Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Well, Jethro, there is no point in dilly-dallying," said Ducky, "the boy will be waiting to learn his fate."

"Guess so," said Gibbs morosely, "go on, then. I'll back you up."

"Oh, no, Jethro, as team lead, I believe this is your responsibility. But I will back you up."

Gibbs scowled but complied. Ducky was one of the few people he could not intimidate. He took a fortifying gulp of his coffee and walked down the corridor towards the hospital room. Tony was sitting propped up by pillows and wearing a glum expression. He brightened a bit when he saw Ducky and Gibbs enter.

"Hey, have you come to spring me?" he made a move to throw the covers off and leave the bed.

"Anthony DiNozzo!" came Ducky's outraged voice, "do not even think of getting out of that bed." Gibbs shouted at the same time,

"DiNozzo, stay exactly where you are!"

Tony slumped back, defeated by this two-pronged attack,

"No need to shout," he muttered.

"Indeed, Anthony, I apologise but you know that Jethro and I only have your best interests at heart. Now ..." Ducky paused, realising that Gibbs was remaining silent hoping that Ducky was going to deliver the bad news, "now, Gibbs will give you the prognosis. Gibbs ...," he said pointedly.

"All right, Ducky. I was getting there". He took another sip of his drink and swirled the cup thoughtfully, trying to estimate how much was left.

"Well ..?" said Ducky, after a few moments of continued silence. "Jethro, you do know that procrastination is the thief of time?"

"What?"

"A quotation from Edward Young, an English poet of the eighteenth century. It recommends doing what needs to be done today and not putting it off till tomorrow."

"Guess he was a pretty smart guy. For a Brit."

Ducky bristled and was about to leap to the defence of his compatriots but stopped himself with a chuckle, "Nice try, Jethro, but I will save my discourse on the sagacity of the British for a more opportune time."

"Well, Duck, looks as if that procrastination has done its work," and he nodded towards the bed where Tony had dozed off. "We'll tell him tomorrow," and he made to leave the room.

"Oh no, you don't, Special Agent Gibbs," said Ducky, "you will tell ANTHONY now." The loud sound of his name roused Tony from his sleep,

"What, what ...? I'm here, on your six, Boss. Er ... what, what?"

"Jethro has something to tell you, my dear boy," said Ducky in a sweet voice, "Don't you?"

"You broke your leg, DiNozzo," said Gibbs bluntly.

"I know," said Tony mournfully, "the nurse told me. When can I go home?"

Gibbs looked hopefully at Ducky who stood resolutely with his mouth shut. He sighed and carried on,

"Doc wants you to stay in overnight. Doesn't think you need surgery but they're gonna come down soon and put it in plaster. Just a simple break, shouldn't be any complications."

"Oh ... and I can go home tomorrow?"

"Possibly," said Ducky, "carry on, Jethro".

"The doctor said it will take about ten weeks to mend," said Jethro.

"Possibly," said Ducky, "carry on, Jethro".

"You'll be able to get about on crutches," said Gibbs.

"Oh ... so that means I can go home tomorrow?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake," said Ducky in exasperation, "this could go on all night. Anthony, you have broken your tibia. Fortunately it is a simple fracture which will, however take a minimum of ten weeks to heal so long as you follow your doctors' instructions. I would recommend that you take those weeks off as sick leave but I have little expectation that you will follow my advice in this matter. After a week of rest at home, I believe you will be able to return to work so long as you do not go out into the field."

"You mean I have to stay in the office for nine weeks?" squeaked Tony.

"At least," said Ducky firmly

"But I can help out, can't I?" said Tony hopefully, "I mean I could do interrogations, couldn't I?"

At Ducky's pointed glare, Gibbs reluctantly re-entered the conversation,

"Too risky, Tony. You know how interviews can get out of control."

"I could interview with someone else there," said Tony.

"No, we can't risk that. If something goes down we need everyone able to react immediately. You'd be a liability," said Gibbs.

"Oh," said Tony sadly, "but I can come back to work?"

Gibbs nodded, "Yeah, you can come back to work."

"Ahem," said Ducky meaningfully with a gesture to encourage Gibbs to continue.

"Yeah, about going home," said Gibbs reluctantly.

"Yes?" said Tony suspiciously.

"Ducky thinks you shouldn't go back to your place," said Gibbs in a rather cowardly way.

Ducky glared at Gibbs and then turned a gentler gaze on the patient.

"We all know that your apartment is your sanctuary, Anthony, but we all also know that the elevator is a bit uncertain and while normally climbing three flights of stairs is no hardship for you, it is certainly not advisable in your current ... er ... status."

"I can manage on crutches," protested Tony, "I'll be fine."

"Anthony, I would not recommend it. That leg has been broken before and it would be foolish to run any unnecessary risk. You need to find alternative accommodations at least for a few weeks."

"Where am I going to go?" asked Tony, "I guess I could find a hotel?"

"We're not going to send you to a hotel, DiNozzo," said Gibbs.

"Boss, that's really kind of you but your downstairs bathroom is tiny. I don't think I could hop into the bath and I couldn't make you give up your couch."

"Not my place, DiNozzo," said Gibbs.

"Oh, of course not. I didn't mean to assume ... I mean, I didn't really expect you to put me up," said Tony flushing with embarrassment.

"Hey," said Gibbs, in a gentler tone, "it would be no problem but we already thought about it and realised that my place wouldn't work."

"Oh," said Tony in a slightly happier tone.

"Neither Timothy or Abigail have the necessary space. Ziva's apartment has the same elevator predicament as yours. You know, I begin to despair at the state of Washington's housing stock," sighed Ducky.

"You know, Jimmy's a good guy but I don't really want to impose on him and Breena. You know, newlyweds and everything," said Tony.

"Indeed, that would not be a good solution," agreed Ducky.

"Hey," said Tony in sudden alarm, "you're not sending me to stay with the Director are you? Cos, I know that he's warmed up to me a bit but not enough to have me as a house guest. I'd rather take my chances with the elevator. Or perhaps Phyllis Delaney would let me stay with her."

"Who's Phyllis Delaney?" asked Gibbs.

"She's got the ground floor apartment in my block. Moved in last year. She says she's a psychic, keeps wanting to give me a reading. Says she thinks someone is trying to talk to me over the great divide. She's got a pet bat."

"Good Lord," said Ducky, "no, Anthony, the solution is obvious. You will come and stay with me. I have a downstairs bedroom with a walk-in shower. The previous residents had it put it in for their elderly father when he came to visit, it will be ideal."

"Great," said Tony, "I can use the facilities for the seniors."

"I know it's not ideal, Anthony," said Ducky a little stiffly, "but I thought you might be grateful."

"Oh, Ducky, I am," said Tony suddenly horrified that he might have offended Ducky, "it's really kind of you and I am grateful. It's just that this morning I was going for a run round the park and planning a weekend playing football with my buddies and now I'm looking for ground floor housing with an easy access bath. It's a bit of an adjustment."

"I understand," said a mollified Ducky, "but I think it will work out fine, my boy. You will be able to have your privacy, I'm sure Timothy will set up your television for you and whatever else you need. And I still have mother's piano. I used to play the oboe in my youth; perhaps I could take it up again and we could play duets."

"Sounds g-r-e-a-t," said Tony in an unconvinced voice.

Gibbs cleared his throat, "There is one other thing," he said.

"Go on," said Tony, "I can take it."

"You won't be able to drive," said Gibbs.

Tony opened his mouth to disagree but then clearly worked out the mechanics in his mind, and closed his mouth despondently.

"And I fear you would find getting in and out of my Morgan too difficult," said Ducky.

"We figured you wouldn't want Ziva to drive you," said Gibbs. Tony shuddered at the thought. "McGee lives just round the block, so most days he'll be able to drive you," said Gibbs.

Tony nodded. Part of him felt grateful for all the care he was being offered but another part of him just wanted to be alone and independent again.

A nurse came in, "Mr DiNozzo, we're going to take you down in a few minutes to get your leg seen to. I'm just going to give you this painkiller and sedative, it'll just take the edge of so you don't mind too much what the doctor does to you. Is that OK?"

Tony nodded, he didn't really want to take too much notice of what happened when his leg was being set. The nurse gave him the injection.

"I'll be heading home now," said Ducky, "make sure your new room is all shipshape for you. Chin up, Anthony. Everything will be all right."

"Thanks, Ducky. I'm sorry about before. I am grateful."

"Don't give it a second thought. Cheerio!"

Gibbs, left alone with Tony, sat down by the bed. "You OK, Tony?"

"Not really, Boss, lot to take in, you know. But I'll be fine."

"Sure you will be," said Gibbs, patting him on the shoulder and watching as Tony's eyelids drooped. "I'll stay a while. Make sure you're OK."

"Thanks, Boss," said Tony sleepily.

NCISNCIS

All went according to plan. Tony went home the next day, or rather, to his temporary accommodation at Ducky's house in Georgetown. Ducky was firm in his refusal to let Tony go to the Navy Yard for the rest of the week. He hadn't yet found his oboe and, in any case, Tony wasn't up to playing the piano but Ducky unearthed a boxed set of Ealing comedies and they enjoyed a few nights of movie discussions instead.

Meanwhile there was some anxiety at NCIS as word went round that Tony would be coming back to work after the weekend to be on desk duty for at least two and a half months.

"Director Vance, you know that I think very highly of Special Agent DiNozzo," said Delores Bromstead at the weekly meeting of department heads with the Director.-

Director Vance looked a little quizzically at Delores. It seemed an unlikely alliance but DiNozzo's secret Santa gift exchange seemed to have sparked a deep friendship. "I sense a but," he said.

"Special Agent DiNozzo is excellent at his job," she continued, "but he is the nosiest person in this building and there is some ... concern about what he'll unearth if he's stuck in the building for three months."

"He's bad enough when he's hardly ever here," agreed Win Francis, head of janitorial services, "but what will he be like if he never leaves? Three months of undiluted DiNozzo!"

"And what are people afraid he'll find out?" said the Director.

The department heads all suddenly found their folders of intense interest and failed to reply.

"So what do you suggest?" asked Vance eventually.

"Perhaps he could be persuaded to recover at home?" said Josiah Witts, head of catering, "you wouldn't normally expect someone to come to work with a broken leg."

"I think Agent Gibbs might have something to say if his Senior Field Agent was at home for ten weeks," said Vance.

The others looked thoughtful at this, wondering which would be worse: a DiNozzo trapped in the office or dealing with Team Gibbs without Tony as a buffer.

"I'll give it some thought," said Vance, "if there's nothing else, I'll bring this meeting to a close." When the others had left, he turned to his secretary, "No need to minute the comments about Agent DiNozzo."

"No, Sir," she agreed, thinking that the next few weeks might be interesting.

Left on his own, the Director thought for a few minutes and then looked at his diary. He chuckled to himself, "Why not?" He pressed the intercom for his secretary, "Have Agent Gibbs come up here, please."

Gibbs arrived a few moments later and breezed confidently in.

"What you want, Leon?"

"Agent DiNozzo?"

"Should be back at work next week. Desk duty for a few weeks."

"Dr Mallard's report says ten weeks at least."

"That a problem, Director? He can do good work at the desk."

"I don't doubt that, Gibbs. There's some ... let's say, misgiving about having him on desk duty for so long."

Gibbs laughed, "Not my problem, Leon."

"No, but it might be mine. I don't want the smooth running of this office disrupted."

"What you want me to do? DiNozzo doesn't want to sit at home for weeks and it'd be a waste. You don't like waste, do you, Leon?"

"Deputy Director Craig is going on a six month secondment to Homeland Security," said Vance.

"Yeah?"

"It's part of a program to build co-operation between the Agencies," explained Vance.

"They going to send you a temporary deputy?" asked Gibbs.

"No," said Vance, "I said we could manage. But I've just looked at my diary. Lots of things coming up. British fleet is paying a ceremonial visit, we're hosting a couple of security conferences, a review of FLETC courses."

"So?"

"I thought that Agent DiNozzo might be able to do some of that work. He could have an office up here. Might make people relax a bit more if they didn't think he was watching them all the time, keep him busy, focussed."

"You're going to make DiNozzo your social secretary?" asked Gibbs in disbelief.

"No, he could still do some of your team's research work but it would be good to start passing some of the paper work to Agents McGee and David. That should free up time for him to do some of the other things I have in mind".

"He'd still be on my team?" said Gibbs, "I'd have first call?"

"We'll work something out," said the Director vaguely, "there might be some days he'd mostly be working on my tasks."

Gibbs frowned, wondering if the Director was up to something. On the other hand, he had some concerns about a bored DiNozzo trapped in the office. He didn't like ideas that weren't his, however, so he raised another objection.

"Can't see all these navy chiefs and high ups wanting to be fobbed off with a Senior Field Agent, Leon."

Leon chose not to respond to that, "I don't seem to have a report on Agent DiNozzo's accident yet. I understand it happened here?"

"It's on its way to you, Leon. Gotta go, man down, you know," and Gibbs was gone, leaving Leon with a satisfied smile on his face.

NCISNCIS

Later that day, the Director knocked on the door of Ducky's house. Ducky opened the door,

"Why, good evening, Director. What may I do for you?"

"I'd like to see Agent DiNozzo, if that's convenient."

"Of course, do come in. I'm just preparing our evening repast. Roast saddle of lamb with neeps and tatties."

"That sounds delicious," said the Director politely if untruthfully.

"Neeps and tatties are turnips and potatoes," Ducky translated, "you are most welcome to join us."

"Thank you, but no," said the Director, "I want to be home for the kids."

"I understand, another time, perhaps. Let me take you to Anthony. He was asleep when I came home but he needs to wake up to eat."

The Director followed the doctor into a pleasant, sun-filled room which looked out on to the yard. Tony was indeed dozing in an arm chair. Ducky cleared his throat, but when this didn't rouse his house guest he walked up and shook him gently by the arm,

"Wake up, Anthony, you have a visitor."

"What, no, no, I don't want to go to school today," came the mumbled response.

"That's quite understandable, Anthony," soothed Ducky, "but you need to wake up properly."

Tony did then wake up properly. When he saw his visitor he reached for his crutches to stand up. The Director stopped him, he had noticed that Tony always stood up when he came into the squad room; he guessed it was something to do with his boarding school training.

"Don't get up, Agent DiNozzo."

"Well, I leave you two alone," said Ducky, "call if you need anything, Anthony."

"How's the leg, Agent DiNozzo?" asked the Director.

"It's fine. I'll be able to come back to work next week," insisted Tony.

"You're sure you'll be able to keep awake all day?" asked Leon drily.

Tony flushed with embarrassment. "Ducky makes me take the pain-killers. They don't make me loopy but they do send me to sleep but he says I can cut down on them when I get back to work."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Er, thank you for coming to see me, Director," said Tony, slightly puzzled by the visit.

"I wanted to check you were going to be fit to return."

"Oh, I'll be back," insisted Tony.

"Yes, your return is ... er ...much anticipated," said Leon, choosing his words carefully. Tony looked happy at this. Leon continued, "I have a proposal about the work you will do while you are recovering."

"Yes ...?" said Tony cautiously, "I thought I'd be working for Gibbs. Just desk work, I know I can't go out in the field or do interrogations."

"And you will be doing some of that," said Vance.

"Some?"

"I have some other work which I would like you to do. Deputy Director Craig is going to be on secondment to Homeland Security for six months ..."

"Yeah, so I heard."

"How did you hear that?" said the Director sharply, "that was confidential, nobody was meant to know. Or did Agent Gibbs tell you?"

"Er ... no, I can't remember where I heard it," said Tony.

The Director didn't know whether to be impressed at Tony's sources or annoyed that the secret had been leaked. He began to understand the misgivings of NCIS about an Agent DiNozzo chained to his desk. He continued, "There are various events coming up which it would be good to have someone else taking responsibility for in his absence."

"Such as?"

"The British Royal Navy is visiting Norfolk, we have some security conferences and we are starting a review of FLETC courses."

"And you think I could help with those?" said a clearly dubious Tony.

"Yes," said Vance firmly, "I do." He sensed that Tony was trying to think of a polite way to say no, so he played what he was beginning to think was a winning card, "I'm still waiting to receive a report on your accident, Agent DiNozzo. Have you completed your statement yet?"

As he had expected, Tony shuffled a bit uncomfortably and said, "I'd be happy to help, Director. It would be good ... um ... good experience."

"I thought so," said the Director, "now let me explain in more detail."

Ducky returned a few minutes later to announce that the meal was ready.

"Are you sure you won't join us, Director? I could always make up what I believe is termed a 'doggy bag' for your dear children."

"No, thank you, Dr Mallard, I must be going. Agent DiNozzo, I will see you on Monday. Assuming, of course, that Dr Mallard gives his approval."

"Thank you, Director, it is good to have someone paying attention to my medical expertise. Now, let me show you the way out."

In a surprisingly short space of time, Ducky returned.

"Why, Anthony, is there anything wrong. You look a bit shocked."

"Ducky, you're sure those pain-killers I've been taking aren't making me loopy?"

"I told you, Anthony, they will only deaden some of the pain. They have no other adverse effects."

"So, that really was the Director of NCIS who just left?"

"Yes, Director Leon Vance. Now, what's going on, Anthony? What was the purpose of his visit?"

"To offer me a new temporary job."

"Indeed? And what is that?"

"Ducky, you're looking at the new Associate Deputy Director of NCIS."

"Oh, my," said Ducky.

Tony laughed.

"What is it, Anthony?"

"I've just realised. I'm going to be Anthony D DiNozzo, ADD".

Chapter Text

Tony wasn't always known for his punctuality so McGee was surprised to find him waiting on the doorstep of Ducky's house when he arrived to pick up him up on Monday morning.

Tony greeted him, "Hey, McJames!"

McGee smiled despite himself and found himself asking,

"McJames?"

"Sure, haven't you ever watched any of those old movies where the driver is always called James? The lady of the house leaves a party and says, 'Home, James, and don't spare the horses'. What am I thinking of, of course you haven't seen any of them."

"Get in, Tony," said McGee with a sigh, "are you sure you've got everything?"

"Yes, Mom, I'm sure. Ducky even packed me a lunch in case I couldn't get to the cafeteria."

Tim felt a bit guilty at this example of Ducky's thoughtfulness so relented a bit,

"Can you manage?" on reflection, he wasn't sure that his Porsche was any easier for Tony to get into than Ducky's Morgan.

"Sure, just don't rush me ... I found a clip of a guy on YouTube last night who managed to do this."

"You did research on how to get into my car?" said Tim in disbelief.

"Yeah, why so surprised?"

"Well, it seems sensible and an un-Tony sort of thing to do," said Tim honestly.

The YouTube clip must have been good as Tony managed to get into the car without too much difficulty although the effect was slightly spoiled by having to hand Tim the crutches. McGee then wished he'd done some research of his own when he couldn't work out where to stow them. Eventually everything was on board and Tim drove them away.

"I appreciate this, Tim," said Tony as they drove towards the Navy Yard, "I could probably have taken a cab or come on the bus, you know."

"It's no problem, Tony. Besides Gibbs seems to think it's un-American to travel to work by cab or public transport. D'you remember when he bust his shoulder and we had to chauffeur him everywhere."

"Well, as has been pointed out before, I'm not Gibbs so if you can't make it one day, just let me know."

Tim nodded and they continued the journey in happy accord. There was a slight problem when they arrived at the Navy Yard and Tony's crutches set off the alarm when he went through the metal detectors. McGee's good mood evaporated a little when Tony had to put his arm round Tim's neck and hop through without the crutches. Tim decided to forego his usual cardio regime of running up the stairs and accompanied Tony in the elevator. It was probably as well he did. It meant that he was on hand to prop Tony up when Abby flew at him to give him a welcome back hug.

"To-nee, I've missed you so much. How are you?"

"Pretty good, Abby. Nice to see you too. Er, do you think you could let go, I think McProp here may be beginning to wobble."

"Oh, sorry, Timmee. Come on, let me show what we've done to your desk."

"We?" muttered McGee. He had to admit, however, that Tony's desk was pretty spectacular. It was festooned with balloons and a 'Welcome Back' banner. Tony's usual chair had been replaced by one with a leg rest, several cushions had been supplied and an afghan hung over the back of the chair.

"In case you need to have a little nap," explained Abby earnestly, "although you can always come and sleep in my lab. You know Bert is always pleased to see you."

"Wow, thanks Abby," said a bemused Tony, "this all looks ... er ... great."

"Go on, try the chair," said Abby excitedly.

Tony was only too ready to sit down so was happy to agree. At that moment, Gibbs arrived with Ducky and Jimmy and did a rapid assessment of the scene,

"Got the leg-rest on the wrong side, Abs. DiNozzo broke the other left leg".

Abby glared at everyone for not telling her which leg Tony had broken. She hunkered down and started unscrewing the leg rest somewhat to Tony's alarm. Director Vance chose that moment to appear,

"Miss Scuito, what on earth are you doing to Agent DiNozzo?"

Abby tried to stand up but forgot that her head was tucked under the leg rest. The result was that the chair tipped up and Tony fell back. Gibbs' eyesight might be getting weaker but he immediately proved that his reflexes were as sharp as ever. In a blur of movement he was at the back of Tony's chair keeping him from falling. The Director was no slouch either and was there a split second afterwards.

"Thanks, guys," gasped Tony, "I mean, thank you Director Vance, Boss."

"You shouldn't creep up on people like that," said Abby crossly. At the Director's cool gaze and raised eyebrow, she backtracked and said, "I mean, I was trying to adjust Tony's chair, Sir, Director. Um, I think I'll go back to my lab."

"That seems a good idea," said the Director, "however, I have an announcement to make first. As you all know, Agent DiNozzo will be on desk duty while his leg mends. Agent Gibbs and I have agreed ..." All eyes swivelled towards Gibbs who looked back at them with a bland expression. "Agent Gibbs and I have agreed that, while Agent DiNozzo will continue to be on the MCRT team, he will take on some additional responsibilities while he is unable to go out into the field".

"Additional responsibilities?" queried Ziva, "what does that mean?"

"It means," said Gibbs, "that DiNozzo won't have time to do the requisitions, overtime returns or collating of completed case files."

"That means there'll be quite a backlog by the time he's fit again," said McGee hopefully. He looked at Gibbs gazing at him, and added, "Or not."

"Or not," agreed Gibbs, "this will be a good opportunity for you and Ziva to learn about some of the other responsibilities that go with DiNozzo's job."

"Agent Dorneget is being assigned to the team while Agent DiNozzo is on desk duty," continued the Director, "I trust you will extend him the usual MCRT welcome," he spotted the flash of pleasure on Ziva and McGee's faces and reconsidered, "or not. Just try not to break him."

"Of course, Director," said Ziva, already looking forward to having a Probie of her own.

"And what will Tony's additional responsibilities be?" asked McGee.

"Ah, yes," said Vance relishing the moment of drama, "Agent DiNozzo will be doing some work for me in the interim. He will be managing a number of upcoming conferences and undertaking a review of FLETC courses with representatives from our sister agencies."

"Tony will?" blurted out McGee, "Tony DiNozzo? Whose bright idea was that? I mean, er I mean ..."

"It was my bright idea, Special Agent McGee," said the Director in a cooler tone than he usually used with McGee, "and endorsed by Secretary Jarvis. I consider that Associate Deputy Director DiNozzo has the right credentials for this work."

"Associate ...?" gasped Ziva.

"Associate Deputy Director DiNozzo," confirmed the Director, "now, when you're settled in, ADD DiNozzo, perhaps you would be good enough to come to my office so I can brief you about your new responsibilities. My secretary will show you your office." And with that, he was gone leaving all eyes on Tony who was still trying to fix his chair.

"Uh, guys, it's just temporary, just helping the Director out."

"And you are going to be Deputy Director?" said Ziva incredulously.

"Associate Deputy Director," offered Tony.

"And what does Associate mean?" asked McGee

"It's just a title," said Tony, "I think it means, 'not really' in this case."

"Actually, Anthony," began Ducky, "etymologically speaking, it means ...,"

"It means it's time to get to work," said Gibbs.

"Quite right, Jethro, quite right. Come on, Mr Palmer, let us go and see what results of nefarious deeds await us in the gloomy nether regions. Although, to be truthful, of course, they are actually very well lit. I was referring more to the ambience of the place".

"Yes, Doctor," said Jimmy, "Um, congratulations, Tony. I mean Associate Deputy Director."

"Indeed, Anthony, most hearty felicitations. I feel quite honoured to have you as my guest. Not, of course, that I wasn't already honoured by your presence in my humble abode, you understand. Now, now, come along, Mr Palmer, we haven't got time for your shilly-shallying."

"My what?" said Jimmy as Ducky hustled him away.

Tony turned to look at the rest of the team. He noticed that Abby had a thoughtful expression on her face. "Abby, I do not want you to make me a name badge," he said firmly.

"Aww, Tony, it would be so cool! Oh, is it still all right to call you Tony?"

"Of course it is, Abs. It's not a real title or a real job. It's just the Director's idea of a joke," said Tony.

"Cos the Director's so well known for his sense of humour?" asked Gibbs drily.

"So how is this going to work?" asked Ziva, "is Tony going to continue being the Senior Field Agent?"

"Darn straight, he is," said Gibbs firmly.

"But be Deputy Director at the same time?" asked a puzzled Tim.

"Associate," insisted Tony.

"DiNozzo will do the research and background stuff when we catch a new case," said Gibbs, "the rest of the time, he'll do the Director's work. So, DiNozzo, hand over what you've got outstanding."

"OK, Boss," Tony reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out a couple of folders, "here you are, Tim."

"Hey, that doesn't look too bad," said McGee happily, "the way you moan about paperwork, I thought there'd be tons."

"And the rest of it, DiNozzo," said Gibbs.

"Yeah, well, guys, you see, this has happened at a bad time. There are all the updates to do on the cold cases, the quarterly big requisitions and audits, and well, you know, I was just finishing off the last case when ... well, you know what happened".

Ziva and McGee looked a bit shiftily at one another and then looked away.

"That is no problem, Tony," said Ziva, "Just sign us to the work and we will get on it, will we not, McGee?"

"Point us, point us, Ziva, not sign," sighed McGee.

"Oh, and as Agent Dorneget is going to be TAD, you'll need to fill out the paperwork for that," winced Tony.

"DiNozzo, we haven't got a case at the moment so you'd better go to the Director. See what he's got in mind," said Gibbs.

"Ok," said Tony a bit disconsolately as he gathered up his crutches and made his way to the elevator. He hoped Gibbs didn't spend too much time using it as his personal office because, if he did, ADD DiNozzo would be stuck.

NCISNCIS

Tony was once again waiting when McGee arrived to pick him up the next day although, this time, he had a large bundle of papers as well to fit into the car.

"Morning, Tony," said McGee politely.

"Morning, Tim," said Tony just as politely.

They drove in silence for a while but then Tony said,

"It's not my fault, you know, Tim. I didn't ask the Director to give me this weird job."

"Well, why did you take it then?"

"He took me by surprise," protested Tony.

"You're not the only one," muttered Tim.

"What does that mean?"

"Well, from what the Director said, I can't see why he thinks you're qualified to do the work. Apart from having a broken leg, that is."

"Oh, now I understand. You think he should have offered you the job," said Tony.

"I just think that in this digital world, my skills are a better match than yours," said Tim.

"Tim, I would argue with you but I honestly don't know why the Director chose me. And as I spent all last night reading all this background material, I wish he had chosen you. This isn't an easy ride, you know. It would have cut into your Elf lording, you know. And it meant that Ducky had to practise his oboe piece on his own last night. He was quite put out."

"Oboe practice?" asked McGee.

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

"So what's on your agenda today, ADD DiNozzo?" asked a slightly mollified McGee.

"It's the British Royal Navy visit. Fortunately, most of the organization has already been done, I've just got to look after them. Although I did have to change the buffet menu."

"Why, what was wrong with it?"

"McGee, if you were visiting a foreign country would you want to eat American food when you got there? Actually McQueasy, you probably would but I don't think the Brits came all this way to eat roast beef and mini Yorkshire puddings followed by English trifle. But Jo took a bit of persuading."

"Jo?" asked McGee.

"Josiah Witts, head of catering," said Tony.

"You get away with calling him Jo?"

"Sure, why not?" said Tony.

"Well, he's more like the Director than the Director," said McGee a little incoherently, "I once complained about a donut being a bit stale and he threatened to report me for insubordination."

"He's OK when you get to know him," said Tony peaceably.

"It probably helps when you're the Deputy Director," pointed out Tim.

"Oh, no, we were buds before. Shared interest in Magnum PI. Do you know he still has the lunch box: Senior threw mine out years ago."

"So, what's on the menu now?" asked McGee, wondering if he would be able to wangle an invitation.

"Mini burgers, pizza, salad, hot dogs, donuts, clam chowder ... you know the sort of thing."

"Tony, you've picked all your favourite foods," laughed McGee.

"Hey, I'm a typical American guy. Besides, there have to be some perks to this job. Anyway, I was hoping you'd drop into the reception."

"Why?" asked McGee, suddenly suspicious, "it's not on board a boat, is it?"

"No," said Tony sadly, "how cool would that have been? No, all the conference rooms are being opened up. No, there's going to be some high ranking US Navy people there. I thought you're probably used to hobnobbing with them."

"Er ...," began McGee.

"Don't worry, Tim, your dad's not on the list of invitees. I checked."

"Thanks, Tony," said a relieved McGee, "yeah, I'd like to come."

NCISNCIS

Secretary Jarvis beamed as he stood with Director Vance at one of the buffet tables.

"Well, Leon, this is going well. Better than the last one when the Italian navy visited. Who was it who forgot to book the translators?"

"I forget," said Vance, "Agents David and DiNozzo stepped up well, though. It was that which gave me the idea for his temporary’re-assignment'. That, and him telling me how good his father is 'at working the room'. Seems like Mr DiNozzo Senior passed that on to his son."

"Good work," said the Secretary, "that broken leg is a bit of a godsend to us. How did it happen by the way?"

"I'm still waiting for the report," said the Director. "Ah, this looks like the head of the British party. Admiral Sir Charles Smithson."

"Oh, Lord," said Jarvis, "he's brought his wife with him. Don't let her start talking to you about her collection of Colonial silver; you won't get away for hours."

The Director and the Secretary went up to greet the newly arrived couple.

"Admiral Smithson, Lady Smithson," said the Secretary, "I am pleased to welcome you to the Navy Yard, May I introduce the Director of NCIS, Leon Vance".

"Indeed," said the Admiral, "I've heard a lot about you, Director."

The Director smiled at what he assumed was a polite fiction.

Lady Smithson said, "You have put on a marvellous welcome for us, Mr Vance. So often, one comes to these receptions and finds British food on the tables. In my opinion one travels to broaden one's horizons. Now, could you tell me about that fine centrepiece there? It looks to be a rather interesting piece of silver".

The Director opened his mouth to give what he hoped would be a brief description but was interrupted by a well-known voice.

"Now, don't be difficult. You know more about that piece of silver than anyone else here. Don't show off."

The Secretary of the Navy and Leon briefly closed their eyes in horror and then, true politicians, began to make haste to repair the damage. They were astonished at their visitors' reactions,

"Tony, darling, I wondered where you were. And what have you done to your poor leg. Surely, you haven't been playing football again?" Lady Smithson kissed Tony on both cheeks and then embraced him. Her husband shook him by the hand,

"Good to see you, my boy. This is a good show you've put on."

"I didn't have much to do with it, you know," said Tony modestly. Then he seemed to register the bemusement of the faces of everyone else. "Oh, of course, Secretary Jarvis, Director Vance – this is my mom's sister, my Aunt Caroline and her husband."

"We'll catch up later, dearest," said 'Aunt Caroline', "but now I think we should go and greet the other guests. Goodbye, Mr Secretary, Director," and she extended a gracious hand which they found difficult to resist bowing over and kissing.

"Isn't she wonderful?" said Tony fondly, as he watched her move regally round the room. "I thought you knew, Director. I thought that's why you asked me to help with this."

The Director didn't have a chance to reply before he was accosted by a US Navy captain.

"Ah, Director Vance, I have a bone to pick with you."

"Er, what can I do for you, Captain ...," Vance peered forward to read the name badge, "Dickens."

"You can tell me why you had to re-assign the best Agent Afloat I ever had. The lass I've got at the moment does her best but she's not a patch on her predecessor."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Captain Dickens. I'm not sure this is the best place to address this. Perhaps you would like to make an appointment to see me later?"

"And now I come here and find out that my Agent Afloat is organising glorified tea parties! What use is that?"

"Your Agent Afloat was ...?" said the Director, "Agent DiNozzo?"

"That's right. Not that I want an Agent Afloat at all, you understand, but if I've got to have one, I want DiNozzo."

Tony intervened, "Why don't you let me get you some food, Captain. I thought your Agent Afloat was working out fine?"

Captain Dickens allowed himself to be led away. When he was out of earshot of the Director, he chuckled, "That was fun! I always like to make the bureaucrats squirm a bit."

"So Sadie is doing OK?" asked Tony.

"With your help, Tony. Don't think I don't know that you don't give her hints sometimes. Come on, there's some other chaps from the Ronald Reagan who want to catch up. Have you had anything to eat yet?"

"It's a bit difficult trying to eat standing up when you're on crutches," pointed out Tony.

"We'll take care of that. My yeoman is here somewhere, I'll get her to look after you."

So it was that when the MCRT came into the conference room they saw Tony sitting down, being waited on by the captain of one of the US Navy's largest air craft carriers while enjoying a joke with an Admiral of the British Fleet. Secretary Jarvis and Director Vance were looking on with satisfied faces.

"Only DiNozzo," said Gibbs, almost fondly.

"I thought it was the Irish who were meant to have the luck," said McGee morosely.

"Ah, Jethro," said Ducky's voice from behind them, "look who I found downstairs."

"Tobias?" said Gibbs, "what are you doing here?"

"My boss has signed me up for the inter-Agency review of FLETC. He suggested I come today to meet your new Associate Deputy Director as we'll be working together. Can you point him out to me?"

"McGee," said Gibbs with a half-smile, "why don't you take Agent Fornell to meet the ADD?"

Chapter Text

McGee led Agent Fornell to where Tony was sitting. Tony saw them approach and struggled to his feet,

"Agent Fornell, I think we're both going to be working on this FLETC review", he said.

"Wow, NCIS is taking this seriously. You and the Associate Deputy Director! FBI has just sent little old me along."

McGee smirked and Tony looked a little puzzled,

"Just me from NCIS, Toby. You don't mind me calling you 'Toby' do you? As we're going to be co-workers?"

"My bad, DiNutso," said Fornell, "I thought Director Vance said he was assigning this to his Deputy Director."

"Oh, he did," said McGee knowingly, "meet our new Deputy Director."

"Associate Deputy Director," insisted Tony, "and Temporary ADD. Just until I can get back in the field."

"You're the Deputy Director?" said Fornell incredulously.

"Associate Deputy Director," said Tony crossly, "why does no-one remember that part?"

"Well, I never realised the Director of NCIS had a sense of humour," said a shaken FBI agent.

"Hidden depths, Tobias," said Gibbs materialising soundlessly behind him, "hidden depths."

"I need a drink," said Fornell, "do you have any liquor here?"

"In a Federal Agency building?" said Tony in a shocked voice, "yeah, of course, over there in the corner."

"Thanks. Just let me fortify myself and I'll come back and we'll make arrangements," he wandered off with Gibbs alongside. Tony could hear him laughing to himself as he went.

"So, Tobias," asked Gibbs as they made their way to the bar, "what did you do to piss off your boss?"

"Nothing," said Fornell with mock indignation, "why do you say that?"

"Come on, Tobias, you must have done something. Why else would you have been handed this assignment?"

"I'm beginning to think it's because our Directors have suddenly developed warped senses of humour. Perhaps it's a terrorist plot. We ought to test the water supplies."

"Tobias?" continued Gibbs.

"OK, I'm testifying in a trial next week and there have been, well, some threats. My boss wants me out of the way for a while and this seemed to fit the bill."

"Sanderson case?" queried Gibbs.

"Yeah, I'm 'lucky' enough to have been the eye witness, the only eye witness to Joseph Sanderson shooting a casino worker. Let's just say that the rest of his family don't take kindly to the idea of little Joey spending the rest of his life in jail."

"So why not put you in a safe house or shut you up in the FBI building until the trial?"

"The Director likes to keep his people working. Anyway, there's probably no real threat and I've got a minder."

"Yeah, where's your minder now?" asked Gibbs.

"Hey, I am in the middle of a Federal Agency building. Don't you trust your security? I left him at the gate."

"You know DiNozzo has a broken leg? He can't go off gallivanting to the Hoover Building. You'll have to come here."

"No problem. Even if he was in one piece we don't do a lot of gallivanting at the FBI. Now let me get that drink."

NCISNCIS

The next day Tony was once again waiting when McGee arrived.

"Why didn't you tell us that your uncle is a British admiral?" asked Tim as soon as Tony had settled himself into the car.

"Uncle by marriage," pointed out Tony, "it's not as if he's a blood relation."

"You know what I mean," said McGee.

"I don't know. I guess I might have but you didn't seem real interested when I tried to tell you about Great Uncle Clive."

Tim acknowledged the justice of that so decided to change the subject,

"So, are you ADD today or SFA?"

Tony groaned, "Probably ADD unless you get a case in. I have the delights of working with Agent Fornell on the FLETC review today. I might borrow Dorneget for a while, pick his brains about what his classes were like. How's he doing?"

"He's so green," laughed Tim, "and a bit gullible. Ziva's having fun with him."

"And you, McMentor? Are you having fun too?"

"Well, perhaps, just a bit," acknowledged Tim.

"It is a bit irresistible, n'est ce pas?" dug Tony.

"Yeah. It sort of makes up for ..."

"Me not being there?" said Tony hopefully.

"I was going to say, it makes up for having a Gibbs who's grumpier than usual."

"OK, OK, have it your own way. It's probably not manly for you to admit that you cry yourself to sleep every night after a day without me."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Tim.

Tony laughed and clapped McGee on the shoulder,

"Well said, my man. Now what's on your agenda today? Apart from your scout troop visiting?"

"How do you know about that?" asked McGee, bracing himself for more teasing.

"Don't ask foolish questions, McGoo. How do I ever know things? The DiNozzo ear is all hearing and the DiNozzo eye is all seeing. Nothing escapes me."

"You're not Gibbs," said McGee.

"...but, in this case," said Tony, apparently ignoring McGee's interruption, "I was told by Gerard in Security."

"Why?"

"Because he's another person who doesn't hear the Associate or Temporary in my title and so copies me in on all sorts of emails," said Tony with a touch of bitterness. "However, McBaden-Powell, in this case it works to your advantage."

"How so?" asked McGee suspiciously.

"I suggested to Jo Witts in catering that he slightly over cater for yesterday's lunch so there was some left over for your kiddiewinks today."

"That's ... really thoughtful of you, Tony," said McGee.

"No problemo. Consider it a thank you for being chauffeur."

NCISNCIS

Humphrey Hutton was sure that everyone could hear the ten dollar bill rustling in his pocket or see the bulge it formed. He'd never known that a piece of paper could weigh so heavily. His parents would have told him that it was guilt which was weighing him down, not the bill. He kept telling himself that he didn't have to do it, he didn't have to 'earn' the money but deep down, beyond resistance, was the knowledge that he wanted to do it. 'It' exercised a horrible fascination for him. 'It' wasn't something he had ever acknowledged that he wanted to do but now, the idea had been planted in him and was growing out of control. Sister Philomena's Sunday School classes about SIN made more sense now but he couldn't remember any of her wise words about how to resist going down a slippery slope. And, to his guilty shame, he didn't want to resist.

He reasoned that nobody had told him not to do 'It'. The man who had given the crisp, new ten dollar bill had looked vaguely official so it was probably all right to do 'It'. In fact, it was probably a good thing to do. It was just an added bonus that he wanted to do it.

As Timothy McGee led his scout troop into the squad room where he normally worked, Humphrey saw his opportunity. As he walked along the corridor with the other boys he threw himself against the fire alarm and smashed the glass. The wailing sound was everything he'd hoped it would be and the adults' reactions were priceless. Humphrey's short experience of life had already taught him that not everything lived up to expectations but today, something exceeded them. And he'd got paid for doing it too.

"All right, boys," said McGee in a calm voice (which belied his decision never to bring his troop to NCIS again. In future he'd take them swimming in shark-infested waters). "Humphrey seems to have set the alarm off. We're going to evacuate the building very calmly as I explained earlier. We won't use the elevator, so go down those stairs in an orderly way."

The boys were humming with excitement and Humphrey had probably gone up in their estimation. McGee called out,

"Just a false alarm, but we need to evacuate. Sorry, everyone."

The other staff glared at McGee but were, to some degree, happy to leave as it was a bright sunny day and they could get a coffee from the coffee wagon outside. McGee phoned Security to let them know what had happened and breathed a sigh of relief that Gibbs had already been absent on a coffee run. He made sure he walked next to Humphrey and determined to give him a good talking to as soon as they got outside.

NCISNCIS

Earlier that day, Agent Fornell had arrived for his meeting with Tony.

"Morning, DiNutso," he said, "or should I say, Associate Deputy Director DiNutso?"

"Ha ha," said Tony, "sit down and have some coffee. Millicent brought some Danish in as well so help yourself".

"I appreciate your hospitality," said Fornell happily.

"It's the Italian in me," said Tony a little glumly. "Hey, I've always meant to ask you, why do you pronounce my name the way you do?"

"Tony?" asked Fornell innocently, "isn't that how everyone says it?"

"You know what I mean."

"Well," said Fornell, softened by the coffee and Danish, "the only other person I've ever known called DiNozzo pronounced it DiNutso so, it's habit really."

"You knew someone else called DiNozzo?" said a surprised Tony, "where was that? It's not a common name."

"When I was a kid in New York," explained Fornell, "our butcher was called DiNozzo."

"Vincenzo DiNozzo?" asked Tony.

"That's right, do you know him then?"

"He's my uncle. I guess he did take his Italian heritage a bit more seriously than Senior, that's why he pronounced our name differently. So, you lived in Long Island?"

"No. He was our butcher by marriage."

"Your what?"

"My mom's cousin's brother-in-law's stepson was married to Vincenzo's younger sister".

"Wow," said Tony, "all this time and I didn't realise that we're practically brothers ... well, cousins anyway."

Fornell smiled but said nothing as his mouth was full of pastry but he was surprised to see that Tony looked a bit happier. He reasoned it was probably because Tony finally realised that Fornell hadn't been making fun of him all these years.

They settled down to their work and got on well, both parties impressed by the work the other had done. They had been working for a couple of hours when they were interrupted by the sound of the fire alarm going off. Fornell jumped up and walked to the door but then stopped when he realised that Tony hadn't followed him.

"Come on, DiNutso, let's go."

"You go on, Fornell," said Tony wryly, "I can't get out – can't use the elevator."

"Blast," said Fornell, "you sure?"

"Trust me," said Tony, "I am never getting into an elevator during an evacuation again!"

"There must be a way of getting you out," said Fornell.

Tony's cell rang at that moment,

"DiNozzo. OK, I'll stay put then," he ended the call, "it's a false alarm but cos it's a nice day they've decided to do a full evacuation. So you can go on then. I'll be OK."

"FBI regulations say that no-one should be left alone if they can't evacuate under their own steam. So I reckon I'll stay with you. After all, don't want these Danish to go to waste."

NCISNCIS

Meanwhile, McGee was earnestly taking Humphrey to task for his 'accident' but didn't feel he was having much impact. Gibbs swept up at the moment to find out what was happening. There was something about the way that the boy was standing which set his gut churning.

"What's going on, McGee?" he snapped.

"Uh, Boss, uh, Humphrey here managed to set the fire alarm off. It was an accident wasn't it?"

Humphrey looked innocently up at his scout leader and nodded vigorously. He then turned to look at Gibbs who fixed him with a Gibbs stare,

"That so, Humph?"

The stare continued for five seconds. McGee was about to interrupt with a protest at this harsh treatment when Humphrey burst into tears and thrust a now crumpled ten dollar note at Gibbs,

"He told me to do it," he wailed.

"What?!" cried McGee.

"Who did?" demanded Gibbs at the same time.

"A ... a ... man in a uniform. He ... he ... said it would be good to do a fire test and would I like to help?"

"McGee! Get hold of Security and tell them that the alarm was set off deliberately. And then find out from Humphrey here, who told him to do it. And confiscate that money, we might get some finger prints off it." Gibbs looked around, "Where's Tony?"

"Uh, oh Boss, I guess he wouldn't be able to get out. I can't see Fornell, he's probably stayed with him."

"Ziva," shouted Gibbs, "with me."

"Of course, Gibbs," said Ziva running up, "where are we going?"

"To find Tony and Tobias."

NCISNCIS

Tony and Fornell were working again when the door to the office swung open. An elderly, motherly-looking woman stood there.

"Can I help you, Ma'am?" asked Tony politely but a bit puzzled about why she was still in the building.

"Yes, you can," she snapped, pulling a revolver out of her huge handbag. "Agent Fornell, I'm pleased to meet you at last" and she pointed the gun at him.

"Gladys Sanderson," Fornell said, "how did you get in?"

"That doesn't matter," she said, "I expected to see you outside. Don't you know it's dangerous to ignore a fire alarm?"

"I do now," said Tony aiming for a conversational tone although he wasn't sure it was his best effort. "Who is this lady, Tobias?"

"Gladys is Joey Sanderson's mom. I'm testifying in his trial next week. He's going down for a long, long time".

"Not if the only eye-witness is dead, he's not," snapped Gladys, "now stand up both of you. I want to get a clear shot."

"You know, that's not a really good incentive," said Tony, "and you know you won't get away with this."

Ms Sanderson's reply was to shoot into the air.

"On the other hand," said Fornell, "I never like to say no to a lady,"

"Is that how you ended up marrying Diane?" asked Tony.

"I said 'a lady'" replied Fornell.

"Very amusing, I'm sure," said Gladys, "now get up and stand in front of the desk." Gladys backed away to the door, out of immediate reach. Tony and Fornell, as slowly as possible, stood and moved to the requested position. Tony wobbled on his crutches a little and Gladys shouted at him,

"Stand still. Don't try anything silly."

"I've got a broken leg," complained Tony, "I'm still getting used to the crutches and this is a stressful situation."

"Look on the bright side, Sunshine, you won't have to practise anymore. You won't need crutches in a coffin."

She raised her gun to point first at Fornell. Tony wobbled again but she wasn't distracted this time: which was unfortunate for her as it meant that she was unprepared for his crutch to come flying at her head and knock her down. Tony tumbled to the floor but Fornell leaped on to Gladys and slapped his handcuffs on her. At that moment, Gibbs and Ziva burst through the door,

"Tony, Fornell, there may be an intruder!" called Ziva.

"I think they know that, Ziva," said Gibbs drily as he surveyed the scene.

Ducky insisted on putting Tony in a wheelchair and taking him down to Autopsy to X-ray his leg to make sure no damage had been done during his fall.

"Ducky," complained Tony, "I've just got a bruised butt from where I went down."

"Anthony, you will indulge an old man here. An old man, I may say, who has more years of medical experience than you have been alive. So you will sit in that chair and do as you are told. Deputy Director or not!"

"Associate, temporary," muttered Tony but he obeyed.

The rest of the MCRT gathered in Autopsy to await the result of the X-ray and work out what had happened.

"It should not have worked," opined Ziva, "it was completely opportunistic. The Sandersons followed Agent Fornell and hatched the plan of the fire alarm when they saw McGee's scout troop arrive."

"They must have expected Fornell to come out with everyone else and they thought he'd be vulnerable then," offered McGee.

"How did Gladys get into the building?" asked Tony.

"She was a sweet looking old lady who looked as if she'd wandered across from the museum," said Gibbs, "and nobody challenged her."

"And she was desperate," said Fornell, "she didn't really care if she got caught. She just wanted to save little Joey."

"So what we're saying is, that this was a crazy plan which had no chance of success?" said Tony.

"Absolutely," said Tim.

"Which actually nearly succeeded?" said Tony.

"Sounds to me as if the Deputy Director should look into our security," said Gibbs.

"Associate, temporary," whimpered Tony.

Chapter Text

Tony wasn't waiting for Tim when he arrived to pick him up the next day. McGee sounded his horn but nobody appeared. Huffing a bit, Tim got out of the car to go and ring the doorbell. Just as he raised his hand to press the button the door flew open to reveal Ducky,

"Was it you, Timothy, who just sounded that horn?" he demanded.

"Er, yes, Ducky. I was letting Tony know that I'd arrived."

"And you couldn't have called on your cell? Or walked up to the door? Oh no, you have to pollute the quiet atmosphere of the neighbourhood by sounding that horn. You do know that I am standing as a candidate to be the chair of our neighbourhood social committee? What chance do I have to be elected if my visitors lower the tone in such, in such ... a brutish way? Good Lord, it's like being invaded by the Visigoths."

"Ducky, I'm so sorry," gasped Tim, "I had no idea. It's just ..."

"... Just that he wants to get to work on time today," came Tony's voice behind Ducky, "after Humphrey's jaunt yesterday. Sorry, Tim, I took a bit longer to get going this morning."

Ducky switched his ire to Tony, "And you should not be going to work at all today, Anthony."

Tony opened his mouth to argue back, but Ducky tutted and said, "But I know you don't agree so I will just say again that you should take it as easy as possible today. And I would also recommend that you take some painkillers."

"I'll take it as easy as I can but the painkillers are a no-no," said Tony in a placatory way, "come on Tim, let's be going. No point in poking the Gibbs bear unnecessarily." He shepherded Tim, still apologising, back to the car.

"So what went wrong this morning?" asked McGee as they drove away.

"Director Vance kept me late last night wanting to discuss the attack on Fornell and then I just felt a bit stiff when I got up this morning."

"Was the Director mad about the fire alarm?" asked Tim anxiously.

"Well, Tim, he wasn't delighted but I think I managed to convince him that, with a name like his, it wasn't surprising that Humphrey Hutton went a little crazy."

McGee chuckled a bit in relief, "Thanks, Tony. I don't think he'll be doing anything like that again – you should have seen the look Gibbs gave him!"

"Yeah, probably best not to ask permission for another visit any time soon, though."

"Believe me, I'm not bringing them again, ever," insisted Tim, "so what are you doing today?"

"The Director wants us to work on what went wrong yesterday. No, don't worry, not the Humphrey horror but how Gladys managed to wander round with a gun in her purse."

"So, you'll be working with us? Back in the squad room?"

"Looks like it," said Tony.

"As Senior Field Agent or ADD?"

"Does it matter? I outrank you either way."

This was uncharacteristically direct for Tony; Tim didn't quite know how to respond so decided to say nothing. Tony lay his head back and tried to catch up on some sleep.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs took charge when Tim and Tony arrived.

"DiNozzo, you're with us today. Director wants us to work out what happened yesterday."

Tony resisted telling Gibbs that he already knew that and just went to sit at his desk.

"So, back down to ground today, Tony," teased Ziva.

"Well, as 'not being down to earth' yesterday nearly got me shot, Ziva, that's fine by me," replied Tony, "what do you want me to do, Boss?"

"We need someone to walk the route we think our intruders took yesterday, see if we can spot any weaknesses," said Gibbs.

"I can download all the security camera footage," said Tim, "track where they went. We might be able to see if there were gaps where they weren't picked up." Gibbs nodded in approval and Tim powered up his computer to begin the work.

"DiNozzo, you do the route. McGee can tell you which way to go."

"Uh, Boss, that might be a bit tricky," he pointed to his crutches.

"Ziver, go with him," said Gibbs.

"How will that help?" asked Tony.

"She'll be able to help you if you get tired," said Gibbs.

"Come on, Tony, I promise I will not let you fall," said Ziva,” and it is a lovely day for a stroll."

Tony sighed, but put his coat back on and collected his crutches. He and Ziva started walking to the elevator but were interrupted by Ducky's arrival.

"Ah, good," he said, "I'm pleased you have made him see sense, Jethro."

"What you talking about, Duck?" asked Gibbs.

"Why, sending Anthony home to rest. I assume that Ziva is going to drive him? My dear, may I suggest a sedate mode of driving might be advisable today?"

"I am not driving Tony home, Ducky," she replied.

"No, we're going on a field trip," said Tony.

"I beg your pardon? And where is this field trip, may I ask?"

"Just round the Navy Yard," said Gibbs, "he'll be fine. It's on the flat, plenty of seats."

"Good Lord," said Ducky, "I will never understand you people. You do know that Anthony is strictly forbidden to put any weight on that leg? Gentle perambulations indoors are one thing but extended walks are out of the question. Besides he can barely walk today after that tumble yesterday."

"Ducky!" said Tony in a pained voice, "don't exaggerate, it's not that bad."

"Anthony, exaggeration is one of the permitted eccentricities of old age. Pray allow me to indulge in it. Besides, you cannot deny that you were in some discomfort this morning. Still, it is a lovely morning and the fresh air would probably do you good."

"That's settled then," said Gibbs, "go on, get moving."

"Not so fast," said Ducky imperiously, "I may allow Anthony to go outside on this exploration but he is certainly not going to be walking. I will give permission so long as he travels in a wheelchair."

"Fine by me," said Gibbs.

"Hey," protested Tony, "I'm not going in a wheelchair."

"You most certainly are, Anthony," said Ducky sternly.

Tony caved under Ducky's unblinking stare, "OK. But I'm not letting Ziva drive me. I'd like to keep the rest of me in working order."

"I'd offer," said Tim, "but I'm going to be co-ordinating all this security footage."

"I could do that," offered Dorneget who had been sitting unnoticed the other side of Tim's desk, "you showed me how to do it earlier in the week."

Gibbs raised his hands in exasperation, "just get on with it. Time's wasting."

Ducky couldn't resist some advice,

"Now, Timothy, I recommend also taking that afghan with you in case Anthony gets chilled. And don't go too quickly."

"Dorney, why don't you head down to Autopsy and pick up the chariot," said Tony, "by the time you get back, McGee should have our route mapped out," and in a quieter voice he said, "And we'll leave the afghan behind."

"Come along, Edward," said Ducky, "I'll show you where it is. And may I say, Anthony, you will be taking the afghan with you."

"Edward? Who is Edward?" asked Ziva.

"Why I assume that Ned is short for Agent Dorneget's given name," said Ducky.

"Nobody calls me that," protested Ned as he followed Ducky into the elevator.

As predicted, by the time Dorneget returned, the beginning of the route had been established. Tony produced some two way radios so they could keep in contact; he then settled himself in the chair, tossed the blanket under his desk and, having decided to go for flamboyance rather than sulky acceptance, said in a cheerful voice,

"Forward, slave."

Tim groaned but then leaned forward and whispered into Tony's ear, "Remember you are mortal."

"What?" said Tony, "are you trying to freak me out here?"

"Just trying for some authenticity, Tony," said Tim a little smugly, "I'm sure I've heard either Ducky or Gibbs say that Roman generals used to have someone standing next to them in their chariots whose sole task was to whisper, 'Remember you are mortal', in their ear. To keep them from getting above themselves."

"Hah, very clever, Mc Caesar," acknowledged Tony, "I can see I'm going to have to get Ben Hur out again."

They traced the route they thought that Gladys Sanderson had taken and Ziva and Dorneget traced them on the security cameras. After a few minutes Ziva called them,

"I've just had a call from Security," she said, "the camera near you is about to be taken down for some routine maintenance."

"For how long?" asked Tony.

"About 30 minutes,"

"OK, let me call Gerard, I'll get back to you". He pulled his phone out and called Security. "Hey, Gerard, Tony DiNozzo here. What's going on with your cameras, we're trying to do a check here." He listened to the response, "OK, well can you fix the one you're doing and then delay the others for about an hour? We should have finished by then ... thanks ... let me know when you're done. Ciao."

"One of the perks of being ADD?" queried McGee.

"What? No, sometimes explaining things to people works wonders. Hey, we're going to be stuck here for about half an hour. How about wheeling I over to that coffee wagon and I'll buy you a coffee."

A few minutes later, settled with their drinks, Tony said,

"So that thing about me 'remembering that I'm mortal ..."

"It was just a joke, Tony."

"So you didn't say it because you think I'm getting above myself?"

"No, no, of course not."

"Cos I have to say, you've been a bit snippy the last couple of days."

"I guess I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop," confessed McGee.

"What does that mean?"

"Let's face it, Tony, being ADD and in charge is the sort of thing which usually would send you over the top, but ..."

"But ...?" asked Tony.

"But you've been quite ... grown-up about it."

"Gee, thanks, McGee."

"You know what I mean, you haven't rammed it down our throats or ..."

"Strutted like a peacock?"

"Exactly," said McGee, enthusiastically.

"Tim," sighed Tony, "I know I get on your nerves but, honestly, on the job, when we're working and it matters, am I ever unprofessional?" He took a sip of his coffee and watched as Tim considered this. He hoped that Tim's innate honesty would make him acknowledge the truth of what he was saying. He could almost see the cogs in Tim's mind go round as he thought about the various pranks Tony had pulled on him and then considering their timing. He waited a few minutes,

"Tim, I would never, never put anyone at risk. The job's too important. If I haven't made you realise that, then I apologise."

McGee sighed, "I guess I know that really. It's just that sometimes I get distracted by the DiNozzo effect: which, I may say, I think you do deliberately."

"Touché, McFreud, but you know I've always got your six, don't you?"

"Yes," McGee said without hesitation, "and you know I've always got yours, don't you?"

Tim was surprised when he didn't get an immediate affirmation. Tony screwed his eyes against the sun and put his sunglasses on,

"Yeah, most of the time."

"Most of the time? What does that mean?"

"It means, McGee, that sometimes you think you know better than me and don't want to follow my lead."

"That's not true, Tony. I'd never deliberately put you in danger," McGee said hotly.

"Not what I said, Tim. On the job, you should follow my lead, trust what I'm doing. You can query it afterwards."

"I do," insisted Tim.

Tony's cell rang at that moment. "OK, all up and running again? We'll let you know when we're done." He switched on the radio, "Ziva, Dorney, we're going again. Keep watching. OK, Tim, let's get back to work. Which way are we going?"

Tim pushed Tony back on to the path. After a few yards, Tony asked Tim to stop, "I want to smell those roses."

"Come on, Tony, we haven't got time for that," scolded Tim.

Tony jammed the brake on anyway which meant that Tim stopped suddenly and nearly fell over. A couple of guards burst out laughing and Tim scowled at them. Tony bent down and picked one of the roses, and said, "I feel I should go a wooing, a wooing I should go," he then put the rose between his teeth and smiled what was probably intended to be a beguiling smile.

"Tony, come on," said Tim, "this isn't the time for doing this. You've been taking those painkillers again, haven't you?" He bent down to release the brake but Tony slapped his hand away, and started singing at the top of his voice, "La donna è mobile, La donna è mobile". It seemed that Tony only knew one line from Verdi's opera but he didn't seem to mind and kept repeating it. Everyone but Tim seemed to find it funny. He tried to remonstrate with Tony but having no success walked off and called Gibbs.

Gibbs arrived in a surprisingly short space of time. McGee went up to him,

"Boss, I'm sorry. I tried to stop him but I think he's been taking those painkillers. Don't be mad with him, I don't think he knows what he's doing."

Gibbs, quite unjustly, thought McGee, simply glared at him and then walked over to the serenading Tony and said something in his ear. Tony nodded sadly, waved his arms in a theatrical gesture of farewell and allowed Gibbs to release the brake and wheel him away. McGee hurried after them.

"Nice work, DiNozzo," said Gibbs when they had gone some distance.

"Nice work?" said McGee, "nice work?"

"Did you see, Boss?" asked Tony, "d'you think that's what happened yesterday?"

"I saw," said Gibbs grimly, "I think we need to have a chat with Gerard." He took out his cell and walked off to make the call.

"See what?" asked McGee desperately.

"How easily the guards were distracted," said Tony, "They thought it was just harmless old me, so they watched me and stopped looking at anyone else. I guess they saw someone in the wrong place yesterday but didn't bother doing anything about it because she looked like a harmless old lady."

"Why didn't you tell me what you were doing?" wailed McGee.

"Tim," said Tony sadly, "you'd just said that, on the job, you always follow my lead. I said 'let's get back to work' and you didn't follow my lead. Which I could understand but you were as bad as the guards. I bet you couldn't describe any of the people who I serenaded because you were so wrapped up in being annoyed with me."

"That's not fair, Tony," said McGee.

"I know, McGee, I know."

"I thought you were on pain-killers," said McGee.

"Why? You heard me tell Ducky I wouldn't take any and you've been with me ever since we got to work. When was I supposed to have taken them?"

"Are you going to tell Gibbs?" asked Tim.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Tim, do you really think this is something he doesn't already know? Come on, wheel me back, I think this is done for the day."

"Tony?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"I didn't realise that's what I did. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"I know, Tim, I know. We'll work on it."

NCISNCIS

Tony was on his own at Ducky's house that evening as Ducky was at a bridge tournament. He was just considering whether or not to sully Ducky's dining room with takeout when he heard someone letting themselves in.

"Only me," called Palmer.

"Ducky's not here," replied Tony, "I'm in the bedroom."

Jimmy appeared at the doorway, "I know, Thursday night is bridge night."

"So what are you doing here, Palmer?"

"It's Breena's weekly social with the Embalmers' Glee Club."

"Is that an actual real thing?" asked Tony.

"Oh yes, they take it very seriously. They've got a benefit concert coming up. I'll be round to sell tickets soon."

"The Embalmers' Glee Club Benefit Concert", mused Tony, "what are they raising money for?" Jimmy began to reply, but Tony interrupted him, "no, save it as a surprise. So, once again, what are you doing here, Jimmy?"

"Dr Mallard has been waxing lyrical about the authentic Scottish food he's been cooking for you ..."

"And you were hoping for leftovers?" asked Tony.

"Goodness no," said Jimmy, "no, I thought you might be longing for some good old fat and sugar."

"Palmer, you are a prince among men. But I thought your body was a temple?"

"Let's just say I'm renting it out it to a pizzeria tonight."

"And?"

"And I thought you might like some company."

"As ADD or SFA?" asked Tony with a hint of bitterness.

"How about just as Tony?"

"That'll do," said Tony managing a smile.

"Great. So long as you don't tell Dr Mallard that I brought pizza to his house. I don't think the neighbourhood social committee would approve!"

Chapter Text

A couple of weeks later, Tony was waiting for Tim when he arrived to take him to work,

"Greetings, Timbo," he said cheerily as he climbed into the car.

"You're in a good mood today," observed Tim, "did Jimmy bring you pizza again last night?" His mind went back to another day when Tony had been in especially cheerful. On that occasion, he had also said, "You're in a good mood today."

Flashback

"Indeed I am,” said Tony, “My stomach was liberated last night."

"Actually, Tony, I think you've probably lost a bit of weight over the last few days."

"What are you implying, Tim?" asked Tony.

"Well, I don't think your stomach is showing any more than usual."

"What do you mean? Is my stomach sticking out?" said Tony anxiously, as he patted his belly.

"I thought that's what you meant when you said your stomach had been liberated ... that it had broken free of your clothes or something," said Tim.

“No-oh," wailed Tony, "I meant that Jimmy, my saviour, brought me pizza last night so my stomach had been 'liberated' from eating Scottish food."

"Sorry," said Tim with a half-smile as Tony continued to look down at his stomach in a worried way.

"I'm not sure it was worth it now," Tony said despondently, "I think Ducky suspected I had eaten of the forbidden fruits; he was a bit cool with me this morning. Didn't advise me to take painkillers and stay out of draughts; just gave me my packed lunch with a pained look."

Tim had tactfully changed the subject away from Tony's girth.

End Flashback

Today, however, in reply to Tim's question about Jimmy being Tony's illicit pizza delivery boy again, Tony said,

"No, no pizza last night. Look more closely, McSleuth."

Tim looked for a moment and then realised the reason for Tony's happiness:

"Hey, just one crutch today!"

"Yay. Had a check-up yesterday and x-rays showed the leg's healing all right so I can begin to put weight on it.  I left one crutch at the hospital yesterday."

"Oops," said Tim.

"What you mean oops"? asked Tony.

"Abby put a tracking device on one of them," explained Tim.

"Why did she do that?"

"Because you're you, I guess."

"We'd better hope I'm still being tracked," said Tony, squinting at his remaining crutch and trying to work out if it was the bugged one.

"Yeah, because that's the sort of luck we have. You'd better pay a visit to the Ab Lab when we get to work."

NCISNCIS

Tony obediently went to see Abby in her lair.

"Ton-ee," she squealed happily and ran towards him with arms outstretched. She stopped short, and said sternly, "Why have you only got one crutch?"

"Had a check-up yesterday, Abs. Doc said I can begin to put weight on my leg again so I only need one crutch."

"But you're keeping the other crutch just in case?" said Abby hopefully, "it's at home?"

"Nope, sorry Abs. I left it at the hospital. "

"Tony!" she punched his arm, "why did you do that? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know you'd bugged me! McGee only just told me", he said, rubbing his arm.

"Well, you should have known!" she said crossly.

Tony was about to argue with her but, on reflection, realised she was right.

"I'm sorry, Abs. I'll know better next time," he said contritely.

"You sure will, Mister," she said, "now let me check to see if you've got the bugged one". She went to her computer and typed in some commands and then peered disconsolately at the screen, "no, unless you're a figment of my imagination and you're not really standing in my lab, I've lost our state of the art, really expensive tracking device. There's only one thing for it,"

"What's that?" asked Tony beginning to edge towards the door.

"You'll have to tell the Director?"

"Why me? It's not my fault."

"Well, you are the Deputy Director."

"We've been through this. Associate and Temporary." Abby just stared at him, "Abs, I've told you before, you can't do the Gibbs stare."

"I'm not telling him," said Abby firmly, "he hasn't forgiven me yet for accidentally blowing up the water cooler outside his office."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you how you did that," said Tony.

"Science-stuff, Agent DiNozzo, you wouldn't understand it," said Abby in a dismissive way as she continue to glare at him.

"Abs, why don't you just try and trace the other crutch. Chances are it's still at the hospital.  If it is, we can just go and along and retrieve it."

Abby beamed, "you see, it's intelligence like that which has got you where you are today," she tapped on her keyboard again. "No, it's not at the hospital, they've given it out to someone else."

"Why not get Dorney on it? A bit of sleuthing, a bit of tracking will do him the world of good."

"And when he catches up with the person, what's he going to say to them. 'Oh, by the way, don't worry, but that crutch has got a tracking device fitted’."

"There's lots of things he could say. 'Sir, you have an experimental crutch which is designed to help the doctors see if you're obeying instructions about not walking too early' or 'just be thankful it's not a bomb’".

Abby looked unconvinced and Tony continued, "It'll be good experience for him. Inventive lying is something which is sadly lacking in the FLETC training. There is, of course, one problem."

"What's that?"

"It's probably been issued to a serial killer, or NCIS will get sued for invasion of privacy."

"That's two problems," pointed out Abby.

"Hey, I'm a generous guy. Gotta go."

Abby nodded and picked up her phone, "Ned! I've got a little job for you."

Tony went up to the squad room to see if Gibbs needed him or if he was destined for ADD work that day.

"No, we haven't got a case. All doing paperwork and catch up today. Hey, Duck," he said as he saw the ME arrive, "what can I do for you?"

"It is what I can do for you, Jethro. You will see that Anthony is now promoted to using just one crutch."

"Yeah, congratulations, DiNozzo," said Gibbs.

"So he has decided he can now return to his own apartment," said Ducky a little morosely.

"The elevator is working fine at the moment, Ducky," said Tony, "and I could do the stairs now anyway."

"Indeed," said Ducky heavily and sighed. Then he brightened up, "so I have decided to throw a farewell party for Anthony. And you are all invited."

"That sounds delightful," said Ziva politely.

"I am devising a menu of the Scottish delicacies which I have been practising over the last few days. I think we will begin with Cullen skink ..."

"Cullen stink?" queried Ziva.

"No, no, no ... Cullen skink," corrected Ducky as it if was obvious. Ziva looked at the others and saw similarly baffled looks on their faces: except for Tony who had no doubt already sampled it.

Ducky carried on regardless, "I will give some more thought to the menu. It is a pity it’s not Burns night, we could have piped a haggis in."

Ziva opened her mouth to ask another question but Tony got there first, "Don't worry, Ziva, I'll explain later." Ziva nodded her head gratefully, realising that would probably be quicker.

"And as an added treat, Anthony and I will be providing some musical entertainment. I found my old oboe at last and we have been preparing a duet." He cast a glance around his co-workers and guessed that they were all devising an excuse. "Saturday at 18.00," he said firmly, "I'm sure you are all aware that the Director is still awaiting the report on how Anthony came to break his leg?"

The expected replies came back, "Six o'clock it is Duck", "looking forward to it Ducky," "wouldn't miss it for the world, Ducky."

"Indeed," huffed Ducky and walked away muttering, "Perhaps we could have haggis after all?"

"So," said Ziva, "you are returning to your own apartment at last."

"Yeah, don't get me wrong, it's been great but it's been a bit ..."

"Claustrophobic?" suggested Ziva.

"Dangerous?" suggested Tim. Tony looked surprised and Tim explained, "I was thinking about the food."

"Intellectual?" contributed Gibbs.

"That's the word, Boss, intellectual. The old DiNozzo grey cells have been exercised more than usual."

"You have more than one grey cell?" said Ziva.

"Ha ha," said Tony, "OK, if you don't need me I'll will retire to my office. Which is, by the way, still a crime scene so I've still got a hole in the ceiling. Don't slam the door if you come in, it makes more plaster fall in on me." He realised it was probably a mistake to have said that, he could see Ziva already plotting a dramatic entrance. "Right, back to work then. We've got a delegation of computer war game experts coming next week."

"Really?" said Tim excitedly.

"No, not really, Tim. Oh, by the way, Boss, I think Abby has a job for Dorneget. Probably tracking down a serial killer."

Ned paled, "she just said it was retrieving a crutch. She didn't say anything about a serial killer."

"Ask McScout," advised Tony, "he'll tell you that you should always be prepared. Especially working on this team."

NCISNCIS

Saturday night at the Mallard residence saw the team assembled promptly.

"Welcome, all," said the hospitable Ducky when they were all gathered, "Mr Palmer, would you be good enough to get everyone a drink, "I have a rather fine Scotch whisky liqueur which I think you will enjoy. Jethro, there is some rotgut bourbon for you."

"Breena is so sorry she couldn't join us," chattered Jimmy as he gave out the drinks, "but the rehearsals for the Embalmers Glee Club concert are in full swing and she couldn't be spared."

"I decided that we will have our first two courses and then break for our musical interlude," said Ducky, "so shall we adjourn to the dining room?" He courteously offered an arm to Ziva and Abby and led them down the passage leaving the others to follow him.

Cullen skink turned out to be a smoked haddock chowder and everyone breathed a sigh of relief and began to think that Tony had probably dined rather well during his stay with Ducky. Ducky explained the origin of the soup and everyone drifted off into a happy reverie although Tony wondered if Ziva's introduction to Scottish dialect words would help or hinder her use of American.

Ducky's Scottish brogue, usually quite slight, became more and more pronounced as the evening wore on and reached its height when he produced the second course: 'stoved howtowdie wi drappit eggs'. There was almost a tear in Ducky's eye as he gazed over the table,

"If only Mother were here," he said dreamily. He then pulled himself together a little and said, "Although it is probably more restful for Anthony that she is absent. She could never quite rid herself of the notion that he was her Italian gigolo."

"I always took it as a compliment," said Tony stoically.

"She must have been a very observant lady," said Ziva, "to see through to your true self."

Tony made a face at her but decided not to respond, "So, Ducky, what's this 'howtowdie'".

It seemed that Abby was already doing some sort of forensic examination, "I can see chicken and stuffing ... and some eggs," she said.

"Excellent, Abigail," said Ducky, "it is really a most simple dish. I have prepared a vegetarian version if you prefer."

They all tucked into the food and Tim reflected that it wouldn't have been surprising if Tony had put on weight recently. Tony ate as slowly as possible but couldn't put off the evil moment of the 'duet'. He was surprised to find himself a bit nervous. His piano playing was something he kept private but Ducky had been so enthused at the thought of the duet that he hadn't liked to turn him down.

"Let's go into the salon," said Ducky at last.

Tony sat at Mrs Mallard's old piano, Ducky picked up his oboe and everyone else sat round in varying degrees of anticipation. Abby was excited, Ziva was sceptical, Gibbs was straight-faced and McGee was unobtrusively switching a recorder on.

"Ahem," said Ducky, "we decided to perform part of a Schumann piece. A duet for piano and oboe, 'The Three Romances'. Shall we begin?"

It is probably safe to say that everyone in the audience was surprised by what followed. Ducky moved gracefully in time to the music which he and Tony were creating while Tony had a calm and still presence quite unlike his usual frenetic manner. Everyone was entranced by the beauty of the music. Gibbs closed his eyes, and later denied that he had fallen asleep to the soothing sound. Abby had tears in her eyes. Ziva and McGee were both astonished at the skill displayed while Jimmy was bursting with pride at what his mentor was doing. There was a moment of stillness as the performance ended and then everyone clapped. Tony and Ducky looked at each other for a moment and then Tony said,

"Right, I'm starving. What's next, Ducky?"

Surprisingly, Ducky didn't seem to want to milk the moment either. "Oh, a real treat, 'Cranachan' – I'm sure you'll all like it. It has a wee dram, or two, of whisky in it!"

"There's a surprise," said Gibbs drily.

"So, when do you move out, Tony?" asked Abby as she finished her cranachan.

"Tomorrow, Gibbs is taking me back," said Tony.

"Want to make sure that elevator really is working," said Gibbs brusquely, "if it's not, you'll come back to mine. It'd be OK now you can manage the stairs."

"It'll be fine," said Tony anxiously, just wanting to be on his own again.

"Indeed, Anthony," said Ducky, "you know you are more than welcome to stay here." Tony stayed tactfully silent and Ducky continued, "it has been most agreeable having someone else to share the place, having someone else to talk to and cook for. And, of course, make music with." He raised his glass in a toast.

"Hey, Ducky," said Abby excitedly, "why don't you let a room out? You've got heaps of space."

"Well ... I don't know," said Ducky hesitantly.

"I'm sure there'd be a music student at George Washington who'd be glad of a place," suggested McGee.

"Yes," said Ziva, "perhaps you could make music together."

"Well, that does sound rather appealing," said Ducky.

"We'll do a thorough background check first," said Gibbs.

"Yeah," said Tony, "we don't want to hole you up with some homicidal maniac."

"Oh, really," said Ducky, "how likely is that?" He looked round at everyone and considered their past history, "yes, you're absolutely right!"

Chapter Text

Tony was lying on his couch, revelling in finally being alone and being able to bond once more with his DVDs and TV, being able to eat takeout without feeling guilty and wincing occasionally without fear of Ducky whisking him off to hospital. The feeling of freedom was heightened by the sense that it had almost slipped from his grasp: there had been a moment or two that day when he had thought that Gibbs was going to force Tony to stay with him instead. Tony had managed to convince him that 'he would be fine' and Gibbs had compromised by stocking his refrigerator and kitchen cabinets instead. Tony had never thought that Gibbs was someone who suffered from a guilty conscience but he was beginning to revise that opinion.

He sighed happily and started flicking through the TV channels, looking for something mindless to while away some time. He was interrupted by the door bell, he lurched to his feet and hopped over to the door. He peered through the spy hole and then opened the door.

"McGee, what are you doing here?"

McGee tutted, "what would Ducky say if he saw you walking round without your crutch?"

"Probably something very long, convoluted and incomprehensible. But he's not going to know, is he McSneak?" But he stood, or rather jumped, aside and gestured for McGee to come in, "coffee, tea, McGee?"

"That would be very nice, Tony. I'll take a coffee, please."

"And so will I, Tim. You know how I like it. Kitchen's that way," he gazed innocently at McGee's indignant face, "hey, what would Ducky say if he knew that you made me stand up to make you a drink?"

McGee sighed and went to make the coffee. As they sat drinking, Tony said,

"Not that it's not lovely to see you, McGee. After all, it must be all of fifteen hours since I was with you, but to what do I owe the honour of your visit?"

"I wanted to check what time you wanted me to pick you up for work tomorrow."

"If only someone could invent some sort of device that enabled people to speak with one another through an electronic device, it would be so useful," mused Tony, "or perhaps some means of transmitting messages from one computer to another. You're into technology, Tim. Do you think we can expect any breakthroughs in those areas soon?"

Tim grinned, "OK, I wanted to check you were all right."

"You did?" queried Tony.

"Y-e-s. And Abby ... and I figured you might prefer it to be me."

"A wise conclusion, McSage. Actually, I meant to tell you. I don't need a lift in now."

"You're letting Gibbs drive you?" said McGee.

"My admiration for the Boss is profound but does not extend to his driving skills," shuddered Tony, "no, I've rented a car, an automatic so I can manage it with just one foot."

"Oh," said Tim, in a disappointed voice, "oh, that's great."

Tony was surprised, "I thought you'd be glad. Ducky's place is just round the corner from you – here's really out of your way."

"No, that's fine, that's cool," said McGee in an unconvincing cheerful voice.

"McGoo," said Tony, "are you going to miss our manly conversations in the mornings?"

McGee blushed and said in an embarrassed tone, "Yeah, yes I will!"

Tony laughed and took a sip of his excellent coffee and then mumbled, "So will I!"

They each took another gulp of coffee and avoided looking at each other for a few moments. Tony (characteristically) broke the silence,

"When I mentioned the war game conference the other day..." he said.

"Yeah?"

"Did you really think that it was possible that the Director would sanction something like that or were you just in Elf Lord mode?"

"Bit of both," admitted Tim, "but war games do have potential for training purposes, for new technology and stuff. I know some people from M.I.T. who are working with the military on new developments."

"Why don't you write a paper on it?" suggested Tony, "we can run it past the Director, see if he's interested. Looks as if there's going to be an empty slot at one of the conferences so we might be able to slip something in."

"Thanks, Tony," said McGee excitedly, "I'll get on it straightaway."

"You do that, Elf Lord," said Tony approvingly, "who knows, the Director might make you DADD."

"What?"

"Deputy Associate Deputy Director!"

NCISNCIS

Director Vance didn't give McGee a new title but he was interested in the idea. It was too late to get any of Tim's college buddies along but it was agreed that Tim would do some sort of presentation through MTAC. Gibbs had to resign himself to being effectively two people down for the duration.

The day before the conference, the Director called Gibbs,

"Gibbs, I'm looking for DiNozzo, You know where he is?"

"Sure, Director, he's here. McGee wanted to talk to him about some doo-hickey thingumabob for tomorrow."

"Good to know you're on the ball," said the Director, "well, when they've finished, ask DiNozzo to come to my office, will you?"

Gibbs hung up and called across the room,

"Hey, DiNozzo. Director wants you."

"On my way, Boss. Tim, you got everything you need?"

"Yeah, I think so," said McGee, "I put the finishing touches to the PowerPoint display last night. I think you'll like it, I've added some more sounds and some animations. I just want to run it again up in MTAC. Got a couple of surprises up my sleeve, too. It's going to be great. This could be ground-breaking stuff, you know."

"No need to go overboard, Einstein," said Tony, "what do you have in mind?"

But before Tim could reply, Gibbs shouted,

"Today, DiNozzo."

"On it, Boss," Tony replied.

McGee stood up as well, "I'll come up with you. Er, Boss, is it OK if I go up to MTAC for a while?"

"Go on," said Gibbs with a long-suffering sigh and a wave of the hand. McGee had been like a seven year old just before Christmas. Gibbs longed for a return to the insanity which passed for normality for the MCRT.

Tony knocked on the Director's door and went in,

"You wanted to see me, Director?"

"Yes, come in. Sit down. How's the leg?"

"Getting better, thank you, Sir. They may let me have a walking cast next week. Be able to do without a crutch."

"Yes," said the Director heavily, "I wanted to talk to you about that."

"Sir?"

"I've just been reading Agent Dorneget's report on how he uncovered some sort of hospital scam."

"Ah, yes. He found out that people were stealing hospital equipment. Who knew there was a black-market in crutches?" He gave a nervous laugh, "is that all, Sir?"

"No. Sit down again. I understand the concept. It's just that Agent Dorneget's report is a bit vague about how he uncovered the operation."

"Sir?"

"Yes. When I asked him, he referred me to Miss Scuito."

"Ah. And what does Abby say?"

"She referred me to you."

"Ah."

"Care to enlighten me, DiNozzo?"

"Well, Sir, it's actually quite funny."

"Enlighten me, I could do with some light relief. My daughter asked if she could get a tattoo for her birthday. One 'just like Abby's'."

Tony wracked his brain for some of the creative lying he had commended to Abby but found nothing. He fleetingly wondered if his being restricted to desk duty was having an adverse effect on his imaginative skills. He opened his mouth to try to attempt to explain when he was interrupted by an odd noise,

"What was that?"

The Director looked equally surprised,

"It sounds like we just went into scif mode."

"What's that?"

"Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility – scif is the acronym," explained the Director.

"And that ...?"

"Makes the room into a secure area. We can't be bugged or anything."

"Wow, I didn't think the crutch heist was so top secret," said Tony.

"It's not. I didn't throw the switch," he got up and tried the door but it was locked. He strode back to his desk and pressed a button on his phone,

"Try the door again, DiNozzo."

Tony obligingly went to the door and rattled the handle,

"Nope, still locked, Director."

The Director continued to try and override the scif setting but with no success. Tony came back and sat down,

"Er, is it controlled from anywhere else?"

"No. Well, in theory from MTAC but we didn't do that connection. I'll try my secretary."

"She wasn't in the outer office when I came in," offered Tony.

"No, that's right, she had a dentist appointment. Root canal."

"Ouch, so she won't be back for a while," said Tony, "can you dial out to anyone else?"

"No, and our cells won't work. They're blocked in here. I don't understand what's going on. Perhaps we're under attack in some way?"

"Under attack?" asked Tony anxiously.

"We did program something that if the Navy Yard was under attack this room would be made secure so that it could act as an alternative command centre to MTAC."

"I didn't hear anything which sounded like an attack, did you?" asked Tony.

"No. It's probably some sort of glitch. Some override has kicked in. Perhaps Security are running some sort of protocol in readiness for tomorrow's conference."

Tony began to have a bad feeling as he remembered that McGee had gone into MTAC to get some of his 'surprises' ready. He decided not to mention that or to ask what happened in the event of a fire.

"So, what do we do now?" he asked.

"We wait," said the Director.

"For what?"

"Someone to notice," said the Director grimly.

"That won't take long, will it?" said Tony hopefully, "I mean you're an important guy. After all, you're the Director. People must be trying to get in contact with you all the time."

"Not so much," said the Director, "that's why I have a Secretary; to field my calls."

"We might get a case," suggested Tony, "Gibbs might come looking for me?"

"You think you'll be missed before me?" asked the Director.

Privately, Tony thought this was quite likely. It wasn't that he had delusions about his importance but he thought that people might be quite relieved not to see the Director around. He put his trust in Gibbs' gut which wasn't going to be affected by a computer glitch. Again, he thought it better not to voice that thought.

"Well, it's a nice office to be stuck in, Sir," he said brightly, looking around and pretending to see it for the first time.

"I'm glad you approve," said Leon a little frostily.

"I can just sit here quietly, if you like, while you do some work," offered Tony.

The Director waved a disgusted hand at his computer, "it's frozen. I can't do anything."

"You know, Director, I'm not sure this override is such a good idea. If this is meant to become some sort of nerve centre, shouldn't you be able to do, well, do stuff in it?"

"Thank you, Agent DiNozzo" said the Director drily, I'll be sure to bear that in mind when we review the situation."

Tony decided on a different approach,

"Would you like a drink, Director?"

"I'll have a soda, thank you."

Tony got up and got the drink. He tried the bathroom door which opened.

"That's a relief, no pun intended. We can still use the, well, the facilities. In fact, I'll go in there now."

"Of course, Agent DiNozzo."

"Not that I actually need to go. It's just that Agent David usually follows me into the men's room, I thought she might this time as well." He saw the Director raise an eyebrow, and hastened to say, "Just a joke. Trying to lighten the atmosphere."

"Thank you, Agent DiNozzo," said the Director a little insincerely.

"Right," said Tony. He sat down for a few minutes and then said, "Would you like something to eat, Director?"

"I'm afraid I don't keep any food in here," said the Director.

"I understand," said Tony sympathetically, "trying to keep the weight down?"  He hurried on as he could see that Vance wasn't impressed with that either, "I've got some food with me." For the first time, the Director realised that Tony had brought his backpack with him. Tony shrugged his shoulder, "I picked it up automatically when Gibbs gave me the order to come up here. I think it's some sort of instinct. Right, let's see what we've got. By the way, is it me, or is getting a bit stuffy in here?"

"Air conditioning goes off while we're in scif mode."

"Oh, OK," Tony rummaged in his bag, "Right a couple of apples, a Hershey bar, a power bar. Oh, I've got some Tylenol if you've got a headache."

"I might have one coming on," said the Director ominously.

Tony nodded sympathetically and continued his search, "some fruit cake, potato chips and a banana. What would you like?" Once again, Tony seemed able to interpret Leon's silence. "I like to have food ready in case we get called out. Food isn't one of Gibbs' priorities when we're working so I like to be prepared."

Almost against his will, Vance found himself selecting the banana and some potato chips.

"What else you got in there?" he asked.

"Hmmm, sketch pad, finger print kit, gloves, tweezers, first aid kit, torch, wash bag, spare socks, boxers, emergency blanket, lock picks, pens, tyre repair kit, pencils, cutters, towel, newspaper, paperback, calculator, measure, breath mints, gum, camera. Just the basics."

"I'm surprised you need to take the van with you to crime scenes," said Vance, "you seem to have everything there."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed," confided Tony, "Gibbs doesn't carry a bag around with him so I try to take enough for two. Oh, here's a screwdriver too. And nail clippers."

"What's the paper?" asked the Director.

"'New York Times', I like to keep up."

"And what's the magazine?"

Tony blushed and for a moment the Director wondered if carrying 'Playboy' round in a NCIS issue backpack was a disciplinary matter,

"Oh, actually, it's not a magazine. It's some sheet music I've got to give to Ducky. He's keen on learning some more oboe music and I said I'd find him some."

"You have sheet music lying around?"

"Yes," said Tony with a touch of defiance.

"Hmmm," said the Director, "perhaps I could borrow the New York Times?"

Tony handed the paper over and picked up his paperback, and an apple which he tried to eat as quietly as possible. The Director wasn't surprised, however, when he soon picked up his crutch and started walking round the room trying the doors and windows. The Director bore it for a while and then said,

"So how do you like being ADD, DiNozzo?"

Tony stopped his pacing and considered his reply,

"A lot of it has been quite interesting ..."

"But?"

"But?" said Tony.

"I sensed a but," said the Director.

"Ah, well, I'm looking forward to going back into the field," admitted Tony.

"You can't be a field agent for ever," pointed out Vance.

"Gibbs can," said Tony, but then looking at Leon, he continued, "but as everyone keeps telling me, I'm not Gibbs."

"Gibbs wouldn't want to be anything other than what he is," said Vance, "and he's one of a kind."

"I'm not saying I want to go on as long as Gibbs," allowed Tony, "but I don't think I'm ready to be on permanent desk duty yet. But, I guess, I can admit that doing this work has given me an insight to other things."

Vance nodded and was about to say something when he heard a familiar sound,

"Good, the air conditioning is back on. We'll be out of here soon. So, DiNozzo, what do you think ..." he was interrupted,

"Director, can you smell something?"

NCISNCIS

Gibbs was restless. He had been on a coffee run to try and settle himself down but it didn't seem to work. His mind began to turn towards cowboy style steaks and he thought about inviting Tony over that evening. He called Tony's cell but didn't get an answer but realised he hadn't seen him come out of the Director's office yet. He briefly considered calling Vance and asking him to pass a message on but decided not to. His mind then turned to McGee and he decided to stretch his legs and see what he was up to in MTAC. Apart from anything else, it was always worth seeing the tech guys twitch when he arrived.

Sure enough, Sandy said anxiously,

"I didn't think we had any calls set up for you this afternoon, Agent Gibbs?"

"That's OK, Sandy, I'm just looking for my truant."

She sighed in relief and pointed to where McGee was sitting engrossed in front of a control panel. He didn't notice Gibbs arriving and jumped when he was poked on the shoulder.

"Hey! Oh, Boss, I didn't see you there."

"I can see that, McGee. What you up to?"

"Well, I had this really cool idea about doing an override of the Director's office from MTAC."

"Why would you do that?"

"Just say that the Director was being held hostage in his office. We could shut it all down and prevent the kidnappers from communicating with anyone."

"How would that help? Wouldn't we need to talk to the hostage takers?"

"Good point, Boss. This may need tweaking. It's still at design stage."

Gibbs had a disturbing thought, "this isn't live, is it? Cos the Director's in his office, with DiNozzo."

"No, Boss, I've got it running in test mode. Nothing's actually happened."

"OK," said Gibbs, "what else have you got planned?"

"Well, you know the Director's got the scif mode set up?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I've used that so we can lock all the doors and windows as well."

"Hmmm, means that the captives couldn't make a run for it, though," said Gibbs trying to be helpful.

"Another good point. It might be that we could put some sort of failsafe that only the Director knew about so he could get out if he had a chance."

"And what does that button do?" asked Gibbs pointing to a yellow key.

"Go on, press it," said McGee excitedly, "no, it's OK, it won't do anything."

Gibbs obligingly pressed it. McGee's impression of an excited schoolboy was surprisingly endearing.

"OK, what did I just do?"

"I had the idea that, in the event of a hostage situation, we could send some sort of sedative gas through the air conditioning vents.

"But we haven't got any sedative gas set up, have we," asked Gibbs with an uneasy feeling.

"No, of course not, Boss, although I'm sure Abby could make a suitable suggestion."

Gibbs nodded in relief.

McGee continued, "So for this simulation, I've linked it up to the fumigation device. If this was real, we would have just started to flood the office with fumigant gas."

Chapter Text

Tim smiled the happy smile he always wore when he knew that technology was being his friend. Despite his continuing restlessness, Gibbs clapped McGee on the shoulder and left him to it. McGee nodded and put his headphones back on, blocking out any distracting sounds.

Gibbs went back to the squad room but still couldn't settle so he decided to pay Ducky a visit in the hope that he would be distracted by one of the M.E.'s long digressions. He had barely gone through the automatic doors when the sound of the fire alarm shattered the silence.

"Bother," said Ducky, "that dratted alarm again. Timothy hasn't got visitors again, has he? I really haven't got time for this, Jethro."

"Come on, Duck," said Gibbs, "let's get out." He was glad he'd come down as he suspected Ducky might have stayed put and ignored the siren." As he thought of other workaholics, he decided to call Abby and make sure she was leaving too."

"Hi, Gibbs. Do you think I have to go? It's probably just a false alarm again. I don't want to leave Major Mass Spec and the guys."

"Abby, get out now! We don't take any risks, you know that. Don't make me come and get you. Get Bert and go outside. NOW!"

"Oh, OK, then. But when I find out who set this off, I may ... well, I may boil them from the inside out."

"Don't do that, Abs," said Gibbs, "because you just incriminated yourself to a federal agent."

"Gibbs!" said Abby in a shocked voice, "do you mean that you'd arrest me!"

"Don't tempt me," said Gibbs, "and if you're not on the way out of the building right now, I'll have you up on charges of wasting police time. Now, stay on the phone until you're outside."

Gibbs didn't hang up on Abby until he saw her at the muster point. "And Abby, stay here until we get the all clear, d'you understand?"

"I promise, but if I get sunburnt while I'm out here, someone's going to be in trouble."

Ziva come up at that moment. "Gibbs, I checked that everyone is out."

"Nobody in the elevators?" asked Gibbs a little unkindly.

Ziva flushed but said, "No, I particularly checked those."

Gibbs began counting off his flock in his head. He was relieved to see Tim arriving, clutching his lap top.

"Everyone's out of MTAC, Boss," Tim said, "Do we know what caused this? Boss, what's wrong?" he continued as he noticed Gibbs' distracted air.

"Where's DiNozzo - and the Director?" he demanded.

"Oh, no," said Abby, "do you think Tony's fallen and hurt his leg again? Although he didn't exactly fall the last time. He may be lying somewhere, trapped and helpless."

"Calm down, Abby," said Gibbs, still scanning the crowd trying to catch a glimpse of Tony, "he's with the Director. Vance won't leave him."

"I would not be entirely sure of that," suggested Ziva, "the Director and Tony do not always get along."

"Er, Ziva," said Tim tentatively, "I don't think that's helping," and he nodded his head towards an Abby who was wringing her hands in despair.

"But, of course," amended Ziva, "I am sure the Director would not leave Tony if he thought he was in any danger."

"It is strange, is it not," said Ducky, "that the Director is not here. He usually makes sure he is very visible at times like this so that people know the importance of evacuating the building if an alarm sounds. It is, after all, very tempting to continue with whatever task one is involved in at the time. Why, I remember a time when ..."

"Later, Duck," said Gibbs as he caught sight of Gerard of Security, "Hey, Gerry, what's going on?"

"Don't know, Agent Gibbs. Cameras aren't picking up any hot spots or intruders. Looks as if this might be a false alarm. We'll check everyone's out and then shut the alarm off."

"Where was the alarm set off?" asked Gibbs.

Gerard hit his walkie-talkie, "Griff, have you worked out where the alarm went off?" he listened for a few moments, "OK. Wait there for my instructions. Agent Gibbs, the alarm went off in the Director's office but we haven't been able to make contact with him."

"Keep trying," ordered Gibbs. "Ziva, McGee, with me. Alarm went off in the Director's office and he's not out here. Let's go!"

NCISNCIS

Once Tony had pointed out the slight smell in his office, Vance noticed it too. He looked suspiciously at Tony's backpack as if he thought it might contain some rotting food but he soon dismissed that idea. He got up and tried the door again but it still wouldn't open. When he turned round he saw that Tony was sniffing at one of the air vents. Tony coughed and said,

"Something's coming through these ducts!" He went to the desk where he had emptied his backpack and snatched the blanket and cutters. He started cutting the blanket into pieces,

"Director, tape these over the vents, it might stop this stuff coming in a bit," and he thrust the tape from the first aid kit at Vance. The gas didn't seem to coming through very fast but the Director doubted that the blanket would be solid enough to prevent it seeping through.

"I think it's time we tried to make some noise, don't you, Director?" he said, and he hobbled to the door and smashed the alarm. They had to hope that it was sounding outside but they couldn't tell.

"Good thought, DiNozzo," approved the Director, "that should switch off the air conditioning as well. Might stop this stuff coming through."

The two men looked at each other. They had covered the vents as best they could and sounded the alarm. They thought there should be something else they should be doing but at the moment they couldn't think what. Tony coughed again and, like a chain reaction, Leon coughed too.

The Director ran into the bathroom and grabbed a couple of towels. He held them under the faucet until they were saturated and then handed one to Tony, he gestured to him to hold one over his face.

"Can we smash a window?" asked Tony.

The Director shook his head, "Unlikely, they're bullet proof glass."

"Shame on you, Director," gasped Tony, "Abby would tell you there's no such thing. They're bullet resistant glass. And we might as well try," and he lurched to the window and started banging at it with his crutch. "Isn't there any electrical wizardry you can do, Director?" he asked, "put two wires together, cause a short circuit, make the door fly open?"

Once again, the Director shook his head, "look around, DiNozzo, this is a very safe environment, no exposed wires."

Tony looked at the windows more closely trying to work out if there was a weak spot in a corner which would enable them to push a pane of bullet resistant glass out but he couldn't see anything and was, in any case, finding it difficult to see through his stinging eyes.

"No secret passage, Director?" he said hopefully.

"This isn't one of your movies, DiNozzo," said Vance, but he added with an unexpected touch of humour, "but I'm going to look into having one installed after this."

"What about the budget restraints?" choked Tony.

"I'll talk to SecNav," promised the Director," and if he doesn't see reason, I'll talk to the President."

"How about the bathroom window," said Tony, "that bullet proof as well?"

"Resistant," corrected Leon, running to the door to investigate. "It might not be," he said, "can't see that anyone would try to shoot at me in here. Difficult to get an angle."

"You'll have to ask Gibbs," said Tony, "he could tell you. Talking of Gibbs, where is he?"

"You keep trying that window," instructed the Director, "I'll try the bathroom. Not enough room for both of us in there."

Tony nodded. The Director grabbed Tony's torch to use as a bludgeon and went into the bathroom. Tony watched him go and then seemed to have a light bulb moment. He limped up to the door and drew it shut, he put his crutch through the handle effectively locking the Director in. It didn't take the Director long to notice,

"Hey, let me out. What the hell you doing, DiNozzo?"

"Director, switch the fan on. It'll blow out the gas. Don't think there's so much in there anyway, just one vent and we blocked it off quickly."

"Then come in too," shouted the Director.

"Like you said, Director, not room for both of us," said Tony, "anyway, Gibbs'll be here soon!"

NCISNCIS

Gibbs, McGee and Ziva raced up the stairs to the Director's office and pounded on the door.

"Leon, Tony! You in there?" roared Gibbs. He tried the door handle but the door didn't open. He heaved his shoulder against it but it didn't move. He drew his gun to try and shoot the lock off but McGee stopped him,

"That won't work, Boss, it's an electric lock, designed to resist attack. In fact the whole room is super secure."

"But why is the door locked?" asked Ziva in frustration, "Has the Director put it into scif mode?"

"Looks like it," said McGee.

"But why would he do that?" puzzled Gibbs, "he was only talking to Tony." He threw himself against the door again and shouted through it,

"Leon, Tony ... let me in!"

"There is probably nothing to worry about, Gibbs," reasoned Ziva, "Security do not think there is a real fire. Perhaps the Director and Tony are locked in there so sounded the alarm to draw attention to their ... difficulty. It is no doubt annoying for them to be stuck but they are in no danger."

Part of Gibbs knew that Ziva was right. There was no reason to suspect Leon and Tony were in any real danger and he trusted the Director's self-control enough to think that he wouldn't have resorted to physical violence towards Tony after spending a short amount of time alone with him. The other part, however, was still uneasy and then, just as Tony had had a light bulb moment, so did Gibbs.

"McGee, you sure your simulation didn't shut the office?"

"Sure, Boss. I don't see how it could have done."

"Check! Go on, you brought the laptop with you. Check!"

"But, Boss ..."

"Check, McGee. NOW!"

McGee didn't often tremble now when Gibbs went into Captain Ahab mode but he found himself a little nervous now. He accessed his simulation program and clicked 'end program'. Over the sound of the alarm, they all heard a distinct click.  Gibbs looked at Tim in pure exasperation and walked towards the door.

"Stop!" shouted Tim.

"What?" demanded Gibbs as he whirled round.

"Boss, I-I-I don't know how it's happened but if my program put the office into scif mode, well ..."

"Well, what?"

"There's a chance, just a chance, that it's being fumigated as well!"

Gibbs didn't waste time on more words but flung the door open and ran in, followed closely by Ziva and a terrified Tim.

NCISNCIS

Tony lay on Gibbs' couch with a damp towel over his eyes and trying not to breathe too deeply. He found that if he stayed very still, he didn't cough. And if he didn't cough, Gibbs didn't come into the room to see if he was all right.

To Tony's mind, he and the Director had been very lucky. Sure they had also been very unlucky but Tony thought that so long as the good luck outweighed the bad, things weren't too bad. True, he had sore eyes and was wheezing a bit and didn't think he'd be getting back to his own apartment any time soon but, on the whole, he thought he'd rather be him than Tim at the moment.

Gibbs had stormed in and dragged Tony out bodily while Ziva and Tim had rescued the Director who had been banging furiously on the door. Tony was in a little worse shape than Vance but had only been exposed to the higher concentration of gas for a few minutes longer. Ducky had clucked away to his heart's content, administering oxygen and washing their eyes before sending them off to Walter Reed for a more thorough examination.

As Vance and Tony lay in Recovery, they heard Gibbs ripping into McGee,

"Of all the idiotic things to do, McGee! Do you know how lucky you are that you didn't just kill someone?  Do you know how lucky you are that the maintenance crew hadn't filled up those gas tanks?"

"I'm sorry, Boss," stuttered Tim, "I don't know how it happened. It shouldn't have been possible."

"Shouldn't have been!" roared Gibbs, "Tell that to the Director and Tony. Damn Robbie the robot stuff!"

"B-B-Boss, you know I didn't do it deliberately. You know I wouldn't do that!"

Vance seemed to divine that Gibbs was building up to another roar, so called through the curtain,

"Gibbs, McGee come in here."

Gibbs burst through the curtain and McGee trailed behind.

"Special Agent McGee," said Vance.

"Yes, Sir," said Tim, obviously bracing himself for the worst.

"It wasn't your fault," said the Director.

"Sir, I'm really sorry," said Tim, "you see I was trying to update ... pardon? What did you say?"

"I said it wasn't your fault. Well, there is the issue of you hacking into the scif and, believe me, we will discuss that further. But the scif override development was more developed than I'd let anyone know ... for the reasons Agent DiNozzo spotted, we decided it wasn't necessarily a good idea so we shelved it but left some of the programming in place," he coughed and took a sip of water. "But, Agent McGee, if you're the cause of another fire alarm going off ever again, I will personally make sure that you are posted to the least technological unit I can think of. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir, I'm sorry Sir. I'm sorry, Tony. Are you both going to be all right?"

"We'll be fine," croaked Tony, "we shared some special moments, didn't we, Director? I think we bonded."

"That's one way of describing it," said Vance.

"Perhaps we could sell the movie rights," mused Tony dreamily.

"If you think we're giving this any publicity ..." said the Director threateningly, "and besides, there's still that little matter of you locking your Director in a bathroom!"

Tony thought it politic to cough at that moment. A nurse came running in to scold everyone for making her patients talk too much. Shortly afterwards, he and Vance had been discharged with strict instructions to rest for the remainder of the day under supervision. Ducky was happy to offer Tony the use of his old room, as yet unoccupied by a music student, but Gibbs brushed this aside and whisked Tony back to his house with the promise of cowboy style steaks.

He also collected another crutch for Tony as the original was rather the worse for wear ... rather like its user.

McGee went home quietly, hoping that Abby would not make good on her threat to boil the person who had caused the alarm to go off.

Ziva went home wishing she had thought to use a paperclip to open the door to the Director's office –she was sure it would have worked.

The Director went home just wondering ...

Tony didn't go home but, on the whole, thought he didn't mind. There was something rather restful about letting Gibbs be in charge ... though he might not tell him so. DiNozzos didn't like to depend on other people: but it had been a stressful day!

Chapter Text

Gibbs stood in the doorway of his living room and watched Tony lying on the couch. It was unusual to see him so still; at the office and at the hospital he had done his usual cheerful clown act but Gibbs suspected that he was glad to have the excuse of a towel covering his face so nobody could see any other emotions there. He was breathing carefully, not quite trusting his lungs yet not go to into spasm. That careful, controlled breathing was also helping to centre him, calm him down, and get him ready to face the world again. Gibbs retreated, deciding that Tony should have a few more minutes of peace.

Tony thought he could sense Gibbs' presence but lacked the energy to do anything about it. Lying there, concentrating on his breathing brought back rather unwelcome memories of lying under the blue lights facing the very real possibility of imminent death. He had never told anyone (indeed, nobody had ever thought to ask him) but that 'brush with death' had, in a sense, liberated him. Tony had expected to die and he had been afraid. Then death had withdrawn and he found that he no longer feared it; the days afterwards had seemed like a bonus, like a gift, although he hated the cliché. All through his recovery from the plague he had felt a sense of wonder; a sense which had been shattered soon afterwards by the unfairness of Kate's death. To Tony's surprise, however, that sense of gift had returned and had never completely gone away. He would never race towards death but, if necessary, he faced it now without dread.

Now, Tony felt it was time to face Gibbs and not hide under the towel which was becoming a bit clammy and unpleasant. He removed the cloth and swung his legs over the side of the couch to sit upright. He was pleasantly surprised to find he didn't cough and unsurprised that Gibbs seemed to sense he had moved and was standing in the doorway with a cup of tea.

"How you feeling?" asked Gibbs.

"Better," said Tony, "that was a pretty scary experience."

"Yeah, having your co-worker trying to fumigate you is a bit out of the ordinary," said Gibbs dead-pan.

"Oh, not that," said Tony dismissively, "I meant spending all that time locked up with our esteemed Director!"

Gibbs grunted in what might have been a chuckle and walked over with the tea and sat down next to him.

"Why'd you do it, Tony?" he asked.

"I didn't do anything," he protested, "it was McGyver who went to war on me."

"Not that," Gibbs shook his head, "why'd you lock the Director in the bathroom?"

"Well, he's a really chatterbox when he gets going," said Tony, "talk, talk, talk. I couldn't get a word in edgeways. It was either shut in the bathroom for some peace or knock him out. I thought the bathroom was a better option – better career move, you know."

"Tony," said Gibbs with one of his patented glares.

"OK, it's my job to protect the Director. You would have expected nothing less."

"It's the Director's job to look after his agents," pointed out Gibbs, "so why'd you do it?"

"Gibbs, you know why I did it. The Director's got two kids waiting for him at home. Two kids without a mom. If there was a chance only one of us was going to get out of there, it was better that it was him."

"He might have stood a better chance than you," said Gibbs mildly, "you know Ducky's always on at you about that scarring on your lungs. You should be more careful."

Tony opened his mouth to reply but then shut it and settled for glaring. Gibbs was puzzled for a second and then felt something like a physical pain in his gut. He remembered another time when Tony hadn't been careful and he remembered that if Tony had been careful it was likely that both he and Maddie would be dead.

"Point taken," he said, "but Tony, you know that you had people who needed you to come out of that room alive too. Don't forget that. Now, you ready to eat?"

"For one of your cowboy steaks? Always, Boss. But hey, do you mind if I go outside while you cook it? Don't want to inhale any more smoke for a while."

Gibbs nodded and Tony made his escape. Gibbs just hoped that he had said enough.

NCISNCIS

Tony and Gibbs went into work together the next day. Ducky would have preferred Tony to take the day off but it was the day of the security conference and his suggestions fell on deaf ears. By unspoken agreement, McGee's special presentation was being shelved and a visit to Abby's lab substituted.

"Tony, I'm really sorry," said Tim when he saw Tony coming into the squad room, "how are you today?"

"McGee, I'm fine," said Tony, "and I think today would be a good day to remember Gibbs' rule about apologies. No ...," he said, as he saw Tim's mouth open, "you've said sorry about fifty-six times and I know you didn't do it on purpose ... unless you had a fiendish plot to wipe out the Director and the Associate Deputy Director in one dastardly deed so that you can climb to the pinnacle of power and ..."

"That is very impressive alliteration, Tony," observed Ziva.

"Thank you, I've been practising," said Tony with false modesty, "but seriously, Tim, let it go. Consider it payback for all those superglued fingers. Although I'm not sure what the Director did to piss you off ..."

"I've been wondering that myself," said the Director coming into the room.

"D-D-Director," said McGee, working himself into a vortex of anxiety.

"Later, Agent McGee," said the Director magisterially, "Agent DiNozzo, a word, please. In my office. No, on second thoughts, in your office, I think the air is a bit cleaner there." He directed another piercing look at McGee and walked towards the stairs. He then changed his mind and went to the elevator gesturing to Tony to follow him.

The Director and Tony did an odd sort of dance when they reached the office. The Director and Tony both instinctively went to sit behind the desk and then each thought they should give way to the other. Finally, Tony said,

"Let's sit in the corner: it'll be safer, It's out of the way of the falling plaster there."

Vance cast a quizzical eye at the bullet hole in the ceiling and said,

"These offices seem to be in the firing line recently, don't they?"

Tony was about to open his mouth to break Gibbs' rule and apologise but realised he didn't actually have anything to apologise for. He decided to wait for the Director to come to the point. He did,

"Agent DiNozzo, Tony, I-I want to thank you for what you did yesterday. I don't approve of you locking me in bathrooms and I don't want you to make a habit of it, but I appreciate why you did it. So, thank you."

Tony shuffled a little in embarrassment, he wasn't used to praise from Vance. He toyed with the idea of saying,

"That's OK, Leon," but decided just to nod. The Director stretched out his hand and shook Tony's hand, he looked him in the eye and smiled briefly. Then it was back to business,

The day went well, and by recent NCIS standards, peacefully.

There were no fire alarms.

Delegates enjoyed the visit to Abby's lab and discovering that she really was as, well, Abby-like as the reports they had heard.

Tony overheard a computer tech from Homeland Security say he was disappointed with how cautious and 'by the book' Agent McGee seemed to be; quite unlike the prince of hacking he had expected. Tony coughed at that and found himself the immediate focus of the anxious gazes of his whole team.

Tony also enjoyed the attentions of a new lady lieutenant from Metro PD who was most concerned about his broken leg. He suspected that she was just trying to get inside information. There was, after all, a book being run on what had happened and a sizeable pot to be won.

Chapter Text

At the end of what he hoped would be his last week on desk duty, Special Agent/Associate Deputy Director Anthony DiNozzo looked back at his diary entries for the week and wondered whether to laugh or cry.

Monday: complete review of FLETC courses and submit report to Director

Tuesday: attend reception at Navy Yard for Marine Corps veterans

Wednesday: review findings of security conferences

Thursday: submit proposals for Agent Afloat Induction course

Friday: morning - hospital appointment to have cast removed (hopefully!); afternoon – meet with Director to review ADD secondment.

It hadn't quite turned out that way...

Monday

Tony had got to work at first light, wondering how it was that he had agreed to write up the FLETC report following the series of meetings with the representatives of the other agencies. If he was honest, however, he realised that he had wanted to write it so he could be sure that his vision was represented. A few solid hours of uninterrupted work would see him complete the final touches.

As usual, Tony had walked through the squad room on the way to his office (temporary office, he reminded himself). He liked to check that his desk was undisturbed: Mighty Mouse stapler at a right angle to his keyboard, American Pie mug tucked behind his monitor, Buckeye pen standing next to his letter opener in his desk organiser, box of scrap paper still full. It wasn't that he didn't trust his co-workers but the sight of his desk ready and waiting for him, gave him a sense of security, a reminder that his 'real' job was still there.

That day, however, he wasn't destined to give his desk a silent promise that he would be back because he found the rest of the team about to go out on a case.

"DiNozzo," barked Gibbs, "research Ensigns Carmichael Todd, Seymour Jenkins and Lisa Martin: finances, skills, relations, friends, education. Send the details to McGee by the time we get to Norfolk. Stay down here – you're Special Agenting today!"

"Sure, what's going on?" he asked.

"They didn't return from a night training exercise," said Gibbs as he thrust a piece of paper in Tony's hands, "move it," he growled to McGee, Ziva and a nervous Dorneget.

Tony sat down at his desk and found himself giving it a reassuring pat. He switched his computer on,

"OK, baby, let's go."

While he was waiting for his computer to boot up, Tony read the note from dispatch. He frowned and decided on a different approach to that ordered by Gibbs. A few minutes later, he called Gibbs.

"Agent Gibbs' phone," came the slightly panicked voice of Tim.

"It's DiNozzo, Boss driving?" said Tony, guessing that Gibbs had tossed McGee the phone and that he had been too startled to look at the caller ID.

"If you can call it that."

"Back road?" queried Tony.

"'Road' is an exaggeration," gasped Tim.

"What's he want?" Tony heard Gibbs bellow.

"McGee," said Tony in answer to Gibbs' question, "did any of you check with the missing ensigns?"

"They're missing, Tony, how could we?"

"Well, I don't know, McAlexander Graham Bell. You could try tracing their cells."

"They're in a remote area without cell reception, Tony. How could we trace them?"

"What's he going on about?" Tony heard Gibbs say.

"How do you know they're in a remote area without cell reception," persisted Tony.

"Because that's where their commander said they would be," said McGee in some exasperation.

"McGee. First rule of ... well, maybe not first, I think that's taken by something else ..."

"Put in on speaker, McGee, so I can speak to him," came Gibbs' irate voice again.

"DiNozzo, stop wasting time! Get on with the research!"

"Hey, Boss, I'm trying to tell you ..."

"Then get on with it! Your co-workers look like they want me to concentrate on driving, not talking to you!"

"Boss, I spoke to the ensigns' commander. They were on an unsupervised night exercise ..."

"I know!" shouted Gibbs.

"Or, more accurately," said Tony slightly smugly, "they were supposed to be on an unsupervised night exercise. I just traced their cells and then I called them because their cells showed up in DC. Seems they decided to pay a visit to the flesh pots of the capital rather than trudge twenty miles in the dark and sleep in a ditch. And they didn't make it back in time..." Tony heard a screech of brakes, three squawks of surprise in varying pitches and then the phone went dead, "you're welcome," said Tony to the emptiness.

Tony decided against going up to his office. He rather thought he wanted to see the team's return. It wasn't long before Gibbs stormed back like a grumpy goose with three dishevelled goslings in his wake.

"Hi, guys," said Tony in an obnoxiously cheerful voice, "nice ride?"

Gibbs grunted, flung his weapon in his drawer and threw himself into his chair. Ziva and McGee scuttled to their desks and Dorneget dithered by the elevator. Gibbs thumped the desk and looked around angrily, obviously trying to decide what to do with all the adrenalin he had pumped up in readiness to find the missing ensigns.

"Hand-to-hand training," he announced abruptly. McGee and Dorneget both groaned (in muted voices) and even Ziva looked daunted. Hand-to-hand training with Gibbs was always challenging but when he was in one of his 'moods', it was distinctly dangerous. It was the first time Tony had been grateful for his broken leg. Gibbs stalked off with a parting glare and a "Five minutes!"

Dorneget looked as if he was trying to remember if he'd updated his will and McGee looked glummer than he had since his hedge-fund died. Tony tried to think of something comforting to say but could only come up with,

"It could be worse, just think what it would have been like if you'd got all the way to Norfolk and then found out they'd just been playing truant."

"But, in that case," said Ziva practically, "Gibbs would have killed them and not us!"

"What made you think of tracing their cells, Tony?" asked Dorneget.

"In the absence of a wife to blame," said Tony, "I suspect the missing people."

Ned nodded and looked as if he wanted to write that down. Tony took pity on them and continued, "And it happened to me once. Gibbs was not pleased, so now I check before we search. Er, guys?"

"What?" snapped Ziva.

For answer, Tony tapped his watch with a significant gesture. It was too late, at that moment Gibbs re-emerged with an even deeper red tinge to his face than when he had left a few minutes before. He didn't need to say anything; as one, his team said,

"Coming!" as they grabbed their kit and scrambled after Gibbs.

Tony watched them go with just a hint of wistful longing in his face. He was soon pulled from his reverie by Director Vance appearing before his desk and demanding,

"Agent DiNozzo, I thought you were going to be writing up that report this morning?"

"Ah, yes, Director Vance. Good morning, Sir. Um, there was slight change of plan. The team caught a case and Gibbs wanted me to do some research."

"But I've just seen the team heading down to the gym," said a puzzled Vance.

"Change of plan, Director. Solved the case quicker than expected."

"Good," said the Director, pointedly, "that means you can get on with your job."

"Yes, Sir," said Tony as he switched his computer off, "see you later," he said softly as he trailed after the Director. As soon as he got to his office, he called down to Abby,

"Hey, Abs. Do me a favour, will you?"

"Anything for you, Special Agent Associate Deputy Director DiNozzo," she said breathlessly.

"Actually it's not for me. It's for my co-workers. Look upon it as a mercy mission," said Tony.

"My favourite type!" said Abby cheerfully.

"Go get Gibbs a coffee, will you? On second thoughts, make it two. He's in need of a caffeine boost."

"From what I've heard," said Abby, "he's more in need of a sedative."

"Well, as I don't have an elephant tranquiliser gun handy," said Tony, "I think caffeine will have to do. How did you find out so quickly anyway?"

"I have my sources ... and access to all the security cameras," said Abby.

"You are one scary lady," said Tony admiringly, "but time is of the essence here, go to work Abigail, your friends need you."

"Yes, Sir," said Abby crisply. Tony heard a confirmatory Bert fart as he put the phone down. At least, he hoped it was Bert.

Tony worked solidly for an hour but then felt restless. He remembered that he'd planned on talking to Dorneget about his experience at FLETC so decided to stretch his legs (or more accurately, leg) by going to see him. He was surprised to find the squad room still empty of Team Gibbs so decided to investigate.

It seemed that word had got round and the gymnasium was unusually full of people deciding to catch up on their fitness training and simultaneously observe Gibbs directing his team. It was always fun to watch but the crowd would have dispersed instantly if the morose marine had switched his predatory gaze on to them. Tony had to admit that it was funny, in a twisted way. Gibbs was sparring with McGee who looked as if he had been unable to keep his feet for more than two seconds since the nightmare began. Dorneget was (in the loosest sense of the word) tackling Ziva who was looking positively feral and as if she had not yet broken sweat.

Tony considered his tactics. He wanted to talk to Dorneget and he also wanted his co-workers to be fit for duty next week when he was himself fit once more and ready to re-join the world. He limped over to Gibbs who was watching as McGee struggled to his feet,

"Hey, Boss," said Tony cheerfully. McGee shot him a look of pure gratitude as he had a few seconds respite.

"What you want, DiNozzo?" growled Gibbs.

"Could I borrow Dorney?"

"What for?"

"I wanted to ask him about FLETC, so I can finish my report," he saw Gibbs looked a bit unconvinced at letting a victim go, so he continued, "the Director wants it done before I go back on field duty." He could see Gibbs beginning to waver, so he cast an assessing eye over the exhausted McGee, the terrified Dorneget and the slightly bored Ziva, "taking it easy, Boss? Knee bad again?"

Gibbs twitched slightly and smiled one of his slightly sinister half smiles. Tony tensed for a moment and then breathed out in relief as Gibbs' sense of humour, and pride, asserted itself.

"Ziva! With me. McGee, spar with Dorneget!"

"Thank God!" breathed Ned and Tim as they almost embraced each other in relief. Ziva stepped up perkily in readiness for combat with a worthy opponent.

"DiNozzo!" said Gibbs.

"Boss?" said Tony warily as he pointedly limped a little closer.

"Instruct Tim and Dorneget. Give them a few hints. Then you can have Dorneget."

Even more people 'casually' came into the gym once it became known that Gibbs and Ziva were going to be fighting. Tony noticed that all the cameras were flashing their recording red lights and he wondered how quickly Abby would have the DVDs available. The rustle of notes was heard as an impromptu betting ring sprang up. Tony reluctantly tore himself away so that he could follow Gibbs' instructions. He went over to where the two younger agents were lying in distress on the mats; they looked up wearily,

"OK, my little chickadees. Prepare to be instructed. Prepare for my words of wisdom ..."

McGee, as befitted the more senior agent of the two, was the first to regain some composure, "W-w-w-what ... what do you want us to do?"

Tony jerked a thumb behind him where Ziva and Gibbs were squaring up to each other, "Watch and learn. Watch and learn!"

One of the gymnasium cameras was transmitting to the Director's office. He watched, entranced, for a few moments but he too wanted his MCRT to be fully functional so, with just a twinge of regret, he hit the fire alarm button.

Chapter Text

The evacuation time of the NCIS building was becoming impressively short but Director Vance's emergency drill still caused about an hour of down time. Tony was then able to retrieve Dorneget for his interview about his FLETC experience but it took a while to calm him down; he seemed traumatized by his sparring bout with Ziva.

"She just seemed to come out of nowhere ..." he moaned.

"Sure," said Tony, soothingly, "that's because she's a ninja."

"And her eyes: they were so steely."

"I know, you've said that already," said Tony trying to be patient.

"And I never knew what she was going to hit me with. One time it was a foot, then an arm ..."

"Yes, but ..."

"I began to think she was like an octopus ... you know, eight legs."

"Yes, but shall we ..."

"And she never let up. It was like fighting a machine," Dorneget groaned, and placed his head in his hands for a moment.

"Sure," said Tony, "it is unnerving to spar with her ..."

"Unnerving?" squeaked Dorneget, "it was, it was the scariest thing that's ever happened to me! You don't think Agent Gibbs will make me do it again, do you? 'Cos I don't think ..."

"DORNEGET!” said Tony firmly, "pull yourself together. You're a NCIS Federal Agent, you should be used to frightening situations. Now, I want to talk to you about your FLETC training."

"It wasn't good enough," said Ned fervently.

"And why do you say that?" asked Tony, relieved to be getting back on track.

"They didn't train me to fight steely eyed, mechanical octopus-like ninjas!" Ned wailed.

Tony sighed and applied himself once more to calming the Probie down. It took another hour, two cups of camomile tea and four Danish before Ned had enough composure to admit that actually he thought the FLETC training was very good. Although, he suggested, he thought it should also include a mandatory session on how to deal with former marines like Gibbs and techniques on how to avoid suffering from motion sickness.

Tony thanked him for his input and then escorted him back to the squad room; he wanted to make sure that Gibbs didn't have any more PT scheduled because he thought Dorneget would probably resign if he had to do anything more demanding that filing for the rest of the day. He found Gibbs sitting contentedly at his desk, wearing a slightly smug smile like that worn by a cat who had just eaten a churn of cream. He also looked rather mellow and Tony thought Ned was probably safe; for a little while anyway. Tony placed Ned solicitously back at his desk and then wandered over to Gibbs.

"Boss, you got any free time tomorrow?"

"What you got in mind?" answered Gibbs noncommittally.

"We've got a reception tomorrow for veteran marines – some recently retired, some long service guys and we've got some officers just out of Basic School coming. Secretary of the Navy is hosting it and the Marine Commandant might be coming too if he can get away. Wondered if you could turn up too."

"Yeah, sure, so long as we don't get a case. Or should I say, so long as we don't get a real case," and he paused to glare meaningfully at his hapless team.

"Great, Boss, I'll send you the details," said Tony reflecting that perhaps he wasn't as mellow as he thought, "or, on second thoughts, I'll send it to McGee and he'll print it off for you."

Tony retreated to his office where he was at last able to work uninterrupted and at 19.00 he emailed the first draft of the report to the Director and then went to drop a hard copy into his outer office. The Director came out just as he put the report into the tray,

"You're working late, Agent DiNozzo," he observed.

"Had a few more interruptions than I'd planned," said Tony drily. Vance just gazed back at him blandly,

"All ready for tomorrow?" he asked.

"Think so. I've asked Agent Gibbs to show up as well."

"Gibbs is going to come to a social event?" said Vance disbelievingly.

"What can I say? I said the words 'veteran and marine' and he almost smiled."

The Director nodded approvingly,

"You taking work home with you, DiNozzo?" he pointed at the files under Tony's arm.

"Thought I'd just run through the files of the invitees for tomorrow. Just to check if there are people who should be kept apart ..."

"Good idea, we wouldn't want any … er ... hand-to-hand fighting tomorrow, would we?"

"No, Sir, I don't think people will leave the building if that fire alarm goes off again!"

Vance laughed,

"Come on, I'll walk out with you."

NCISNCIS

"My word," said Dr Mallard the next day, "what sartorial splendour, Jethro! Am I to assume that you are also attending the reception?"

"Yeah," said Gibbs glumly as he tugged at his tie and frowned down at his suit, "DiNozzo caught me at the right moment."

"Ah, yes, he knew that the endorphins would be flowing happily round your body following your period of intense exercise. I expect he judged the moment exactly to ensure your attendance," said Ducky.

"He did that?" asked Gibbs slightly menacingly.

"No, no, of course not," backtracked Ducky, wishing to spare Tony any further physical harm, "I jested. It's not that exact a science."

"Hmmmph," said Gibbs, not entirely convinced, "What you doing here, anyway?"

"I am here as a decoy," said Ducky impressively.

"Huh?"

"The Secretary of the Navy phoned the Director this morning in something of a flap. It appears that Admiral and Lady Smithson are still in Washington and heard about the reception. Lady Smithson expressed a wish to attend. There are similarities between the UK Royal Marines and the US Marine Corps which, apparently, she wishes to explore. SecNav didn't feel able to refuse."

"So, where do you fit in?" asked Gibbs.

"Ahem," Ducky cleared his throat, "SecNav is terrified of Tony's aunt. Our esteemed Director thought I might be able to distract her: you know, our shared heritage and, of course, I have military experience as well and ..."

"... and if necessary, you can talk the hind legs of a donkey," said Gibbs with the daring of old friendship.

"There is that," conceded Ducky graciously, "I will see you later."

A little later, Ducky stood with the Director watching as the visitors began to arrive.

"I see Jethro has kept his promise," said Ducky.

"Hmmm, I suspect he has a member of his team primed to call him in half an hour or so with a message about an urgent case," said Vance.

"Ahh," said Ducky.

"What he doesn't know," said Vance with a satisfied smile, "is that we have blocked all transmissions into and out of this room, the call won't get through."

"Oh, my," said Ducky with a mixture of admiration and fear, "I do not wish to be near him when he finds out."

"I'm sure he'll enjoy himself once he gets going," said Leon hopefully.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Director," said Ducky, "I mean to say, look at young Anthony there. To him a stranger is simply a friend he has not yet met; whereas for Jethro, a stranger is someone who should stay that way."

The Director gave a bark of laughter and went away to stand with Tony as the flow of visitors increased. Secretary Jarvis arrived soon afterwards with Caroline Smithson in tow,

"Tony, darling," she said, "you look a little pale, you're not working too hard, are you?"

"Aunt Caroline, I'm fine," said Tony firmly, "now, I've got someone I want you to meet. If you will excuse us, Sir, Director," and he skilfully wheeled his aunt away.

Secretary Jarvis breathed a sigh of relief,

"That man's got more ba ... er, courage than me, Leon. I need a drink. Do you know she spent the entire journey lecturing me on the history of the Royal Marines? The woman is unstoppable."

Meanwhile, Tony had steered Caroline to where Ducky was standing,

"Aunt Caroline, I'd like you to meet Dr Donald Mallard, our Medical Examiner. He's from Scotland originally. Ducky, this is Lady Caroline Smithson, my aunt."

"Dear lady," said Ducky as he bowed over her hand, "it is a pleasure to meet you. May I say ...?”

"Mallard?" interrupted Lady Smithson, "that name sounds familiar. I'm trying to remember if my second cousin once removed married a Mallard, or was it a Teal?"

Ducky gallantly took her arm and manoeuvred her towards the buffet table. Tony backed away, hoping her second cousin had married a Teal and not a Mallard; he didn't think he could cope with finding out he was related to Ducky.

Unsurprisingly, given that this was a function for military personnel, everyone arrived on time although the Marine Commandant had sent his apologies. Associate Deputy Director Anthony DiNozzo asked people to be seated at their designated tables and silently hoped that his careful mix of new, experienced and veteran marines worked. There was polite conversation as people weighed up their table companions until Tony asked for silence,

"Please welcome Secretary Jarvis."

There was a gentle round of applause and the Secretary of the Navy went to the microphone and began his speech. He was an experienced and confident speaker and he had prepared well so he was puzzled why every time he looked across to where Lady Smithson was seated, gazing at him wide-eyed, he found himself stammering and stuttering. The atmosphere in the room deflated although everyone was too professional to think of murmuring or fidgeting. SecNav eventually got through his, supposedly, morale-boosting speech by the simple expedient of not looking over to where Tony's aunt sat still and composed. As a ripple of half-hearted applause greeted the end of his talk, Tony once again went to the microphone and encouraged people to collect food from the tables.

The new officers courteously assisted their elders and conversation began to pick up a bit but Jarvis was making a resolution never to host another of these again. He was trying to find where the liquor was being served when that woman walked towards him. He wiped his forehead anxiously and looked for an escape route; he'd thought the M.E. was supposed to be running interference. He cursed his lack of practical military experience as he realised he'd backed into a corner and had no hope of escape.

"Secretary Jarvis," his nemesis said, "I've just been talking to one of your marines who tells me that his former gunnery sergeant has been having difficulty in getting his pension paid. That seems extraordinary to me. What are you going to do about it?"

"Um ... er ..." said the accomplished politician, somehow still mesmerised by Lady Smithson, "well, you see ..."

"Shall I get Special Agent McGee to access the Navy Pension records, Secretary Jarvis?" came Tony's welcome tones, "that's what you would normally suggest isn't it, Sir?"

"Er, yes, splendid, er ... just what I was going to suggest," said Jarvis, trying to decide whether to give DiNozzo a pay rise for his welcome intervention or dismiss him for being related to this terrifying woman.

"Yes, Sir, I'll get right on it. Come along, Caroline."

So Tony sent a messenger to go and get McGee who arrived clutching his laptop but anxious because he had been trying to get Gibbs on his cell for half an hour without success. He was relieved, however, to see Gibbs apparently sitting contentedly with a group of grizzled marines. Tim saw Tony gesture to him and he hurried over.

"Ah, Special Agent McGoo," said Aunt Caroline graciously, "Tony says you are the ideal person to help with this. It is so kind of you."

McGee wavered between a strange desire to please this woman (no, lady) and irritation at his name being mangled. He wondered if it was a Paddington trait rather than a DiNozzo one. He settled for pleasing her. The relevant records were accessed quickly, the problem identified and a solution found. Tim's reward was a beaming smile of approval from Tony's aunt who showed her further approval by telling everyone in the room about his technical prowess. McGee was not allowed to leave the room but spent the rest of the time offering advice on buying a laptop, how to reach level 10 in Ritual Destruction and Dynastic Mayhem 6, changing screensavers and wallpaper, blocking spam and how to find the on-switch. It was the most fun he'd had for weeks.

Secretary Jarvis began to relax a little as the mood of the room improved. He soon realised that this was due in no small part to Lady Caroline who was 'working the room' with great skill. If Tim was having fun, so was Tony's Aunt: she had always enjoyed the role of an officer's wife looking after her husband's subordinates and now she fell back into it with great pleasure. She had the room in the palm of her hand; and then she came to the final table where Agent Gibbs was sitting.

"Special Agent Gibbs," she greeted him.

"You have a good memory," said Gibbs.

"I very rarely forget a name," she replied, "and you are quite memorable. May I sit down?"

"Bear!" said Tony, walking up as quickly as he could, "Secretary Jarvis is leaving in a few minutes. I've just called for his car."

"Tony," said his aunt with a touch of reproof, "anyone would think you wanted to stop me talking to Special Agent Gibbs ... now, be a darling, and go and get me something to eat. I'm famished, oh ... and something to drink as well."

Tony hovered uncertainly for a moment but then wilted under the combined stares of Boss and Aunt. He went away.

"Bear?" queried Gibbs.

Caroline laughed, "After Paddington Bear. Do you have Paddington Bear in America? He's a bear from Peru who likes marmalade sandwiches. It was one of Tony's favourite books as a child and he gave me the nickname. I wonder if he's still got his Paddington Bear?  It got a bit worn and moth-eaten but he really loved it, couldn't sleep without it."

"Tony doesn't give the impression of being a child who liked to read books," said Gibbs mildly.

"And you don't give me the impression of being someone who goes by appearances," came the riposte.

Gibbs nodded in appreciation of a worthy opponent. Tony came back at that moment with the requested food and drink and hovered again. Gibbs considered his tactics and spotted an opportunity,

"DiNozzo, that guy in the corner. Looks a bit too close to the fire alarm."

Tony yelped in horror, and raced away to, politely, rescue the situation. Gibbs grinned.

"Tell me about all this reading," said Gibbs.

"He stayed with my husband and me for a month or so after my sister died. Anthony, his father, had to go on a business trip in Europe (or so he said) and he deposited Tony with us. My children are a few years older than Tony so the house was full of the books they'd grown out of; we could hardly get his nose out of them all the time he was with us. I think he liked having an ordered world to retreat to. My sister was the same with her films, sorry, movies."

"Tony likes movies too," said Gibbs.

"We lived in the country at the time, so we were miles from a cinema and we only had a black and white TV so books were the only option."

"Tony without a TV, hard to imagine."

"My husband and I would have offered Tony a home with us but we had so many postings it didn't seem fair on him. We wouldn't have been able to offer him a stable home. Sometimes I regret we didn't."

"I think Tony's turned out OK," said Gibbs.

"I suppose so," said Caroline uncertainly.

"He's a good agent, best I've worked with," offered Gibbs.

"And I suspect that's high praise from you. And now, I must go, Secretary Jarvis will be disappointed if I don't accompany him. He was so insistent I attend today. Goodbye, Special Agent Gibbs, it was good to put a face to the hand that delivers all those head slaps!"

She rose and made her exit; which took a long time as everyone in the room wanted to say goodbye.

"Wonderful, isn't she?" said Tony, coming to sit next to Gibbs.

"She certainly makes an impression," agreed Gibbs.

"She was born for this, you know. The looking after people, the benevolent despotism. I think it's in her genes," he took a sip from Caroline's discarded glass of wine, "don't think it was in my mom's, though." Gibbs maintained a sympathetic silence, or at least, that's how Tony chose to interpret it. "Mom was a gentle soul, always saw the best in people. Guess that's how she ended up with Senior! Hey, Caroline didn't tell too many embarrassing stories, did she?"

"Apparently you were a bookworm," said Gibbs.

"I can live with that, I guess," said Tony.

"And you couldn't sleep without Paddington ..."

"And I suppose I can live with that as well," said Tony trying to be brave.

"And she's going to email me a picture of you with the bear," lied Gibbs.

"Then I'll have to quit," said Tony, "although," he cheered up, "you'll never be able to open the attachment!"

"Ah, Anthony!" came Ducky's voice, "I need to tell you what your dear Aunt and I found out about her second cousin ... I'm sure you can't wait to find out."

Chapter Text

"You know, I should have been spending a peaceful day reviewing the security conferences," said Tony dreamily, stretching his legs out, "I expect Director Vance's secretary would have laid on coffee and donuts."

"She never has before," pointed out Gibbs.

"An Associate Deputy Director can dream," said Tony pensively, as he shifted uncomfortably.

"Stop fidgeting, DiNozzo!" said Gibbs irritably.

Tony looked hurt, "I don't think you're in a position to shout at me, Boss."

"I didn't ask you to come along," said Gibbs.

"And that's the problem, isn't it?" snapped Tony. Gibbs had the grace to look a little sheepish but kept silent. Tony sighed and wondered just how they'd got into this particular mess ...

NCISNCIS

Tony had expected to spend a rather boring day (probably without benefit of donuts) writing a report on the security conferences but there was something niggling at him when he got to work that morning. As he had left the reception the previous afternoon, Tony had heard Gibbs tell Tim to do a background check on Dwayne Robinson.

"Sure, Boss, anything in particular I'm looking for?" asked McGee.

"Just do it, McGee," ordered Gibbs, "put the results on my desk."

"Uh, OK, is it a new case?" and then, seeing Gibbs' glare, hastened to say, "Right, I'll just do it."

Something in the exchange set Tony's radar off; he remembered Gibbs being deep in conversation with some older marines who had looked rather tense. He left it for the moment but resolved to follow up the next day. As he drove into the car park the next morning, Gibbs shot past in an NCIS car. Tony's trouble-radar beeped a bit more. He hurried up to the squad room where Dorneget was sitting a little forlornly on his own,

"Where is everybody?" asked Tony.

"Tim and Ziva have gone to the shooting range and Agent Gibbs just left. He was in a hurry."

"Did he say where he was going?"

Dorneget looked flabbergasted at the notion that Gibbs would confide in him, "No, he just said something had come up and that I should stay here and do ... something."

"Hmmm, when did Ziva and Tim leave?"

"Right before Agent Gibbs went. He told them to go and practise, waited till they'd gone and then went himself ... er, Tony ... that Agent's Gibbs' desk you're searching."

"Good observation skills, Ned, those FLETC classes really paid off," said Tony as he continued to rifle through the heap of papers. He found what he was looking for, a piece of paper with Robinson's address on. He pulled his cell out and dialled Gibbs' number; he wasn't surprised when the call failed.

"Ned, call Ziva, call Tim. Tell them to get back here now. Tell them I think he's gone after Robinson for some reason so I'll try the address Tim found," he went to Tim's desk, rummaged through his drawer and pulled something out, "tell Tim I took this."

"But ... but ..." stammered Ned, "but ... but ... you're supposed to be on desk duty!"

"Phone! Now," said Tony as he strode past Ned.

Tony found Gibbs sitting in his car outside Robinson's address. He pulled up quietly a few yards behind and walked up casually. Gibbs scowled at him,

"Go away, DiNozzo!"

Tony did the opposite, he opened the door and sat down next to Gibbs,

"I said, go away, DiNozzo! This isn't NCIS business."

"If it's your business, it's my business," said Tony firmly.

Gibbs wound himself up to start an argument but, at that moment, Dwayne Robinson emerged from the house, got into a car and drove away. Faced with the alternative of arguing with DiNozzo or letting Robinson get away, Gibbs opted for following the car.

"So, what's up," asked Tony, thinking he'd won the first part of the argument although he was beginning to wish he hadn't, "what's Dwayne been up to? I'm guessing he's tangled with some of those marines you were talking to yesterday."

Gibbs grunted, trying to concentrate on tracking the car, "They've been running a drop-in centre for youngsters near their base but they suspect Robinson's been selling drugs, marijuana to the kids. They wanted help in stopping him."

"Why don't they just tell the police?" asked a mystified Tony.

"They don't want to scare their youngsters off," said Gibbs, "look, I know it's not ideal. I said I'd look into it. Thought that if we could just tip Metro off, the kids would think it was just coincidence that he'd disappeared. The guys didn't know where he hung out or anything. Doesn't look as if he was keeping the drugs at his place, too risky. Any luck and he's going there now. We'll see where he goes and then let Metro know."

It sounded reasonable and so Tony decided to relax a little and go along for the drive. A drive which turned out to be quite a long one as Robinson drove out towards farm land. After an hour or so, he turned down a bumpy track and disappeared from view. Gibbs stopped the car,

"That's that then," said Tony hopefully, "can't follow him down there, he'd spot us at once. Let's go, I'll call Metro when we get back, tell them we've had a tip."

Gibbs looked yearningly down the track but knew that Tony was right. He went to put the car in reverse but then heard a screech of tyres; he looked up and saw a pickup truck racing up behind them and Robinson's car powering back up the track.

"Oops," said Tony as they both reached for their weapons. It was too late. Four hefty men jumped out of the truck and a few minutes later Gibbs and Tony found themselves in the pickup truck bowling down the track until they came to some dilapidated farm buildings. They were dragged out and searched; weapons, badges and cells removed.

"They're Feds," hissed Robinson, "what we going to do?"

"They're not very bright Feds," said the driver of the pickup truck, "an old guy and another on crutches. What they gonna do?"

Tony thought about spinning a tale about their being out for a drive and losing their way but didn't bother. It didn't really matter whether it was accidental or not, the gang had shown their hand. It wasn't likely that they'd all laugh over a silly mistake, shake hands and agree to forget anything ever happened. Gibbs settled for glaring at them and being on the alert for any chance of escape although he knew Tony wouldn't be able to make a fast getaway.

Unfortunately the gang turned out to have an inventive streak. Among the rundown buildings a large steel grain silo lay on its side,

"Get in," ordered the bearded man who seemed to be the leader, "go on, go in backwards. Move it!"

Gibbs and Tony obeyed as slowly as possible. Gibbs went in first, followed by Tony.

"Right to the back," came the next order. They didn't follow that order to the letter and then wished they had. Another of the gang appeared with a forklift truck and pushed the silo upright. Gibbs and Tony tumbled down to the bottom where they lay breathless and bruised.

"That'll keep 'em," said Dwayne with satisfaction.

As Gibbs and Tony looked around them, they realised that they were in trouble. The silo was big enough for them to sit down in and stretched twenty feet above their heads; it was too wide for them to be able to brace themselves against the sides and work their way up. Tony couldn't have done it with his weak leg anyway and the container was too tall for them to be able to reach the top. They tried flinging themselves against the sides in the hope of toppling it over but it was too heavy and they just ended up with sore shoulders. Gibbs tried to find some relief for his frustration by banging against the walls but stopped when the noise echoed painfully inside.

They slumped down and Tony reached for a movie quote,

"Here's another fine mess you've gotten me into, Boss," the light was dim, but Tony could sense the glare that was being directed his way, "shutting up, Boss."

Gibbs started tapping on the floor, perhaps hoping that it was less solid than the rest of the container. After a while, he said,

"Got your knife with you, Tony?"

"Course, Boss. Gotta say, though, it's just a knife and not an oxyacetylene torch which is what I think it would need to be to get us out of here.

Gibbs grunted in what might have been amusement but it was too dark for Tony to tell if there was a smile on his face. Tony thought he heard Gibbs taking a breath in readiness to say something but the words went unsaid as they heard something bang against the wall of the silo. They looked up and saw Dwayne, presumably standing on a ladder, peering over the edge of the bin; for a moment they wondered if he was about to shoot them, instead he said,

"I'd say it was nice meeting you but that would be a lie and my momma brought me up to tell the truth ... well, if it didn't cost anything. We're leaving now. You won't get out of here, but just to be sure ..." there was a loud clang and the lid of the silo dropped into place blocking out all the light. They heard Dwayne climb down the ladder and then strike something metal against the wall, causing unpleasant reverberations to assault their ears. They heard the truck being started up and then there was silence.

It was perhaps not surprising that Tony snapped a few minutes later when Gibbs scolded him for fidgeting.

Time passed and it got hotter and stuffier in the bin. The lid didn't seal the silo completely but the air got staler. Gibbs found his matches and struck one, Tony winced,

"Er, Boss, I don't think we want to burn ourselves out of here. I think the bin will win. Hey, that rhymed."

Gibbs' gut lurched a bit at something in Tony's voice, he struck another match and leaned forward,

"DiNozzo, there's blood on your head."

"Shh, don't say it so loud, everyone will want some," came a slightly slurred reply.

"Tony, did you hit your head?" asked Gibbs.

"I don't think so," said Tony, "I thought I landed on you."

"You did," confirmed Gibbs, "but I think you cut yourself a bit. What's your vision like?"

"Well, Boss," said Tony, "it's a bit difficult to tell, seeing we're sitting in the dark," there was a pause, and then a slightly anxious follow up, "we are sitting in the dark, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we're in the dark," confirmed Gibbs reaching out to pat what he hoped was Tony's shoulder, "now tell me, how's your head?"

"It's fine, Boss, I don't think I hit it hard, it's just getting a bit hard to concentrate, you know. A bit hot."

"You ever seen this in a movie, DiNozzo?"

"Are we dying, Boss? 'Cos you never ask me for a movie reference."

"No, we're not dying, Tony, this is just a bit tricky."

"We'll be all right, Tim'll find us."

"How? They took our cells, I'm guessing they took the car with them and I don't think Abby bugged that crutch of yours."

"I trust McGee," said Tony firmly, "he'll find us, we just have to wait."

"I'm not sure waiting is our best option here, the air's gonna get worse."

"Tim'll find us," repeated Tony.

"How, Tony?"

"Because technology is Timmy's friend."

"I know that, but we don't have any technology with us!" said Gibbs.

"Yes, we do," said Tony, I brought one of Tim's trackers when I came after you. Like Tonto coming after the Lone Ranger. Hey, Boss, I think the Lone Ranger would've looked a bit like you: if he'd gone grey, you know. So, really, all we've got to do and sit and wait. We could even have a little snooze, wouldn't you like a little snooze? A little nap, forty winks ... or just thirty-nine if we can't afford forty."

Gibbs thought it was probably best not to let Tony sleep although he was feeling increasingly tired himself. He tried to think of something to engage his attention,

"So, did Ducky work out how you're related?"

"We're not related," said Tony with a mixture of relief and sadness in his voice, "They were just having a joke."

"A joke?" asked Gibbs, "why?"

"Because Americans always seem to think that Britain is so small that everyone knows everyone else. Caroline says that when she comes over here, people expect her to know everyone who lives in London."

"I like your Aunt Caroline," said Gibbs, "she's got class."

"There's nothing like a dame," agreed Tony, "although she's a Lady, not a Dame. Ducky would know the difference."

Gibbs allowed Tony to ramble on and, when the rambling ground to a halt, found he didn't have the energy to rouse him. They both slept.

NCISNCIS

Tony reluctantly pulled himself out of a happy dream in which he and Paddington Bear were trying to get Gibbs' ship out of a bottle.

"I think he's waking up at last," he heard Ducky say.

Tony opened his eyes properly and tried to work out where he was. Before he could stop himself, he said,

"Where am I? Damn, that's such a cliché!"

"We'll forgive you this time, Anthony," said Ducky cheerfully, "you're in the hospital. A bit dehydrated and you needed oxygen for a while but you're going to be fine. Oh, a couple of stitches in your forehead, but nothing else to worry about. Oh, you might feel groggy for a while, and you might have a headache ..."

Tony wondered why it was that he had felt fine when he first woke up but as Ducky listed each potential ache or pain, he felt it arrive with full force,

"Where's Gibbs?" he asked.

"He woke up earlier," said Ducky, "he's in the next room, having a ... a ... talk with the Director,"

"Vance was so angry," said Abby from the other side of the bed, "he really chewed Gibbs out for going off the radar like that. It was sweet – it shows how much he cares."

Tony thought it showed that Abby was an eternal optimist but decided not to say anything but just accept her hug.

"I guess Tim's tracker worked OK," he said.

"Yes, it did," said Ducky, "although it would probably have been better if Edward had remembered earlier that you had taken it."

"Edward?" asked Tony, wondering if he had suffered some memory loss, "who's Edward?"

"Why, Agent Dorneget, of course. Yes, it seems it was a few hours before he remembered what you had said to him. He has now volunteered to work on tracking down the miscreants who apprehended you. I believe he is hoping that they have gone a long way away so that he can be absent from the office for some time."

A chill ran through Tony as he realised that he and Gibbs might have been waiting in vain; he wondered how long they would have lasted. He lay there, taking stock of how he felt and then realised that something was different but he couldn't work out what. Ducky saw his puzzled face,

"Oh, yes, I have some good news for you, Anthony."

"That's good, I'd like something to go right today. I've still got my reports to write as well."

"The doctor x-rayed your leg to make sure you had not caused any more damage,"

"And it's OK?" said Tony a bit anxiously.

"Indeed, the x-ray showed that it is completely healed so he removed the plaster so you don't have to come for your appointment on Friday."

Tony smiled, he hated having casts taken off and he was relieved to think he had slept through this one.

"Great," he said, and went to sit up and get out of bed. A wave of dizziness sent him back to his pillows.

"Ah," said Ducky, "I think you may need to rest there for a little while longer."

"But I need to get back to write my reports," said Tony crossly.

"You can give me a verbal report," said the Director coming into the room and taking a seat by Tony's bed. He gave a meaningful glance to everyone else and they retreated.

Tony tried to sit up straight but found that the pillows were quite seductively soft. The Director said,

"I'll begin with an outline of how I think the reports should be laid out and then we can discuss the content."

Tony nodded and listened as the Director began to speak. He had never noticed before how gently, evenly and soothingly the Director spoke, so easy to follow, so easy to lose oneself in the rhythm ...

Ducky came in a few minutes later and looked admiringly at Vance's handiwork, a sleeping Tony.

"Well done, Director, quite masterful, if I may so."

The Director smiled nostalgically, "I haven't had to do that for years. It's good to know I haven't lost my touch."

"Well, it's far too late in the day for him to think of going back to work," observed Ducky.

"And he'll need a good night's sleep to be ready for tomorrow," said Leon with a touch of steel.

"Yes?" queried Ducky, "and what does tomorrow hold in store for Anthony?"

"I've benched Gibbs for two weeks for going off grid. So Associate Deputy Director DiNozzo will also be the MCRT team leader tomorrow," said Vance.

"Oh, my," said Ducky, looking down on Tony's oblivious sleeping face, "oh, my."

Chapter Text

Tony was discharged from hospital after awakening from his Vance induced slumber and being given the 'good news' of his second temporary promotion. Ducky had sent Jimmy to the hospital to wait until both Gibbs and Tony were released so he could drive them home.

Gibbs was characteristically silent during the drive and Tony's mind was reeling from the events of the day and couldn't spare the brain capacity to talk. Jimmy dropped Gibbs off first and then took Tony to his apartment.

"Do you want me to take you into work tomorrow, Tony?" asked Jimmy, "seeing that your car's at work."

"No, I'll take a cab, I want to get in as early as I can. Thanks, Jimster."

Tony made his way wearily up to his apartment, thankful that the elevator was working because, although his leg was now cast free, it felt a bit wobbly. He was hungry but too tired to bother getting anything to eat so decided on an early night – with a bundle of papers to read for the next day. He was just on his way to bed when the doorbell rang, he groaned, hoping it wasn't one of his more demanding neighbours. When he looked through the spy hole, he was surprised to see Gibbs standing on the other side. He sighed but opened the door anyway, knowing he wouldn't go away.

"Gibbs," he said, "there's no point being mad with me about the Director benching you. I had nothing to do with it, so don't give me a hard time. Or if you do have to give me hell, could it wait until tomorrow?"

"Didn't come to yell at you, Tony," said Gibbs mildly, "can I come in for a minute?"

For one heady moment, Tony thought Gibbs had come to say sorry, "Sure, d'you want something to drink? I think I've got some paint stripper."

"No, just came to bring you this. I could see that leg's wobbly; Duck'll probably moan at you if you walk around without a support." He held out a walking cane but it was no ordinary one. Tony took it and looked at it admiringly, it was made of some glowing auburn coloured wood and its handle was skilfully carved like a prow of a boat.

"It's beautiful but don't tell me you've managed to make this in the forty five minutes since Palmer dropped you off."

"No, I made it years ago for my Dad but we had a falling out and I never gave it to him. Remembered it this evening when I saw you walking out of the hospital. So went home, dug it out and polished it up a bit. Should be about the right length for you."

"I can't take this, Boss," protested Tony, trying to give it back, "you should give it to your Dad."

"I can make him another one," said Gibbs, "go on, keep it."

Tony was about to continue the tug of war with the cane but then saw something unusual in Gibbs' eyes. He realised that Gibbs was feeling uncomfortable with the events of the day and this was, possibly, his way of saying sorry after all. Tony kept hold of the cane and said,

"OK, but you're a stubborn old ..."

"Not going to change, DiNozzo," said Gibbs ruefully.

"Why not?" demanded Tony, "how many times do you think you can keep assuming you're right and everyone else is wrong? You're not Superman, you know."

"I know that, Tony, I'm not stupid."

"Forgive me if I disagree," said Tony, too tired to be tactful, "if I hadn't been there today with Tim's tracker, you'd probably be dead. We'd have had no idea where you were."

Gibbs wanted to argue, his instinct was to argue but, unusually, he knew he was wrong and he would lose the argument. He raised his hands in submission,

"OK, OK, I'll try to remember, I'll let you know next time, Mom."

"Yeah, yeah," said Tony, "and pigs might fly. But, Gibbs, seriously, I don't want to be standing by your body on Ducky's autopsy table one day, cursing you for not trusting us, me, again. And if you go on pulling this sort of stunt, that's what'll happen one day ... and believe me, a DiNozzo curse is pretty strong stuff."

Gibbs nodded, slightly shaken by Tony's vehemence. Somehow Tony found himself reassured more by that measured nod than by the earlier glib words; he didn't delude himself that Gibbs' resolution would last but perhaps he had begun to find the words to keep his Boss in line.

"All right," said Tony, "now, while usually I'd be only too pleased to pay the gracious host for the rest of the night ..., would you please go home, Boss. I want to go to bed."

"Thought you'd have slept enough," said Gibbs slyly, "after Leon sang you that lullaby."

"Hey," said Tony resentfully, "he didn't sing. He's just got a very restful voice."

"I heard that he went looking in the gift shop to see if he could you find you a Poddington bear."

"It's Paddington," said Tony with as much dignity as he could muster, "and I would have been very grateful!"

"Sure, I'd stick to that story too," said Gibbs, "night, Double Boss!"

Tony groaned as he shoved Gibbs out the door.

NCISNCIS

The Director was waiting for Team Gibbs when they arrived the next day.

"Good morning," he said, "I have some announcements. Agent Dorneget, the BOLO on the pickup truck belonging to the gang who seized Gibbs and DiNozzo has had hits near Los Angeles. I've asked NCIS in LA to take over the case so you'll be pleased to know that you don't need to be out of the office trying to find any leads."

"Yes, Sir, Director, Sir," said Dorneget, looking anything but happy.

"Special Agent DiNozzo; Doctor Mallard has informed me that you should consider yourself on desk duty until after the weekend after which he will make another evaluation."

"But, Sir," said Tony, "the cast is off. The doc at the hospital said it was OK"

"Anthony, you have only just had the plaster taken off," said Ducky arriving in the nick of time to give his opinion, "your leg needs a little time to adjust and I will recommend some exercises to strengthen it. Come and see me later this morning," and unusually for Ducky, deciding that brusque succinctness would be most effective, he left.

"So," said the Director serenely, "you will continue to be on desk duty only," he didn't wait for a reply but swept on, "Agent Gibbs will also be on desk duty and restricted to the Navy Yard for the next two weeks," he paused and glanced around the team to see if anyone would be question him. Gibbs just raised his chin a little; the glint in his eye dared anyone to say anything. Vance continued, "Associate Deputy Director DiNozzo will, in addition to his other duties, be assuming temporary leadership of the team."

Having made this announcement, Vance nodded and left for his office. Tony watched him go and fleetingly thought that he deserved a round of applause for the way he made his exits. He decided, however, not to get the day off to a bad start but instead decided to bite the bullet and give out the day's assignments.

"Right ... er ... team. Complete the reports on yesterday's ... er ... case and get them sent to the LA office."

"And what do you want us to do after that, Tony?" asked Ziva.

"Director Vance has suggested that, as we are going to be off rotation until after the weekend ..."

"... off rotation, why?" complained Tim.

"Neither Gibbs nor I can go out into the field. We can't run a case just on junior agents, so we stay here," said Tony. He hurried on before the others could argue the point, "as I was saying, Director Vance has requested that we tackle some of the team management exercises recommended by HR and which ... er ... we seem to have slipped behind on," he cast a meaningful look at Gibbs who shrugged. The others groaned.

Tony swept on, "I should just point out that several of these exercises are mandatory and if they're not completed the Director will not sign off on any pay awards or promotions." The tension in the air dissipated a bit, Tony knew that both Ziva and Tim were hoping to move up the pay scale and had chosen his threat wisely.

"Now, I've looked at the possible exercises and chosen 360˚ coaching."

"What is that?" asked Ziva.

"All members of the team instruct another member of the team," explained Tony.

"In what?" asked Tim suspiciously.

"In something they are better at than the other person," answered Tony.

Ziva had a look of satisfaction on her face, "that will not be a problem. I am sure I have many skills I can share with my co-workers," she looked at Dorneget who immediately looked panicked at the thought of another training session with Ziva.

"That's not how it works, Ziva," said Tony, "every member of the team has to receive instruction as well as give it.

"And what's the point of that," asked a clearly puzzled Ziva.

"It means we all learn about teaching methods," said Tim.

"Exactly!" said Tony, "give yourself a gold star, Mc-on-the-button. Now, this is what I propose: Tim, you will instruct Gibbs on use of email and filing of documents on his PC. Dorneget, you will give Ziva training on how to ride a bicycle with particular emphasis on riding safely on DC streets," he paused. McGee swallowed bravely although he looked a bit green and Gibbs nodded stoically. Ziva laughed,

"You are joking, Tony!"

Dorneget looked as if he was praying that this was indeed a joke.

"It's not a joke, Ziva. I happen to know that Dorney rides his bicycle to work every day and that you once confessed to me that you have never ridden one".

"Tony! This is ridiculous. I cannot believe this is what the Director intended. Gibbs, you must stop this, it is a waste of time," Ziva appealed.

Gibbs shrugged his shoulders again and Tony went into battle,

"Ziva, you know when I said this was what I propose?"

Ziva nodded.

"I mis-spoke. I should have said, this is what you will do. So, all of you, get those reports written and then start on the training. You need to get three hours in today and then you swap round tomorrow. And guys, remember that if you give your trainer a hard time today, they might retaliate tomorrow. I recommend you be nice to one another. Right, any questions?"

"Uh, yes," asked McGee, "what will you be doing?"

"Me, I'm going to lunch."

"Lunch?" squawked Ziva, "that's not fair."

"Who said it had to be fair?" said Tony, "but, my esteemed co-workers, I will explain. I'm meeting Captain Dickens for a working lunch to discuss the Agent Afloat role. Let's just say that he's got strong views on the subject!"

Slightly mollified, Ziva and Tim went back to work. Dorneget was still in a daze and wondering where he could get a bike for Ziva to ride; his neighbour had a bicycle he could borrow but he wasn't sure it would be suitable ... After an hour or so, the reports were completed and sent off to LA. Tim and Dorneget braced themselves for their upcoming ordeal.

Tim went first, "Er ... Boss."

Gibbs looked up, "Not your Boss, today ... Tim."

"Er ... no, Boss, I mean, Gibbs. So, I thought we would start by looking at your address book."

Gibbs looked surprised but had determined to try and be a good sport in this so he reached into his pocket and drew out a battered notebook, "Here you go."

"Oh, no, Boss, not that address book. I meant the address book on your computer."

"I've got an address book on my computer?" asked Gibbs in honest amazement, "who put it there?"

McGee sighed (quietly; after all, Gibbs would be Boss again soon) and began to explain.

On the other side of the squad room, Dorneget put the phone down and got his courage up; he remembered Tony telling him that he was a NCIS agent and should behave like one. He stood up and went over to Ziva's desk, she looked up and gave him a friendly glare; he was not encouraged but decided to stand fast,

"Uh, Agent David, Ziva ... I've borrowed a bicycle for you. It's on its way, shall we go down?"

"Of course, Ned, I'm looking forward to it." A chill ran down Ned's spine.

Tony laughed to himself and hoped that the security cameras had high enough definition to capture the pained and patient expressions on the faces of both Tim and Gibbs as they made every effort to behave beautifully. He didn't get long to watch the fun as Captain Dickens arrived for his appointment.

"Ah, Captain," Tony greeted him, "I think you've met Special Agents Gibbs and McGee?"

McGee and Gibbs nodded politely but were actually rather engrossed in their tasks. Gibbs was, in any case, inclined to be suspicious of the Captain who he felt still wanted to lure DiNozzo back to be his Agent Afloat. The Captain nodded back coolly; he had heard some of the rumours about how Tony's leg came to be broken and was not impressed. It was as well he hadn't heard about the previous day's escapade.

Tony sensed something of an atmosphere although he was puzzled as to its source, so he decided to move things out of the squad room,

"I thought we'd go over to the cafeteria, if that's OK with you, Sir?"

Dickens nodded, so Tony picked up his cane and folder of papers and they set off. As they entered the elevator, Tim was sure he heard Tony ask,

"How're Flimsy Fleming and Eye-ball Ernie?" It seemed Tony gave nicknames to everyone he met, Tim sighed and returned to his task of teaching Gibbs the difference between deleting and saving. He was surprised when Gibbs asked him a question,

"Hey, Tim. Can you show me how to open attachments? They don't always seem to work for me and I might be getting an important one soon."

"Sure, Bo – Gibbs, we'll do that next.

Tony and the Captain were still talking as they left the elevator and walked out of the main door. Tony was slightly in front, leading the way, when he suddenly stopped. The Captain ploughed into the back of him and nearly knocked him over. He started to apologise but saw that Tony wasn't paying attention but was staring at something in disbelief. Captain Dickens followed his gaze and found his jaw dropping open,

"Isn't that Agent Donald?"

"Agent David," corrected Tony, not taking his eyes off the entrancing spectacle before him.

Dorneget was astride his very sleek, black, racing bike. Ziva was wobbling a bit, but getting the hang of riding a rather lovely, daffodil-yellow bike with pink tassels dangling from the handlebars and a pink wicker basket on the front. She wore a lime green helmet with flowers on it ... and a beatific smile. Tony had never seen her look so happy.

Tony and the Captain walked over to the training session.

"Way to go, Dorney," said Tony, "this looks like an episode of Friends."

Dorneget looked a bit blank but surprisingly Ziva got the reference,

"I remember that! When that character got a bicycle as an adult – and it had streamers on it. I did not really appreciate it at the time but I must say it is rather exhilarating. Although I must admit that I had doubts at first when Ned first showed me the bicycle."

Ned gave a rather sickly smile and Tony could only imagine what Ziva's reaction had been. He began to think there was more to Dorney than met the eye if he could persuade a deadly Ninja assassin to ride a yellow bike and wear a bright green helmet. He gave trainee and trainer an encouraging smile and walked away while surreptitiously taking photos.

"So," said Captain Dickens in a puzzled voice, "what exactly is it that NCIS do?"

Chapter Text

Miranda Clarke had been working in the Human Resources department at NCIS for ten weeks. It was her first job after graduation and she was full of hope that this would be her job for life. She could picture herself retiring after forty years and leaving her co-workers in tears at the thought of losing their wise, compassionate and insightful senior manager who was always cheerful, serene and, of course, much admired for her elegant and tasteful wardrobe. Alas, Miranda's vision of a glorious future began to waver on her first day.

After a couple of days of induction, Miranda met her new boss – Delores Bromstead. Delores was politely described as strict and no-nonsense, and rather differently when she was out of earshot. A slightly dreamy girl like Miranda was always going to struggle to bond with Delores.

Miranda was surprised, therefore, at the end of her first week to see Delores' reaction to an injury report for a team member from Agent Gibbs' team. Earlier in the week another agent had suffered an injury on the shooting range and had received scant sympathy from Delores but when she heard that Special Agent DiNozzo had broken his leg in a somewhat mysterious way, Miranda was sure she could detect a hint of moisture in her supervisor's eye.

"Oh dear, Ton ..., I mean, Special Agent DiNozzo has broken his leg. Miss Clarke, could you please do some research on the type of chair which would be most comfortable for him while he recovers? In fact, while you are doing that perhaps you could extend your search to see if there are any other recommendations on how best to accommodate an employee with restricted mobility."

Miranda's interest was piqued; who was this person who seemed to have melted the heart of the Ice Maiden? She got her answer when Tony returned to work and came to see Delores to hand in some paperwork regarding his stay in hospital. As he limped bravely in, Miranda saw at once why Delores had been so upset. Miranda didn't know him but her heart seemed to miss a beat; and then he smiled and she was lost. She soon discovered that he was a favourite subject of gossip: she learned of his bout with the plague, of his rescue of Agent Gibbs from the submerged car, of the mission to Somalia and she realised that he was a true hero. She also heard less complimentary things but instantly saw that these were the fruit of jealousy and resentment and, with a thrill, she realised that he was misunderstood.

Fortunately, as the most junior member of the team, she was often sent to deliver and collect HR forms and, given his mishaps and multiple promotions, there were plenty to visit Tony about. He always gave her a charming smile and apologised for his dreadful scrawl. Miranda thought his writing showed character and she resolved to learn about graphology so she could study his handwriting and discover more about his hidden depths. She was always uneasy when she heard how his co-workers spoke to him: she would have scowled at them but she was too scared of Special Agents Gibbs and David. Sad to say, it is unlikely that anyone would have noticed anyway: Miranda would have been ideal on a stakeout as she was almost completely non-descript and unnoticeable.

NCISNCIS

Ziva was already in the squad room when Tony arrived at work the day after the first stage of the 360˚ training,

"Good morrow, Ziva," greeted Tony cheerily.

"Good morning, Tony."

"And how are you today, my cycling Princess?"

"I am very well, Tony. Why do you ask?"

"I wondered if I detected a touch of stiffness?"

"Not at all. Why would you think that?" asked Ziva.

"No reason, sometimes lesser mortals experience a touch of saddle soreness after their first cycling experience."

"I am fine, Tony," said Ziva, determined at that moment to walk without a limp however much her thighs were aching.

Tony directed such a searching look at her that Ziva wondered if he could tell that she was in fact a little stiff, but then he shrugged and settled down at his desk,

"So, have you decided what you're going to train Dorneget in today?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked, "why have I got to train him in anything?"

"That's why it's called 360˚, Ziva. It means that everyone trains one another. Yesterday Dorney trained you and today you return the favour, but," he said, seeing a satisfied smile hover on her lips, "I don't think it should be hand-to-hand combat."

"Why not?" she asked, "it is clear that he would benefit from some additional skill in that area."

"Ziva," Tony said patiently, "this is supposed to be about team-building not team breaking. Besides, it's also meant to give you practice in how to train someone, thinking of what will best suit your trainee, perhaps empathising with them. Think of the best training you've ever had and try to work out why it worked and then use that on Dorney."

This was clearly a new concept for Ziva, "so what do you suggest as you do not think I should teach him to fight?"

Tony had clearly given this some thought already, "why don't you teach him observational skills? Perhaps take him for a walk around the Navy Yard, train him to remember significant details. You're good at that and it's a useful skill for him."

"In the same way as riding a bicycle was for me?"

"Yes," said Tony firmly, "just think, now you can go on a stake out riding a bicycle."

Ziva nodded thoughtfully, "but perhaps not on a bright yellow one?"

"Good thought, Ziva. See, you're getting the hang of this."

Gibbs arrived at that moment, "Ah, the other trainer. Good morning Bo – Gibbs," said Tony.

"And what are you going to teach McGee today?" asked Ziva.

"How to be a sniper," said Gibbs.

"Nice one, Bo-Gibbs,"

Tim and Ned arrived next. It might almost be thought they had been waiting outside together nervously as they braced themselves for a day of being tutored by the two scariest people in NCIS.

"Greetings, co-workers," said Tony, "I hope you are ready for a day of enlightenment and erudition." All he got in response were looks of blank terror from McGee and Dorneget and slightly sinister looks of satisfaction from Ziva and Gibbs. "Remember," he continued, "at least three hours of training. And trainers, please remember how kind your instructors were to you yesterday." Ziva and Gibbs did not grace this appeal with a reply. Ziva simply said,

"With me," while Gibbs just jerked his head at McGee. Ned and Tim swallowed nervously and obeyed. Tony sighed and buried his head in his hands,

"I despair," he moaned.

He looked up and saw the new girl from HR standing in front of his desk with an odd expression on her face. He struggled to remember her name and then it came,

"Ah, Miranda! Were your parents Shakespeare buffs? You know, The Tempest ... made into an interesting film in 2010?"

Miranda's mind reeled. She didn't know why her parents had called her Miranda but now she made up her mind that, once she had finished her beginners' guide to graphology, she would read The Tempest, or perhaps watch the 'interesting' film. In the meantime, she thrust a form towards Tony,

"Ms Bromstead said could you fill out this form about your temporary promotion to team leader."

Tony took the form and smiled, "more forms! I sometimes feel our lives are just made of paper. Do you ever think that, Miranda?"

Miranda didn't know what to say to that but she suspected that, as an office worker, there would be no work for her without forms,

"Um, Ms Bromstead asked if you could fill it in today."

"Of course," said Tony, feeling as if his charm was failing somehow, "I'll drop it in later."

"Um, I could come and collect it, if you like," offered Miranda.

"Thanks," said Tony, returning to his work. Miranda hovered uncertainly for a moment but then saw the Director coming down the stairs so scuttled off.

"Good morning, Director," said Tony a little warily.

"Good morning, where are the rest of the team?"

"Doing the second stage of the 360˚ training, Director."

"I hear it went well yesterday," said the Director with a touch of disbelief in his voice.

"I think so. Gibbs now knows that there's more than one button on his PC and Ziva knows ..."

"I've seen the security camera footage of what Agent David now knows," said Vance with a hint of a smile, "now what have you got on today?"

"I'm going to write up some proposals for Agent Afloat induction. Captain Dickens had some, well, let's say interesting ideas but I don't think SecNav will authorise Agents Afloat to keel haul miscreants."

"I've had an interesting proposal from Base Security, could you look into it later? No hurry. Don't forget, we've got our review later this afternoon."

Tony nodded in agreement and the Director left. Peace reigned in the squad room.

After a couple of hours, Tony decided to complete Delores' form and to look at the feasibility of Security's request. He delivered the form to Delores and then left. Delores looked at the form and tutted,

"He's forgotten to sign it, Miss Clarke, run after him and ask him to sign it, please."

Miranda ran on willing feet. She stopped as she neared Tony as she could see he was on his cell,

"... Caroline, it's me, Tony. I can't believe you've gone. By the time you get this message, this whole thing will be over. Love you ..."

Tony looked up and saw Miranda standing uncertainly down the corridor. He raised a questioning brow and she hurried forward,

"You forgot to sign it," she said.

Tony hit his forehead in an exaggerated gesture, "Sorry, other things on my mind." He took the piece of paper and signed with a flourish, "there you are."

"Are you alright, Agent DiNozzo?" asked Miranda bravely.

"I'm fine," said Tony a little surprised.

"Only ... only, you look a bit tired," pursued Miranda.

"Well, three jobs," said Tony ruefully, "that takes it out of you."

"You shouldn't let it get you down," said Miranda earnestly.

"Thank you," said Tony feeling a little spooked. He backed down the passage nervously. Miranda watched him go; she had a thoughtful, troubled look on her face which her loving family would have recognised as her about to get the wrong end of the stick.

Tony climbed the staircase to the roof and went out the fire-exit. He walked to the edge.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs was, to his surprise, rather enjoying teaching McGee the finer points of using a rifle. Once Tim had got over his nervousness in being alone with the Boss, he had proved to be a good student. Currently he was lying on his stomach, looking through the gun sight at the top of the NCIS building.

"Relax," said Gibbs, "don't tense: that will make your aim wobble. Now, tell me what you see."

"Wow," said McGee, "I didn't realise the sight magnified things so much. I can see really clearly."

"And what can you see clearly?" asked Gibbs patiently.

"I can see ... I can see Tony standing right on the edge of the roof. Boss, why's Tony standing on the edge?"

NCISNCIS

Elsewhere in the Navy Yard, Ziva was also finding that she was enjoying being instructor to Dorneget. At first he had been almost paralysed with fear but she had found it rather satisfying to draw him out so that he relaxed enough to begin to learn from her.

"Right, Ned," she said, "I want you to scan the top of the building, close your eyes and then tell me everything you saw."

Dorneget closed his eyes for a second, drew a deep breath and then did as he was told,

"I saw a pipe with steam coming out of it, an empty flag pole and Tony standing on the edge of the roof, looking down. Why would Tony be standing on the roof?"

At that moment, the sound of the fire alarm rang through the air.

NCISNCIS

Miranda decided that she should follow Agent DiNozzo, just to be sure he was OK. She crept up the stairs behind him and then saw him go out on to the roof and stand on the edge. She put her hand to her mouth in horror and tried to think what to do. In a panic, she hit the fire alarm: surely that would bring help? As the bell sounded, however, she suddenly doubted her actions. What if the shock of the noise triggered Agent DiNozzo into jumping? She ran through the door to plead with him. The door slammed behind her as she ran on her mercy mission.

Tony turned as he saw her running towards him,

"Miranda! What's the matter?"

"Don't do it," she pleaded, "nothing's that bad!"

"What are you talking about?" he said, "look, never mind, Tell me later, we need to get out, the fire alarm's going."

"That was me," she said incoherently.

"What was you?" asked Tony with an increasing sense of unease.

"I set the alarm off!"

"Why?"

"To save you!"

"To save me," asked Tony, "what from?"

"From what, from what you're about to do," she said a little wildly.

"I agree that it's not a very good idea," he said.

"Then don't do it," she pleaded.

"But the Director told me to," he said reasonably.

"The Director?" she said in an appalled voice, "but you don't have to do it just because the Director told you to."

"Look, Miranda, I know you haven't been here very long, but the Director is the man in charge. If he tells you to do something, you should do it. Unless you're Gibbs, of course."

"But, this is completely unreasonable," wailed Miranda.

"I'm not sure it's completely unreasonable," said Tony. "Personally I don't think this is a good place to rappel from but Security seem to think it would work."

"Rappel?" asked Miranda.

"Yes, there's been a request to do a charity rappel from every federal building in Washington so the Director asked me to check our roof out."

"Rappel?" repeated Miranda faintly.

"Yes. Why, what did you think I was doing?"

Miranda sat down with a thump. Tony, concerned, sat down next to her, legs dangling over the edge.

"I thought ... I thought ... I thought you were going to jump."

"Jump? Why would I jump? I'd probably kill myself if I did that."

"Yes," said Miranda.

The penny dropped, "You thought I was going to kill myself? Why?"

"Because this morning you said 'I despair'".

"Oh."

"And your team don't seem to understand you."

"Ahh,"

"And then you sounded so sad on the phone when you said you'd miss Caroline and that by the time she got the message 'it would all be over’."

Tony's lips twitched and his shoulders shook. Greatly daring, Miranda touched his shoulder,

"Don't cry," she implored.

Tony pulled himself together,

"I was calling my Aunt Caroline who has just gone back to England. I was telling her that my ADD job would soon be over. I wasn't going to kill myself."

"Oh," said Miranda, "but what about your team. They don't understand you, you know."

"Miranda, I don't always understand them either."

Miranda slumped down a bit further, she could see her dream of a glittering career in NCIS fading away.

"But it was kind of you to care," said Tony trying to think of something to cheer his woebegone companion, "come on, let's get out of here."

"We can't," said Miranda miserably, "the door slammed behind me and I don't think it opens from this side. We're stuck."

Tony's lips twitched again and his shoulders shook but this time he couldn't control himself and he burst out laughing. After a few moments of doubt, Miranda joined him. He flung his arm around her shoulder as they leaned on each other in helpless giggles. They were so engrossed that they were taken completely by surprise when Ziva and Dorneget burst through the door shouting,

"Get away from the edge. Miranda, leave him alone."

Tony span round to look at them in astonishment and saw the Director following them. Miranda squeaked and Tony turned back to look at her. She was staring ahead in shock where two extending ladders were snaking their way up to the roof. Gibbs was standing on one with a gun in one hand while McGee, eyes tightly shut, was clinging to the other one.

"Agent DiNozzo, Miss Clarke," said the Director, "may I ask what exactly you are doing?"

"Uh, Director Vance," said Tony, "I don't think rappelling from here is a good idea!"

Chapter Text

After everyone had wearily trooped back in following yet another emergency evacuation, Tony decided he would seek some peace and quiet in Autopsy. Ducky was universally popular in the Navy Yard but most people waited for him to visit them rather than seek him out in his kingdom. Ducky was always pleased to see visitors but the occupants of his table were not so obviously welcoming so it was usually a safe bet that Ducky and Jimmy would be the only (living) occupants of Autopsy. Normally Tony didn't mind being the centre of attention but the novelty was beginning to wear off. Besides, he remembered that he had been supposed to visit Ducky the previous day to get his leg strengthening exercises.

"Ah, Anthony," Ducky greeted him, "how nice to see you at last."

Tony opened his mouth to offer some excuse but Ducky swept on, "Mr Palmer, did I not say to you at frequent intervals yesterday, that I expected to see Special Agent DiNozzo momentarily?"

Jimmy, torn between two friends, decided to side with Ducky so he nodded while casting a sympathetic glance at Tony. Tony decided not to argue,

"Yes, I know, Ducky. I'm sorry."

"You are aware, are you not, of the importance of muscle and ligament care?"

"Yes, Ducky. McGee downloaded me some exercises from the internet," Tony said hopefully.

"Ahh, the internet. Well, that's all right then, isn't it? If the internet has told you what to do, you hardly need the advice of someone with decades of real experience, do you?"

"And Gibbs got me a cane," offered Tony.

"Indeed," Ducky's brogue was getting stronger as he began to enjoy himself, "well, that's a good thing, very sensible. And where is it? Mr Palmer, can you see Anthony's cane anywhere?"

"Well, actually, it's at home," Tony admitted, feeling as if he had just rolled over and shown his tummy to Ducky.

Ducky beamed, his point made; he went on to prescribe some exercises for Tony's leg and promised to sign him fit for field duty after the weekend so long as he followed Ducky's advice. Tony was suitably grateful and wondered if he might be invited to stay for a cup of tea to soothe his jangled nerves. It looked promising as Jimmy had put the kettle on and Ducky was an hospitable soul. Tony began to edge towards the desk where the tea things were laid out.

"I'm glad you came down, Anthony," said Ducky, "I had a very interesting parcel arrive today from my cousin in Aberdeen."

"What was that?" asked Tony, wondering if there might be some Dundee cake in the tin,

"A set of bagpipes."

Tony froze, "Bagpipes?"

"Yes, I was considered a rather fine player in my youth, you know," he smiled reminiscently, "I was wondering. Our duet went so well the other week, perhaps we could play another one. You on the piano and me on the bagpipes. What do you think?"

Tony could think of several things but was too polite to give them voice; chief among them was the thought that a piano/bagpipe duet would be an affront both to common sense and his sensitive eardrums. He remembered a pressing engagement.

"Love to stay and chat, Ducky but I've got to go and see the Director. You know, review the last few weeks. Got to go," and he backed out of the room.

"Oh dear, must you go?" asked Ducky in a concerned voice. By that time, Tony was at the door, "oh, let me know when you've finished with the Director, I have something for you." Tony nodded frantically and was gone.

"Dr Mallard," said Jimmy in a puzzled voice, "you said that your cousin Willie the Wheelman had sent you some candy. I didn't know he'd sent you bagpipes as well."

"He didn't, Mr Palmer," said Ducky in a steely voice, "but there's only enough shortbread in the tin for the two of us. Be a good lad and finish the brew."

Jimmy nodded in appreciation of the cunning tactics of his mentor.

NCISNCIS

Tony gathered some folders from his desk and went to see the Director. Vance's secretary waved him in with a sympathetic smile.

"DiNozzo, take a seat," said the Director in a business like tone, "it's been an interesting day so far."

"You have to admit, Sir, that NCIS has got an impressive record in speedy evacuations," said Tony optimistically.

"I'd rather it hadn't been achieved as a result of so much practice," said Vance drily.

Tony thought of apologising but then stopped himself; he couldn't really see that any of this was his fault. The Director was a fair man and he probably realised it wasn't anyone's fault either but he had decided to keep a watchful eye on Miss Clarke.

"So," he said, "let's talk about your time as Associate Deputy Director. Give me your impressions."

"It's certainly been interesting," began Tony. The Director nodded judiciously as he steepled his fingers beneath his chin, "I've been held at gunpoint, gassed and accused of being suicidal: all as a direct result of being ADD," Vance frowned, "and because I wasn't around to corral Agent Gibbs I was taken prisoner and nearly suffocated! Like I say, it's been interesting." He stared back at Leon.

The Director sighed but was determined to keep his temper, "some of what happened was unfortunate," he said, "but I'm sure there have been things you learned."

"Oh, yes!" said Tony with surprising enthusiasm, "I learned lots of things. It's was useful in a way to be stuck in the office with the chance to really observe what's going on. I found out where the Evidence clerks keep their stash of chocolate cookies, where Accounting go for their Thursday lunches, why Maintenance go through so many yellow Sharpies and why ..."

The Director had had enough although he now understood the anxieties of the department heads all those weeks before, "but did you learn anything of value?"

Tony seemed hurt, "haven't you always wondered why they need so many yellow Sharpies? I mean, it's so unlikely".

The Director was a master tactician, he played a winning hand,

"I still haven't had the report on your accident, Agent DiNozzo."

Tony gazed back at him with an innocent expression, "I fell down the stairs, Director,"

"You fell down the stairs?"

Tony shrugged, "What can I say? I'm clumsy."

"I find it hard to believe that a college athlete of your skill would be clumsy".

"On the sports field I'm surefooted like a panther or a ... or something else really surefooted but once I take those sneakers off, then I just keep falling over," said Tony still looking the Director straight in the eye.

"Then perhaps you shouldn't take them off," suggested Leon.

Tony pretended to consider this, "But they wouldn't go with the suits, Director. And, besides, I think it would be against the dress code."

Vance remembered someone telling him that looking someone straight in the eye was the best way to tell a lie and he had a feeling that was a lesson DiNozzo had learned too. He decided to switch tactics,

"All right. If you don't want to discuss your achievements during your tenure of the ADD role, I'll tell you what I think." Tony shifted uncomfortably.

"You managed the Security conferences in an exemplary way. You organised the various receptions most efficiently. Your reports are thorough, detailed and insightful and will lead to NCIS being more efficient in some areas. I enjoyed working with you as a colleague."

Tony could lie to the Director's face but his face fell in embarrassment at this catalogue of praise.

"The reception stuff was just luck," he said, "If my aunt hadn't been there, it would have been quite different. And I just heard that my uncle is retiring from the Royal Navy so they won't be turning up at the Navy Yard again. SecNav is safe!"

"And the reports?" asked the Director flicking a finger at a pile of papers, "were they just luck too?"

"Sure," said Tony, "Captain Dickens did most of the work on the Agent Afloat ideas. I just wrote them down."

"Interesting," said Leon, "do you know why I thought of making you ADD?"

"I thought it was because you knew about my aunt and uncle, Sir."

"No. It was something that Captain Dickens wrote when I reassigned you off the Ronald Reagan. He's got a reputation as one of the commanders who would, shall we say, prefer not to have an Agent Afloat on board but he was furious when you were taken off. In his assessment of your rotation, he said that he knew you didn't want to be there but that you did your work with energy, commitment and in a whole hearted way. That intrigued me, Agent DiNozzo. You could have done the bare minimum and kept a low profile but you did that job properly and well."

Tony looked at his fingers and wondered if discussing a bagpipe duet with Ducky might not have been a better option.

"Anyone can do a job well if they enjoy it but you did that job well even though you hated it. And you've done the ADD job well too although I suspect you didn't want to do that either." Leon paused to see if Tony would say something but when he kept silent, Vance continued, "You know what I think, Agent DiNozzo? I think you have a fine work ethic and that you have a strong sense of duty. I guess that's why Agent Gibbs recruited you. What I don't understand is why you hide all this."

Tony shrugged his shoulders but still said nothing. Vance continued, "SecNav is impressed. He's talking of finding room in the budget to make your role permanent."

That got a reaction: a look of panic went across Tony's face. "Tell me why you think I should tell SecNav not to make it permanent. Because I have to tell you, I'm inclined to go along with him."

"Director," said Tony a little desperately, "perhaps I have done the work well but anyone could do the ADD stuff I've been doing but I'm good at being a field agent and I think I make a difference. And I enjoy it: I know I'll have to give it up one day but not yet."

The Director stared implacably back so Tony continued, "I'll admit that I enjoyed writing those reports and doing the organising but I enjoy being a field agent more. I'm a good agent and those are difficult to find: you're an efficient sort of person, Director, I'm sure you can appreciate the efficiency in having me doing a good job as a field agent."

The Director nodded and, sensing that he had won, Tony went on, "Besides, who else would want to be Gibbs' Senior Field Agent?"

Vance gave one of his rare bursts of laughter and Tony relaxed. The Director stood up, indicating that the interview was over,

"Associate Deputy Director DiNozzo," he said formally, "I thank you for your service. I will advise SecNav that your temporary post should not be made permanent," Tony smiled, "at this time," Vance continued, "but I think you will find a similar opportunity may present itself in the future and you may not be able to wriggle out of it then."

"Thank you, Director Vance," said Tony, "for letting me do the job ... and for letting me stop. There must be a movie like this somewhere."

The Director pointed to the door, "Go ... and see what your co-workers are up to."

Tony nodded and went to the door but the Director stopped him, "Stop. Why are they using so many yellow Sharpies?"

Tony turned back to enlighten him. When he had finally gone, the Director went back to his desk and switched his computer on. He searched through some files until he found what he was looking for: the security tapes for the day of DiNozzo's accident. They had taken some finding; he suspected the hand of Miss Scuito or McGee but they hadn't dared erase them and he had found them in the end. He called for a cup of coffee and once it had arrived, settled himself down to solve a puzzle which had irked him for weeks.

What the Director saw:

Ducky, Palmer, Tim, Abby and Ziva were huddled at the bottom of the stairs in the squad room. They seemed to be engrossed in some small objects on the floor. Every now and then, a hand was raised in triumph or despair. After a few minutes he saw Tony trotting down the steps. He paused about four steps from the bottom and looked in interest at the scene beneath him; he seemed to say something and the others looked up and laughed. Seconds later, Agent Gibbs came racing down, he stopped a step above Tony and delivered a head slap! Tony, taken by surprise, tried to turn to see what was happening and he did so, lost his footing and tumbled down where he lay in a crumpled heap.

The Director sat back. He now knew what had happened but he wasn't sure why, although he could see why DiNozzo had kept silent.

NCISNCIS

Meanwhile Tony had gone back to the squad room where the others were discussing their 360˚ training; he felt a sense of relief at having escaped from one of his jobs but, at the back of his mind, thought he would need to consider the implications of what the Director had said to him about his future at NCIS.

He didn't have much time to think because Ducky soon arrived with Jimmy. Abby trailed in afterwards.

"Ah, Anthony, I'm glad to have found you. Has the Director released you from your exalted duties?"

"You see before you a free man," said Tony. A sigh of relief went through the room as they glimpsed a return to normal. Gibbs' hand twitched as he suppressed a wish to welcome Tony back with a head slap.

"Anthony," said Ducky slightly uncomfortably, "I would feel happier if you would take custody of these," and he handed a bag to Tony. It clinked as he took it, he looked inside and laughed.

The others came over to look and they laughed too as they remembered the last time they had seen the contents of the bag.

Flashback

Tony and Gibbs were in MTAC when Ducky and Jimmy came for a visit.

"Hello, Ducky," said Ziva, "What can we do for you?"

"Ziva, it is what I can do for you! Tell me, did you play marbles as a child in Israel?"

"I do not think so," said Ziva.

"I have!" said Tim excitedly, "I was quite a champion!"

"And so was I," said Ducky, "and today, I received a parcel from one of my cousins in Scotland. Look, it's the marbles we played with all those years ago. And I find I have a yearning to play again."

"We could play now," said Tim eagerly. It wasn't often that he thought he could excel in a game which didn't involve a mouse but he knew he could give most people a run for their money at marbles.

"I'm not sure," hesitated Ziva, "what will Gibbs say?"

"They'll be hours yet, Ziva," assured Tim, and thinking of a chink in Ziva's armour, said, "it's a very competitive game, tactics are very important."

Ziva succumbed. "I will call Abby. She would not wish to be excluded and she is, after all, good at bowls."

And so it was that the MCRT plus Abby, Ducky and Jimmy whiled their time away with a game of marbles. Ziva picked up the technique quickly but found that Ducky and Tim had superior tactics. They were all so absorbed that Tony's voice from above took them by surprise,

"What you doing? Someone stolen a stash of glass eyes?"

Abby replied, "They’re not glass eyes, Tony. They're Ducky's old game of marbles and they're beautiful!" She picked one up to a wail of protest from Tim,

"Abby! You're ruining the game!"

"Well, you'd better pack up, my friends, before the Boss catches you fiddling while Rome burns," said Tony.

"I did not know that Rome is on fire," said Ziva seriously, "Did you hear about it in MTAC?"

Everyone laughed and Jimmy started to explain. At that moment, Gibbs made his appearance,

"DiNozzo, what are you doing? Get back to work!"

Tony turned to explain but the head slap caught him unawares and he fell to the bottom of the stairs scattering the marbles in the process.

"Ow," he said, "ow."

Present day

"I feel it would be safer for you to have these, Anthony," said Ducky, "keep temptation from us."

Tony shook his head, "Ducky, these are your childhood memories, you should keep them. I'm sure we're safe now."

"No, I insist," said Ducky, "but perhaps you would let me have a look at them sometimes?"

"OK," said Tony, "on one condition."

"Which is?" asked Ducky.

"That I don't have to play a duet with you on the bagpipes."

"Agreed," said Ducky happily.

"Actually, Tony," began Jimmy, "Dr Mallard hasn't actually got a ..."

"Come along, Mr Palmer," interrupted Ducky, "let these good people get back to their work."

"But ..." protested Jimmy. He got no further as Ducky tugged at his arm. Unfortunately Jimmy lost his balance, as he began to fall he grabbed hold of the edge of Tony's desk and pushed the bag of marbles on to the floor. "I'm so sorry," he said, as he began to reach down to pick them up.

"It's all right, I'll get them," said Tony. He stood up from his chair and started to chase a marble that had escaped. Unfortunately he wasn't wearing his sneakers so he wasn't as steady as a panther or some other surefooted creature. He trod on a marble and crashed to the ground.

"Ow," he said, "ow!"

"Tony," "Anthony!" "DiNozzo!" came a variety of voices. The other people on the floor looked up in interest.

Ducky and Gibbs got there first.

"Anthony, have you hurt your leg again?"

"No, my leg's fine."

"Thank heaven," breathed Ducky.

"But my arm doesn't feel so good."

Chapter Text

Gibbs and Ducky took Tony to the hospital where a broken right arm was diagnosed and a plaster cast applied.

The team, minus Tony, assembled on Monday.

"Where's DiNozzo?" asked Gibbs, "I thought you were driving him in, Tim?"

"Er, I was, but he phoned me to say you were bringing him in, Boss."

"No," said Gibbs, "I offered but he said you were nearer. Must be some mistake, Call him."

"That won't be necessary," said the Director making one of his stealthy Gibbs-like appearances, "Agent DiNozzo won't be here for a while."

"You got him doing some Di-rector work again, Leon?" drawled Gibbs, "he told me about that, you know."

"Agent DiNozzo has decided to take some time off while his arm heals," continued the Director as if Gibbs hadn't spoken.

"But Tony never takes time off," said Abby.

"His Aunt Caroline heard of his injury and invited him to visit her in the UK while he recuperates. He decided to accept," explained Vance.

"Tony's in England?" wailed Abby, "but that's so far away! Bert will miss him!"

"I'm sure that Agent DiNozzo took that into account when he made his decision, Miss Scuito. Nevertheless, his words to me were that he thought he'd be safer in England. For some reason he thinks his last tenure as ADD was a bit too ... er ... eventful."

The others nodded understandingly.

The Director turned to go but then changed his mind,

"Dr Mallard,"

"Yes, Director?"

"I think it would be best if you gave me the bag of marbles. I will put them somewhere safe."

"Quite right, Director, quite right," said Ducky humbly.