“We both know I didn’t kill him.” Kort spoke quietly to Gibbs, his voice not carrying even the few feet away to where Ziva stood watching both of them and the rest of the hotel lobby closely.
“You really think that matters?” Gibbs kept his voice equally quiet. They didn’t know exactly who had killed Rene Benoit, not for certain, but they both had their theories.
Gibbs cocked his head, eyeing Kort. McGee’s information had been solid. Finding the man had simply been a matter of showing up where he was staying, confronting him in the lobby and stepping into a near by alcove for privacy. Everything should be so easy, Gibbs had thought.
Both Kort’s eyebrows rose and he ‘tsk’ed. “And here, all this time, I thought you were about law and order, seeing to it the guilty got punished for their misdeeds.”
Gibbs resisted the urge to smack the man’s sarcastic expression right off his face. He didn’t want the CIA agent to know just how much having to this bothered him.
“All you have to do is say you killed him and that it was sanctioned.” Gibbs kept his voice level and even. “It’s not like lying is a new skill for you.”
Kort snorted. “I’m not taking the fall for someone else.”
“You’re not going to.” Gibbs shook his head. “No one is even going charge you, and you know it.” Kort’s status as an undercover operative for the CIA practically guaranteed his immunity. Not to mention he had literally taken over for La Grenouille.
Kort cocked his head to one side, the overhead lighting glinting dully off his balding head. “Then why should I even bother?”
Gibbs’ smile was little more than a baring of his teeth. “In terms of credibility with Benoit’s cronies and customers, it will help solidify your position as his successor if you lend credence to what they probably already suspect.”
“Really?” Kort arched an eyebrow. “And just what is it they suspect?”
“Benoit’s right hand man got tired of playing second fiddle and took him out.” Gibbs knew that was already in the rumor mill from a few calls of his own he’d made after he and Tony had decided on Plan B. Fornell had likely discounted the rumors, if he’d even heard them, because of the evidence he had pointing toward Shepard or someone in her employ.
“And you always could play it up with his clients and competition as you seeing the writing on the wall…Benoit was losing his nerve, he was a liability, and it was in everyone’s best interest if he was eliminated to save a very lucrative business.”
There was no doubt in Gibbs’ mind Kort had already started to play that angle. He would have to if he was going to do successfully maintain any sort of power base as an arms dealer.
Kort frowned. “I still don’t see why I should allow myself to be taken into custody.”
“What better way to add to everyone’s belief you’ve got balls enough to take Benoit’s place than to have you brought in for questioning by the agency looking into this death? The fact that nothing gets pinned on you will only add to your image as a ‘worthy successor’.”
“NCIS isn’t the agency investigating.” Kort smirked. “Way I hear it, they are the ones under investigation.”
“Fornell is there. We are assisting with the investigation.”
Kort rolled his eyes. “Right.”
Gibbs fixed Kort with a hard look. “You are about to be more than the power behind the throne which is something I’m sure the CIA is salivating all over. But you are far from invulnerable, Kort.”
“You going to take me out, Gibbs?” Kort looked amused.
Gibbs smiled. There was no humor in it. “Doesn’t have to me. It would only take one phone call, little information to the wrong people, and you could find your own car the one blowing up in downtown DC.”
He still owed Kort for destroying Tony’s car. Letting them all think Tony was dead wasn’t something Gibbs had forgotten, or would ever forget.
Kort sobered. “You shouldn’t make idle threats.”
“I’m not.” Gibbs’ smile widened. He meant every word. It wouldn’t hurt his feelings one bit to rat out Kort and let the man twist in the wind if it came right down to that.
“The Agency finally has you in the position they’ve likely wanted all along. If they want to keep you there, it would be best for you to do this little favor for me and not give me a reason to let any of your clients know exactly who and what you are.”
“Favor?” Kort’s eyes narrowed, giving Gibbs a speculative look. “Does this mean I could call in a marker.”
“Within reason…That is exactly what it I am syaing.” Gibbs knew it was a deal with the devil, but he didn’t see a lot of options. He wasn’t going to have his entire team get fucked over because Shepard didn’t have brains enough to look out for herself let alone anyone else.
“Within reason? That means what exactly?”
“Not going to kill anyone for you.” Gibbs had slipped from his own ethical code in the past, and survived, he could do it again, if he had to. But he had to draw a line somewhere.
“Fair enough.” Kort dipped his head, accepting the one limitation.
That one caveat was hardly restrictive. The field was wide open for a lot that Kort could and probably would ask for at some future date. Gibbs knew Kort would accept nothing less.
Kort rubbed his thumb across his lower lip, giving Gibbs a thoughtful look. “You do realize that if I tell Fornell I killed Rene and that it was sanction by the agency, he will no longer be looking for the killer.”
“I know.” Gibbs mentally grimaced trying hard not to let his distaste show. It galled him to let Shepard get away with this, but he couldn’t see any other option.
“I hope whoever you are doing this for is worth it.”
Gibbs nodded once. His team was worth letting whoever killed Rene Benoit escape justice---for now. No one on his team deserved to get caught up in Shepard’s vengeance. And he'd have time to nail her ass to the wall when doing so didn’t put everyone he cared about at risk.
Kort shook his head. “You are a fool.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
Kort chuckled. “About that I am sure.” He held out his hands. “Would you like to cuff me, make it nicely ‘official’?”
Gibbs pulled out his cuffs, securing Kort with neat efficient movements. It wasn’t truly necessary, except for appearance sake. But then, if anyone was watching, appearances would matter.
“I’ll call my attorney when we arrive.” Kort sighed. “More for show than anything else, of course.”
“Of course,” Gibbs agreed giving Kort a light shove toward where Ziva waited. The attorney wouldn’t know what a sham all this was because everything would be settled long before he or she arrived. But it was attention to details like that, playing out the part to the fullest even if only for an audience of one, that would keep an undercover agent like Kort alive.
It was a pity Shepard hadn’t realized the need for that sort of attention to detail before she sent Tony under without adequate backup or support. It was also a damn shame she hadn’t learned that vengeance was something best done alone. Gibbs didn’t drag anyone in with him when he went after the killer of his wife and daughter. He did his best to keep his team out of shit that might blow up in their faces. Shepard should have looked out for those in her command, not deliberately and carelessly put them at risk.
Gibbs sighed silently. He had tried to protect his team, keeping them out of the loop with Franks and later Maddie Tyler. It hadn’t worked out the way he’d hoped, but he had at least made the effort to keep them safe. In hindsight he’d have done better to simply include them. It would have been safer for everyone---Tony in particular.
He knew before his trip to Mexico and before Tony had left none of his team would have ever suspected Gibbs second guessed himself, but now he didn’t think his self-doubts would surprise any of them. He wondered idly if Shepard ever thought her actions were wrong. If she ever considered how things could have been done differently. Given her reaction to the Fornell, Gibbs was certain she hadn’t learned a damn thing from this fiasco. Yet another reason having to deal with Kort pissed him off.
The ride back to the office was quiet. Gibbs wanted to talk to Ziva. He wanted to ask how her conversation with Tony went, but he didn’t want an audience for that conversation. He could have asked on their way to get Kort, but Gibbs was afraid she might actually tell him. His gut already told him that Ziva and Tony had ironed out whatever differences existed between them, but it wasn’t enough to get Tony to agree to come back.
Gibbs would have liked to have had a moment alone with Ducky to find out how things had gone with Tony in the morgue. Gibbs didn’t know for certain, but he was fairly confident there were no difference to iron out between Ducky and Tony. He couldn’t see Tony having stayed in touch with the older man if there were. He hoped they’d talked about how different things had been with Tony gone, about how much they wanted him to come back, but knowing Ducky, Gibbs was sure the conversation was more about what was going on in Tony’s life in Houston.
Glancing in the review mirror to look at Kort, Gibbs wondered for the first time if maybe Tony wasn’t better off in Houston. At least there Tony wouldn’t have to worry about sacrificing his own personal ethics. He wouldn’t be forced into making deals with shady characters, suspending justice for the sake of saving people who should never have been endangered in the first place. He wouldn’t have a bastard for a boss.
Gibbs knew McGee and Abby would be talking to Tony. They would both make a concerted effort to convince Tony that coming back to NCIS was the right choice. At the moment, Gibbs couldn’t decide if he wanted them to succeed or not.
Watching LaFiamma and Lundy with Tony was like watching two guard dogs on duty. For as well as his team had worked together, Gibbs had never seen them watch out for one another with so much intensity or single minded purpose. He knew he was partially to blame for that, often setting the younger agents at odds with one another, making them compete for his attention and approval. It had gotten results, and that was all he’d cared about, until he was forced to acknowledge how much it cost.
Gibbs’ fingers clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. He really hated Houston. And Lundy. And LaFiamma. But mostly, he hated that Tony might well be better off there, and that Tony clearly thought the same thing.
And he really, well and truly, hated Shepard for being the final straw. They hadn’t actually given Tony much reason to stay, but she’d ultimately given him a reason to leave. He wished Morrow had stayed, or had the good sense to pick a qualified replacement--someone with better sense and ability.
Gibbs sighed silently. A thorough investigation of who really killed Rene Benoit would be something he undertook on his own. It would have to wait until he was sure his team was safe from any fallout, but Gibbs would get to the bottom of what happened.
First order of business though was to get Kort to Fornell and call off the FBI’s dogs. Gibbs pressed harder on the gas pedal. It was going to take hours, maybe even days, to get the bad taste out of his mouth for doing this so the sooner he was done with this mess the better.
And he wanted to make sure he had time to talk with Tony again. He had no illusions about his ability to convince the younger man to return to the team. If he was truly capable of persuading someone to stay he wouldn’t have three ex-wives. Gibbs had to make sure he’d given it his best effort though, because Tony deserved that from him.
He hadn’t given Tony his best in a long time. If he had, he’d have been there for Tony as a good leader, as a friend, there would have been fewer biting comments from him and their teammates. He’d have said thank you to Tony for saving his life and acknowledged just how well Tony filled the roll of Senior Agent more often. Shepard being a bitch wouldn’t have had the impact it did if Tony had known how much Gibbs trusted and valued him.
He let Tony down. There was no way to truly apologize for that. The best he could do now was to try and make up for it. He hoped like hell he was up to the task.
******** ************* ************ ******** *************
Jenny Shepard breathed a silent sigh of relief as Fornell and Sacks headed for the elevator. She saw no reason for Rene Benoit’s death to be considered anything other than suicide. They argued otherwise, but she stood firm in her position. The man had shot himself in the head---just like her father"and they would simply have to come to terms with that fact. She smiled coldly, looking out over the bullpen from the elevated platform that led to MTAC and her office.
Her eyes narrowed as she noted Gibbs’ empty desk. It had taken some quick thinking to explain how and why her gun was at the scene. She wasn’t sure Gibbs would back her story that she’d given Benoit the gun to defend himself when he’d come to her house asking for sanctuary. She had given it to Benoit. He simply hadn’t taken it with him. She didn’t know if Gibbs would remember that detail or not.
There was a time when she’d have known exactly which way Gibbs would jump. Ever since he’d gone to Mexico her ability to read him had diminished. It had become practically nonexistent after Tony’s departure and the confrontation she’d had with Gibbs in her office.
She shifted her weight, wincing as the nearly constant pain she was in made itself known again. The drugs held the pain at bay most of the time, but they were becoming less and less effective at the current dosage. Shepard’s doctor had suggested increasing the dosage again, but she’d refused. As long as she was working, she needed to stay sharp. She hated that the medication made her feel fuzzy at times and disconnected. She’d already made more mistakes than she would have before the diagnosis.
She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She did it again, relaxing as the pain faded again to a manageable level. She would really like nothing more than a stiff drink but she knew she wouldn’t get one until leaving the office. It would be hours before she could indulge in something that worked at least as well as the damn pills.
Shepard’s eyebrows rose as she saw Tony. Office gossip being what it was, she knew he was in the building, but this was the first time she’d seen him for herself. Rumor had it Gibbs went to get him from wherever it was Tony had gone. She grimaced. Not that Gibbs had deigned to say anything to her about it directly.
Fornell had mentioned he already questioned Tony. He didn’t say anything directly as to the outcome of that interrogation, but Shepard could read between the lines. If he’d gotten anything out of Tony, he wouldn’t have been talking to her.
She cocked her head to one side, noticing two other men walking with Tony. The dark haired one in the suit she recognized from earlier. He’d been in the observation room with Gibbs and Fornell. She’d been too distracted to ask his name or why he was there. Damn drugs, she cursed silently. That sort of information was something she should have asked for immediately.
She didn’t recognize the other man. Her lips curled upward in a small smile as she wondered if he were as much a cowboy as his appearance would indicate. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a Stetson or genuine cowboy boots. They weren’t exactly common in the DC area.
Shepard watched them head for the break room. Nodding to herself, she headed down the stairs. Gibbs was out. McGee and Ziva weren’t at their desks either. She was sure Tony would know where they were and what they were doing. He could give her an update on what progress the team had made in getting the FBI to back off.
Shepard frowned when she heard a soft thump as she approached the break room doorway. She couldn’t place the noise, but the next sound was unmistakable. It was the sound of something dropping off the shelf of the candy machine.
“That’s a neat little trick.”
Shepard didn’t recognize that voice, but the drawl made her think is was probably the cowboy. It was cliché, but she couldn’t imagine someone dressed like he stepped out of a Wrangler jean ad to not have a southern accent.
“It’s not a trick. It’s theft.”
Even though he hadn’t said anything in the observation room while she had been there, Shepard thought this voice matched what she’d have expected the dark haired stranger to sound like. The voice had a deep resonance and a trace of a mid-western accent.
“So, you don’t want me to share my ill gotten gains with you?” There was an obvious tease in that drawled question.
She heard Tony laugh as she neared the open doorway.
“Hell, no, that means he wants one of his own.”
She entered the room in time to see Tony smack the candy machine. She stifled a smile when a candy bar fell in response. She wondered if he’d watched “Happy Days” as a child. It wasn’t hard to imagine Henry Winkler as ‘The Fonz’ being an idol for Tony at some point, although, Steve McQueen in ‘Bullitt’ seemed more his speed.
“Hello, Tony.”
Tony’s shoulders tightened in response to her greeting. He turned to look at her, his expression flat and unreadable. It was unnerving. She had never known him to look like that. There was always emotion in his expression---humor, confusion, disappointment, confidence, anger…something. She hadn’t really expected him to be happy to see her, not given the tenor of their last conversation, but she hadn’t anticipated this total lack of animation either.
“Madame Director.”
She wanted to snap at him for using that hated moniker. Even though it hadn’t been used since she first took the job, he obviously remembered she didn’t like it, and she resented how easily he could push a button that shouldn’t even be a sore spot any more. Instead of giving into her initial feelings, she smiled, trying not to look as angry as she felt.
“You never did get that memo, did you?” She kept her voice light, trying to recapture the closeness that once existed between them.
“Not getting any memos from you these days, ma’am.” His tone was just as flat as his expression. “Or anyone else at NCIS, for that matter.”
Her chin came up defiantly to what she heard as a criticism. It wasn’t her fault he was no longer a federal agent. He was the one who quit. She just made sure the damn paperwork got processed.
“It was your decision to leave.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t really leave me a lot of options, did you?”
Shepard’s jaw tightened. “I believe it was you who issued the ultimatum, Tony.”
“And you wouldn’t give an inch.” Tony smiled, but there was no warmth or humor his expression. “Never let it be said I’m not a man of my word.”
She never would have thought he’d draw a line and be able to stick to it. Until then, he’d done everything she’d asked of him and more. She had badly misread him and the situation.
The two other men had moved to flank Tony, standing a little behind him to the left and right. They were acting as obvious back up; she couldn’t decide if she was flattered or insulted by the clear indication they thought of her as a threat. Tony didn’t act as though he’d even noticed them. Maybe he simply trusted them enough nothing had to be said. She elected not to comment on it.
“You are looking well,” she said, striving to find some sort of polite common ground. She missed the days when talking to him had been so easy.
“Thank you.” He dipped his head.
The usual polite add on ‘so are you’ wasn’t there. She found herself holding her breath wondering if her illness was apparent to him as sharp green eyes assed her. The other agents saw her daily and she knew that constant association masked small changes. It was easy to overlook her pale complexion, excuse her irritability as a byproduct of giving up coffee, her looking a little tired as the result of the long hours. To someone not used to seeing her day in and day out, the changes might just be more obvious.
“You look tired, Jenny.” Tony’s voice softened.
It wasn’t true sympathy or even concern, not really, but Shepard welcomed the slight change from him. She wasn’t used to getting the cold shoulder from him, and it hurt more than she expected.
“It’s been a long day.”
“Fighting with the FBI tends to add hours to the day.”
“Yes, it does.”
Dealing with Fornell and Sacks had drained her energy reserves. But at least she’d managed to discredit Jeanne’s testimony before having to deal with him. The only thing they really had pointing to the case being murder and not suicide was Jeanne’s statement. Shepard didn’t particularly care that Jeanne pointed the finger at Tony; she knew there wasn’t enough evidence to convict him, but she wanted any suggestion of murder quashed. Her father never got that much consideration, she’d be damned if La Grenouille got it.
“I think dealing with the FBI would be a lot easier if you just gave them what they’re looking for.” The cowboy’s brandy brown eyes regarded her steadily, assessing her without being hostile or judgmental.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Shepard said. Her tone was civil, but only just barely.
“We haven’t.” He lightly touched the brim of his Stetson. “Sergeant Levon Lundy. Houston PD.”
Shepard frowned, eyes moving to the other man. “And you are?”
“Sergeant Joseph LaFiamma. I’m also with Houston PD.”
“I wasn’t aware we had any cases involving the Houston Police Department.”
“Not aware that you do either,” Lundy grinned. “We’re just here to make sure this little dust up you got going with the FBI don’t leave any marks on Tony.”
She glared at him. “NCIS can take care of their own.”
“Really?” LaFiamma wasn’t sneering but Shepard could tell he was close to it. “Never would have guessed that from what Tony’s said.”
Shepard bit back the first thing that came to mind. She didn’t think it would help if she somehow implied Tony was a liar. And she really didn’t want to get into what Tony might have told them. Odds were she’d lose.
“Don’t matter whether or not NCIS looks out for their own or not,” Lundy said, “Tony isn’t one of yours any more. He’s one of ours. We make it a priority to look out for kith and kin.”
Shepard blinked, her gaze moving back to Tony. She should have made the connection sooner. “You went to Houston PD?”
That had to be the last place she’d have thought he’d go to. For all his job jumping, Tony hadn’t strayed far from the same basic geographic area. What the hell could there have been for him in Houston of all places?
“I wanted a change of pace.” He shrugged. “And it’s warmer there.”
LaFiamma snorted and muttered quietly. “More than just the weather that’s warmer.”
Shepard’s arched an eyebrow, giving him a haughty look. “Are you implying"“
“Hell, no.” LaFiamma’s blue eyes were icy. “I’m coming right out and saying it, Lady. This fucked up little piss ant agency and most of the assholes who work here are stone cold rat bastards"“
“Joe.”
Shepard wasn’t sure what surprised her more---that it wasn’t Tony who made that one word protest silencing the other man, or that it only took one word to stop what was clearly just the opening gambit of one hell of a tirade. Lundy and LaFiamma traded a look Shepard couldn’t even begin to decipher. Tony seemed more amused than anything else.
“You’ll have to forgive, Joe, ma’am.” Lundy smiled tightly at LaFiamma before adopting a put upon expression. “He’s got trouble not calling a spade a spade, but I’ve been working on him.”
“Pot and kettle.” Tony snickered, rolling his eyes. “Both of you are about as subtle as a couple of sledgehammers.”
“Whatever works, Tony,” Joe said, not sounding at all repentant. “And Cowboy, it was you who told me honesty is the best policy. Don’t be getting all bent out of shape when I actually take your advice.”
Lundy smirked. “Also told you there was a time and a place for it. I think you quit listening when I got to the part you didn’t want to hear.”
The lighthearted banter reminded her of how Gibbs’ team used to be before Tony left. They rarely joked or teased one another these days. Tony had evidently taken the good humor and fun with him when he went. Initially, Shepard had thought it would make the team work better, but in reality, they were less of a team without it. Gibbs was still the boss, McGee and Ziva were still excellent investigators, Abby and Ducky were still capable support for them. They closed cases and solved crimes, but they weren’t a team or even almost family the way they’d once been. Without Tony, they were just people who worked together.
“Was there something specific you wanted to speak to me about, Director Shepard?” Tony asked.
Shepard hesitated for a moment, considering her options. There were a lot of things she’d like to talk to him about, but she didn’t want an audience for them. The protective stance Lundy and LaFiamma had taken made Shepard certain she wouldn’t get time alone with Tony.
She sighed silently. Apologies were a sign of weakness, and in all honesty she wasn’t sorry for anything. She would have liked to have parted with Tony on better terms; she would have preferred not to have Gibbs openly hostile and his team suspicious of her every move; she would like it if the FBI would simply go away, but there wasn’t anything she’d have done differently. Taking care of La Grenouille had been an ambition she had for most of her adult life. Getting it done before her illness made it impossible for her to do much of anything at all was something she was proud of.
She opted for the main reason she’d bothered coming down the stairs. “Do you know where Gibbs went?”
“He didn’t say anything to me about where he was going, Ma’am.”
He didn’t look away; he didn’t even blink, but she knew he was lying. Oh Gibbs might not have said anything directly to Tony, but he had to have some idea of where the former Marine had gone.
“What about Ziva and McGee?”
“I’m not on their team anymore.” Tony shrugged. “It’s not my job to watch them.”
There was no pain or regret in his face or his voice. It was a simple statement of fact. Even though it had been months, Shepard half expected Gibbs to have already offered Tony his old job back and for him to have accepted.
She’d never considered he’d be so comfortable with not being on the team any longer. Shepard had been so sure he didn’t have anything else in his life except his teammates and the job. Losing both should have made him as eager to return as it had Gibbs. Of course, Gibbs hadn’t gotten a new job, or new teammates. Gibbs hadn’t found a new purpose or made a new place for himself. And as he’d told her the last time they’d spoken…Tony wasn’t Gibbs.
“I’m not working the case. I’m just killing time waiting for Fornell to finally come to his senses and tell me I’m not a suspect any more.” Tony held up the candy bar he’d purloined from the vending machine. “You want one?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you.” Shepard half turned toward the door. “It was good to see you again, Tony.”
He nodded, but didn’t return the sentiment. As she walked away, she heard him say quietly, ‘good-bye Jenny’. There was such an air of finality about it, Shepard shivered, struck by an unaccountable feeling of loss that hit her.
She took a deep breath and headed back up the stairs to her office. Shepard never wasted time second guessing herself or regretting things she’d done before, she wasn’t going to start now. Things hadn’t turned out quite as well as she’d hoped for. A few people had been burned along the way, possibly herself included if Fornell had his way, but in the end, she’d achieved her objective. Nothing else mattered.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Gibbs and Ziva go get Kort. Shepard and Tony talk.