Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

NCIS, 2001

“Hey, Chris, I need a favour.”

Chris swivelled round in his chair and smiled at Leroy Jethro Gibbs stood awkwardly by his desk.  “Sure, Gibbs, what do you need?”

“I need you to step in on a case,” Gibbs stated.  “Director wants me on an extraction op in the Middle East ASAP.”

“What’s the case?” asked Chris.

Gibbs slapped a folder down and Chris picked it up, automatically leafing through even as Gibbs started to speak.

“Had a tip someone’s using a Navy payroll office to launder money,” Gibbs said, tensing as his cell phone rang.  He glanced at it and rejected the call.  “Someone fingered a Baltimore guy for the courier.”

“Anonymous tip?”  Chris flipped through the notes to find Gibbs’ notes.

“Call came from a public telephone down the road from Quantico,” Gibbs shrugged. 

Likely a whistle-blower in the office, Chris deduced.  Gibbs had checked it out anyway, but there were no cameras nearby and the phone had been touched by too many people for clear prints.

“Figured I’d go undercover with the courier and see if he can lead me to the launderer only Baltimore P.D. issued a BOLO on the guy this morning.”

Chris glanced up into Gibbs’ mischievous face.  “You were planning to do it anyway.”

Gibbs shrugged.  “Best way to establish credentials with criminals is…”

“To prove you are one with an arrest,” Chris completed with a smile.  “Not sure how that’ll work out for me, but I guess I’m going to find out.”

Gibbs smirked at him, tapped his desk and started walking away.  “Good luck, Special Agent Pacci.”     

Chris shook his head as he watched him go.  He flipped the folder back to the start.  If he was going to take over the case, he was going to do it right.

o-O-o

Washington D.C., 2004

The phone ringing woke Tony up from a dead sleep.  He kept his eyes closed even as he rolled over.  He groaned and reached for the cell phone.

“DiNozzo,” he snapped out.

“Did I wake you up?”

Tony relaxed a touch hearing the voice of Chris Pacci.  He opened his eyes to blearily stare at the ceiling.  “What do you think?”

“I think I woke you up,” Chris said, a hint of apology under the smirky tone.  “Hopefully your late night was a lady.”

“A lady with my client’s husband,” Tony agreed dryly.  “Stakeouts are the worst, Chris, especially when you have to wait in a car all night to get the picture of the guy leaving the house with a timestamp for evidence.”  He rubbed a hand over his eyes.  “I didn’t get home until…” he glanced at the clock and winced.  “Three hours ago.”

“Ah,” Chris’ tone turned completely apologetic.  “Sorry.”

“’S OK,” Tony said, “but if you’re calling to cancel on me for beers this evening, I’m probably going to spend the time sleeping, not going to lie.”

“Not cancelling so much as requesting your help which may or may not lead to us deferring beers tonight,” Chris said, sounding a little tentative.

“Sounds serious,” Tony pushed the covers back and padded from the bed to the small kitchenette in his studio apartment.  He pressed the coffee maker into action and grabbed a mug.

“I have a cold case which has heated back up,” Chris said.  “The Director has agreed I can acquire your services as an outside consult.”

Tony froze in pulling down his mug briefly before he continued.  “Don’t you have an agency full of very special agents to help you, Chris.”

“Nobody the Director will reassign based on one agent’s wild theory for a cold case,” Chris shot back.

And OK, Tony could believe that.

“Look,” Chris said calmly, “the pay is terrible, but this isn’t a ploy to get you to join.  I understand why that’s off the table for you with what happened in Baltimore with Danny.”

Tony grimaced.  It wasn’t so much what had happened with Danny as it was what had happened with their dirtbag boss.  Finding out Danny, his partner, had been dirty during the take-down of a money launderer had been hard, but when Danny had come back to the house after Tony had confronted him about it, he’d been remorseful in a way he hadn’t when he’d left.  He’d begged Tony for help.

And Danny was his partner.  In the end he had chosen to protect Tony when they’d taken down Floyd.  So, Tony had helped him – he’d driven him to AA, helped him work out debt repayments with only his detective’s salary in mind, supported him through finding another smaller apartment…Danny had been working through it.  What Tony hadn’t known was that all the while Tony had been helping get him straight, Danny had been investigating why the money launderer, Lieutenant Floyd, hadn’t given him up.  It was Danny who had discovered Police Major Frank Raimey had been Floyd’s silent partner.

Raimey had promptly killed Danny to cover his tracks, and he had almost killed Tony when he hadn’t let Danny’s death be written off as a bust gone bad.  If Tony hadn’t already looped Chris back in because of the Floyd angle…

Chris had saved his life.

Tony shook himself out of the memories to find his hand massaging the gunshot wound in his shoulder.  He dropped his hand sharply.   

“I could really use some help, Tony,” Chris continued.  “I think this guy has already killed once.”

“Well, how can I resist that?” said Tony dryly.  He affected a heavy sigh.  “OK, count me in.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Chis said appreciatively.  “When can you be at the Navy Yard?”

Tony pulled a face he knew Chris couldn’t see and rubbed a hand through his hair furiously.  “Give me a couple of hours?  I need coffee.” He sniffed himself and wrinkled his nose at the stale smell of sweat.  “And a shower.”

Chris laughed.  “See you later.”

Tony pressed the off button and tossed the phone down on the counter.  He shook his head and headed for the shower.  Hopefully by the time he was clean there would be coffee.

o-O-o

Chris ushered him out of the elevator and onto a floor filled with cubicles.  It looked like any other law enforcement agency Tony had ever been in and the familiarity relaxed him even as his eyes widened at the sight of so much orange.

“You work in a pumpkin?” Tony teased, plucking off his sunglasses to take in the undiluted colour.

“It grows on you like a fungus,” Chris said cheerily, ushering Tony into the desk across from his own.

Tony sat his backpack down and continued his review.  He mapped out the exits, nodding absently as Chris signalled the usual places – breakroom, toilets, printer…

His eyes caught on a military-looking man staring at him from the row of cubicles beside them; grey hair in a Marine cut, piercing blue eyes, intelligent and sharp face.  His clothes weren’t the usual suit and tie of a Fed, but rather an approximation with a blazer, pants, polo shirt with an undershirt peeking out.

Tony raised an eyebrow at the unrelenting regard. 

He didn’t think he looked that out of place.  His light brown hair wasn’t overly styled and it was neat even if a little long with the bangs falling in his eyes.  He’d shaved.  He was wearing his cleanest pair of jeans, a smart white button-down shirt and a navy blazer.  His gun was secured in his shoulder holster under his jacket. 

Marine Guy quirked his own eyebrows in response.

Chris stepped up to Tony’s shoulder.  “Hey, Gibbs!  Gibbs, Tony DiNozzo.  He’s come in to help me with a cold case.  Tony, Supervisory Special Agent Gibbs.  He runs our MCRT, uh, Major Case Response Team.”

Gibbs reached over the partition to offer his hand.  “Pleased to meet ya.”

Tony stepped forward and shook it.  “Likewise.”

“You’re the former Baltimore cop Chris raves about,” Gibbs stated bluntly.

Tony glanced over at Chris who grinned and shrugged.  “I guess.”

“You need anything just holler,” Gibbs said.

Tony nodded sharply.  “Thanks.”

Gibbs’ head snapped around to look at a couple of improbably attractive agents – a handsome African American guy and pretty brunette woman – walking in from the far door.  He looked back at Chris and nodded.  “Catch you later, Pacci.”

“Gibbs,” Chris said respectfully.  He nudged Tony back to their desks and pulled over a blue folder.

Tony’s gaze flickered over the partition to see Gibbs greeting the pair and exchanging banter.  He figured they must be Gibbs’ team.  If so, they were an improbably attractive team, Tony mused.  He pushed away the thought and focused back in on Chris.

Chris was more like the picture of a Fed Tony had in his head.  He was a non-descript guy; brown hair trimmed short, sombre face, an off-the-rack suit teamed with a plain shirt and dull tie.  He was also a good guy; he had solid ethics with a smart brain and a keen wit tucked away behind his bland persona.

He was one of the few people Tony still trusted in the world.

“This is the case,” Chris said.  “I’ll grab you some coffee while you read through it.”

Tony picked up the lurid blue folder.  He sat down in the chair by the desk, leaned back and started reading. 

Credit card fraud.  Someone had taken small amounts over a long period of time which went unnoticed until it all added up to over a sweet ten million.

Lieutenant Commander Voss, a Command Supply Officer, had been immediately the prime suspect for the theft, but he’d gone AWOL before they could take him in.  He’d resurfaced as the fatality of a car accident in Buford County.  He’d been ID’d from DNA testing on the tissue samples as his body had been burned beyond all recognition in the wreck.

Tony tutted under his breath. 

Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all. 

He set the folder down and started to lay out the pages of the report across the desk, re-reading the information as he went.  He slowly became aware of being watched and glanced up to find himself looking at a blushing version of the pretty brunette agent across the partition.

“Hi,” she said with a smile, “I’m Kate, Agent Todd, I mean, Kate.”  She stuck her hand out.  “Are you new?  I haven’t seen you before.”

“I’m here consulting with Agent Pacci,” Tony replied before he reached up and shook her hand.  “Tony DiNozzo.”

She was a beautiful woman.  Dark hair pulled pragmatically back in a ponytail, discreet make-up, gorgeous hazel eyes.  She was smartly dressed but with flair.  There was more than a hint of competence in the way she carried herself and if she reported to Gibbs, Tony figured she was a smart cookie; he couldn’t see the Marine carrying dead weight on his team.   

She was exactly his type.

And yet not, because after his engagement to Wendy had imploded with her dumping him in the hospital after being shot, he’d sworn off women for a while. 

And men. 

Sex. 

Love. 

Relationships. 

He was committed to being single.  Maybe he’d get a cat.

Todd continued to smile at him flirtatiously even as her boss approached her silently sidling in from behind.  “What case are you consulting on?  Maybe I can…”

“Agent Todd,” Gibbs growled.

Todd startled, whirling around with a patently false expression of innocence.  “Gibbs…”

“You’re with me,” Gibbs snapped out and started walking towards the elevator.  Todd scrambled after him.  Gibbs glanced back as they entered the elevator and nodded at Tony as though apologising.

Tony shook his head and resumed his perusal of the folder’s contents. 

Chris set a paper cup of coffee down on the desk.  “What do you think?”

“I think what you think,” Tony picked up the coffee and drank a huge gulp of the semi-warm liquid.  It tasted awful but the shot of caffeine was welcome.  “He did it, absconded with the money, and faked his death.”

Chris pointed at him, leaning against the desk.  “Exactly.”

Tony lifted the half-empty cup and peered at Chris.  “So, why do you think he’s back from the dead?”

o-O-o

“If my lungs are scarred, I’m suing NCIS,” Tony gave a whole body shudder as they stepped out of the realtor’s office and into the street.

Chris took a visibly deep breath of the relatively fresh air outside.  “I’ll be your fellow claimant.”  He shook his head.  “I didn’t think people still chain-smoked like that.”

Tony sniffed at his blazer.  “Let’s take a walk.  Maybe the polluted air of Washington D.C. will help get rid of the smoke smell.”

They crossed over to a small park in the middle of the square where the realtor was located.  They paused to pick up a couple of dogs from the vendor. 

“I take it you’ve already run a check on the lovely Ms Reed,” Tony angled his dog and took a large bite.

Chris swallowed his food and nodded.  “Clean as a whistle.”

“Too clean?” asked Tony.

“Maybe,” Chris said.  “As the Director told me when I made the request to bring you in on it, I’ve yet to establish any connection between her and Voss beyond the fact that she’s bought his family’s old townhouse, the one he was obsessed with owning again, at least according to all his colleagues.”

“You figure that was his original motivation for the money theft,” Tony surmised before stuffing another large bite in his mouth.

“Originally it was Cassie’s theory, but it fits,” Chris said.  “Except then he went overboard with the credit cards which drew attention.”

“But it got him enough money to disappear,” Tony pointed out.  “He had to figure at some point he’d be caught.”

“So he stole himself enough for a parachute?” Chris mulled it over while he wiped mustard off his fingers and nodded.  He tossed the napkin in a trash bin as they passed.  “That also fits.”     

“I can see why the house sale got your attention.  A cash sale that quick is unusual,” Tony said.  Apart from signalling that there was a lot of money available to Ms Reed, she’d also avoided a lot of the typical checks when she’d paid upfront.  He finished his own dog, screwed the napkin up, turned and threw it into the bin a few steps back.

Chris rolled his eyes.  “Show off.”

Tony grinned at him.  “Final Four, Chris, Final Four.”  He paused as they reached the gate they’d entered.  “You think she’s his partner in crime?”

Chris shrugged.  “Maybe.  I think it’s worth exploring, right?”

Tony nodded.  “Something’s definitely hinky.” He paused.  “We should probably establish a connection beyond her buying his old family house before we start stalking her, right?”

“Have to have a credible reason to request surveillance,” Chris agreed.  “Besides, if she is with Voss, I’d rather we didn’t draw his attention just yet.”  He checked his watch.  “I have to head to the ship to interview Voss’ old Captain.  You’ll be OK tracking down the autopsy report?”

“Sure,” Tony agreed.  He would have preferred the interview to being stuck looking through dusty files, but access to naval vessels wasn’t extended to private investigators just assigned for consultation.

“Meet you back at the Yard!” Chris headed to his standard sedan car.

Tony made for his Corvette.  He plugged in the coordinates for the Buford County Courthouse and set off.

o-O-o

“I can’t believe you got this so quickly,” Chris paged through the autopsy report with a glee only another law enforcement professional could appreciate.  “I’ve been in that basement.  It’s like a maze.  How did you manage it?”

Tony flashed him a bright smile.  “Bonnie, the administrator, was very helpful.”  He plucked a bag from the side of the desk and offered it to Chris.  “She always makes extra cookies for her colleagues.  Want one?”

Chris plucked a cookie from the bag and took a bite.  His eyes widened and he stared at the cookie with astonished awe.  “Oh my God.”

“I know, right?” Tony said, brushing non-existent crumbs from the front of his shirt.  “I spent most of my time in the basement with Bonnie trying to convince her to open up her own cookie shop.”

Chris stuffed the rest of the cookie in his mouth.  He picked up the autopsy report.  “Come on.  I’ll introduce you to Ducky.”

Tony followed Chris to the elevator.  He slid a look at Chris.  “What did Captain Graves say?”

Chris sighed.  “Nothing much.  Voss was a model officer until the credit card fraud was discovered and he was shocked Voss was under suspicion.  He expressed more doubt it was Voss given there was nothing in his accounts after his death which couldn’t be reasonably aligned to his salary and some careful investments.”

“You think he was in on it?”

Chris shook his head.  “His finances were examined in the original investigation and he was cleared.  Since he also hasn’t left the Navy to make off with his millions, it’s unlikely he was involved.”

Tony nodded.  “He know anything about Reed?”

“Nothing,” Chris said.  “He did say Voss wasn’t the type to share personal gossip and there was never any sign of a girlfriend.  I could track down some of Voss’ colleagues, but I don’t think I’ll get a different answer.”

“Probably not,” Tony agreed.

The elevator reached its destination and Chris exited.  He headed to the main doors stepping through just as a medical assistant stepped out.  Tony followed him, shivering in his white shirt as they entered and wishing he’d remembered to put on his jacket.

“Christopher,” a diminutive mature man greeted Chris was a smile.  “What brings you down to autopsy?”

“A favour,” Chris said.  He gestured at Tony.  “Tony DiNozzo, Doctor Mallard; Ducky, this is Tony.  He’s consulting, helping me out on a cold case.”

Doctor Mallard offered a brisk handshake.  His rheumy eyes glinted with sharp intelligence behind his wire-frame glasses as he regarded Tony with a speculative gaze, raking over the holster with a slight hint of trepidation.  “DiNozzo, DiNozzo…ah.  You’ll be the detective friend Chris mentions occasionally.  You’re helping him with his softball skills, yes?”

“Trying,” Tony said with a smile, charmed almost despite his need to be wary.

“Well, we need all the help we can get on that score,” Mallard said with a little bounce on the balls of his feet.  He leaned in almost conspiratorially to Tony.  “Five straight losses in a row to the FBI.”  He leaned back again.  “I fear my own skills are rather more in the noble game of cricket.  Have you ever played?”

“A few times as a kid when I visited my mother’s family in England,” Tony offered.  “I got cracked on the head with a ball when I was seven and she stopped me playing.”  She’d also died the next year and he hadn’t gone to visit his family again until he’d been in college, but the M.E. didn’t need to know that.

Mallard gave a small grin.  “That’s why the authorities brought in helmets although I rather think they take some of the frisson away from the game.  Why when I was at…”

Chris cleared his throat.  “Sorry to interrupt, Ducky, but is there any chance you can take a look at an old autopsy report for us?”

The M.E. hummed and reached for the folder Chris held out.  He headed over to a side table and switched on a table lamp before starting to read the report.  He looked up sharply.  “This is three years old.  For what reason are you re-examining the case?”      

“We think Voss faked his own death,” Chris said.

Mallard’s eyebrows rose briefly.  “I rather doubt this particular coroner would have made such a mistake with the identification.  Hugh Putman is a very exacting man.”  He pursed his lips.  “See, here.”  He stabbed the document.  “Upon receipt of the DNA results, he verified the height and weight matched to the Commander’s last physical and…” he frowned.  “The level of alcohol suggests Lieutenant Voss was very inebriated.  Do we have the context for the accident from the police report?”

“The police report labelled it a DUI due to a bottle of whisky being found in the passenger seat-well.  The coroner ultimately ruled it as death by misadventure,” Tony flipped open his small notebook.  “The car’s trajectory and rubber marks suggested the driver was swerving across the road before he made a sharp correction and drove into the barrier; the car rolled and burst into flames.” He skipped a page.  “A man matching the Lieutenant Commander’s description was seen at The Old Oak bar prior to the accident.  He had several drinks with an unidentified woman before leaving.”

“You got the police file already?” Chris blinked back his surprise.

“Nope, they’re waiting on the official NCIS request,” Tony raised his notebook. “But Deputy Maloney was happy to read through the file while I treated him to one of Bonnie’s cookies and coffee.”

Ducky chuckled.  He tapped the file.  “Well, given that context nothing looks out of order as I would expect.  There is nothing here to suggest foul play, gentlemen.”

Tony folded his arms.  “If you were going to fake your death and use a scenario like this car accident to do it, how would you do it, Doctor Mallard?”

“Call me Ducky, dear boy, and that is a very interesting question,” Ducky said, his gaze turned inward, thinking.  “Setting up the accident is one factor.”

“You ensure you’re seen in a local bar close to where you intend to stage the accident,” Tony listed off briskly.  “Everyone thinks you’re drunk when you leave.”

Ducky frowned.  “But you would need a body to replace your own; equal height and close in weight.”

“Yes, and you’d have to have had some way to have subdued them and kept them compliant while you do the set-up,” Chris added.

“Alcohol is an efficient means of doing such a thing,” Ducky said.  “Any confining rope burn or resistant marks would likely be burned away in the fire; any injuries obtained in being subdued and confined may very well have looked like crash injuries.”

“So, mechanically ensure that the car goes up in flames to burn the body beyond recognition and it is possible,” Tony concluded.

“Possible, yes,” Ducky agreed, “but the sticking point in this case is the DNA.  It unambiguously identified the remains as Lieutenant Commander Voss.”

All three of them seemed to leap to the same thought as one: if Voss had faked his death, he must have tampered somehow with the DNA result.

“I will request the tissue samples and have Abigail run the DNA again,” Ducky said.  His eyes seemed to sparkle as he smiled at them jovially.  “You may very well have proven your theory.”

Chris smiled.  “Let’s wait for the DNA results, but I think we probably have found out how he did it.”  He turned back to Tony.  “Now we just have to find him and the money.”

o-O-o

“What’d ya doing here?”

Only years of undercover work prevented Tony from flinching at the sudden appearance of Gibbs by the desk.  There had been no sign of his approaching; no sound, no scent, no disturbance in the Force.  He suddenly felt more sympathetic towards Todd.

“I had something I wanted to check and needed access to the systems,” Tony replied easily, turning to look at the rumpled agent.  “Chris called security and gave permission for me to be here alone.”

Gibbs chucked an empty cup into the trash.  “I wasn’t checking.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” Tony said easily.  “You had a break-in, right?”

“Chris tell you that?” asked Gibbs evenly.

Tony shook his head.  Chris wasn’t the gossiping type.  “Breakroom gossip.”

“Damn agents should be more discreet,” Gibbs grumbled as he perched on the edge of Chris’ desk, crossing his legs at the ankle in front of him.

Tony looked over the top of his glasses at him.  “Breakroom said you were shot.”

“Winged,” corrected Gibbs.  He tilted his head.  “The glasses suit you.”

Tony fought the blush that climbed up his neck and into his cheeks.  “The contacts are easier usually.”

“They’re a good tactical choice,” Gibbs agreed.  “You want to grab a coffee?”

Tony cocked his head.  “Breakroom?”

“Nah,” Gibbs shook his head, “there’s a late-night diner round the corner.  It’s not far.”

“Sure,” Tony said.  He was about done with his searches anyway.

“Pack it up,” Gibbs jerked his head at the glowing computer screen, “and meet at the elevator?”

Tony nodded.  Gibbs strode away to his own desk.

Tony saved his work, powered down and clicked the monitor off.  He shrugged into his woollen coat, picked up his backpack and pulled on leather gloves as he moved over to call the elevator.  Gibbs appeared beside him in an overcoat.

They walked out of the building and the Yard in a comfortable silence. 

Gibbs led them to a quiet booth in the corner with good sightlines in both sides of the booth.  Tony appreciated the thought as he slid into one side and Gibbs took the other.

A tired-looking waitress appeared, sat two plain ceramic mugs down and filled them with black coffee.  Tony noted the name on her tag said ‘Ann’ as he pulled off his gloves.

“You want anything to eat, honey?” Ann asked.

Tony smiled at her widely.  “I’ll take a stack of pancakes, please.”  An early breakfast sounded good to him.

“You want bacon, egg or hash with that?” asked Ann, perking up.

“Bacon,” Tony agreed. 

“I’ll take the same,” Gibbs said.

Ann’s eyebrows shot up, but she nodded.  “I’ll be back with your order,” she promised and sashayed out.

“That’s some smile you got,” Gibbs commented wryly.

Tony shrugged.  “Works for me.”

“I’ll bet it does,” Gibbs shot back.

Were they flirting?  It felt like they were flirting.

Tony reached for the creamer and doctored his coffee.  “So you heard my reason for lurking in the office.  What about yours?”

“I was needed to run an op in MTAC,” Gibbs shrugged.  “And I figure the fugitive we’re after is going to make contact with his kid and I’m going to get a call.”

Tony raised an eyebrow.  “You think he’ll escape.”  

“My team’s good, but he’s a SEAL,” Gibbs said as though that was enough explanation; it probably was. 

Tony hummed.  If Gibbs had expected to capture the fugitive he’d have been at the house.  Instead, he’d sent his team and believed the SEAL would escape.  Why wouldn’t he bump up the surveillance team if that was the case? 

“You’re letting him see the kid.”

Gibbs shrugged.  “He’s going to tell him more than he’ll tell us.”

It was a clever move.  Risky, but clever.

“You think he’s innocent?” asked Tony.

“I read the file.  He came home just at the right moment to catch his wife and the cable guy, snapped, and just happened to be found standing over the bodies,” Gibbs said dryly.  “Rule thirty-nine: there is no such thing as a coincidence.”    

“So, you’re looking for a one-armed man?” Tony teased.

Gibbs looked back at him blankly.

“The Fugitive?  The film with Harrison Ford, Tommy Lee Jones?  Based on the TV show?”

Gibbs offered a smile with a mischievous glint in his eye.  “I liked the show.”

Tony gave a short laugh, knowing he’d been played.  “If your SEAL guy is innocent that has to play into his break-out.” He picked up a coaster and turned it over in his hands.  “I mean, why now?  Why not when he got sent down?  Maybe he didn’t know who the one-armed man was until now.”

“We’re waiting on his cell contents,” Gibbs noted.  He pointed with his mug.  “You have the look of a man with more to say.”

Tony shrugged.  “Just theories.”

“Let’s hear them,” Gibbs said.  “Chris said you think outside the box.  I could do with that right now.”

Tony raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

“My team is smart but they’re linear thinkers,” Gibbs stated bluntly.

Tony sat forward.  “OK,” he said gesturing with the coaster, “you have to assume that if someone set your SEAL up, they hated either him, his wife or the cable guy.” He lifted one finger.  “Someone hated him and set him up for murder or,” two fingers, “someone hated his wife and he was set up to take the fall intentionally or not, or,” three fingers, “someone hated the cable guy but hid it with the SEAL and his wife drama.”

Gibbs nodded slowly.  “I doubt it’s the cable guy theory.  I figure he was collateral damage.”

“OK, but who knew he was going to be there?  How was he there right at that precise moment?”  Tony questioned.  “You can’t fake an affair if there isn’t a paramour to fake it with.”

Gibbs frowned as though he hadn’t considered that angle.

Ann arrived back with their food and the next few moments passed in a flurry of plate, cutlery, coffee refills, and Tony drenching his pancakes in something that purported to be ‘like’ maple syrup.

“I’ll have my team follow-up,” Gibbs gestured with his cutlery.  “What about the case you’re helping Chris with?  Did you find your dead guy yet?”

Tony licked a layer of syrup of his lip and watched as Gibbs’ gaze followed his tongue in an interesting way.  He wondered how Gibbs had known about their case.  “Breakroom?”

Gibbs smiled. “Ducky.”

Tony gave a knowing laugh.

“He was pretty excited that he might get one over on his colleague,” Gibbs said.  “Apparently Putman is a pompous buffoon who needs his ego deflated.”

Tony swallowed down another mouthful of pancake.  He reached for a slice of crispy bacon and motioned with it.  “Haven’t found the dead guy, but I have connected him with the lovely Ms Reed who bought his old family home with a lot of cash.”

Gibbs looked at him questioningly.

“She’s lived within ten miles of every station posting he had in his last six years of service,” Tony commented. 

“Rule thirty-nine,” Gibbs murmured.

“Then there’s her ID,” Tony frowned.  “Once I started digging into her background check, the more it started to feel like an undercover ID.  Someone’s done a very good job, but there are holes if you know where to look for them.”

“And you know where to look for them,” Gibbs said.

Tony hummed and bit off the end of the bacon. 

Gibbs pushed his empty plate aside and wrapped his hands around his mug.  “The Director wants you in the agency.”

Tony waved the bacon.  “Is this a recruitment pitch then?”  He felt a stirring of disappointment and he belatedly realised he’d enjoyed the maybe-flirtation they’d been doing.

“Nope,” Gibbs’ expression was amused.  “The Director gave me strict instructions that I wasn’t to run you off.  I have a reputation as a hard-ass.”

“Second ‘b’ stands for Bastard?” Tony smirked.  “Chris warned me.” He picked up his coffee.  “You’re not giving me a recruitment speech?”

“I will if you want one,” Gibbs said, “but I figure you know it already.  I will say this: rule five.”

“Rule five?”

“Don’t waste good,” Gibbs pointed at him.  “And you’re good.”  He regarded Tony with a knowing look.  “You wouldn’t have stuck with Chris on this case otherwise.”

“It’s not a recruitment pitch for Chris and he needs someone watching his back,” Tony said.  They’d discovered the lab technician who’d ran the DNA originally was dead just before they’d called it a night.

“Like I said: you’re good,” Gibbs replied succinctly.

There was a beat of something, of tension between them.

Gibbs’ cell phone rang breaking the moment.

Gibbs grimaced and answered his phone.  “Gibbs.” He closed his eyes and sighed.  “Dobbs and I will bring the evidence van; we’ll meet you there.”  He flicked the phone closed.

“Your SEAL?” checked Tony.

Gibbs nodded.  He reached for his wallet and drew out a stack of notes he tucked under the sugar canister.  “Maybe we can do this again before your consultation ends.”

“Maybe,” Tony agreed.  He watched Gibbs walk out the door.  Probably he shouldn’t get too interested, he mused.

Ann sidled up and took the cash off the table.  She smiled at Tony.  “You want anything else, honey?  We do a mean apple pie.”

Tony flashed her his usual smile.  “How can I say no to that?”

o-O-o

The old Voss family townhouse was in a nice neighbourhood.  The streets looked clean, tidy, well-maintained. 

Tony took a walk around the block, had a very nice coffee in a café-bar around the corner, and bought an apple from the local bodega. 

He’d clocked the apartment for sale sign.  It was a good location for a surveillance.  He approached the building manager as simply someone looking to rent the apartment for work purposes for a month.  He used one of his aliases to sign the lease. 

He updated Chris who was travelling to some of the locations Tony had found where Amanda Reed had previously resided.  Hopefully they’d be able to get more intel on the exact nature of her relationship with Voss before they approached Reed herself.  Chris had also drafted in a young agent with computer smarts, a Timothy McGee, to break open Reed’s identity.  Ducky had promised them the tissue samples were on their way and the forensic scientist, Doctor Scuito, would examine them as soon as she could.

For most of the day, Tony played at moving into the neighbourhood.  He left to his storage unit, dropped by the small office he rented to collect some other equipment, and lugged a few boxes and suitcases into the sparse apartment.

It had a perfect view of the townhouse.

Tony set up his surveillance equipment.

He blew up his old air mattress in the main living area and made camp.  He went shopping for a few basics from the bodega and scored a free cupcake as a ‘welcome to the neighbourhood.’  He made sure his movements were open and visible to anyone who cared to watch.

After a long day, he headed for the same bar he’d had the coffee in that morning and ordered a burger with the works and a load of fries.

A woman slid onto the barstool next to him just as it was served and smiled.  “Looks great.”

“Tastes great,” Tony agreed, wiping his fingers on the napkin.  “Tony.”

“Amanda,” Reed offered.

Her handshake was firm, her nails perfectly manicured and painted.  She was in a tight green shirt, wide black pants and had a sweater bundled into her purse.  Her make-up was discreet.  At a distance, Reed was an attractive woman; up close, she was handsome rather than pretty, a hard look in her eyes that detracted from the otherwise soft but sexy feminine look she was going for.

“Hey, Bill, can I get what he’s having and a beer?” Reed ordered.  She smiled at Tony.  “I think you moved in across the street from me today?”

“A try-out,” Tony corrected with an easy smile.  “I’ve leased for a month to see if I want to buy.  I’ve got somewhere on the other side of town right now, but…” he kept eating his burger, munching on his fries.  He wanted her to think he found her attractive, but not overly interested.  “Bad break-up.”

Reed huffed out a laugh.  “I know how those go.”  She picked up the cold bottle of beer that Bill had placed in front of her and offered it in a toast.  “To new beginnings.”

“New beginnings,” Tony parroted and took a sip of his beer.  He gestured at her.  “You lived in the neighbourhood long?”

“A few weeks,” Reed admitted.  “But my family used to live around this area and when the house came up, it seemed like serendipity.”

Tony picked up his burger.  “It’s listed, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Reed sighed.  “I’m having issues with the historical society on some of the updates I want to make.”

Tony made a sound which could have been taken as sympathetic understanding.

“Really the whole house needs an update, but it’s worth it,” Reed said.  She regarded him thoughtfully, her eyes running over the muscles under his Henley.  “I don’t suppose you’ve done any contractor work?”

Tony laughed.  “Power tools and I don’t really get along.”

“Pity,” Reed said.  “So what do you do?”

“Photographer,” Tony replied.  “Art mostly, I’ve had a few magazine commissions.  My ex wanted me to set up an online gallery.”

“You’re not keen?” asked Reed as her food arrived.

Tony shrugged.  “I’m kind of old school.  Besides, I’m a trust fund baby.  I don’t need the money.”

Reed lifted her bottle again.  “To having enough money to do what you like.”

“Fellow trust fund baby?” asked Tony, careful he wasn’t showing anything more than idle curiosity.

“A kind of inheritance,” Reed demurred. “I’ve been away in Asia for almost two years.”

“I’ve always wanted to travel,” Tony said, scooping up the last of his fries.  “Whereabouts were you based?”

Reed gestured with a tomato slice.  “Bangkok. It was an incredible experience.”

“Sounds like it,” Tony drank down the rest of his beer and affected a yawn.  “God, I’m done.”

“Long day?” asked Reed, sympathetically.

Tony nodded.  He moved off the bar stool and picked up the leather jacket he’d discarded.  “Nice meeting you, Amanda.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” Reed said.

Tony flashed another smile at her and headed out.

First contact had been made.  She wasn’t going to be suspicious of him being around.  His objective was done.

The apartment was in the dark when he entered.  He lit one of the side lamps he’d brought and went to make tea.  He checked his equipment and sat down in the chair to make a call. 

“Agent Pacci,” Chris answered.

“Chris,” Tony said.  “She made contact at the bar.”

Chris swore.  “You know you’re too good-looking for your own good.”

Tony set his feet up on the coffee table.  “Only two ways to follow someone; either make sure they never see you or…”

“Make sure they only see you,” Chris sighed.  “McGee’s going to come over as a cable guy at oh-seven-hundred and get the surveillance hooked into a feed straight to NCIS.  I can watch from my desk and make sure you have back-up.”

Tony smiled.  “How did the investigation into Reed’s former homes go?”

“Interesting,” Chris commented.  “Laura Chiswick, her neighbour at Norfolk, remembered someone of Voss’ description visiting, but they never saw him at cookouts or with Reed herself.  One of the older neighbours who’d visited her with a casserole, called her rude as she made it clear that she didn’t really like them dropping round.  Laura noticed that there were no pictures of family or friends displayed.  They noted she travelled a lot for work and wasn’t around a lot herself.”

Tony picked up a pen and twirled it.  “She said she’s been based in Bangkok for the last couple of years.”

“I’ll add it to McGee’s ID breakdown,” Chris said.  “Reed’s identity was crafted online six years ago, although the real estate trace indicates she’s been using it for as long as ten.”

“She pre-dates the credit card fraud,” Tony mused out loud.  “But maybe she was the one who talked him into it; she has expensive tastes.”

“Any sign of Voss?” asked Chris.

“Nothing,” Tony said, “and she said a couple of things at the bar about knowing about bad break-ups and that her money was down to a kind of inheritance that has me considering whether our fake dead guy isn’t so fake-ly dead anymore.”

“You think she killed him later?” Chris sighed.  “I can’t deny I’ve been wondering the same thing, but then why buy the townhouse?”

“Sentimentality or maybe she did it to send his ghost another ‘fuck you,’” Tony suggested.

“Watch yourself, Tony,” Chris cautioned.

Tony nodded.  “I’m going to sleep with my gun under my pillow.”

“Good,” Chris said.  “I’m going to catch up with the other agents I had out questioning Reed’s neighbours in his other postings.  Stay safe.”

Tony pressed the off button and leaned back in his chair.  A noise from the camera alerted him to Reed’s return.  He watched her make a mug of tea and relax into an oversized armchair.  He shook his head.

“You are a mystery, Amanda Reed, but we will solve you,” he promised.

He switched the lights off and went to his makeshift bed.

o-O-o

Tony swore as the doorbell rang.  He checked his watch and grimaced.  McGee was almost an hour early.  At least he’d managed to get sweats on after his shower.  He wrapped the towel around his neck and headed for the door.  He yanked it open, ready to give the young agent a blistering dress-down and stopped.

“Gibbs,” Tony said, hand still on the door blocking the entrance.

“I brought breakfast,” Gibbs lifted up a white take-out bag.  He was dressed casually; jeans, an old Penn State hoodie, and a plain navy baseball cap without an insignia.

Tony pushed the door open wider and let his hand drop.

Gibbs moved inside and Tony closed the door, automatically locking and chaining it again.  He turned around to find Gibbs setting out breakfast burritos on the dining table Tony had co-opted as a workspace. 

He hurried over to his makeshift bed on the other side of the room and pulled a sweatshirt out of his bag.  He ignored his slightly damp torso in favour of getting covered-up.  He rubbed his hair furiously with the towel and tossed it onto the clothing bag he’d brought for laundry.  He strode back to Gibbs and accepted the bottle of water he held out.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Tony said.

Gibbs shot off for it like a hunting dog given a scent.  He returned with two mugs and set one down in front of Tony.

Tony sat down and motioned for Gibbs to take a seat.  “Should I be concerned about you stalking me, Agent Gibbs?” he teased as he picked up his breakfast and took a bite.

“I wanted to have breakfast with you,” Gibbs said bluntly.

Tony sobered as he considered the straightforwardness of Gibbs’ answer.  “How’d you know where I was?”

“Not the breakroom,” Gibbs joked before he gestured with his burrito.  “McGee gave up the address.”

Tony lifted his eyebrows at that.

“He’s green,” Gibbs acknowledged, “and I intimidate him.”

“So you used your powers for personal gain,” Tony stated, a touch amused.

“Like I said, I wanted to have breakfast with you,” Gibbs replied, holding Tony’s gaze.

Tony considered his reply carefully.  “I like you, Gibbs, but I’m not sure I’m ready to keep having breakfast with someone.”

“I can do slow,” Gibbs said.  “I used to be a sniper.”

Tony’s eyes widened.  “I can see that.”

Gibbs shrugged.  “Besides, it’s not as though I really know what I’m doing here.”

“First guy?”

“First guy I’ve wanted to have breakfast with,” Gibbs said simply.

And didn’t that just make Tony’s heart melt a little.

“So, slow?” Gibbs asked.

Tony swallowed hard.  It felt like he was about to take a leap of faith.  “Slow.”

Gibbs smiled, his blue eyes warming into a summer sky.

Tony stuffed more burrito into his mouth and chewed. 

For more than a few minutes, both men focused on eating.

Gibbs finished and motioned at the camera set-up.  “Chris said you were doing surveillance on a possible connection to Voss.”

“The lovely Amanda Reed,” Tony drank from his water bottle, chasing the heat of spice out of his mouth.  “We think she and Voss were an item, but we’re beginning to wonder if she killed him once she had the money.”

“A black widow?” Gibbs perked up with interest.  “Not often you see that.”

“What about your SEAL?” Tony asked.  “You track down your one-armed man yet?”

“We haven’t tracked down either Curtain or his wife’s killer,” Gibbs admitted, his expression turning disgruntled.  “We were up all night with the lawyers trying to get to the bottom of it.”

“Any leads?” asked Tony, genuinely interested.

Gibbs pulled a face.  “Curtain found the calls to a disposable cell phone his wife had two days before he bolted from Leavenworth.”

“Huh,” Tony said.

“Thing is we already knew about the phone thanks to your question about the cable guy,” Gibbs said.  “She made most of her ad hoc calls on the cell; plumber, electrician, cable company.  The wife called the company two days before her death to arrange a repair.”

“So who knew she’d arranged it?” Tony thought out loud.

“The only non-tradespeople she seems to have talked to is her husband’s Commander’s wife,” Gibbs said dispassionately.

Tony’s attention was caught.  “She was talking to her husband’s Commander’s wife?”

“Not unusual for the Commander’s spouse to act as a den mother when a team is deployed,” Gibbs explained.

“Right,” Tony said, “there’s a logical explanation for why the two women would talk, except…” he waggled his eyebrows, “what if that’s not all they talked about?”

Gibbs stared at him.  “You think they were having an affair?”

“Believe me, Gibbs,” Tony said, “since I took on the PI gig, I’ve seen a lot of cheating by a lot of people.  It’s not confined to straight people.”  He tossed the paper from the burrito wrap into the trash can on the far side of the room.  “Is it possible the Commander found out and got to the house before Curtain came back?”

Gibbs lurched to his feet.  “Foley was Stateside earlier than Curtain; he was injured.”  He stabbed a finger at Tony.  “I have a couple of SEALs to round up.  Stay safe.”

He strode over to the door and opened it revealing an about-to-knock and very startled young agent McGee.

“McGee,” Gibbs nodded at him and left.

Tony ushered McGee in before he could utter a word.  “Chris said you’d be by to hook up the surveillance feed to NCIS.”

McGee shook himself out of his shock, but he focused on the remnants of the breakfast out on the table.  “Uh, why was Gibbs…”

Tony stared him down until his voice faded on the question.  He had no intention of his nascent relationship with Gibbs ending up as breakroom gossip.  “Not that it’s any of your business, McNosey, but Gibbs has been using me as a sounding board for his missing SEAL case.”

McGee flushed and nodded.  “Right.” 

He set to work, running more cables and plugging in a lot of tech equipment that Tony had no clue about.

Tony gathered up the remains of his and Gibbs’ impromptu meal.  McGee immediately made use of the extra space to set up another monitor and sound equipment.  He opened a laptop and competently tapped away until the monitor fritzed to life with the feed from the camera Tony had hooked up at the window. 

McGee adjusted his headphones.  “Agent Pacci, do you hear me?”

Chris must have replied because McGee nodded.

“Connecting with your computer now, sir,” McGee said respectfully.  He pressed another set of keys and gave a nod of satisfaction.  “Are you…that’s very good, sir.  No, I can take out the headphones and put you on speaker, sir.”

Tony figured Chris had asked to speak to them both.

McGee detached the headphones and pressed another button.  “You should be able to talk to us both now, sir.”

“You there, Tony?” Chris’ voice came through clearly.

“I’m here,” Tony said.

“Great,” Chris said, “Agent McGee is TDA’d to us so I’m going to have him tag-team me here at NCIS on the surveillance as your back-up.  As you’re essentially undercover there and have made contact, you’ll remain on point at the apartment.”

McGee looked nervous, excited and a little proud.  Personally, Tony appreciated the thought of Chris giving him round the clock protection.  He was very aware that he didn’t have the cover of an official badge.

“McGee, I believe you have additional information you attached to your report on Reed’s cover?” prompted Chris.

“Yes, sir, I do,” McGee collected himself visibly.  “Two things to report, sir.  The original Amanda Reed was the next-door neighbour to Lieutenant Voss’ family when he was a teenager.  She died, leaving only a distant cousin in England.  I’ve reached out to them to understand if there is any relation with the lady calling herself Amanda Reed now.”

Tony frowned.

He was reminded of Gibbs’ rule thirty-nine.  It couldn’t be a coincidence that Voss’ old neighbour and his paramour shared an identity.  The fact that it was linked with Voss before an actual woman got involved…

Something was off with that.

Tony set it aside to mull over later.

“The second thing is the flights to Bangkok,” McGee continued.  “There’s no record of an Amanda Reed ever flying from the USA to Asia.  She never left the States according to commercial flight records.”

“She could have taken a private flight,” Tony countered. 

“There were no charters in the name of Amanda Reed either,” McGee replied.  “But I did find two trips taken by Commander Voss to Bangkok, one every year prior to his death.  Uh, there was a charter from Dulles to Bangkok with a layover in Switzerland scheduled by a Harrison Reed just after Voss died.”  He paused.  “Harrison Reed was the original Amanda Reed’s late husband.  He was also deceased at the time of the charter.”

Tony and Chris absorbed that nugget in stunned silence.

“Good job, Probie,” Tony clapped McGee on the shoulder.

“Anything else to add, Agent McGee?” Chris asked from his desk.

McGee shook his head.  “No, sir.”

“Keep on Harrison Reed,” Tony said.  “If Voss used that as his own identity we, and by we I mean you should be able to pull on it enough to break it apart.”

“Yes, sir,” McGee said, flushed with pleasure.

Chris gave a pleased hum.  “Tony, I’ll keep the mic silent unless you holler.  McGee, you’d better get back to the Yard before your visit there becomes suspicious.”

McGee nodded and pressed some more buttons.  He showed Tony how to unmute to talk with Chris and gave Tony some neat sunglasses that could record Reed outside of the apartment if Tony followed her.  He began to pack up.  “If you need anything, Agent Pacci has my contact details.”

Tony clasped his hand.  “Thank you, Agent McGee.”

McGee took a deep breath in.  “Agent Pacci said she might have killed Commander Voss?”

“Maybe,” Tony said, pushing his hands in the pockets of his sweats and rocking back.  “What do you think?”

McGee frowned.  “She’s probably not too far off his height and weight so I can’t see her physically assaulting him, but…I guess she might have poisoned him?  If she was a co-conspirator he must have trusted her.”

“Good theory, McSpeculative,” Tony said, “but I’ve seen teeny tiny women skewer their four hundred pound husbands before.”

McGee stared at him.  “That seems oddly specific.”

Tony grinned at him.  “Have a good day, Probie.”

o-O-o

Tony frowned at the sight of the woman greeting Reed at the end of the street from his position choosing fruit outside the bodega.  He had superlative hearing but even he couldn’t make out the conversation between the two.  He adjusted the glasses McGee had given him and held up an apple to get a better look.  He was just glad the early evening sunlight worked in his favour to get a clear angle.

The squat blond woman who had accosted Reed was middle-aged, well-dressed, chatty.  Reed didn’t look that thrilled to have run into her.  She suddenly turned giving Tony a full view of her face as a young man ran up to Chatty Kathy and Tony angled away from the sight of the introduction of him to Reed. 

He picked up another apple.  Reed looked trapped.  He headed inside to buy the apples and when he came out, he saw Reed was gesturing to the woman in a way that spoke of making excuses to get away.

His phone rang.  He flicked the glasses off, reached into his pocket, pulled it out and answered it.  “Tony here.”

“Got my SEAL,” Gibbs replied.

Tony felt his lips twitch into a smirk and controlled his response as he turned in the direction of the apartment.  “I never doubted you would.”

“You pointed us in the right direction,” Gibbs continued.

“The wife was having an affair with the Commander’s wife?” checked Tony.

“Yep,” Gibbs replied.  “Commander killed Curtain’s wife when he found out.  Cable guy was collateral damage.  Worked out for him.”

“Curtain’s innocent then,” Tony said.

“Accrued a whole load of new charges with his break-out stunt, but yeah, innocent of his wife’s murder,” Gibbs said.  “I hear Abby confirmed your dead guy wasn’t so dead.”

“Yeah, the body in the car accident wasn’t Voss,” Tony said.  “Doesn’t mean he isn’t dead though.” 

Gibbs cleared his throat.  “I make a mean steak.”

“Do you?” Tony asked teasingly as he walked into the apartment.

“When you’re finished helping Chris, maybe I can thank you for your help with Curtain,” Gibbs said.

Tony smiled, charmed despite himself at the clumsy invite.  “I can always eat steak.”

“Great,” Gibbs said.  “Call me when you’re done with your maybe dead guy.”

The call abruptly cut out.

Tony checked the camera.  Reed wasn’t back and when he looked back down the street, she was talking on her mobile in front of the café.

Back in the apartment, Tony sat down and pressed the unmute button.  “Chris, are you there?”

“Uh, it’s me, Detective DiNozzo,” McGee replied.  “Agent Pacci left the office.  He has little league softball coaching.”

Tony nodded in recognition.  Chris had dragged him to it a few times.  He attached his glasses to the connecting cable McGee had shown him.

“I’m sending you some video, McGee,” Tony informed him.  “We need to run an ID search on the woman talking with Reed.”

“I’m on it, sir,” McGee perked up with an actual task.

“Call me Tony or DiNozzo,” Tony offered.  “I’m not exactly in your chain of command, McGee.”

“Right,” McGee replied a little hesitant.  “I’ve got the video, I’m isolating the image and running it through DVLA.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, sitting down and picking up the laptop he’d discarded when he’d gone shopping. 

“Did Agent Pacci update you on what I discovered about Harrison Reed, uh, DiNozzo…I mean, Tony…uh…”

“He did,” Tony cut across McGee’s awkwardness.  “Record of him entering Bangkok, hotel room for one week, and then…he disappeared.”

“Right,” McGee said.  “Do you think she killed him in Thailand?”

“I’m not sure what I think,” Tony admitted.  He opened up his laptop and brought up the browser.  He clicked through to the tourist page of Bangkok, the listing of sights and attractions, and wondered again why Voss had gone there.

There was something not adding up and it had been bugging him since the day before.  He pushed the laptop onto the table.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair tilting it as he drew up his legs to rest them on the table.

Voss was the one connected with the Amanda Reed identity.

Assuming he’d met the woman across the street, she had assumed the identity and had apparently been located near to Voss for years.

But Pacci’s investigation had found no-one remembered seeing Voss and Reed together.  Voss arriving at Reed’s abode, yes.  Being seen with her at a neighbourhood barbeque, no.

Voss had stolen millions from the Navy and when found out Voss had faked his death left the country as Harrison Reed and disappeared.

Voss had been obsessed with the old townhouse his family had once owned.

Amanda Reed had returned from Bangkok and bought it with cash.

Voss had gone to Bangkok.

Reed had loved the last two years in Bangkok.

The homepage of Bangkok’s tourist site flickered in Tony’s memory.

There was no sign of Voss.

Never seen together.

They were never seen together.

Like Batman and Bruce Wayne.

Superman and Clark Kent.

Except Voss wasn’t the superhero he was a villain.

He navigated to a folder of surveillance pictures of Reed.  He split the screen so he could view both.  He stared at them. 

They were very, very similar.  What had McGee said?  Similar height and weight.

He picked up his pen and twirled it through his fingers.  He couldn’t be right, could he?  Because his mind was going to Some Like it Hot and Mrs Doubtfire…men pretending to be women to hide, to fool others…

But…Bangkok.

Thailand was becoming known for its gender reassignment treatments.

Maybe Voss wasn’t just pretending…

Tony’s chair banged as he righted his position, he reached for the laptop and paged through until he had Voss’ service record in front of him with the picture of the Commander looking directly at the camera.

“McGee,” Tony pressed the button to connect him back with the young agent, absently registering the clatter of a door banging through the sound amplifier they had pointed at Reed’s house.  “Can you do a facial similarity test on Voss and Reed?”

“Yes, sir,” McGee said. 

Tony heard the sound of clicking keys as he moved to check Reed’s activity.  She was stripping off in the bedroom, her movements sharp and jerky as though she was angry.

McGee hummed through the speaker.  “They do look alike, don’t they?  Do you think they might be related?”

Tony hummed.

“Uh, Detective DiNozzo?” McGee interrupted his musing.  “The similarity test…it came back and…it can’t be right.”

“It’s a hundred per cent match, right?”  Tony frowned as Reed, no, Voss started to pull on dark clothing; pants, turtleneck, jacket…

“Well, not one hundred, but it’s close, I mean too close, are they twins?!”

“We have to do a fingerprint test to confirm it for certain but I think we’ve found Lieutenant Commander Voss,” Tony said as Reed moved to a picture and took it off the wall to reveal a safe.  “Trash day is in a couple of days, I think?  But maybe I can get us something sooner…”

His voice trailed off as he watched Reed take out a small gun from the safe and load it efficiently. 

“Uh, DiNozzo, are you…” McGee’s alarm drifted out of the speaker.

“Watching her pack a gun into her purse?” Tony asked dryly.  He was already moving to check his weapon and gather his own coat.  “I’m going to need to follow her.”

“But…”

“Switch comms to my phone, McGee,” Tony hooked his Bluetooth into his ear as Reed left her house.  He answered McGee on his way out of the apartment, skipping down the steps to his car and getting it fired up just in time to pull out after Reed.

“You really think Reed is Voss?” asked McGee tremulously.

“Voss probably struggled with his identity all his life,” Tony said.  “He used his old neighbour’s identity to create a feminine persona and for years he was happy living a double life.  Being a woman when he went off duty at a place he rented in her name.” 

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as Reed weaved through the busy D.C. traffic. 

“But it wasn’t enough,” Tony said, “and reassignment treatment costs a lot of money…”

“So he started stealing,” McGee concluded.

“I figure he went big knowing that he’d get caught, but it wasn’t going to be a problem because he’d fake his death and assume the identity of Amanda Reed fully,” Tony continued.

“That’s why he disappeared in Thailand,” McGee said, putting the pieces together.  “He had treatment.”

“If he or rather she had disappeared from there, she’d have gotten away with it too,” Tony said.  “But Reed wanted the old family house his grandfather had gambled away too much.”

Reed was heading towards a familiar looking neighbourhood. 

Tony felt his gut curdle.  “McGee, did you get a match on that woman she was speaking to?”

“Do you think she’s going after her?” McGee’s worry caused a tremor in his young voice.  “I have a match.  The photo is of Laura Chiswick.”

Chiswick.

Reed’s old neighbour.

But they were heading into the wrong neighbourhood.  Tony recognised the landmarks; they were close to Chris’ place.

Chris.

If the neighbour had told Reed about being interviewed by an agent…the phone call she’d made in the street was her calling someone for information…

“McGee, I have reason to believe Reed is going after Chris,” Tony said crisply.  “Call Dispatch and get them to send back-up immediately to Agent Pacci’s house.  Make sure you let them know about me and that I’m on the scene.  Then call Chris and warn him.”

“Yes, sir,” McGee squeaked.

The phone shifted to hold music as McGee went about getting them help and warning Chris.  Tony was already calculating time and distance and…he knew he was Chris’s best chance.  He took a right, cutting down a side-street and up another parallel street, trying to get ahead of Reed.  He made turn after turn, wishing he had a police siren to help him clear traffic.

The hold music cut out. 

“I can’t get hold of Agent Pacci,” McGee babbled, sounding as though he was running.  “But I’m on my way with Agent Gibbs and…”

The call dropped.  Lost signal, Tony assumed.

He finally came out directly across from the back of Chris’ place, parked and ran out of the car.  He jumped the back fence and made his way down the side path to peek around the corner of the house. 

Chris was home; his car parked in front.  Tony could hear a ringing phone…

Reed was pulling up at the end of the street.  She got out confidently.  Her face was masked by a baseball cap, hair tucked neatly underneath it.  She walked up the drive and rang the bell.

Tony could hear movement in the house, the phone still ringing and…a key being turned…

Reed lifted the gun and aimed…

Tony slid around the corner, his own weapon held firmly.  “Commander Voss!  Drop your weapon!”

Reed’s head snapped around, eyes wide as she took in his stance, but…

Chris opened the door…

Reed snarled, whirling back, and raised her gun and…

Tony shot her wrist.

Reed turned to Tony, shock written all over her face, before she pitched forward in a faint.  Tony caught her before she hit the concrete step.  He lowered her into a recovery position, kicked her gun away and started to put pressure on her wrist.

Chris stared at him open-mouthed from the doorway, still dressed in his coaching outfit.

“You’re welcome,” Tony quipped.

Cars screeched down the street and parked in front of the house as NCIS agents poured out, McGee hurrying from one of the cars, following like a duckling with Todd and Dobbs in the wake of Gibbs who approached with his gun out, pointed down.

“You both OK?” asked Gibbs sharply.

Chris nodded.  “I just got back from little league.”

“We’ve been trying to call you to warn you,” McGee stuttered out, red-faced and breathless.

“I was in the bathroom,” Chris said apologetically, “my gut’s been playing up.  I was just coming down to answer it when the doorbell rang.” He looked over at Tony.  “You saved my life.”

“Let’s call it even,” Tony said dryly.  He jerked his head at the prone woman.  “We need to call an ambulance.”

“I’m on it,” Todd said pragmatically, turning away as she lifted her phone to her ear.

Reed started to stir.

Tony glanced at Chris.  “So, Chris, you want to read rights to Commander Voss or do you want to make McGee do it?”

“Voss?!” Chris looked at her and stared as the realisation began to sink in.  “Oh my God.”

o-O-o

“Detective DiNozzo…”

Tony paused in packing up his bag to look to the mature man stood in front of his desk.  He recognised the middle-aged smartly dressed man immediately.  “Director Morrow.”

“May I have a word, Detective?” Morrow asked politely, a small smile on his face.

Tony wanted to refuse, but he swallowed his unease and smiled back at the man.  “Sure.”

Morrow led him through the bullpen, up the stairs and along a corridor to his office.  He was ushered inside and offered refreshments which he refused with a shake of his head.

Morrow took his own seat on the other side of the desk.  “We owe you our thanks.  We could have lost Agent Pacci without your help on this case.”

“Chris is a friend,” Tony said simply.

“I’m not going to dance around this, Detective,” Morrow said. “I want to offer you a position.”  He slid a folder across the desk.

Tony took the folder.  He flipped it open, ready to say no and…

“You want me to come on board as a Senior Field Agent?!” He didn’t bother to hide his incredulity.

“Agent Pacci will get a promotion to Supervisory Special Agent next month,” Morrow said smoothly.  “You’d report to him along with Agent McGee.  I want to build a second MCRT here at the Yard.  You’d both be perfect for it.”

Tony fingered the letter carefully.  “Can you hire me into such a senior position?”

Morrow smiled.  “I have a lot of leeway.  You’d have to do FLETC and there’d be a probation period, but I don’t think you’d have too much of a problem there.  You’d be working with someone you trust and I’d hope in time to also gain your trust.”  He waited a beat, holding Tony’s gaze.  “I won’t downplay how traumatic Raimey’s betrayal of you and your partner was to you, but you’re too good a cop for me not to try and give you an opportunity to move past it and serve your country as part of my agency.”

“And what about when you move on?” Tony asked.  “How can I trust who comes next?”

“I’m currently not planning to move on,” Morrow replied evenly, “but if I do and you don’t trust whoever’s in my chair, my door will always be open for you.”

Tony breathed in.

Raimey’s betrayal and the grief of losing his partner still sat in his heart like a wild bird flapping its wings and trying to get out.  He resisted the urge to rub at his shoulder, at the gunshot wound.

But.

He couldn’t deny that he’d enjoyed working with Pacci and McGee; he’d enjoyed being part of a team again.

He could be part of something at NCIS and he could do more good than if he simply stayed a PI.  Do the good that he’d decided he wanted to do back when he’d been nothing more than a wandering basketball college kid…

Raimey had killed Tony’s partner, but Tony was done with his former boss stopping Tony from doing what he was meant to do.

Tony sat the folder on the desk and reached for a pen.  He signed his name to the acceptance form, which was attached to an already completed application.  He wondered who had filled that in.

Morrow smiled and stood up.  He offered his hand.  “Welcome to NCIS, Special Agent DiNozzo.”

Tony shook his hand.  He was ushered out as politely as he’d been ushered in, a goodbye with a promise that HR would be in touch with him to agree the specifics.  He made his way down to the bullpen.

Chris waited for him by his desk.  “Well?”

“I thought this wasn’t a recruitment pitch,” Tony teased as he reached for his bag. 

Chris rolled his eyes.  “Tony…”

“I took the offer,” Tony cut in.  “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

Chris grinned and stepped over to hug Tony tightly enough that his breath escaped in a huff.  “We’re going to make a great team.”

Tony patted him on the back and eased away.  He held Chris’ gaze.  “Thanks, Chris.”

“You’re the one who saved my life,” Chris pointed out, poking him in the arm.

“You saved mine first,” Tony retorted.

“Hmmm,” Chris shrugged.  “One each.  We’ll just have to keep score and see who wins in the end.”  He suddenly grinned.  “Oh, boy!  The Feebies aren’t going to know what’s hit them when we get you on the field for the softball tournament!”

Tony laughed and Chris smiled as they headed to the elevator side by side.

o-O-o

Tony turned the engine off and looked at the house in front of him.  He checked the address.  He shook his head, grabbed the beers he’d picked up, and got out of the car heading for the front door.

He knocked sharply on the post.

“Door’s open!”

Tony’s lips twitched at Gibbs’ blunt voice.  He pushed open the door and entered.  He wasn’t surprised by the spartan and lived in quality of the décor.  It felt like Gibbs.

Gibbs was kneeling by the fire place, poking the steaks he’d placed on a grille.  He made one final poke and tossed the tongs to the side, standing up.  “They need another minute.”

Tony put the beers on the coffee table.  “They smell amazing.”

“Wait till you taste them,” Gibbs commented, taking a step towards him.  “Director make you an offer?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. 

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow.  “You going to leave me hanging?”

Tony teased him with an enigmatic smile before he caved.  “I took it,” he replied, “rule five, right?”

Gibbs looked smug.

“What did you win in the pool?” asked Tony, amused.

“Who needs the pool?” Gibbs took another step towards him. 

They were a hands span apart.

Gibbs closed the distance. 

A rough hand slid through the hair at the back of Tony’s head, grazing his neck in a way that made him shiver as lips found his and…it was gentle and coaxing, but hot.  God, was it hot…

Tony pulled back, flustered.

Gibbs smiled even more smugly than he did before.  “Got you, didn’t I?”

Tony laughed.  He poked Gibbs in the chest.  “Somebody promised me steak.”

Gibbs stepped back and went to his knees back in front of the fire.  Tony sat down on the sofa and cracked open the beers.

“You know it was almost me who led on the Floyd case,” Gibbs said.  “Pacci stepped in for me.”

“Yeah?” Tony tried to imagine it; tried to imagine running down Gibbs the way he’d ran down Chris.  “You think things would have turned out differently?”

Gibbs slapped the steaks down onto waiting plates.  He went back into the flames and pulled out baked potatoes.  He handed Tony a plate and kept one for himself as he sat beside him.

“Things might have gone down differently if we’d met back then,” Gibbs admitted, “but all I know is that I like what we have right now.”

Tony felt his heart warm at that.  He offered his beer bottle in a silent toast and Gibbs clinked his solemnly against it before he turned his attention to his steak.

Tony set his bottle on the side and tackled his own meal.  He guessed he agreed with Gibbs.  It didn’t matter that it had been Chris and not Gibbs back then; the past was the past.  He was going to be a special agent, no – he was going to be Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, working with Chris who he trusted, who was his friend. 

And he had Gibbs.

His future was looking great.

fin.