Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Tony shoots, he scores, he turns around and high fives Marcus Jackson who at fifteen is already at Tony’s height.

“That’s so cool, man!” Marcus’s friend Alan crows as the basketball team crowds around hollering.  “You have to teach me how to do that shot!”

“Next time,” Tony promises.  He catches movement by the gym doors and freezes for a second. 

Marcus follows his gaze.  “Looks like a cop.”

“You remember I’m also a cop, right?” Tony checks dryly.  He takes in the impatient lines of his unexpected visitor and gestures around at the team.  “Session’s over!  Don’t forget to practice your shots since I beat you all!”

Marcus and Alan flash him wide grins as they jog away.  The rest of the team trundles out in twos and threes, chattering away as they tumble out of the gym doors to the world beyond.

Tony’s been playing basketball at his local community centre and teaching it there at the weekends since he found a place.  The familiarity of sport has been a comfort as he’s settled back into life as Anthony DiNozzo. 

After three months of being benched until he’d passed a psych clearance, he’d officially been assigned as an FBI Special Agent to the Washington office and the Criminal Investigation Division.  He’s spent the past six months floating between teams since Assistant Director Donovan seems happy enough to have him act as a fixer.  He’d prefer a permanent assignment, but he’s cognisant that they’re still watching to see if he’s more Gallo than DiNozzo under his skin and the truth is that he’s still not certain that he’s put Gallo completely away either.  He misses the love and support of his Macaluso family so much he aches with it some days.

Tony collects the ball from the court and tosses it in the ball bag.  He takes the time to stow it in the storage locker before heading over to Gibbs who’s pacing by Tony’s discarded hoodie and towel at the far end of the bleachers.

He’s heard Fornell bellyache about Gibbs – especially after the whole Air Force One debacle a few months before, but the last time he’d seen Gibbs had been when NCIS had helped extract him from Philadelphia.

His mind slips back to the first time he’d ever met the agent.

He’d been undercover as Gallo.  Gibbs and his old boss had picked him up for questioning about the death of a Marine Sergeant.  Franks had taken the lead as the senior agent, but Tony had watched as Gibbs had backed up his partner, asked insightful questions, and had in the end gotten a lot closer to getting something out Gallo than Franks.

Calling in Gibbs to extract Gallo from Philadelphia had been Tony’s idea.  He’d had no idea at the time that Fornell and Gibbs shared an ex-wife.  

“Special Agent Gibbs,” Tony says politely as he picks up the towel and rubs it over his head.  There are multiple reasons why Gibbs might want to visit him, and he pushes them all out of his head to ask the question to find out which is actually relevant. “How can I help you today?”

Gibbs nods at him.  “You got somewhere we can talk in private?”

Tony raises his eyebrow and leads him into the small office behind the court.  He pulls on his hoodie for warmth and waits for Gibbs to speak.

Almost two full minutes go by as Gibbs seems content to read over the collection of pamphlets pinned to the corkboard by the door.

Tony sighs.  “Gibbs…”

“Special Agent Chris Pacci died two days ago,” Gibbs says. 

Tony blinks back his shock, grief rippling through him. He rubs a hand through his hair.  Damn it.  He’d liked Chris.

“Your name and number were in his call log,” Gibbs continues tersely.  “I didn’t realise you two had stayed in touch after we extracted you from Philly.”

Tony leans back to settle his ass against the desk behind him.  He meets Gibbs’ gaze unflinchingly.  “Chris reached out after the official bulletin went out that Gallo had escaped custody.  We’d get together and watch baseball games, basketball, football.”

Gibbs’ jaw tightens with emotion. 

“I’m sorry, Gibbs, he was a good man,” Tony offers sincerely. 

He was going to miss watching games over at Chris’ place with good beer, take-out, and the warm companionship of a fellow agent who had just wanted to give Tony a safe space to land.  In some ways, it had been a lot easier to settle into a friendship with Chris than to pick up the threads of his Academy friendship with Ron.

Gibbs nods.  “Pacci called you the day he died.  Why?”

“He had a cold case he wanted to talk through with me,” Tony says honestly.

Gibbs startles.  “He talked cold cases with you?”

Tony shrugs.  “Told Chris I like the challenge of them.  He likes,” he winces, “liked having a sounding board.”

“You help him with Voss last month?” Gibbs says sharply.  “Report said an FBI agent spotted Reed tracking Pacci and took her out before she could do any harm with the knife in her possession.”

Tony nods, thinking about the case.  Commander Voss had stolen money, faked his death and gone to Bangkok for a gender change.  Reed had spotted Chris’s interest and it had only been sheer luck that Tony had managed to apprehend her before she’d hurt the other agent. 

Gibbs gestures.  “What was the latest one Pacci wanted help with?”

Tony registers how Gibbs is almost vibrating out of his skin at his impatience to hear more.

“Navy Lieutenant Aiden Finnegan,” Tony says crisply, “youngest son of the Finnegan family.  They run a good part of Boston under the iron fist of Ma Rose.” 

Finnegan had been killed on shore leave the year before, one shot to the back of the head, in motel room in D.C.’s shadiest area.  The case was cold and as far as Tony could ascertain had never really warmed up in the first place.

“He was looking for your insight on mob families,” Gibbs notes, realisation softening the harsh lines of his grief for a second. 

“He was,” Tony confirms.  He figures the lead on the Finnegan case, an Agent Terence Bacall, had quietly let the ball drop when Aiden Finnegan’s family had been revealed.  Chris had confided the approach to the case seemed sloppy.  “You think this case got him killed?”

“I know it did,” Gibbs says, “I just have to prove it.” His blue gaze suddenly pins Tony’s.  “You want in?”

Of course he wants in.  He wants to make sure Chris gets the justice he deserves.

Tony represses the urge to blurt that out loud.  Instead, he considers it; he’s got nothing pressing on his desk and Chris was his friend.  He nods slowly.  “You’ll need to clear it with my AD.”

“Consider it done,” Gibbs says. His eyes rake over Tony.  “Clean up and meet me back at the Yard in an hour.”

He’s gone before Tony can protest.

His lips twist into a rueful smile.  Pacci had complained about Gibbs’ abrupt military style all the time.  Complained in that mixed way of someone who admired the agent’s diligence and thirst for justice, if not the way he got results. 

Tony gets himself going.  He doesn’t care much about Gibbs’ deadline, but Chris shouldn’t have to wait.

o-O-o

Gibbs watches from the back of the balcony overlooking his team’s bullpen area.

Cassie Yates is heartbroken about Pacci.  She’d been his Probie and they’d remained close.  Gibbs knows Cassie is doing her best to keep it together as his Senior Agent and to keep assigned to the case since Morrow’s used some of his political clout to enable NCIS to take lead on the investigation, despite the protocol that says it should be handed off to the FBI.  Gibbs knows NCIS protocol means that he should really send Cassie home, but he can’t bring himself to do it.  He’d want to work in her shoes.

Pacci had recommended Cassie to Gibbs a month after they’d come back from Philly when Morrow had demanded Gibbs pick a partner to start building out the Major Case Response Team again or Morrow would start assigning his own choices.  Cassie was a smart, competent agent who wasn’t particularly intimidated by Gibbs. 

That latter point had been hammered home in their first case with the still relatively new agent sitting across from Cassie.  Cassie had torn Gibbs a new one when he’d tried to flatten the chain of command in the team.  His old training sergeant couldn’t have done it better, Gibbs muses proudly as his eyes moved to Special Agent Caitlin Todd.

He’d offered Kate the job after meeting her on the Air Force One case because, back in his past, he’d made the same mistake that she’d made getting involved with a co-worker.  He’d figured she’d deserved a break.  Kate’s a solid agent with good investigative skills, but with a tendency to make assumptions and jump to early conclusions.  Gibbs believes between him and Cassie they can make her a great addition to NCIS.

Tucked away under the balcony and hidden from his view, the final member of the team working on Pacci’s death still isn’t quite a full member of the team.  Special Agent Timothy McGee is on loan from Norfolk to provide his computer expertise to the search for the terrorist who’d invaded autopsy almost two months before. 

McGee is a little soft around the edges and he can see Cassie’s interest in taking him on as a Probie.  He’s aware that Abby has started softly lobbying for the same.  He’s not sure he’s going to indulge either of them.  Kate’s got some experience under her belt with the Secret Service, but she still is a Probie.  He’s definitely not going to indulge it right in the wake of Pacci’s death.

Gibbs grimaces. 

He’d blown Pacci off about Voss.  Gibbs had been too focused on trying to track down the terrorist and in the middle of a hot case; he hadn’t made time for him and outright ordered him not to bother Cassie with it.  He’d apologised to Pacci in the wake of Voss’ arrest, but since Pacci had sought out DiNozzo and not him or Cassie on the Finnegan case, Gibbs is beginning to get that his apology hadn’t quite mended the fence he’d broken with his dismissal.  

The elevator door pings in the background and Gibbs heads down at the sight of FBI Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo striding out.  His lips twitch as DiNozzo startles to a halt, whipping his sunglasses off to stare at the bright orange paint.

It gives Gibbs the time to make it down the stairs and get in front of him.

“You might want to put the sunglasses back on,” Gibbs quips dryly.

“No kidding,” Tony says.  “I thought Tobias was exaggerating, but he really wasn’t.” He tucks his sunglasses away in the deep pocket of the grey wool coat he’s wearing on top of a crisp white shirt under a soft blue sweater teamed with blue jeans.  His badge is affixed to his belt and Gibbs will bet money that the gun holster is at the small of DiNozzo’s back.  His outfit isn’t the usual FBI suit and Gibbs thinks that’s a deliberate play to put the NCIS agents he’s going to be working with more at ease.

Gibbs jerks his head in the direction of his team.  “This way.”  He walks away, confident that DiNozzo will follow.

Gibbs is pleased that Cassie is already on her feet, waiting.  He gestures at her first since Kate is scrambling to stand and McGee looks like he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to stand or not.

“My Senior Field Agent, Cassie Yates,” he motions to DiNozzo, “FBI Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.”

DiNozzo is already reaching out his hand to shake Cassie’s.  “My condolences, Special Agent Yates,” he says solemnly, “Chris spoke of you often.”

“Same,” Cassie’s smile was genuine if sad.  “Said the FBI was going to cream us at any sport fixture if they had you on the team, Agent DiNozzo.”

DiNozzo shoots her a quick charming smile. “Tony, please.”

“Cassie,” Cassie returns.

Kate unsubtly shifts her weight as she hovers by the side of her desk.

Cassie motions at her.  “This is our Probie, Special Agent Kate Todd.  She’s been with us a few months now.”

Kate shoots her a glare at the mention of her probationary status as she reaches over to shake DiNozzo’s hand.  “Pleased to meet you, Agent DiNozzo.”

“Tony, please,” DiNozzo reiterates.  “We’re all here to help Chris, right.”

“Right,” Kate says sounding unsure.

Gibbs is reminded that Kate barely knew Pacci.

There’s a beat of silence where everyone waits for Kate to offer her name and she flushes as she realises and hastens to give it.

“I’m Caitlin, I mean, Kate,” Kate stumbles, “I mean, you can call me Kate.”

DiNozzo nods.  He looks over to where McGee is standing behind a desk. 

Gibbs represses the urge to sigh and lets Cassie gesture McGee over.  She makes the introduction.  McGee is like a nervous Labrador puppy greeting a fully grown and unimpressed German Shepherd.

Gibbs points at the empty desk next to his own.  “That’s yours, DiNozzo.  Let’s get you up to speed.  McGee, get everything on the monitor.”

McGee hustles back to his own temporary desk across from Gibbs as DiNozzo casually crosses the space and drops his bag and coat into an empty chair.  DiNozzo joins Gibbs in front of the monitor a second before Cassie and Kate take up positions on the other side of Gibbs.  McGee hovers by his computer as the information fills the screen.

Kate flips on her device and starts to report at Gibbs’ signal. “Special Agent Pacci was found deceased in his bed on Thursday morning by his cleaning lady.  Ducky, uh, our M.E., Doctor Mallard, confirmed that he’d died from a single gunshot to the head in the early hours of the morning, likely between two and three.”

Cassie crosses her arms over her chest.  “Sheila, the cleaner, noted that the house alarm wasn’t set when she entered, but she didn’t think anything of it since Chris left it off most nights.  He primarily used it when he was away.”

DiNozzo nods thoughtfully. 

“The one camera at the front of the house shows the street remained empty from midnight until the neighbours started to leave for work,” Kate continues, “suggesting that the entry was through the back.  None of the neighbours report hearing anything unusual in the middle of the night.”

“The back door lock has minor scratches,” Cassie adds.  “Nothing in the house looks disturbed, and as far as anyone can tell all the valuables were left.  It looks like the killer came in, shot Chris likely with a silencer, and left.”

“It has all the hallmarks of someone who knew what they were doing,” DiNozzo notes.

Cassie nods in response.  “That’s our best working theory.”  She sighs.  “Chris was working on an active case as of Tuesday night.  There was an assault on a Marine Sergeant outside of a club.  He’d ended up in Bethesda in a coma.”

“According to Agent Pacci’s log, he’d concluded that the assailant was David Fromston, the estranged drug-addicted brother of a friend of Sergeant Harrison,” Kate said.  “Pacci had a BOLO and an arrest warrant issued late Wednesday afternoon for the brother.  He logged out of the Yard at seventeen-hundred.”   

“At twenty-hundred Chris went to Jamesons on Twelfth Street,” Cassie says.  “Bartender confirms seeing him at the bar.  Chris ordered his usual burger and fries, beer.  He left at twenty-two hundred.  His own front door footage has him arriving home at twenty-two twenty.  We’re trying to track his whereabouts between the Yard and the bar.”

“You’ve ruled out the drug addict as a suspect,” DiNozzo concludes, rocking back on his heels a little as he rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“We believe David Fromston has the wrong profile for the kill,” Kate confirmed. 

“That’s when we went back over the evidence,” Cassie says. “Your phone number in Chris’ log from Wednesday was the outlier.”

DiNozzo gestures at McGee.  “Can you bring up Aiden Finnegan’s case file?”

McGee nods, but he glances to Gibbs for permission first. 

Gibbs motions at him to get on with it.  “You said this was the case Pacci called you about?”

“Yes,” DiNozzo says succinctly.  “Chris had pulled it for review.  He said he’d been assigned to it for a day as a TDA to help scroll through some footage, and it had stuck with him.  He called me because he needed some insight from an organised crime expert.” 

Kate startles at the information like a spooked animal.  She blinks at DiNozzo as though reassessing him.

Gibbs frowns.  “You said Finnegan was part of a mob family?”

DiNozzo simply waves up at the monitor.  “Lieutenant Aiden Finnegan was the youngest son of Rose Finnegan, also known as Black Rose.  She’s the premier arms dealer on the East Coast supplying most of the mob families this side of Texas.  Her eldest two sons, Donal and Patrick are the Finance and Operation Directors of the arms business, Sean is a priest here in D.C., and Liam is an accountant working for a prestigious firm in Boston.”

He pauses, taking a breath.

“According to the briefing Chris gave me, Aiden Finnegan died at The Three Bells motel on the outskirts of D.C. in early February last year.  He’d been last seen in a club in downtown D.C. celebrating the impending nuptials of a fellow Naval officer.  He was shot once in the back of the head, mob execution style.  No evidentiary clues as to the murderer were left at the scene.  Front desk, door and parking lot had no camera and the clerk only remembered someone who looked like Finnegan paying for the room for the night earlier that evening.”

Tony shifts as he continues.  “Chris said that the supervisory agent claimed the team hit a brick wall because the Finnegans were never going to confide in LEOs and there was nothing on the professional side to suggest Finnegan wasn’t anything other than a solid Naval officer with a good future ahead of him.  Said the team lead called the case cold from the get-go.”

“Why did Chris call you?  What happened that he suddenly needed to ask you something when he already had an active case?” Cassie asks, her puzzlement written all over her face.

“Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” DiNozzo states briskly.

Gibbs gets it immediately.  So does Cassie.  He can see clarification rippling across her features as she registers something in the Harrison case had given Chris insight; had made him connect something in Finnegan’s old case and gotten him to a conclusion that he hadn’t made before around DADT. 

Kate darts a look between them all as McGee simply frowns in confusion.

“Finnegan was gay?” squeaks Kate.

“He was married though!” McGee says, glaring down at his computer where the information is written in black and white.  “Wasn’t he?”

Tony grimaces.  “According to mob gossip, the marriage was one of convenience.”

And Gibbs realises the other reason why Pacci had called on DiNozzo.  Who knew better about those than DiNozzo who had ostensibly been trapped in one by the Macaluso family?

“Marcy Cross is the youngest daughter of Matthew Cross,” Tony continues briskly.  “The Cross family are part of the Bostonian high society.  Cross owns an investment bank which is believed to be a front for his organised crime organisation.  Rose owns the arms business in Boston, but Cross runs the rest of it.”  He grimaces.  “They’d occupied the same territory fine for years – Rose’s former husband Padraig used to run with the Cross crowd as one of Matthew’s guards; that’s how they met.  About a month before Aiden and Marcy got married, there was a turf war that broke out among the older sons.  The marriage was brokered by all accounts to seal the deal on the peace treaty.”

“Cross bartered his daughter away?!” Kate demands, appalled.

“Essentially,” Tony agrees, “and Finnegan did the same to her son.  The families were connected, and the territory carved up pretty much along the same lines as before the war.  Everyone was satisfied with the outcome.”

“Only if Aiden Finnegan was gay, it was never going to end well,” Cassie says. 

“Chris had the same thought, that’s why he called.  He wanted to ask me what would happen if the Cross family found out that Finnegan was gay,” Tony says seriously.

“And what did you tell him?” asks Kate impatiently.

Tony gestures at the monitor.  “That a clean execution might have been the kindest response to the deception.”   

Kate looks away sickened.  Gibbs can’t blame her.

“Do you think the Cross family killed Finnegan and Chris?” asks Cassie pointedly.

“I think whatever Chris did after he talked to me triggered a defensive response from someone and that was what got him killed,” Tony says firmly.

“Then that’s what we need to find out,” Gibbs snaps out before any of his team can interject.  “Let’s get to it.”

o-O-o

Tony frowns at the information spread over the desk.  He separates out three photos out and wishes he had a board.  Still, lining up the photos on the edge of the desk provides the confirmation that he’s connected the same dots that Chris had connected.

The square ink stamp of the Conway Club is barely visible on the back of Aiden’s right hand since there are three other club stamps on there too and the CC one is smudged like someone had tried to scrub it off.  Harrison has the same stamp on his left inner wrist, almost obscured by a large bruise in the shape of a footprint, but it is the only one.

Tony figures that Harrison is likely gay, but he isn’t going to ask, and he doubts Harrison will tell.  Besides, Harrison isn’t the case.  He’s already shifted through that case file and he agrees with the NCIS team that a drug addict is unlikely to have killed Chris so cleanly.

He plucks out three witness statements from the stack he’d printed and scans over the information.  The statements are from the bachelor party Finnegan had been a part of the night he died.  Supervisory Special Agent Bacall had led on the interviews.  All the statements are from Naval officers from the same graduating class as Finnegan. 

Lieutenant Cal Wilson, the best man, had been in charge of organising the night.  His statement gave up only three club names, none of them the Conway Club.  There was also no mention of any order of the clubs visited, Tony notes, and Bacall had apparently failed to ask the question as a follow-up.

Based on his statement, Marshall Pollock, the groom, could barely remember anything about the night at all.  He vaguely remembered four different locations, couldn’t remember the names. Tony believes Pollock is likely telling the truth.  His limited experience of bachelor parties comes from the ten years he’d spent as Gallo, but each time they had focused on getting the groom as drunk at they could.

He’d missed two of his frat brothers’ parties while undercover with the Macalusos.  He wonders if they differed from the ones he’d experienced as Antonio Gallo.  He pushes the thought away and focuses back on the evidence. 

Henry Takei, the final member of the party, also provided the names of only three clubs, but had noted where they had gone first.  Takei remembers losing track of Finnegan on the dance floor on arrival at the last club.  They’d figured he’d gone home when they couldn’t find him when they’d left.  He frowns at the note that Takei states that he and Wilson had been focused on getting Pollock sorted to their hotel to really look for Finnegan.

Tony taps Takei’s statement thoughtfully.  He’d bet money that Finnegan’s buddies had omitted mention of the Conway Club trying to cover for Finnegan.  Both Wilson and Takei had probably known that the Conway was a gay club and their assumption had likely been that Finnegan had hooked up when they’d lost track of him.  They’d probably figured they were protecting Finnegan’s reputation in death, Tony muses.

He remembers Chris’ complaint about Bacall’s approach and finds himself in agreement with it.  The statements are inconsistent and missing details.  Tony’s certain that Chris would have followed up if he’d been aware; Tony would have followed up; why hadn’t Bacall?

Gibbs appears by his elbow.  “Abby has something for us.”

Tony frowns at the oversize cup of sugary soda in Gibbs’ hands.  It seems out of step with Fornell’s claim that Gibbs runs on coffee.  He slides his wireframe glasses off and into their soft pouch which he pockets as he falls into step beside Gibbs.  They head to the elevator, ignoring the wide-eyed look from Kate. 

Cassie and McGee are absent from the bullpen.  Cassie’s busy in interrogation with David Fromston who had been arrested by Metro.  Her questioning of him will likely eliminate him formally from Chris’ murder and wrap up the Harrison case.  Tony’s not certain where McGee went. 

Tony waits until they are in the elevator before he gives in and asks the question uppermost on his mind.  “Abby?”

“Abby Scuito, our in-house forensic expert,” Gibbs says tersely as though Tony should already know.  “Pacci didn’t mention her?”

Tony shakes his head. 

The elevator doors open before Gibbs can say anything further.  The loud music is like getting slammed into a wall and it hits Tony hard.  He hides a wince as he follows Gibbs. 

The door to the lab is open and a Goth in a lab coat is tapping away on a computer, her back to them.  McGee is stationed beside her, tapping away on his own laptop.  Tony admires his ability to focus given the music.

Gibbs sets the oversize take-away cup at Scuito’s elbow.

Scuito immediately picks up the cup with one hand to sip through the brash red straw and points a remote with the other.  The crashing heavy metal cuts off abruptly.  She glances around, a ready smile on her face and her heavily-lined eyes widen as she catches sight of Tony.

“Wow,” Scuito says with a wicked smile that stretches her painted lips wide, “Timmy was right.  You’re very hot.”

Tony blinks.  He ignores a sputtering McGee to his right and simply grins back at her.  “Thank you, Doctor Scuito.”

“You said you had something for me?” demands Gibbs cutting in.

Scuito sends Gibbs a softly chiding look, but she nods.  She gestures at the computer.  “We’ve been going through Pacci’s GPS trying to figure out which route he’d taken after leaving the Yard, but before he got to the bar.” 

She brings up a data file with a row of numbers that mean nothing to Tony.  She highlights a row.

“This is Pacci’s journey after the Yard,” Scuito informs them.  “He doesn’t programme in an address, unfortunately, but his journey lasts twenty-eight minutes.  Based on the time he spent just over an hour at the location.  The next record is likely his journey to Jamesons since it finishes close to the time he was seen there.”

“We, uh, used the data to work out a radius,” McGee adds nervously, “and cross-checked with addresses of known persons of interest, witnesses or suspects in the Finnegan and Harrison cases.”

Scuito holds up two sticky notes.  “We got two hits.”

Gibbs plucks them out of her hands and casts an eye over them.  He slaps one on McGee’s chest.  “Take Kate and go check out Harrison’s sister; see if Pacci visited with her.”

“Yes, sir, I mean, yes, Boss,” McGee splutters, scurrying out of the lab.

“DiNozzo, you’re with me,” Gibbs hands him the sticky note.

Tony raises an eyebrow as he reads the name and address, and nods.  The fact that Aiden Finnegan’s widow is living in D.C. is something to investigate.  

Gibbs kisses Scuito gently on the cheek.  “Good job, Abs.” 

Tony notes that McGee didn’t get any praise, but figures maybe the assignment is how Gibbs has rewarded the young agent.  He shrugs off the thought as Gibbs gestures for Tony to follow him.  It’s really not Tony’s business how Gibbs runs his team.

They head briefly back up to the bullpen to stow files, gather coats, and for Gibbs to gather his weapon and credentials.  McGee and Todd are already gone.

Tony gets in the passenger side of the car with trepidation.  “We could take my car?”

Gibbs tosses a grin at him and sets off.

Tony keeps one hand on the grab handle.  If there is one thing that he remembers from the last time he and Gibbs were in a car together, it’s that Gibbs drives like a demon. 

“What did you find in the files?” asks Gibbs, abruptly turning left.

“How Chris made the connection,” Tony replies easily.  “Harrison was beaten up outside of the Conway Club; I’m pretty certain that Finnegan’s bachelor party went there too even if the other guys didn’t admit it.”

“It’s a gay bar, right?” questions Gibbs.  “How did it get missed?”

Tony’s not surprised that Gibbs knows his city. “The stamp was very smudged on Finnegan’s hand.  Finnegan’s buddies weren’t telling and their statements suggested they had only been to three clubs, so presumably SSA Bacall and the team never made the connection that one of the clubs was a known gay hangout or they just didn’t ask.”

“Pacci remembered the stamp,” Gibbs states.

“I think so,” Tony says.  “When I talked with him, he didn’t say how he’d connected it just that he had.”    

“We’ll have to re-interview Finnegan’s buddies,” Gibbs notes tersely.  “Their lack of honesty might constitute obstruction.”

Tony tightens his grip as Gibbs speeds up.  The Naval officers are out of his jurisdiction.  Personally. He places more blame on Bacall for not doing his job and following up.  He wonders if Bacall just hadn’t been interested once he’d realised Finnegan was from a mob family.  “Your call.”

“Damn right,” Gibbs mutters.  “You disagree?”

“Bacall should have followed up,” Tony says.

“You’re not wrong,” Gibbs mutters. 

“Is it worth us having a discussion with him?” asks Tony, giving into his want to know why Gibbs hasn’t already reached out to the lead on the old case.

“He’s retired,” Gibbs says.  “Didn’t do his job then, not sure what value he’d add now.”

Tony frowns, but he can’t argue with the succinct appraisal of Bacall’s worth.   

Gibbs glances across to him and Tony barely suppresses the urge to wave at the road.  Seriously, with the way the older agent is driving, taking his eyes off the road shouldn’t even be possible.

“Is it usual for a member of a mob family to move out of State?” asks Gibbs bluntly.

“No,” Tony shakes his head.  “Typically family only move if exiled or if they declare themselves out.  Out of State is better than out of town given the connections can run deep.”

Gibbs huffs out a breath.  “Your theory?”

Tony thinks about the address they’re heading towards; suburban, middle-class, normal.  “I think she’s declared herself out.  She’d have received a widow’s pension, life insurance, right?  That’s probably funding her.”

Gibbs nods. 

To Tony’s relief Gibbs refocuses on driving.

Tony concentrates on the scenery; if he tries to second guess Gibbs’ driving, he’s going to give himself a stroke. 

The house they pull up in front of is every bit the suburban normal: two-storey, garage with a driveway where a year-old Honda Civic is parked.  The grass is neatly cut and there is a jaunty pink mailbox out front.  The porch is set with a profusion of plants, two chairs and a small table.

It looks domestic.

Tony lets Gibbs take lead and casts a look around the street, his gaze pausing at the Catholic Church at the far end of the road that they’d passed on their way in.

Marcy Finnegan opens the door and frowns at Gibbs’ ID and her eyes widen a touch at Tony’s.  She’s a pretty-enough twenty-four years old, with brown eyes, pink cheeks, and no make-up.  Her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing comfortable grey sweats with stripy blue socks on her feet.

“Is this about Aiden?  Did the FBI find something?” asks Marcy urgently as she ushers them inside.

Tony’s heart sinks a little as he takes in her guileless demeanour.  Chris had definitely not visited her given her questions and clear surprise at seeing them.

They follow her into a den, but the hallway has already given away the news awaiting them there; the pram is parked out of the way of the door, but it is very visible.  The baby on the playmat in the middle of the den is asleep in a very cute blue onesie.

“New information has come to light,” Gibbs replies easily.  He nods at the baby.  “Congratulations, Mrs Finnegan.”

“Call me Marcy,” Marcy gestures them over to the sofa and chairs. 

Gibbs takes the end of the sofa nearest to the chair Marcy sits on.  Tony sits beside Gibbs.  He’d prefer to circle the room and explore, but he knows it would unnerve the young mother.  He takes out his small notebook and pencil, ready to take notes.

“We’re sorry to interrupt your day,” Gibbs begins gently.

Marcy shakes her head. “It’s not a problem.  I’ve always…” she sighs, “Agent Bacall made it really clear that there was just no evidence to find Aiden’s killer, but I’ve always hoped that we’d get justice one day.”

There is a stubborn tilt to her chin.

Tony stows away the information about Bacall.

“Marcy,” Gibbs begins gently, “I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you some very personal questions about your marriage.  If you would prefer not to answer…”

“I’ll answer,” Marcy says immediately.  “Like I said Aiden deserves justice and if I can help in any way.”

Gibbs settles back and throws a look at Tony.

Tony shifts forward, understanding Gibbs’ silent ask to take lead.  “Your marriage to Aiden Finnegan was considered a marriage of convenience to tie the Finnegan and Cross families together and prevent a turf war.  Is that right?”

“You’re from the Feds’ organised crime team?” asks Marcy bluntly.

Tony shrugs, keeping his eyes on hers.  “Criminal Investigation generally, but I have time in that unit.”

Marcy considers his answer for a long moment.  “Can I talk off the record?”

Tony glances briefly at Gibbs who indicates his agreement with a barely noticeable tilt of his head. 

Tony nods slowly.  “If you say something vital to the investigation, we may have to revisit, but sure.”  He makes a point of putting away his notebook. 

Marcy starts talking.  “Aiden and I met in Junior High.  He was my secret best friend all the way through school.  I mean, even if it wasn’t really war, our families had that Hatfield and McCoy vibe, you know?  Daddy never forgave Padraig for setting up with Rose or Rose for stealing him away.  Aiden and I just thought it was hilarious and we became friends.”

“Just friends?” asks Tony bluntly.

Marcy nods.  “Aiden realised he was bi our Senior year.  He was always worried about Ma Rose finding out because she’s devout in her Catholicism.”

Tony registers her easy acceptance of her husband’s preferences. 

“We stayed friends even when Aiden went off to the Navy and I went to college here in D.C. because we both just understood each other; we didn’t want anything to do with the family businesses, we just wanted an out.”  She pauses, glancing down as she deals with a surge of emotion.  “We used to plan all the time for how we were going to make it happen.”

Tony waits as she collects herself.  Gibbs is still and silent beside him. 

“When I graduated, I went home for the Summer,” Marcy says.  “I had secured a job as a kindergarten teacher and I wasn’t due to start at the school until the late part of August.” She bites her lip as she stares up at the mantel and the photos crammed on top of it. “My father, Matthew, was in negotiations with a Columbian about some deal.  He told me that I should send my resignation to the school because he intended to sell me to the Columbian.”

Marcy’s expression is a mixture of disgust and hurt. 

She gestures at Tony, turning to look at him.  “He’s only ever really been invested in my brothers.  My older sister Beth got sold to some old European guy when she was in the middle of college.  Matthew didn’t care about ruining her life so I knew he wouldn’t care about ruining mine.”

“Did both families manufacture the war between you to provide the excuse of the marriage or did you and Aiden come up with it alone?” asks Tony, realising immediately what had happened.

“A little of both,” Marcy says on a sigh.  “My older brother, Jonathan, and Aiden’s brother Patrick was in on it.  They engineered most of the turf war.  I think Ma Rose suspected but she never said anything.”

“So, you, Aiden and your respective brothers engineered the turf war and the marriage in order to save you from being sold off to the Columbian,” Tony summarises, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Marcy nods.  “Aiden married me to protect me.”  Her eyes drift to her sleeping child.  “We decided to have Callum to help consolidate my ties to the Finnegans.  Aiden was based at Norfolk in an administrative role straight out of graduation, so I moved out to be with him, and we set up home there,” she shifts in the chair, her eyes shiny with tears.  “Somewhere in there we fell in love for real.” 

Tony stays silent again and waits.

She swipes under her eyes with the cuffs of her top.  “Aiden didn’t want to go out that night.  He was only on a shore leave for forty-eight hours and we’d only just found out I was pregnant.  He wanted to stay home, but…I was the one who encouraged him to go out and celebrate with his buddies.”

“Did they say where they were going?” asks Tony.

Marcy shakes her head but pauses.  “I think Aiden said he was meeting them at El-Blue.”

Tony plucks out his notebook and quickly sketches the stamp for the Conway Club.  He shows it to Marcy.  “Do you recognise this?”

“Conway Club stamp, right?  Is that the new information you have?” Marcy says.  “We used to go there all the time for the dancing.  They have great music and it’s got a relaxed vibe.  Aiden loved it there.”

“We think Aiden went missing from this club,” Tony says.

Marcy grimaces.  “Agent Bacall said it looked like Aiden had hooked up with the wrong person at a club, but that just wasn’t Aiden.  I mean, when we married we talked about it, you know?  I knew he was bi, and we’d only married me to help me.  But he said no quickie with a guy was worth throwing away his Naval career and…he said that there was enough Catholic choirboy still in him to want to honour his wedding vows.” She smiles sadly at the memory.  “I think that was when I first started to think maybe we could be married for real.”

“What do you think happened?” asks Tony, truly interested in the answer.  He figures she knew her husband better than anyone.

Marcy swipes at her face again and takes a breath.  “I always figured it was Matthew who put a hit on Aiden, lured him out of a club by threatening me, maybe because he found out we’d manufactured the war.”  She catches his eyes.  “My brothers swore up and down it wasn’t them and I believe them.  If it was them, they’d just say so.”

Tony nods slowly.  “Did you ever confront your father on it?”

Marcy shakes her head vehemently.  “I won’t be in a room alone with him since the Columbian deal.  Ma Rose helped me set-up home here with Callum when I said I wouldn’t go back to Boston and didn’t want Callum involved in the family business, either of them.”

“Why here?” asks Tony, although he suspects he knows the answer.

“D.C. because I know the city after being at university here,” Marcy says matter-of-factly.  “Most of my sorority sisters are still in the area so it was a ready-made support system.”  She shifts and grimaces, gesturing to encompass the room.  “Here specifically because it’s Sean’s diocese and Ma Rose wanted to have one of the Finnegans close enough to help me if…”

“If your father becomes a problem for you again,” Tony concludes.  He shifts, his gaze drifting to the photos on the mantel.  “You see a lot of Sean?”

Marcy crosses her arms and sticks her hands into her sleeves.  “Not really.  Aiden and Sean weren’t close, he’s a good five years older than us?” She bites her lip.  “Aiden took what happened with Sean as a bit of a cautionary tale for what could happen if his Ma found out about his sleeping with guys.”

Tony raises his eyebrows a little.  “Really?”

“Yeah,” Marcy sighs. “It was a big family scandal when we were teenagers that Sean was caught having sex with a guy at a family party.  I think Sean was in college?  About a month later, he found religion and went into the priesthood.”  Her sceptical tone gave away her own opinion on whether Sean had gone willingly.  “Aiden said at least it meant Sean was out of the family business.”  She shrugs.  “I see Sean sometimes at church and he comes over for coffee dutifully once a month.  I figure he reports back about Callum to Ma Rose even though she comes once a month herself to visit and have grandmother time.”

Tony nods.  He looks over at Gibbs who gives a sharp nod to Tony’s silent signal that he’s out of questions.

“Thank you for your time, Mrs Finnegan,” Gibbs gets to his feet. 

“I hope it helps,” Marcy says, scrambling out of her chair to get to hers.

Tony plucks a card from his wallet and hands it to her.  “In case you think of anything else.”

Their eyes meet and Marcy nods at the sincerity in his, understanding without being told that the card gives her another avenue of help; that she has another route away from the family business.

The baby moves, clearly waking up, and Gibbs quietly murmurs to Marcy that they’ll see themselves out.  Tony follows him out, leaving Marcy to see to her son.

Gibbs is standing by the car staring at the Catholic Church.  “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“If you’re thinking we should talk with Sean Finnegan, then yes,” Tony says.  He thinks he might know what happened the night Aiden Finnegan died.

o-O-o

It takes a lot to impress Gibbs and yet watching DiNozzo with Marcy Finnegan, Gibbs admits to himself that he’s impressed.

He’s even more impressed when Tony gets the confirmation that Sean Finnegan works in the same area.  He wonders briefly why Abby and McGee’s searching hadn’t pinged the address, but he concedes that they aren’t infallible.

It is a long-ass road.  They drive up to the church although Gibbs senses with some amusement that DiNozzo wanted to walk it rather than get back in the car with him.

There are a few cars in the parking lot outside the church and the doors are open.

Gibbs parks right out front.  He doesn’t wait for DiNozzo as he leaves the car and strides up the steps.  He doesn’t have to – DiNozzo is right at heels. 

They step into the hushed church and pause at the back.  Sunlight streams through the coloured glass and casts an array of jewel colours across the wooden pews and polished marble floor.  The altar is beautifully arranged and the scent of fresh flowers perfumes the air. 

There is a balding pudgy priest in black pants and shirt with a tab-collar talking with a young couple, with a second more mature couple standing slightly to the side.  The priest is not Sean Finnegan.

The confessional booth opens and Finnegan steps out.

Gibbs registers the brotherly similarity with Aiden Finnegan’s picture: the reddish-blond hair, pale blue eyes and slim build.  Finnegan’s wearing a black cassock and purple stole.  He shuts the confessional door and turns…he spots them immediately, freezing momentarily.

Gibbs steps toward him and Finnegan erupts into motion, running for the back of the church, bible still clutched into one hand.

DiNozzo takes off after him, shouting in a loud voice for Finnegan to stop as he identifies himself as an FBI agent.

Gibbs darts back out of the front of the church and gets into his car.  He guns the engine and drives around to the back, ignoring the squeal of his tires.  He’s just in time to see DiNozzo tackle Finnegan like a linebacker taking out a quarterback. 

They land on a patch of grass to the side of the back entrance.  Gibbs slams the brakes on to bring the car flush with them, getting out with his gun drawn and raised.

DiNozzo has Finnegan handled.  He’s sat astride Finnegan who is face down on the grass, DiNozzo has Finnegan’s hands already cuffed behind his back. 

Gibbs lowers his weapon.  “Nice job, DiNozzo.  He had a good lead on ya.”

DiNozzo shrugs nonchalantly.  “I’m wearing my tube socks,” he quips.  He gets off Finnegan and pulls the priest to his feet.  It’s a good show of strength.

“What is going on here?” A distraught male voice behind them asks.

The balding priest that Gibbs had clocked talking in the church stands by the church’s back entrance, shock painted all over his bland features.

“Sorry, Father,” Gibbs says glibly, “we have some questions for Father Finnegan in the matter of the death of NCIS Special Agent Chris Pacci.”

“Who?!” Finnegan splutters.  He’s red-faced, literally. “I’ve never heard of him!” He throws a look to his colleague.  “Call my Ma, Father George.  Tell her to send a lawyer.”

Father George purses his thick lips and nods, darting a nervous look at Gibbs.

DiNozzo is reciting the Miranda rights as he steers Finnegan into the back of the car.  He’s word perfect. 

The ride back to the Yard is short with the way Gibbs drives. 

Finnegan maintains his silence all the way.

Gibbs turns at the door to order DiNozzo to get Finnegan processed and huffs because DiNozzo isn’t NCIS.  It is irritating because he ends up escorting Finnegan in himself.  Processing complete, he parks Finnegan into an interrogation room with a guard on the door.

He heads to the bullpen.

He’s not surprised to find DiNozzo surrounded by his team including Abby and Ducky. 

Cassie nods a greeting to him as he steps up to join them.  “Agent DiNozzo says you brought Sean Finnegan in?”

“He rabbited when we went to talk to him so he knows something,” Gibbs says dryly.

“But he’s a priest!” Kate argues, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Doesn’t mean he’s innocent,” Gibbs states firmly, wishing he could have her a head slap the way Franks used to do with him.  He really needs to knock some sense into her about bringing her religion into her conclusions and assumptions.

DiNozzo clears his throat.  “I checked with Father George Painter back at the church.  He’s confirmed he’s spoken with Rose Finnegan and a lawyer is on their way.”

Gibbs nods, grimacing at the mention of the lawyer.

“I guess Sean Finnegan doesn’t know Rule 13, Gibbs,” Abby quips with a grin.

Gibbs rolls his eyes at her, amused.

“Rule 13?” queries DiNozzo.

“Gibbs has a whole slew of rules,” Abby informs him cheerfully.  “Rule 13 is ‘never involve a lawyer.’”

“Do we really think Chris met with him at the church?” asks Cassie, deliberately changing the topic.

Abby waves her hands in her usual way, too used to signing while talking.  “While Gibbs and Agent Hottie,” she throws another grin at DiNozzo who smiles back at her despite the disgruntled death glare McGee aims in his direction, “were out, I crosschecked the addresses we had with Agent Pacci’s search history on his computer.  There’s nothing in Agent Pacci’s computer to suggest he looked up Sean Finnegan’s church assignment.  The address we had on file is way across the other side of town. We only picked up Marcy Finnegan’s new address because she pinged our search with her DVLA record.”

That explained how the results of their previous search had found one and not the other, Gibbs muses.     

“I remember Father Finnegan,” Ducky says sombrely, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

“You do?” asks DiNozzo.

“He attended the identification along with Lieutenant Finnegan’s young widow,” explains Ducky.  “He was dry-eyed, but I remember thinking that he looked as though he hadn’t slept a wink.”

DiNozzo picks up the folder and plucks out the identification form.  “The form only shows Marcy Finnegan’s signature.”

“Ah, well,” Ducky says, “I believe the good Father remained behind in the morgue to offer a prayer for his brother since the Lieutenant had not had the last rites administered.  Agent Bacall remained with him while I did the paperwork with Mrs Finnegan.”

Gibbs sees a flicker of something on DiNozzo’s face.  “What d’ya got, DiNozzo?”

“Something,” DiNozzo shrugs.  “I think I know what happened, but it’ll be easier proving everything if Finnegan cooperates.”

“You want to take a shot at getting Father Finnegan to talk before the lawyer arrives?” asks Gibbs.

His mind slips back to his first encounter with DiNozzo.  DiNozzo in his Gallo guise had run circles around his old Boss and himself.  He wonders how DiNozzo will do on the other side of the table.   

DiNozzo raises an eyebrow, but nods.

They adjourn to the interrogation room, DiNozzo bringing the folder on Aiden Finnegan with him.  Gibbs is aware that the rest of the team is in the observation room watching with interest.  It isn’t often Gibbs turns over an interrogation.

DiNozzo slides into the chair opposite Finnegan and Gibbs chooses to stand, leaning against the wall beside the door.  Gibbs performs the standard procedure to begin, citing their names for the record along with Finnegan’s request for a lawyer.

Finnegan looks coldly at DiNozzo.  “I’m not saying a thing without a lawyer.”

“A lawyer is on their way,” DiNozzo said amiably, “but we thought you might want the chance to confess your sins, Father, before your mother’s choice of lawyer arrives and returns to her with the truth of what happened to Aiden.”

Discomfort settles across Finnegan’s freckled face.

“I thought you wanted to talk to me about some Agent,” Finnegan says, deflecting.

“Well, that was the original intention,” agrees DiNozzo, “but I could tell that you genuinely didn’t know who Special Agent Pacci was when we mentioned his name.”

Gibbs hides his own frown as surprise overwrites the discomfort on Finnegan’s face. 

“Then why…” begins Finnegan huffily.

“Why run?” asks DiNozzo in a conversational tone.  “You’re a priest.  You’re not part of the family business and you certainly don’t know enough about the day-to-day operations anymore to be taken in for questioning about them.”  He gestures at Gibbs and himself.  “Yet one look at us, you pin us as Feds and run.  You know what running says to me, Father?  That you do have something to confess.” 

Finnegan doesn’t say anything, but his jaw tenses.

DiNozzo opens the folder and draws out the file picture of Aiden Finnegan in his uniform. 

The flinch is immediate.

And Gibbs suddenly gets what DiNozzo has already deduced.

“Here’s what I think happened,” DiNozzo says.  “I think you went to the Conway Club the same night as your brother.  You weren’t particularly close.  You had no idea that your brother was part of a bachelor group who had decided to head there for the dancing, music and to prank the groom with their choice.  You would have avoided the place if you had known.”

Finnegan swallows hard, but his eyes are pinned to the picture of his brother.

“You and Aiden met in the club.  I suspect he caught you in a compromising position with another man,” DiNozzo theorises.  “Maybe just kissing, maybe grinding on the dance floor,” he tilts his head, “or maybe getting a blowjob in the bathroom.”

Another flinch.

“He was shocked to see you; you were shocked to see him,” DiNozzo pulls out another picture of the motel.  “You convinced your brother to follow you back to the motel you’d already arranged for whatever hook-up you ended up with.  Clerk identified Aiden, but you look alike.  It could easily have been you.  You argued with Aiden.  You begged him not to say anything to anyone about your indiscretion.” He taps the photo of Aiden. “But Aiden took vows seriously.  It was a matter of honour for him, and you had broken yours.”

Finnegan snaps his head to the side to stare mindlessly at the wall.

“So, when he turned his back on you to leave, you drew the gun you carried and killed him,” DiNozzo finishes.  “It was easy enough to make it look like an execution and I think you wanted to believe that the assumption would be that he was just another statistic in a mob fallout.  You tried to remove the Conway Club stamp from his hand as much as you to obscure that for as long as possible, but you can’t get it all the way off and you knew at some point it was likely that the investigation would wind its way to your door –the club had cameras after all.”

He falls silent.

Finnegan doesn’t speak for a long moment.  “You can’t prove anything.”

“You seem so certain about that,” DiNozzo remarks, his gaze intent on Finnegan.  “You know what that tells me?  There’s someone covering your ass.”

Finnegan startles.  

“See, that’s the other thing about your brother’s case file which has been so interesting to me,” DiNozzo continues, “why didn’t the investigator investigate?” He smiles sharply. 

The smile sends shivers down Gibbs spine.

Agent Bacall, Gibbs thinks darkly.  Agent Bacall who retired in the wake of the case.  Who is the one person an agent generally consults with on a cold case?  The lead investigator.  Pacci must have reached out to Bacall, Gibbs surmises.  Pacci had reached out to Bacall and Bacall killed Pacci to cover up his own crimes.

“Ma Rose is known as a devout Catholic,” DiNozzo says, leaning back.  “I figure she forced you into the clergy in the hopes it would stop you being gay.   I’m almost certain she went along with Aiden’s decision to go into the Navy for the same reason.  I’d bet my apartment it was her motivation in arranging Aiden’s marriage to Marcy; anything so he’d stop indulging his sexual attraction for men.”

Finnegan pales.

“I’m guessing you told your Ma that Supervisory Special Agent Bacall wanted money to cover up for Aiden being at the Conway Club, maybe you even told her Aiden had stepped out on his marriage vows with a man and it had gotten him killed,” DiNozzo says in a hard tone. 

Finnegan looks smaller, he’s curled into himself.

“Of course, once your lawyer reports back to her, she’ll know the truth,” DiNozzo says.  “Maybe she’ll forgive you for killing your little brother and covering it up with a dirty Navy cop.  Maybe she won’t.  What’s your guess?”

Finnegan swallows hard, his eyes on the floor.

DiNozzo gathers the photos and puts them back in the folder and starts to slide out of his seat.  “Well, if you won’t talk to us, I’m pretty certain Bacall will start singing when he realises retribution from Ma Rose and prison are looming in his future so I’ll just…”

“Wait!” Finnegan almost shouts.  “Just…wait!”  He collapses in on himself for a second, head in his hands.  He shakes his head almost violently.  “I don’t want a lawyer.  I want protection and a deal.  I’ll tell you everything.”

DiNozzo nods, his attention on Finnegan.  “Could you confirm again for the recording, Father?  Are you waiving your right to legal representation?”

“I’m waiving my right,” Finnegan confirms.

Gibbs feels satisfaction swelling up.  They’ve solved Aiden Finnegan’s murder and he’s damned and determined that he’ll have Bacall in custody by the end of the day.  He looks over at DiNozzo. 

Gibbs isn’t easily impressed, but he’s impressed.

o-O-o

Tony finds an empty pew at the back of the chapel and slides in.  He can see Cassie further down in amongst a gaggle of other NCIS agents, but he’s content to leave them to grieve Chris without his intrusion.

The Methodist Church lacks the wealth of the Catholic.  The pews are sturdy with no comfortable padding.  There is a humble austerity to the decoration and even the altar is only decorated with fresh flowers and a wooden figurine of Christ.  The windows are plain glass, and the floor is more wood, scarred from years of service.

Someone slides in beside him and Tony turns to find the slim figure of Marcy Finnegan sitting beside him.  She’s demurely dressed in a black pantsuit with a black overcoat.  Her blonde hair is tied back into a classy chignon.  She’s wearing make-up, light and discreet, and her only jewellery is her wedding band.

She smiles tremulously back at him, and he gives her a nod of assurance as the organ starts to play and the memorial service for Chris gets underway.

Tony listens to stories from Chris’ old Pastor and hears the faint weeping from the front pew from Chris’ mother and sister.  He shifts on the pew as NCIS Director Morrow provides a eulogy for Chris’ work declaring that the Special Agent had died in the line of duty.

He’s not wrong, thinks Tony sadly. 

Bacall had confessed under Gibbs’ no-nonsense interrogation to shooting Chris to protect his corruption in covering up Aiden Finnegan’s murder.  He’d also copped to hiding and deleting the Conway Club footage he had obtained; to deleting the identification of the club stamp from his team’s reports.  

The service ends and Tony stands quietly as the coffin is carried out to the waiting hearse for transport to a local crematorium for a family only service. 

Marcy darts a look at him but stays in the pew with him while everyone else leaves.  Cassie is being comforted by a colleague as she passes, and Tony isn’t certain she even realises that he’s there. 

They are almost alone when Marcy sighs.  “I hope my being here was OK, Agent DiNozzo.  I just wanted to pay my respects given Agent Pacci died trying to find justice for Aiden.”

“It was good of you to come.  Shall I walk you to your car?”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you,” Marcy says.

She steps out of the pew into the aisle and he follows her. 

“I’m parked across the street, about a block away,” Marcy informs him briskly.  “It was difficult to find parking.”

“Chris was a well-respected agent,” Tony murmurs. 

“Did you know him well?” asks Marcy.

Tony shakes his head.  “Not as well as I would have liked.  He was a good friend to me this last year.”

“Since you moved to D.C.?” Marcy waves a hand at him.  “Ma Rose did a whole background check on you.”

“Well, that’s disturbing,” Tony quips, even though he’s already aware of the search on him.  His file is closely watched and protected by the FBI’s finest computer analysts.

“You should be glad she didn’t turn up to thank you in person,” Marcy says dryly.  “She settled for babysitting Callum instead.”

Tony wonders if Rose Finnegan was truly thankful at the reveal that one of her sons had killed the other.

“Is it weird adjusting back to the States after your time abroad?” asks Marcy.

“A little,” Tony says.  His file states he was immediately assigned to be a liaison to Interpol.  Officially, FBI Special Agent Tony DiNozzo returned to the States a month before Antonio Gallo was apprehended.   

“Ma Rose has agreed for me to move,” Marcy says.  “I’m going to give you fair warning that she’s lobbying for your neighbourhood.”

“It’s a good neighbourhood,” Tony says mildly.  Organised Crime is going to rub their hands with glee when he reports that Rose Finnegan is moving her daughter-in-law to be close to him.  He pauses them on the street for a moment so he can hold her gaze.  “I gave you my card so you could call if you needed help.  It’s not easy getting out from your kind of family.”

Marcy nods, her cheeks flushing pink.  “I know, and I appreciate it.”

“So, I don’t mind you moving into my neighbourhood, Marcy, if it gives you and Callum some feeling of security,” Tony says gently.

“Thank you,” Marcy says.

They start walking again.

“Agent Gibbs wasn’t at the service,” Marcy notes. 

“Terence Bacall was in court this morning for his bail hearing,” Tony says.

Marcy grimaces.  “I hope he doesn’t get it.”

“It’s unlikely,” Tony says.  “I understand Commander Rabb, the prosecuting JAG officer assigned to the case is very experienced.  I have no doubt it’s his intent to throw the book at Bacall for his actions.”

“He deserves everything he gets,” Marcy says.  She slows to a halt at the side of her car.  “I still think Sean got off easy for killing Aiden.”

“He’ll serve a life sentence in prison,” Tony reminds her gently.  “He hasn’t escaped the legal consequences.”  But his deal does mean that Sean Finnegan’s identify is obscured in the system.  Ma Rose won’t find her wayward child easily to render the typical consequences of a family betrayal.

“I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that,” Marcy comments.  She opens her car door and Tony sees her inside. 

He watches as the car pulls away.  In some ways, she reminds him a lot of Carly Macaluso, the young teenager he’d raised into a young woman as Antonio Gallo, and in others, Marcy Finnegan is a very different woman.  He admires her tenacity in walking away from her family business, to give her son a different life.         

He turns around and heads back to his own car which is in the opposite direction. 

The drive back to his apartment is quiet and he glances at the familiar vehicle taking up his visitor’s spot as he parks his own.  He eschews the elevator and takes the stairs up to the third floor.  He’s not surprised to discover Gibbs leaning on the wall outside by his door.

“Gibbs,” Tony nods at a hello at him.  “You been waiting long?”

“Not long,” Gibbs says, straightening.  “Wanted to update you.”

Tony opens his apartment and welcomes Gibbs inside. 

The small apartment has been slowly decorated to his own style over the past few months.  The walls are a soothing pale green, accented by cream on the woodwork.  His collection of DVDs and books fills the bookshelves on the far wall.  It’s classy with a homey feel that he loves.

“Beer?” He asks as he shrugs off his coat and motions for Gibbs to sit in the comfortable leather sofa that’s parked right in front of his very up-to-date entertainment centre with its massive TV.

“Sure,” Gibbs agrees, taking off his own overcoat to reveal what Tony surmises is Gibbs’ court suit underneath.

Tony heads into the kitchen area to the right and pulls out two beers.  He hands one to Gibbs and keeps the other.

Gibbs glances at the piano at the far end of the room as he sits.  “You play?”

He unbuttons his suit jacket and loosens his tie as he sits down on the comfortable chair next to the sofa.  “A little.”

Gibbs raises the beer.  “To Pacci.”

“Pacci,” Tony echoes and gently taps his beer bottle against Gibbs’ bottle.

They sip the beer.

“Cassie said you were at the memorial with Marcy Finnegan,” Gibbs says bluntly.

Tony raises his eyebrows at the declaration.  “We weren’t together, just sat in the same pew at the back.”        

“Rule 11,” Gibbs says tersely.

Tony points his bottle at him.  “You say that like I should know what it means.”

“When the job is done, walk away,” Gibbs states.

Well, that explains why Gibbs never contacted him after the extraction, Tony thinks wryly. 

“Then why are you here?” asks Tony directly.

Gibbs tips his beer bottle towards Tony.  “Rule 5.”

Tony arches an eyebrow because, seriously?

“Don’t waste good,” Gibbs explains succinctly.  “You’re good.”

Tony’s startled.  He knows after working with Gibbs that the older agent doesn’t give praise out very often.

“Fornell says they’re wasting you,” Gibbs continues.

Tony stares at him.  He thinks Gibbs is offering him a job but surely that’s not what this is.

Gibbs nods.  “There’s a job for you on my team if you want it.”

Tony takes a long swallow of his beer to swallow down the hysterical laugh that threatens to bubble up.  He wonders what place Gibbs thinks he’d fall in the hierarchy of the team.  He shakes his head and meets Gibbs’ sincere gaze with a hopefully sincere one of his own.

“Thank you,” Tony says, “I appreciate the offer…”

“But?” cuts in Gibbs sharply.

“Fornell will get the announcement on Monday,” Tony explains, “I got offered my own team yesterday.  Criminal Investigative Unit based out of D.C.; we’ll cover the East coast.”

Gibbs gives him a quick smile.  “Well, can’t argue with that.”  He grimaces.  “Saves me figuring out how to fit someone with your seniority into the team.”

“Not sure your team would have appreciated my addition,” Tony points out gently.  “Cassie’s a great Senior Field Agent.”

“She is,” Gibbs allows.  He pins Tony with an intent gaze.  “You know Cassie was just concerned about ya, right?  She didn’t mean anything more than that telling me about you being with Marcy Finnegan.”

“Well, she might have a right to be concerned,” Tony says dryly. “According to Marcy, Ma Rose plans to move her into my neighbourhood.”

“Organised Crime’s going to love that,” Gibbs retorts, amused.

“That was my thought,” Tony admits. 

“At least Rose didn’t send you thank you flowers,” Gibbs sighs, but his blue eyes are twinkling.

Tony lowers his beer, blinking at Gibbs.  “She didn’t?!”  He doesn’t hide the glee in his voice.

Gibbs’ blue eyes are warm with humour.  “Five dozen yellow tulips.”  He sobers.  “I sent them onto Pacci’s funeral.”

“How did it go at the hearing?” asks Tony, rubbing his thumb along the edge of the beer label.

“Good,” Gibbs says.  “Bacall was refused bail.”

“Fornell said Rabb was one of the best,” Tony comments, relieved that the dirty agent is still behind bars.

“It’s personal for Rabb,” Gibbs admits.  “Pacci was instrumental in getting Rabb cleared of a murder charge a while back.”

“He was a good man,” Tony says quietly.  He’s really going to miss Chris.

Gibbs’ phone rings.  He opens it immediately.  “Yes.” He grimaces.  “Right.  Call my team; get them to meet there.”  He snaps his phone shut without saying goodbye.  He sets his beer down.  “Gotta go.  We’ve got a case.”

Tony puts his beer down and walks Gibbs to the door to the apartment.  He holds onto the open door as Gibbs pauses in the threshold pulling on his coat.

“Thanks for the update, Gibbs,” Tony says, “and for the job offer.”

Gibbs shrugs.  “You’re the best investigator I’ve worked with, DiNozzo.  Job’s open any time you want it.”

Tony smiles, warmed by the sincere praise in a way that the job offer had failed to achieve.

“I’m not Pacci,” Gibbs says a little hesitantly, “but I make a mean steak if you wanted to come over and watch the game Saturday.”

Tony’s smile widens.  “Isn’t staying friends with me breaking Rule 11?”

Gibbs smirks back at him.  “Rule 5 still stands, DiNozzo.”

Tony grins.  “I’ll bring the beer.”

Gibbs nods and steps out of the apartment into the hall.  “Just don’t tell Fornell or he’ll turn up,” he calls as he heads down the corridor.

Tony watches until Gibbs disappears before he shuts the door and locks it.  He picks up his beer and raises it again in a silent toast to his fallen friend as he heads to the piano.  He sets the bottle atop the instrument and lets his fingers drift over the keys.

He closes his eyes.  The ache of missing the Macaluso family is still there, but it isn’t as sharp as before.  He’ll always miss them.  But maybe Gibbs’ rules have some truth.

It’s time, Tony thinks as he starts to play his mother’s piano; time to say goodbye and walk away. 

And finally, for the first time in forever, Tony DiNozzo doesn’t feel Antonio Gallo under his skin.

fin.