beams cut through the rain in diffuse shards of lights. The sky above was an ominous grey, heavy clouds as far as the eye could see with no end in sight.

John steered into the underground parking beneath the apartment building and parked in his usual spot with a relieved sigh. He glanced over at his passenger unaware of the soft smile curving his own lips.

Tony was asleep. He’d been discharged first thing that morning after another round of checks. Another scan the night before had ruled out additional head trauma from the blow he’d received from Nelson. The bruise under his chin made shaving painful but wasn’t serious. He’d thankfully managed to regain most of his voice after resting it completely overnight.

He looked good.

John berated himself a little for thinking that when Tony was still hurting and still in his protective custody.

But he did.

Look good.

Tony was snuggled up against the window. He wore a green t-shirt under a soft grey hoodie; dark grey jeans which hugged his thighs and rear. He looked younger than his age. John figured his own outfit of black jeans, t-shirt and jacket made him look every inch his age. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

Tony snuffled and blinked his way back to wakefulness, evidently subconsciously registering the car had stopped. “Home?”

John nodded. “Home.” He let his gaze linger as Tony stretched and rolled his shoulders. “You OK?”

“Hospitals are crappy places to sleep.” Tony complained.

“So are cars.” John said dryly.

“Cars are great.” Tony bantered back with a sheepish grin.

“Well, I’d continue driving but the weather doesn’t agree.” John commented.

They should probably get out of the car, John considered idly. The small space was cosy though; intimate.

John clasped Tony’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Come on. I’ll make you some soup for lunch.”

“Make?” asked Tony as they finally got out of the car. “Have you been hiding skills because I’ve never seen you actually cook?”

John closed his door. “Hey, even I can open a can of soup.”

“I look forward to it.” Tony quipped, grabbing his back-pack from the trunk while John grabbed his own.

John ushered him into the elevator, pleased to find it was working. It was a bit hit and miss. His phone buzzed. He took it out and read the message from Pam.

“News?” asked Tony, eyes bright with curiosity.

“Apparently Gibbs and Fornell teamed up on Zach Nelson and bluffed him into a full confession.” John shook his head. “I can’t believe your boss is working with a hole in his arm.”

“That’s Gibbs.” Tony said with a smile which didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I thought Fraiser was going to shoot him herself at one point.” John said. The diminutive doctor had helped patch up the injured as a way of saying thank you for the assistance with Lisa.

“Janet’s great, isn’t she?” Tony grinned. “I think Gibbs likes her.”

“Likes likes her?” checked John almost choking in surprise.

“He has a thing for spirited women who don’t put up with his bullshit.” Tony shrugged.

John hummed. “Blood splatter came back on Altman’s death. They’re charging Anne Nelson with murder.”

“So everything’s wrapped up.” Tony said as they stepped out of the elevator.

“Not everything.” John said holding out his hand for Tony’s keys.

Tony sighed but dropped them into John’s hand. “You know I am a Very Special Agent.”

“Uh-huh.” John said, dropping his back on the floor next to the door and drawing his weapon. He swept Tony’s apartment quickly and thoroughly. “We’re clear.”

Tony brought both bags in and dropped them near to the door. He closed it and heaved a big sigh. “Home.”

John threw the keys at him and Tony caught them one-handed. He locked up and dropped the keys into a bowl.

Tony turned back to him and looked at him across the room.

The atmosphere fairly hummed with tension; with unspoken words.

“So,” Tony said cheerfully, the strain an underlying note in his tone, “I assume the FBI frowns on their agents kissing the people they have in protective custody? Because I think that this is the first time we’ve properly been alone without having someone listening in or you rescuing me and…”

John crossed the room and kissed him.

There was a tiny, tiny moment where John’s heart might have stopped, when everything seemed to freeze and pause before Tony kissed him back.

Soft and gentle.

Lips touching and rubbing as one kiss segued into another.

Tony’s hand cupped his cheek and John kept his hands light on the back of Tony’s neck, careful of the healing wound at the back of his head. He felt a hand grip his hip pressing him forward.  

Tony made a small whimper at the back of his throat and a shiver went through John, arousal rushing through him.

He eased away; slow lazy kisses until they were both standing, holding onto each other, breathing heavily, the tips of their noses bumping together.

“So, I really should have had my sexual identity crisis sooner,” Tony said, hooking his finger through the belt loop on John’s jeans, “but I guess I would have still had to wait for you to realise we were dating.”

John smiled and kissed him chastely even though he needed to pull away; to get some distance between them so that he could think clearly. “For the record, the FBI does have a rule about not kissing the person you’re meant to be protecting.”

“Rule-breaker, huh?” Tony smiled but John could see the understanding in his green eyes. “I like that about you.”

“My COs? Not so much.” John confessed, his thumb rubbing Tony’s neck gently before he pulled away completely.

“Right.” Tony said. “I guess we put this on hold until Saturday.”

There was a hint of a question and John nodded.

“’Fraid so. If she hasn’t turned up by then I’ll have someone else come protect us while we have our date.” John promised.

Tony sighed. “Oh, she’ll turn up.”

John watched him as Tony slumped down on his sofa, hunched over with his head in his hands. John sat down on the coffee table opposite him.

“You want to talk about it?” He asked.

“God, no.” Tony said.

John leaned forward and kissed Tony’s temple. “I’ll make soup.”

Tony huffed a breath of laughter. His fingers caught John’s as John got up, a light tangle that brought John to a stop and made him quirk his eyebrows in a silent question mark.

“Thanks.” Tony said sincerely.

The day drifted by.

He and Tony wrote reports side by side sending them off to their various Directors. Tony talked to Abby, Ducky, Jimmy and Gibbs on the phone, working on something on his laptop, while John kept track of the investigation into Military at Home remotely, reviewing reports and information from his laptop.

It was over dinner with a Hitchcock movie playing on the TV that Tony finally cracked.

“I’d be stupid to stay at NCIS.” Tony said and stuffed his mouth full of pizza.

John licked a thumb. “Do you want to stay?”

Tony swallowed and set the pizza down. He picked up a napkin and rubbed his hands free of the grease. “Gibbs…” he stopped and huffed, shaking his head slowly. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re a member of Mensa.” John took another bite of his pizza.

“Doesn’t make me not an idiot.” Tony rubbed the side of his head. “Possibly I shouldn’t be thinking about this right now.”

John kept silent. He’d learned in the year they’d been friends that there wasn’t any point pushing Tony to talk about something if he didn’t want to talk.

“I would be stupid to stay.” Tony said eventually, picking up his pizza again.

John picked up the bottle of water he was drinking and took a sip.

“This whole thing…” Tony put the pizza down. “It makes me think about things which maybe I should have been thinking about before.” He looked over at John. “Would you stay?”

“No.” John said honestly.

“You are a very smart person.” Tony pointed his pizza at him. “Even if you refuse to join Mensa.”

John hummed and turned back to the TV.

“OK,” Tony said, “so maybe I think I need to stay.” He dumped his pizza back into the box. “Which even I know is a terrible idea.”

John smoothed the label on his bottle of water and sighed. “Ducky has this theory.”

“He does?”

“He says you’ve built this idea of a…a family at NCIS.” John said a little awkwardly.

“Huh.” Tony said, his eyes on John.

“I can see how it might be hard to leave your family behind.” John said. “No matter how much they fuck up.”

There’d been a moment when he’d come out, when Dave hadn’t been talking to him, and his Mom had been too busy dealing with his Dad’s disappointment to reassure him, and when Emily had tried to pretend he was still married to Nancy…he’d thought about it. Because Lyle was dead and he’d lost the sky and maybe he didn’t deserve anything else.

But he’d had Nancy.

Nancy who’d bullied him into life and talking and showing up to family events and sending birthday cards and Christmas presents and…she hadn’t let him run away.

But his situation…his situation wasn’t the same as Tony’s.

“Huh.” Tony said again.

John lifted his water to his lips and paused. “Are you planning to say anything other than ‘huh?’”

“I don’t know,” Tony said, “are we going to kiss again? Because I think that might stop me saying ‘huh.’”

John’s lips twitched upward into a smile. He ducked his head, sipped his water and tried not to think about kissing Tony.

Tony smiled at him as though he knew exactly what he was thinking and pushed the pizza box away.

“Ducky’s not wrong.” He shook his head and grimaced, reaching up to gingerly poke at the bump on his forehead. “Thing is…they’re not my family. I know that.”

John sipped his water as Tony stared sightlessly at the TV screen.

“Ducky isn’t my great-uncle; Jimmy’s not my weird cousin.” Tony listed out dispassionately. “Tim’s not my brother or Abby my sister, and God knows Gibbs is not my Dad.”

“And Ziva David?” asked John.

“I don’t know.” Tony admitted quietly. “I’ve never really figured out where she fit.”

“Maybe that tells you something.” John said.

“Gibbs thinks of her as a daughter.” Tony picked up his drink. He’d stuck with Coke in a frosted bottle telling John he wanted to keep a clear head.

“Does he?” asked John. “Or is that just what she wants everyone to think?”

Tony looked over at him in surprise. He lowered the bottle from his lips slowly. He brushed a thumb over the top as he considered John’s comment. “You know I heard you and Gibbs yesterday.”

John’s eyebrows shot up.

“Good ears.” Tony reminded him.

“Right.” John said. “Do I need to apologise?”

“Nope,” Tony said, “it was kinda hot hearing you defend me.”

John felt the heat of the blush on his cheeks.

“And it was good, getting another point of view.” Tony set the bottle down with a sigh. “Kinda proved I would be stupid to stay.”

John waited.

“Gibbs…he brought me into NCIS.” Tony said finally. “Back then, the teams were more like a traditional cop set-up – experienced guy with a less experienced guy, but you worked together as partners. Gibbs was hard to work with but he was good; I learned a lot. Then…change of policy and suddenly we were being told to become a wider team; bring in other skills.”

“Same thing happened most places.” John commented.

“Changed things.” Tony said succinctly. “I stayed anyway. Really, I should have left years ago.”

John shifted position, turning more fully toward Tony. “Why haven’t you?”

“Because sometimes I thought I owed it to Gibbs.” Tony admitted with a sigh. “Or because I thought they needed me even if they didn’t see it. Or I needed them.” He took a drink of Coke and offered a small rueful smile. “It’s all very dysfunctional.” He looked back over at John. “You’ve profiled the team as part of the investigation; you’ve got to have come to that conclusion.”

John rubbed his chin as he considered his response. “My objectivity on the subject is skewed because of you.”

“But I’m not wrong.” Tony countered, although his eyes lit up at the admission.

“But you’re not wrong.” John repeated quietly.

Tony changed the subject, pointing something out about the movie. John let him. Tony needed to come to his own conclusions in his own time.

They settled down to sleep soon after. The apartment settling into darkness.

John took the sofa after a playful discussion about how two grown men couldn’t fit into Tony’s bed. He had a feeling they’d be sleeping over at his unless Tony upgraded.

Or maybe Tony wouldn’t want…

John stopped that thought before it got started. They’d kissed. It was a start. Nancy was going to kill him for not telling her immediately after it had happened.

It had been a great kiss.

There was a sound.

John was instantly alert.

He held still, waiting.

It was coming from the door to the apartment.

John silently swung off the sofa and to his feet in one graceful move, palming his phone on the way and sending the prepared text; he padded on bare feet to the door, his gun drawn.

Tony appeared beside him. Like John, Tony had worn sweatpants and a t-shirt to bed, and he looked sexily rumpled.

“You should stay in the bedroom.” John said in a near whisper.

Tony shook his head. “I’ve got this.” He was also whispering.

“You don’t have to take one for the team. Not this time.” John said.

Tony placed his hand on John’s arm. “Thank you but…I need to do this.”

John searched his resolute expression and nodded. “I’ll be here if you need me.” He swiftly gathered up the evidence of his stay and went into the bedroom, dumping the pillow and blanket on the floor before closing the door on the room. He flattened himself against the wall and peeked into the living room as Tony switched on a lamp and opened the apartment door.

“Ziva, why are you breaking into my apartment?” Tony’s voice broke the silence.

“I did not have a key.”

Tony made a drama out of a sigh; he moved aside and John watched as Ziva David entered and came to a stop in front of the sofa. She was dressed for breaking and entering; black cargo pants, jacket, and black leather gloves. Her hair was scraped back in a severe ponytail. He could just see the hint of her cast in the bulky outline of her arm. She busied herself putting away her lock-picks.

John watched as Tony moved to stand on the other side of the sofa from Ziva, keeping the furniture between them. John appreciated that Tony had somehow enabled the positioning so Ziva stood with her back to John.

Tony stood hands on hips, with an expectant expression on his face. “Seriously, Ziva, you couldn’t have just knocked?” He sounded annoyed rather than anxious.

“You have never before invited me to your home.” Ziva responded. “I did not know if I would be welcome.”

“I might have been a little surprised but I could have coped.” Tony replied.

Ziva shrugged. “I am here now.”

Tony hummed. “What’s so important you had to track me down?” Tony lifted his chin. “You’re a little late for the record.”

Ziva’s body language softened suddenly. “This is what I wished to talk to you about. To clean the air.”

“Clear the air.” Tony crossed his arms. “Go ahead.”

“It was just an accident, Tony.” Ziva said passionately. “McGee and I…you have to know we would never do anything to harm you.”

“And yet…” Tony’s voice was laden with sarcasm.

“We didn’t think anything would happen!” Ziva spun away and paced to the mantelpiece and back to the bed. “There had been no sign of trouble, nothing! We stayed within range of the bug and…and I accidentally knocked the device! It was just, how do you say, bad luck!”

Tony hummed. He took a step back, leaned against the shelving unit behind the sofa. “What did Gibbs say?”

“He walked out when I told him.” Ziva swallowed hard. “He was disappointed.” She looked away from him to the window. “With me.”

“And you haven’t been by his place and talked it out with him.” Tony surmised. “Why not? You managed to get around the FBI and into his basement when they were after you before and it’s not like you’d need to break-in.”

“He will not listen to me in this matter but he will listen to you.” Ziva said.

Tony laughed. “When has Gibbs ever listened to me?”

“He will listen to you about this.” Ziva insisted. “If you say you still trust me, us, this will all steam over.”

“Blow over, and no,” Tony said firmly, “it won’t.”

Ziva looked at him imploringly. “But I have told you! It was an accident! Please, Tony.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I need…I cannot lose you, lose the team. Please.”

Tony looked at her, calm and almost expressionless except for the muscle twitching as his jaw clenched. “Tim lost his arm if you’re interested.”

Ziva blinked and frowned, wrong-footed. “I do not…I am…that is terrible news.” She said finally. “Is he alright?” She gestured violently. “Of course he is not alright. I am…” she shook her hand by her head. “I am sorry about McGee.”

“NCIS is probably going to forego the disciplinary action he would have received.” Tony commented in the same conversational tone. “He’s got a long road of recovery, and although his needs will be accommodated, it’s almost certain his days as a full field agent are over.”

Ziva nodded before she caught what he had said fully. “Disciplinary action?”

“McGee was the senior agent, nominally in charge of your actions in the field.” Tony pointed out briskly. “My duty in the matter as Senior Field Agent was superseded by the nature of the task. The operative in play cannot hold the responsibility for their back-up as by definition they are in play.”

“I did not realise…” Ziva began.

“If you were still a Mossad Liaison Officer and a week into working with us, I might have accepted that.” Tony said. “But even if you hadn’t picked that up from working as part of the team for so long, your probationary agent training would definitely have spelled it out.”

Ziva took a breath. “I can see that you are angry.” She made another hand motion. “Perhaps I should come back another time.” She took a step toward the door.

“Tell me, Ziva,” Tony said regaining her attention, “what went through your head when you heard me getting knocked out?”

Ziva turned back to him. “We were upset. Obviously. It was horrible to hear, to know we had let you down so badly. McGee was frantic with worry as was I.”

“Hmmm.” Tony said. “I guess you’re talking about the second time you heard it?”

Ziva froze. “I do not understand.”

Tony’s eyes met hers, challenging and taunting her. “Timing is everything, Ziva.”

“Why must you talk in riddles?” demanded Ziva furiously.

John admired the way Tony kept her off balance even while he wondered where Tony was going with it. Neither Charlie nor Frankie had had time to do the detailed analysis on the timings.

Tony looked at her almost pityingly. “There is this thing called evidence. Do you know how the audio device works?”

Ziva looked at him blankly.

“Abby gave you a demo.” Tony pointed out. “I know she did.”

Ziva shifted her weight. “Yes.”

And John could see the moment she made the connection that she should have known about the playback mode.

Her chin shot up, her eyes blazed. “I admit I did not pay full attention. It was McGee’s job to handle the device.”

Tony smiled sharply. “Well, let me explain. The device…”

“I know how the device works! I do not need you to explain it to me!” Ziva snapped.

“Obviously you do.” Tony shot back. “Unless you’re taking back the supposition that you accidentally put it in playback mode.”

John felt his breath catch in his throat as the two of them stared at each other angrily.

“The device,” Tony repeated tersely, “is connected to the bug. It records everything. We’ll call that stream A. Abby had set-up the device in our op to effectively record stream A and send an updated version to the NCIS server as a back-up. She also set-up the device to play stream A in real time so you and McGee could listen and ensure if I ran into trouble you were there to back me up.”

“I do not…” Ziva tried to interrupt.

“Only the device has this playback mode.” Tony continued, talking over her.

“I got confused about the colours!” Ziva proclaimed. “That is all and…”

“The thing is that playback mode isn’t playing back the entirety of stream A.” Tony said, raising his voice a touch.

Ziva stopped talking.

And John knew exactly what Tony had deduced.

“Let’s say you did accidentally knock the device and switch it off.” Tony said. “Stream A temporarily stops recording. But you switch it back on and stream A picks up again. But there’s a gap in the recording.”

Ziva was still as a statue.

“Maybe only for a couple of minutes while you panic and switch the device back on.” Tony said. “But a gap.” He held her gaze. “Interesting thing about the copy of the recording we have squirrelled away on the back-up NCIS server? No gap.”

There was a long breath of silence.

Tony had always known the truth about what had happened, John realised. He hadn’t needed to wait for the timings at all.

“Let’s call that Exhibit A,” Tony said in a mock cheerful voice, “because I was actually talking about Exhibit B, the playback mode.”

“Tony…”

“Playback mode can be switched on at any time. When you switch the device into playback mode from real time, the device takes a snapshot of everything it’s recorded already on stream A and creates stream B. Playback is stream B.” Tony stated crisply.

Ziva stared at him.

“Let’s say you did accidentally knock the device and switched it into playback mode, and didn’t hear me get into trouble.” Tony continued. “Stream B should end at the point you knocked the device. You shouldn’t have been able to listen to me getting into trouble at all.”

“This is…” Ziva threw up her good hand in place of a word. “McGee must have found a way of accessing the stream with your attack and…”

“Doesn’t work that way.” Tony said firmly.

There was another long pause.

“Why?” Tony asked, sounding almost defeated. “Just…tell me why, Ziva.”

Ziva looked at him. She suddenly looked tired, weary. “It was not planned.” She shook her head. “It was a moment of…madmen?” She looked in Tony’s direction.

“Madness.” Tony corrected softly.

“McGee went to the restroom.” Ziva said. “And…and I heard you…Lane knocked you out. I…I was going to get McGee but I needed to stay, to listen, to know what would happen to you…we were already too far away to help you.”

She paced away to the window which was blocked with shutters. Her back was to John, to Tony.

“I realised then…it was too late to prevent what would happen…and I knew Gibbs, Gibbs would be so angry. We had broken rule one and we would be too late to help you. You may not know but he chose you, Tony, in Israel. I made him choose and he chose you.”

Tony sighed. “Leaving you behind in Israel, Ziva…that was all about Gibbs punishing you for lying to him, for you breaking his trust.”

She spun back to Tony shock written all across her face.

“It had nothing to do with me.” Tony gave a sad laugh. “Didn’t really get that myself until yesterday.”

“But…” Ziva spluttered and took a step before stopping. “I do not understand.”

“He’s Gibbs?” Tony offered and rubbed his upper arms as though he was cold. “Who knows why he does the things he does?” He shrugged.

“No,” Ziva stated brusquely, “no! He has always chosen you.”

“When Ziva?” Tony asked patiently as though he had all night to simply stand there and listen to her justify herself.

“He told me off for not inviting you to dinner; getting you shot in the box.” Ziva said furiously. “And he chose your side over Jenny with the whole thing with the Frog and he did, he did choose you over me with what happened with Michael! Every time! It is you!” She gestured at him. “You are always in the way!”

And finally they were getting to the truth of it, John thought. But he wasn’t going to give Tony much longer. They had what they needed.

“So, what? You figured Gibbs would be pissed at you and so you did something to make him even more pissed off?” Tony’s tone had taken on a bite; he was baiting her.

“I did not think!” Ziva shouted. “I thought if I could just arrange it so it would look like an accident it would be better but…” she gestured passionately, “McGee brought the magazines and took forever to realise the truth and…you were gone and the bomb still had not detonated.” She shook her head. “I did not know it would all go so badly…it was a mistake.”

“No kidding!” Tony retorted. “Tim lost his arm because you sat on my abduction, Ziva! A sixteen years old girl lost her father and is severely injured! Do you get that?”

Ziva breathed heavily, almost panting as she glowered at him. She spun away again and paced back.

“How did you know about the device?” asked Ziva.

Tony’s green eyes narrowed on her. “I do have this thing called experience. I’ve used the device before. You know Gibbs hates knowing the technical stuff. It only took me signing into work to get a copy of the recording on the back-up server to confirm what I knew was fact.”

Ziva looked away, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

“The cat is out of the bag, Ziva.” Tony informed her wearily. “Abby probably would have worked it out already if she hadn’t been distracted with everything else going on. And once they’ve put MAH to bed, the FBI will run the analysis of the recording and timings. They’ll work out the logistics and practicalities and come to the same conclusion. I think they’d probably have already worked it out but terrorists trying to blow up Bethesda got them distracted.”

John knew Tony meant those words for him; to apologise and to acknowledge that John would have known the truth soon enough.

“So it is over.” Ziva said wonderingly.

“It was over as soon as you chose not to respond when I needed back-up.” Tony replied evenly.

Ziva shook her head. “Why have you not told them already?”

“Why do you think?” asked Tony.

Ziva laughed and looked up at the ceiling. “Because you needed me to believe my story was still accepted so I would reveal myself.” She shook her head. “And to think I once warned Ari not to underestimate you.” She took her hand from her pocket and the snick of a knife sliced through the air.

John felt his heart leap into his mouth; he changed position, readied himself…

“Perhaps this is how it was always supposed to end. You and I.”

Tony looked at her pityingly. “You’re seriously going to try to kill me with a knife?” He reached behind him and drew the gun he’d had hidden there.

Ziva smiled bitterly and sprang.

The sound of the gunshot was loud.

“No!” Ziva stumbled as her leg crumpled beneath her.

John was there a split-second later; stamping hard on her wrist to get her to release the knife which he kicked away. He put his gun to her head, heart pounding loud enough to echo in his ears.

“Don’t kill her.” Tony said, keeping his gun aimed at her. “That’s what she wants.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Four in the chest.”

Ziva snarled and lashed out with her good leg at John. John sidestepped it and as he was readying himself as she reached for a second weapon, the door flew open.

Gibbs stood there, gun raised…

Another shot rang out and Ziva flinched backwards as his bullet hit her rendering her good arm useless.

Donnelly pushed past Gibbs and went immediately to Ziva. Frankie was next, already on her cell calling for an ambulance.

Pam was last through, hovering in the doorway next to Gibbs. “We need to take your weapons.”

Tony nodded, walked over and handed it to her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bug he’d placed there at John’s request; the bug whose transmission had been activated as soon as John had sent the text. “Did you get everything?”

“We got everything.” Gibbs said. His gaze seemed locked on Tony’s.

Pam reached out and placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder, compassion shining from her dark eyes. She looked across the room. “John, why don’t you and Agent DiNozzo go to your apartment? We can wait until tomorrow for your statements.”

“Right.” John went to grab his keys from his backpack, casting a concerned look back at Tony and Gibbs.

He hurried back and found Tony stood by the doorway watching as Frankie administered first aid and Donnelly started taking photos; as Pam talked on the phone to the Director.

“Come on.” John said.

Tony didn’t move.

Gibbs reached out and tapped the top of Tony’s head gently.

Tony started, eyes flickering to Gibbs who held his gaze.

“Rule five, Tony. That hasn’t changed.” Gibbs said firmly. “Go on with Sheppard.”

Tony turned to John and he pulled Tony away from the scene, leading him up the corridor and into John’s apartment.

Tony stood just in the entryway, barely a few steps in front of the closed door. He was pale and unmoving; devastation on his face.

John set his keys and gun down on a side-table. He moved back to Tony. He took one awkward step into Tony’s personal space and when he didn’t protest, John wrapped a tentative arm around him, pulling him in…

Tony came alive. He clutched onto John almost violently and for a second they wobbled before John guided them down to the floor, wrapping another arm around Tony’s shoulder as he sprawled against John. One of Tony’s arms ended up around John’s waist, his hand grabbing onto the back of John’s t-shirt while the other gripped the front.

And John held Tony tightly. So tightly. He closed his eyes against the flash of memory; the knife and Ziva and…

Tony tucked his head onto John’s shoulder, burrowed into him, silent and shaking.

John wanted to tell him it was going to be OK; that it was OK.

But all he could do was hold on tightly to Tony; hold on and not let him go.

o-O-o

Epilogue

December 30^th 2010

John groaned as the phone on the bedside table started playing Folsom Prison Blues. He stretched out a hand and grabbed it, answering it on remote.

“Somebody had better be dead, Nancy.” John said in a loud whisper.

Tony turned over in the bed beside him, telling him without words that the call had woken him up and it was fine to stop whispering. He felt Tony’s arm slide around his waist and his lips drop a soft kiss on John’s exposed shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be this grouchy when you’re getting laid. I wanted to check…” Nancy began.

“Yes,” John said quickly, “breakfast. Both Tony and I will be there. Hanging up now.”

He disconnected the call and slapped his phone down on the bedside table. He turned over and kissed Tony, shifting closer to him and hooking an ankle around Tony’s calf. He felt Tony pull him closer and went willingly. They exchanged lazy kisses for a minute.

“We should get up and go running.” John murmured, stroking a hand over Tony’s spine and being rewarded by a miniscule shudder, and a firmer tug that brought their bodies closer.

“Or we could stay here.” Tony waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

John laughed and kissed him again, and again but with intent as he rolled Tony over and set about increasing both their heart-rates.

o-O-o

Tony slid the car smoothly into Nancy’s drive, parking the car behind Nancy’s sporty Audi and John sighed in contentment.

Tony smiled at him; a private smile so warm and genuine that John in his most sappy moment had promised himself he’d try to make Tony smile that way every day.

It had been a tough couple of months for Tony after the fallout of the Military at Home case and John was still protective. He figured he always would be about Tony.

Tony grabbed the flowers he’d picked up and followed John into Nancy’s brownstone. Tony sniffed appreciatively beside him and beamed.

“Cinnamon apple muffins.” Tony said and set off to the kitchen like the muffins were a homing beacon.

John might have felt hard done by since Nancy was baking Tony his favourites and not his, but she had turned up the day after the confrontation with Ziva, had taken one look at Tony curled up in abject misery on John’s sofa, and was almost as fiercely protective of Tony as John.

John wandered through to the kitchen and watched for a second as his ex-wife cooed over the flowers and Tony cooed over the apple muffins. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants and stood there for a moment just…happy.

Tony looked over at him and winked. “So, Nancy, who are we expecting for breakfast? Don’t think it’s escaped us that you haven’t given us a name.”

“You ran three different types of background checks the last time I gave you a name.” Nancy said dryly.

Tony shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “John was the one who arrested him.”

“Fornell arrested him.” John said, walking further into the kitchen, and absently patting Boomer who had padded over to him. “You were the one who found out he was a wanted murderer.”

Nancy started laughing.

“So tell us about the new guy.” Tony said, taking the basket of muffins over to the table.

Nancy fussed with the flowers. “We met a diplomatic event just before Christmas. He’s…different.”

The doorbell rang.

Boomer barked and took off for the door.

Nancy paused as she made to follow him and glared at them both. “Behave; promise.”

“Promise.” John said.

Nancy gave him a suspicious look and left.

“So, I’m doing the background checks again?” asked Tony.

“Oh, yeah.” John agreed cheerfully, noting a male voice had joined Nancy’s in the hallway. Accented. European.

The man who appeared beside wasn’t Nancy’s usual type. He was short and slim, with long brown hair swept back from a widow’s peak and he wore round wireframe glasses which hid bright curious eyes. If it wasn’t for the smart blue suit and crisp white shirt, it would all have given him an air of mad scientist.

“John, Tony.” Nancy said warmly, “I’d like you to meet Doctor Radek Zelenka.”

o-O-o

Tony glanced over at John as he drew to a stop at a red light. “You OK?”

John settled for a one-shouldered shrug.

“You know you’re allowed to hate the guy.” Tony smiled at him.

“I know,” John replied, “which is why liking him is so fucked up.”

Tony laughed. “So, we’re hoping he’s not a secret spy.”

John couldn’t quite stop the bubble of laughter that swelled up inside of him from escaping. “Yeah,” he breathed out on a sigh, “besides, Nancy really likes him.”

And he wanted Nancy to be happy so he could deal with the oddness of his ex-wife moving on with someone else; after all she’d been nothing but supportive of him and Tony.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, made a face and answered it. “Mom.”

“Well don’t keep me in suspense,” his mother immediately said, “what’s he like?”

“He’s cool, super-smart. He’s attached to some new U.N. Science commission thing.” John repeated. “Tony likes him.”

“Wow. OK.” His mother stammered.

He took the phone away from his ear and looked at it bemused before returning it back to its original position. “Mom?”

“Well, it’s just…that’s the first time you’ve liked one.” His mother pointed out. “You are still going to run the background checks?”

“Yes, we’re going to run the background checks.” John confirmed.

“Good.” His mother said with a hefty sigh. “Knowing Nancy he’s going to turn out to be a secret spy.”

John started laughing.

His mother chuckled in his ear. “You and Tony are both still coming tomorrow night?”

“It’s your annual New Year’s Eve bash.” John said. “We’ll be there.”

“Did Dave talk to you?” His mother asked briskly. “He didn’t pick up when I called.”

“Yeah, Dave texted me yesterday.” John said. “He says he’s sleep-deprived.”

“He has a three weeks old baby.” His mother said dryly. “Of course he’s sleep-deprived.”

John made a mental note to see if Dave needed him and Tony to take the older kids for an overnighter again. Tony was adorably awkward around kids but he’d been a big hit when he’d started reading Harry Potter and had started acting out all the parts.

“Got to go, Mom, we’re almost at work.” John said, noting the landmarks. They were close to the Hoover building.

“Give my love to Tony and you take care.” His mother ordered him.

“Will do, Mom.” John wrapped up the call as Tony pulled into a side-street to drop John off. It hadn’t escaped John’s notice that Tony dropped him in a different place every time. “Mom sends her love.”

Tony nodded. His fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel.

John glanced over at him. “You OK?”

“Yeah,” Tony turned to look at him and offered a rueful grimace, “sorry, just thinking it’s maybe about time I decided what to do next. O’Neill was fantastic giving me an indefinite paid leave after…everything. But…I miss it and we’re less than forty-eight hours away from a new year. Seems like it’s time to make some decisions.”

John nodded slowly. “You know whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you.”

“Even if that’s going back to NCIS?” Tony checked.

John grimaced. “I’d be concerned if you went back.” He nudged Tony’s hand with his. “But you should do what makes you happy.”

Tony reached over and linked their hands. “You have to get to work so as much as I hate to say these words; talk tonight?”

John rubbed his thumb over Tony’s knuckles. “Talk tonight.” He leaned over and kissed Tony gently before he got out and waved Tony off. He took a moment to take a breath, slipped on his sunglasses to protect himself from the winter sun and headed to the Hoover building.

o-O-o

“You know now you’re a Supervisory Special Agent you’re supposed to make your office an inviting place for your subordinates.” Fornell commented from the doorway.

John grimaced and looked around the threadbare office he’d inherited from Pam devoid of its books and pictures. He figured he should probably sit in the chair but he preferred where he was; perched on the desk on the visitor’s side.

He hated the chair.

He hated the office.

“The only welcoming thing in yours is the coffee machine.” John pointed out, returning his attention to the personnel file he was reading.

Fornell entered the office and closed the door.

“OK,” John said, “this just got a little creepy.” He tossed the file on his desk.

“Scuttlebutt is that DiNozzo went to work this morning.” Fornell stated without further preamble. “He met with Interim Director Lange.”

Vance hadn’t survived the Ziva David debacle. He’d vouched for her and gotten the Secretary of the Navy to push the approval through for her application as a NCIS agent. Vance had apparently moved back to the West coast with his family in the aftermath.

John kept silent and folded his arms over his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Fornell huffed, apparently taking the non-response as an invitation to sit down in the single visitor chair in the corner.

John decided the look of patent disbelief on his face was the best response to that.

“Oh, please!” Fornell said. “Gibbs told me DiNozzo’s been staying with you.” He waggled his eyebrows. “As in…staying with you.”

John stared at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. You should be thanking me.” Fornell said, pointing at him again.

“Thanking you?” John said not bothering to hide his incredulity.

“Thanking me.” Fornell repeated. “Gibbs was all for running over and threatening you with a shotgun for taking advantage of his Senior Agent. I stopped him.”

“Ducky said it was him.” John replied.

Fornell waved his hand dismissively. “I was the one who blocked the door and made Gibbs listen to Ducky.”

It probably said something about John that he was more amused than annoyed by Fornell.

But then he’d already sat through the excruciating visit with Ducky when he’d told John and Tony about Gibb’s concerns, how he’d promised Gibbs he would talk to them, and his own admonishment that he hoped they had talked about effectively starting a relationship when Tony was emotionally vulnerable.

Of course, he and Tony hadn’t talked about it.

But they had taken five minutes after that visit to double check they were still on the same page. Tony’s response had been blunt and to the point; regardless that they’d both been stupendously dense about the whole thing, they’d been in a relationship for quite a while before Ziva’s decision to leave Tony without back-up and Tony was damned if he was going to let her ruin anything good in his life ever again.      

John shook his head. “As fun as you completely disregarding the agency’s Equality and Diversity policy is, Fornell; what do you want?”

“What do I…” Fornell spluttered. “I told you! DiNozzo met with Lange!” His eyes narrowed on John. “He’s thinking of getting back to work.”

John nodded. “And that has to do with you because?”

“Because we want to make him an offer.” Fornell said smugly. “Your boyfriend is a helluva investigator. Three disparate pieces of information about Joey Montelli from three different sources and he pulled wanted murderer out of his ass.” He punctuated every word with another stabbing point. “He has past experience of bringing down mob bosses and arms dealers. He’s good. He should be working for us.” He sniffed. “Cross thinks so too.”

John was torn between pride and worry. “You really think he’s going to come work for an organisation which has investigated him twice for murder?”

“We have a secret weapon.” Fornell said.

“What?”

“You.”

John burst out laughing.

“He’ll have got the offer by now. Cross had it couriered over to him.” Fornell said. “Go home. Cook him dinner. Give him a blowjob. Get him to sign.”

“OK,” John held up a hand, “I’m going to stop this here before you say something I’m going to have to punch you for.”

“You do realise once the word is out he’s going to be getting offers from all over?” Fornell said brusquely.

“Tony will decide what he wants to do and I’m going to support his decision.” John retorted.

There was a rap on the door and Frankie stuck her head inside.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, not looking sorry at all, “but we need you out here, John.”

“That’s OK, Agent Fornell was just leaving.” John said, staring pointedly at him.

Fornell got up and John followed him out. He kept his eyes on the older agent until he was out of sight.

John turned to Frankie. “You needed me?”

“Nope.” Frankie grinned at him and pointed at Donnelly. “He said you needed a rescue.”

Donnelly shrugged. “You looked like you were about to punch him.”

“Personally, I was hoping you would.” Charlie said without looking up from his monitors. “I had ten bucks on it.”

Rebecca grinned at John and held out her hand expectantly to Ruben who was perched on her desk. “That reminds me; pay up.”

“Damn it.” Ruben hopped off the desk, went to his own and picked up the last apple muffin he had bagged before they had all disappeared. “Here.”

Rebecca beamed at him.

“Best team ever.” John declared. Even if he hadn’t exactly wanted to be promoted and put in charge of the motley crew. Still he couldn’t blame Pam for taking her promotion and moving to New York.

Which reminded him he still needed to look at the personnel folders on his desk and choose a new member. He sighed and headed back into his office.

o-O-o

The warmth of the apartment was blissful. John peeled his gloves off, shrugged out of his coat and hung it up on the hook by the door. Tony’s coat was already there which given there was the scent of something tomato-y and Italian emanating from his kitchen wasn’t a surprise.

He took off his suit jacket and dumped it on a chair on his way into the kitchen.

Tony was at the stove stirring the sauce. A bubbling pot of water was waiting for the fresh pasta he’d made.

John took a moment to ogle his boyfriend. Tony wore a snug pair of blue jeans and a soft green sweater which John recognised as Emily’s Christmas present to him. He was barefoot and his hair looked a little damp. He looked fantastic.

John saw the open bottle of red wine on the counter and went to get a beer. “Hey.”

“Hey back.” Tony said, glancing over his shoulder. “Good day?”

John shrugged and settled beside Tony, leaning back against the granite counter. “I chose a new team member.”

Tony offered him a taste of the sauce on a spoon.

John accepted it with glee and almost burnt his mouth as he eagerly tasted. It was tangy and tasty like most of the things Tony cooked. “I love your cacciatore.”

“Hmmm-hmmm.” Tony said, amused. “Who’s your new guy or girl?”

“Special Agent Leila Pendergast.” John said. “Former Deputy Sheriff with the Marshals. Her hand to hand scores are fantastic. She’s spent the last year in Florida. Starts on Monday and we’ll see how she fits.”

“You have a thing for women who can kick your ass.” Tony said amused.

“So do you.” John returned.

“Eh.” Tony shrugged, his eyes sparkling with humour. “Who doesn’t love hot girls with guns?” He leaned over and kissed John’s lips softly. “Only thing better is you.”

“Yeah?” John was ridiculously charmed.

“Two words; thigh holsters.” Tony said turning back to the stove and dropping the pasta in the water. “They were seriously hot.”

John blushed.

Tony noticed straight-away and looked both triumph and un-repentant.

John poked him in the ribs and ignored the squawk of protest. “You’re pretty hot yourself.”

“Yeah?” Tony’s ears went pink but he grinned widely.

“Yeah.” John leaned in and kissed him, open-mouthed and with tongue.

Tony made a lovely whimpering sound as he kissed John back with the same passion.

The oven timer dinged.

Tony groaned and pulled away. “That’ll be the garlic bread.”

John’s stomach growled.

“Guess that decides what we’re doing next.” Tony quipped.

John dropped an apologetic kiss on Tony’s lips. “I’ll get changed.”

Dinner was good. They talked mostly about Nancy’s latest boyfriend who had turned out to be a prominent scientist and genius with no criminal background, an impressive resume of academic qualifications and who was working on world peace with the U.N. John and Tony both commiserated with each other about their feelings of total inadequacy.

Tony hadn’t found out anything about Zelenka’s time in his homeland of the Czech Republic and wouldn’t until Tony tapped his contacts in Interpol.

They settled on the sofa after dinner, pressed together but not exactly cuddling as they watched a Christmas film from Tony’s extensive collection.

“I dropped by NCIS.” Tony said eventually.

“Fornell mentioned it.” John said.

Tony gave a short huff of laughter. “Did he tell you he gave me a job offer?”

“Uh-huh.” John sipped his beer. “Apparently I should offer you a blowjob to get you to accept.”

Tony laughed and shifted position, putting a little bit of distance between them so they could look at each other fully. “I wouldn’t turn down the blowjob just for the record.”

“But you wouldn’t take the job.” John stated with certainty.

“Nope.” Tony shook his head. “Although I did consider the entertainment value of seeing Slacks’ face when he heard but…no.” He shrugged. “It was a good offer though.”

“Cross likes you.” John set his beer down. “What did Lange say?”

“Mainly that she can’t wait till they appoint someone formally as Director so she can get back to L.A.” Tony winced and held up a hand. “Deflecting, sorry.”

John shrugged.

Tony gave a small sigh. “It was good, really. Better than it would have been with Vance. I think we had some respect there at the end but Vance never got me.”

“His loss.” John wasn’t going to spare much thought for the former NCIS Director.

“She called Chegwidden.” Tony frowned. “I didn’t realise he’d been appointed SecNav.”

“I think O’Neill gave Davenport the option of resigning or getting shot when it looked as though he was just going to have Vance take the fall.” John commented dryly. “You were saying?”

“Right, so Chegwidden says he has two offers for me; one is a team at the Navy yard, Supervisory Special Agent, a second MCRT effectively. There was talk of the Rota team coming in since they’re having to do some budget cuts but…Chegwidden’s stopped all that.” Tony rubbed a non-existent spot on his jeans. “The other position is NCIS liaison to the SecNav office. I’d effectively be his trouble-shooter. He’d use me to parachute into any investigation anywhere if he thinks he has cause to keep an eye on it.”

“What do you want to do?” John asked.

“Honestly? I don’t know.” Tony sighed heavily. “I guess even though I knew it wasn’t going to happen, a part of me just believed I’d just go back and it would all be the same. I’d be back working for Gibbs, and the team…” He grimaced. “Doctor Cranston’s going to have a field day with me next session.”

John offered his hand and Tony slid his along John’s palm, linking their fingers.

“What other offers did you get?” asked John. “Fornell thought you’d be swamped.”

Tony blushed a little. “DEA. Homeland. Abigail Borin called me and said she wasn’t going to offer me anything at the Coast Guard because she figured I’d get a better deal elsewhere but if I didn’t like anything to call her.”

John whistled, impressed and proud and just utterly delighted Tony had choices. “Any of them offer you a blowjob?”

Tony laughed. “No. God, Borin would sooner castrate me.” He tilted his head. “The DEA offer was a lot like the FBIs. I think they want me for undercover.”

John held back his grimace. “You’re good at undercover.”

“We both know it’s a young man’s game and I’m not that young anymore.” Tony said with a finality which John couldn’t deny he was pleased with.

“You know whichever one you take we’ll make it work.” John said confidently.

Tony’s eyes warmed and his fingers tightened around John’s. “That’s kind of the other part I wanted to talk about.”

“Oh?” asked John. Nerves began to flutter a little in his belly.

“I’ve, uh, kind of moved myself in here because of what happened at my place.” Tony said quietly. “Which you’ve been great about and…”

“Hey,” John interrupted him and shifted closer so he could cup Tony’s cheek with his free hand, “I have loved having you here.”

“I’ve loved being here.” Tony admitted roughly. “But I was thinking, well, I need to do something with my apartment and…and this place as much as it’s great, is yours.” He held John’s gaze and John could see a touch of fear flicker through before resolution set in. “I was thinking maybe in the New Year we could look at getting a place together.”

John felt happiness swamp him. He reached over and kissed Tony.

“That’s a yes, right?” Tony checked, laughing as John tackled him. “Or do I need to offer a blowjob?”

o-O-o

In one way John wished he could persuade Tony out of the weekly visit but he knew Tony needed to visit McGee, so he did the only thing he could and provided moral support.

McGee had chosen a rehab centre close to Bethesda and it was a bright cheerful place. A Christmas tree still took centre stage in the lobby area, tinsel decorated the reception desk and there were Christmas tunes playing over the sound system.

John watched as Julian, the usual receptionist, greeted them with a broad smile.

“Tim will be pleased to see you.” Julian said. “He’s in his room, but he does have some other guests with him…”

“TONY!” Abby barrelled down the corridor and Tony only just managed to remain standing as she latched onto him and clung to him koala style with legs wrapped around him as well as arms.

Gibbs nodded at John as he joined them in a more sedate manner.

“Gibbs said you came by yesterday while I was at my seminar and I couldn’t believe I missed you!” Abby gabbled happily as Tony hugged her back.

“You just saw me Monday night.” Tony said dryly.

“But I missed the return of Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo – you are coming back, aren’t you? Because it’s…”

“Abby.” Gibbs interrupted her.

Abby glanced over, read Gibbs’s stern expression and sighed dramatically as she let Tony help her down and onto her feet. “Fine. I won’t say anything.”

“Thinking about my options, Abs.” Tony said warmly and tapped her on her nose. “When I make a decision, you’ll be like the…tenth person to know.”

She mock-punched him on the shoulder. “Tony!”

Tony smirked at her and turned to Gibbs. “Good visit?”

Gibbs nodded. “He’s getting there.”

Abby tugged on Tony’s arm. “Come on. He said you’d be coming by and you’d get a kick out of my present and…”

Tony shot John an apologetic look as Abby dragged him away up the corridor. John signalled he’d be in the small visitors’ lounge to the right of the lobby. McGee got nervous when John accompanied Tony and as much as John still held a lingering resentment over McGee’s actions the day Tony got taken, he wasn’t so much of a dick that he was going to show up and stress an injured man just for the hell of it.

Well.

He was that much of a dick but Tony would only get upset and John did care about that.

John paused in the doorway as he realised Gibbs was following him. He raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

“I’m her ride.” Gibbs explained shortly.

John decided getting coffee was probably the best strategic move. The rehab centre only had a generic drinks machine but it was free. John tapped in the code for a white coffee with sugar since he’d discovered in the past month it was the only way it was drinkable. He wasn’t surprised when Gibbs went for black.

He sat down at a small table and took out his Sudoku book. Gibbs took the seat opposite and stared at him.

“You got a question, Gibbs?” asked John without taking his eyes off the puzzle in front of him.

“You getting a place together?” Gibbs asked bluntly.

John pursed his lips and filled in a box with the number nine. “Yep.”

“You’ve been good for him.” Gibbs said grudgingly.

John finally glanced over at Gibbs and found him glaring down into the dregs of the small cup of coffee as though he couldn’t quite believe it was all gone.

“He’s been good for me.” John replied, turning his attention back to the puzzle.

“You hurt him and I’ll shoot you.” Gibbs said tersely.

John looked up from his puzzle. “You know I was expecting to get this talk weeks ago.” He waited a beat. “Fornell said he blocked the door.”

“Fornell sat at my table with popcorn while Ducky lectured me for three hours.” Gibbs said caustically. He tossed the plastic cup in the trash and stood up. “You want another?”

“God, no.” John pulled a face at the one he had.

Gibbs took a moment to grab two more for himself and sat back down. “He talked to you about his options?”

“Some.” John said guardedly, writing in the answer to another box just for something to do since he’d actually solved the whole thing while Gibbs was getting coffee. “He said going back to your team wasn’t on the table.”

“It isn’t.” Gibbs huffed. “Chegwidden made that clear to me.” He tossed a second plastic cup into the bin across the room. “You know which way he’s leaning?”

“If I did, would I tell you?” asked John, not looking up from the puzzle and painstakingly putting another number into another box.

“Like I said,” Gibbs said, “you’re good for him.”

John was surprised into looking up.

Gibbs looked back at him evenly. “You have plans for Sunday?”

“Nooo.” John replied uncertainly.

“Tell Tony to bring you to mine.” Gibbs offered.

John was relieved to hear heavy footsteps approaching; they caught both their attention and Abby soon appeared in the doorway, beaming from ear to ear.

“Tony loved my Christmas present.” Abby declared brightly. She looked over at John. “Oh hey congrats on your promotion! Tony’s like way proud of you.”

John shrugged and smiled at her. “Thanks.”

“Did Gibbs finally give you the…”

“Yep.” John said amused despite himself.

“Good,” Abby said, “because he said I couldn’t give you the talk until he’d given you the talk so…”

Gibbs rolled his eyes and tossed his third empty cup across the room. “Let’s go, Abs.”

“But I haven’t had the chance to threaten John yet.” Abby complained as Gibbs took hold of her elbow.

“Next time!” called John as Abby was firmly pushed out of the room.

“Happy New Year!” Abby shouted over her shoulder.

John shook his head, bemused. He waited almost a full hour before he went in search of Tony. The corridors were empty as he wound his way through the building to McGee’s room. He slowed as he heard voices through the partially open door.

“…and my lawyer says they’re going to summon me for her defence even though I refused.” McGee said, tension and stress radiating from every word.

“It’s a tactic, Probie.” Tony said. “They’ll call you and declare you a hostile witness. I shouldn’t worry about it.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” McGee snapped. “My lawyer says they’re going to blame me.”

John bit his lip. He wanted to storm in and defend Tony but he knew Tony was more than capable of doing it himself. He put a hand against the wall and waited.

“Tony, I’m…” McGee stammered suddenly as if he’d caught a clue about what he’d said and how he’d said it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…I mean, I know…”

“Probie…”

“It was my fault.” McGee admitted, sounding thoroughly miserable.

“McGee.”

“I know it was my fault. I should never have left without telling you, or not left at all and told Ziva to hold it and…”

“Tim.” Tony interrupted him briskly. “We’ve talked about this before. You apologised. I accepted. You have to let this go.”

“It’s not that easy, Tony.” McGee said quietly. “I don’t know how you don’t hate me.”

“Yeah, you screwed up.” Tony said firmly. “But we worked together a long time, Tim. I’d prefer to focus on all the times you were there, not the one time you weren’t.”

There was a silence.

“Has she asked to see you?” asked McGee. “Abby said Ziva sent messages to her and Ducky; she thinks Gibbs too.”

John’s eyebrows flew up.

“No,” Tony replied grimly, “she and I said everything we needed to say the last time we talked.”

“I don’t want to see her.” McGee admitted.

“Then, don’t.” Tony advised. “You need to focus on you, Tim, and you know getting your bionic arm to work.”

“It’s just, if I do get summoned…”

“It’s not going to get that far, McWorry.” Tony interrupted. “She’s probably going to get some kind of deal with the pressure Eli David and the fancy lawyers he hired for her are putting on State.”

“That’s just wrong.” McGee said unhappily. “I’d rather testify than that. She tried to kill you.”

Tony sighed loudly. “OK, we should stop talking about Ziva and talk about something else before John comes looking for me.”

“You’re really moving in with him?” McGee said.

“Yeah.” Tony sounded so enthusiastic and John’s lips curved without thought. “We thought a house. Somewhere with some yard space.”

“I’m happy for you, Tony.” McGee said.

“I’m happy for me too.” Tony replied.

And that, John thought, as he rapped his knuckles on the door, was the perfect cue for him to join them.

o-O-o

“Do you think Dad will notice if I fall asleep here?” Dave rested his elbow on the bar and propped his head up with his hand.

“Dad won’t.” John said, taking a sip of the whiskey he’d ordered, “Mom, on the other hand…”

“Damn it.” Dave sighed. “You know how much sleep I had last night?”

“Not a lot.” John deduced from the bags under his brother’s eyes. “You need me and Tony to take the kids for a couple of nights?”

“Only if you take the baby too.” Dave quipped, reaching for the glass of bourbon he’d ordered as the catering service supplied barman slid it across the smooth wooden surface.

“I don’t think Tony and I have the right equipment for the baby.” John pointed out dryly.

“Holly could provide you with a couple of bottles.” Dave commented. “There’s a pump thing.”

“TMI.” John coughed through the sip of whiskey he’d just taken.

Emily slid into the seat next to Dave. “My feet are killing me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have worn three inch stilettos?” Dave suggested, pointing down at her shoes which were strappy, black and seemed to be holding position through some kind of female magic.

“They make my legs look fantastic.” Emily sniffed and smoothed a hand down the strappy black dress which went with the sandals and which also seemed to be holding in place mostly through luck.

“I can’t believe Dad allowed you to wear that dress.” John commented.

“I wore the white number first.” Emily said smugly, waving at the barman to get his attention. “Cosmopolitan, please.”

“Do we want to know how much less material the white one had?” asked Dave in a side-whisper to John.

“No.” John said decisively.

A blonde woman approached; tall, confident and with her hair pinned up. Compared to Emily, she was dressed conservatively in a dark blue cocktail dress with a matching bolero jacket. “David, it’s good to see you.”

“Sam.” Dave smiled at her and greeted her warmly. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the Sheppard clan; my brother, John and sister, Emily.”

John held out his hand and found it taken in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Guys, this is Doctor Samantha Carter, our new R&D Director.”

John blinked.

“You seem surprised.” Sam said with a hint of a question at the end of her statement.

“I might have gotten the impression my mother thought you were male when she mentioned your appointment?” John replied hesitantly trying a smile that he was sure was more awkward than charming.

“Oh,” Sam said, “I get that a lot. I prefer Sam so Sam Carter.” She shrugged. “Everyone assumes male.” She looked interestedly at the cocktail Emily was picking up. “Is that a Cosmo?”

Emily nodded.

“One for me, please.” Sam said to the barman. She turned back to Dave and asked him about the baby.

John leaned on the bar and smirked as Emily rolled her eyes as Dave got out his phone to show pictures. It didn’t stop her gathering around to view them.

“Sheppard.” O’Neill’s voice behind him had him turning around in surprise.

“Mister Secretary.” John said formally. “I didn’t realise you’d been invited.”

“I ran into your Mom.” O’Neill remarked as if that explained everything. “Good party.” He pointed at the whiskey John was drinking as the barman approached. “I’ll have what he’s having.” He gestured at John. “I heard you requalified as a pilot.”

John tilted his head in acknowledgement but he didn’t speak; regaining the sky was something he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You want to requalify for any military aircraft just give me the word.”

John stared at him.

“Another couple of years, Sheppard, and DADT will be gone. The President’s going to insist on it.” O’Neill looked over at John. “I’m not above stealing you back when that happens.”

John smiled. “You can try.” He joked awkwardly.

O’Neill hummed. “Where’s DiNozzo at? I thought you two would be glued at the hip.”

John choked on his drink for the second time that night at the blunt question. “My ex-wife stole him for a dance.”

“Has he decided what he’s going to do?” O’Neill asked bluntly as he took his drink from the barman.

John shrugged.

“If he needs another option, tell him he can come talk to me.”

“You could tell him yourself, sir.” John said, trying to make his refusal polite since he actually liked O’Neill.

“No, I can’t.” O’Neill grimaced. “A.J. made me promise.”

John hid his amusement in his glass of whiskey; O’Neill would probably not want to be smirked at.

O’Neill suddenly pointed at Sam, his eyes gleaming with interest. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Apologies, Mister Secretary.” John said dryly as they both shifted to join the huddle of Dave, Emily and Sam beside them. “Sam, may I introduce you to the Secretary of Defence, Jack O’Neill. Mister Secretary, Doctor Samantha Carter, our head of R&D.”

The two stretched out their hands and John almost boggled at the sight of O’Neill beaming at Sam as they shook hands and didn’t let go.

“Mister Secretary.” Sam said warmly.

“You can call me Jack.” O’Neill replied with a bright smile.

Sam’s amusement lit up her face.  

“May I interest you in a dance, Samantha?” O’Neill asked.

“I’d like that very much.” Sam said, tucking her arm around his offered elbow.

“Excuse us, Sheppards.” O’Neill said.

“Did the Secretary of Defence just pick up our R&D Director?” asked Dave.

“Yes.” John said. “That just happened.”

“Right.” Dave said. “Good. I thought I might have hallucinated that.”

“Hallucinated what?” Patrick Sheppard sidled up to his children holding a glass of champagne. “Why are you all at the bar?”

“Sleep deprived.” Dave claimed straight away.

“Feet hurt.” Emily said brightly.

John shrugged. “My ex-wife kidnapped my boyfriend.”

“I would kidnap your boyfriend.” Emily said. “Have you seen how yummy Tony looks in a tux?”

“It’s true John’s boyfriend is yummy in a tux.” Patrick said with a sly grin.

John swallowed his whiskey the wrong way for the third time that night.

“Patrick.” Catherine Sheppard’s amused voice had her entire family jumping. “I’ve told you before to stop trying to shock the children; that’s my job.” She smoothed imaginary lint from her husband’s jacket. “Now, it’s almost midnight. I suggest we start moving the party to the conservatory so people can watch the fireworks.”

“Yes, Mom.” All three Sheppard children replied in unison.

John felt his mother’s hand on his arm as he went to follow Emily and Dave; he paused. He looked at her inquiringly. “You need something, Mom?”

She smiled at him. “Why don’t you take Tony up to your usual spot?” She winked at him and moved away with a smug look.

John wasn’t stupid enough not to follow her instructions. He found Nancy and Tony trapped talking to the company’s legal counsel.

“Apologies, Richard,” John broke in smoothly, plastering a diplomatic smile on his face, “the fireworks are just about to start if you’d like to move to the conservatory I believe your wife was looking for you.”

“Of course thank you.” Richard moved away quickly.

“Thank God.” Nancy downed the rest of her champagne. “Do you know how utterly boring that man is?”

“Yeah, I did not have enough alcohol for that conversation.” Tony said, looking down at his own empty flute in mock disappointment.

“I’m stealing my boyfriend back now, Nance.” John said firmly as he placed a hand discreetly at the small of Tony’s back.

“Fine.” Nancy huffed. “Don’t share.” She winked at them and grinned broadly. “I’m going to get some more champagne for the fireworks. I’ll catch up with you later.”

John smiled back at her and nudged Tony. “This way.”

Tony shot him a pleased small smile as they slip past the party crowed. He threw John a questioning look as he diverted them to get coats and to pick up a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers from the library. He led the way up through the house to the attic and out the large window which had a wide ledge which overlooked the drive and his Mom’s walled rose garden. It was the best seat in the house for the fireworks.

John carefully led Tony out onto the ledge and they sat down carefully. The drop was high and there was no railing between the edge of the shelf and the ground. It had been his favourite spot as a child; the closest he could get to the sky.

As soon as Tony was settled, John poured the drinks; he handed Tony one tumbler before he sat and picked up his own.

“Cheers.” John said tipping his tumbler to knock gently against Tony’s.

“Cheers.” Tony sipped the whiskey and made a pleased hum.

“Did Nancy tell you why Radek didn’t come?” asked John, curious to see whether she’d told Tony when she’d sidestepped the question all night otherwise.

“He’d already made plans weeks ago with some friend who’s a software billionaire and apparently part-time pain in Radek’s butt.” Tony said. “She was just keeping everyone else in suspense as punishment for finding out Radek was a secret spy.”

“Secret spy for us.” John said defensively. “And it was you who found out.”

Tony smiled at John. “Nancy blames you for corrupting me.”

John laughed and shook his head. “By the way O’Neill said to talk to him if you didn’t like your options.”

Tony sipped his drink. “I think I’m going to work for Chegwidden. I know he’s a good boss; fair. I’d still be stationed at the Navy yard most of the time so Abby will be happy, and I’ll get to see Ducky and Gibbs regularly. Maybe Tim if he comes back.” He glanced at John. “It might mean some travel.”

“We’ll work it out.” John said confidently.

“Yes,” Tony said, smiling, “we will.” He nudged John’s knee with his. “How long were you listening at Tim’s door today?”

“He’s worried about being summoned to testify.” John stated truthfully.

“He really doesn’t need to be worried about it.” Tony said.

John nudged him back. “You really think she’ll get a deal.”

Tony looked back at him with a cynicism in his green eyes which John had rarely seen there before. It was the cynicism of a seasoned cop; of a federal agent who’d seen how politics worked up close and personal.

“Yeah,” John agreed quietly with Tony’s unspoken certainty, “she’ll get a deal.” He should have killed her, he thought, because if Ziva David ever got free there was no doubt in John’s mind that she would find some way of coming after Tony.

“She would be better negotiating for an insanity plea and getting some help.” Tony said. “That’s the advice Ducky gave her.”

“He went to see her?” John asked surprised.

“He told me about it when I visited NCIS yesterday. Abby would have gone too except Gibbs found out and made her pinky promise not to go.” Tony shrugged. “Ducky isn’t wrong. Honestly, I’m not sure Ziva’s been in her right mind since she had to kill Haswari.”

“I don’t care as long as she doesn’t come anywhere near you.” John said.

“Yeah, she and I in the same room would be a bad idea.” Tony said tipping his glass toward John. “It’s sad though, you know? I look back and…I don’t think all of it was a lie or a manipulation, not even the majority of it. She made a mistake at Royal Woods, a big huge mistake which spiralled and got out of control until she couldn’t see her way out of it. But the Ziva who was the strong, kick-ass woman who was truly part of our team – she deserves better than to end up as a pawn for her father again. I miss her.”

John stayed silent. In his opinion, Tony had already given Ziva more than enough chances. He had a feeling some of Tony’s capacity to forgive was based in his insecurities but Tony also had a big heart and no matter what had gone down, it didn’t take away that Tony had been genuinely fond of Ziva and had considered part of his family; a friend.

“Is it weird for me to want to focus on the good things?” Tony asked.

“No,” John said softly, “I think you have a right to deal with what happened any way you want to.”

Tony leaned in and stole a kiss.

A firework shot into the air and broke them apart. Red sparkles lit up the sky before a bright blue one followed, and a white. A cheer erupted and echoed through the house.

It was midnight.

John kissed Tony gently. “Happy New Year.” He whispered and was rewarded when Tony smiled back at him; warm, sweet and genuinely happy.

And John considered the past few months; considered his promise to Lyle to be happy and thought that finally, maybe, he could keep that promise after all.

He had his team.

He had his family.

And he had Tony and the sky.

Continued in Live Wire: Commentary