“Just pick the one you want and I’ll buy it already Tony,” Gibbs groans as he’s pulled down to ‘test’ yet another mattress. When they’d arrived, almost three hours ago, strict discretion was being practiced. Not that there was any plausible reason for Tony to accompany him mattress shopping if they weren’t sharing a bed. As time dragged on, and Tony became more frustrated, deniability began to fall by the wayside.
“I’ve picked two perfectly good alternatives here Jethro, you just have to pick between them.”
“I can’t tell the difference Tony.” He drops his voice, “A bed is a place to sleep. To have sex. For me who I share it with is the most important factor. Now if it takes an extra deep memory foam pillow top to keep you happy so be it. Just tell me which one so the sales girl can stop giggling in the corner and set up the delivery for us.”
“It’s this one Boss. Definitely.”
Gibbs nods and climbs off the display model as casually as possible and waves the sales girl, who is actually suppressing a grin, over. As she takes down the details and arranges for the delivery they both watch Tony as he bounces slightly on the mattress. Gibbs shakes his head and smiles at her, “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of getting it delivered today.”
“Give me a moment to see if we can get it on the afternoon truck,” She moves to the computer in the corner to input his information and make the call.
Tony saunters over to Gibbs grinning, “You made her week you know.”
“By bringing you in to test your sexual compatibility with the merchandise?”
“They work on commission. The others,” He points to three men lounging near the door to the shop, “handed us to her because they took one look and decided you weren’t going to spend much.” He moves in just a bit closer, “They’ve taken a closer look at me and decided you’re my sugar daddy.”
“There are two major obstacles to my being your sugar daddy DiNozzo.” Tony tilts his head inquisitively. “First I’m still paying two alimonies and second I’m only two pay grades above you.”
“So I’d have to face down three of your exes to be a kept man? I guess we’ll just have to go on as equals then.”
“This from he man who brags about the price of his clothes.”
“One of the things Tammy is useful for. She always ‘forgets’ to keep the receipts out of my gifts. I figure a shallow playboy would want it known that he can afford the finer things in life. Forgetting of course that my actual reaction is usually a lament about how many more useful garments that money could have bought.”
“And you don’t have a taste for the finer things?”
“That depends on your definition. Four hundred dollar shoes? Not really. Four hundred thread count sheets? Absolutely.”
The sales girl returns grinning brightly, “If you’ll step over here Mr. Gibbs, they can indeed have it out to you tonight between the hours of three and six.”
“Thank you Marie, you’ve been quiet helpful.” Gibbs offers handing over his credit card.
When she’s finished Tony shakes her hand and takes Gibbs’ elbow. “Next stop, Sears.” Gibbs chuckles but allows Tony to lead him out.
Three hours, and several shopping bags, later they return to Gibbs’ house. “Just one more change and I’ll be content for a good long time.”
“And what’s that?” Gibbs asks pulling Tony close.
“Let me get cable installed? We can’t spend every waking minute in bed and I can only spend so much time working on the boat before the smell of sawdust makes me want to jump you.”
“Working on the boat makes you want to jump me?” Gibbs chuckles.
“Not exactly. Watching you work with your hands makes me think of your hands on me and that really lights my fire.”
Gibbs smiles, “Call the cable company on Monday.”
“You do love me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sunday at 0900 Tony awakens to fingers carding through his hair for a second time, this time accompanied by a quiet “Rise and shine Tone.”
“You do realize I’m not a puppy, right?” He nuzzles into the caress just the same.
“I’d be more inclined to say cat at the moment actually. You’re purring. Grab a shower while I pack our bags.”
“Where we headed Boss?”
“Everett, Washington. Three sailors on the Abraham Lincoln have turned up unconscious, drugged, at or near their duty stations. The agent afloat asked for our help.”
“Another of your former protégés?” Tony’s tone is tight and unpleasant.
“I’m going to explain this once Tony. Before you I only ever worked with one agent at a time because no one else was capable of standing up to me or doing his own job without constant supervision. Stan was terrified of me. He had panic attacks when I so much as entered the room. Jen was a good agent but a slipshod investigator. The others generally had backbone issues. Professionally you’re the most well rounded agent I’ve ever worked with. Personally, yes I slept with Jen. As part of a deep cover assignment. The fact that she couldn’t speak to me for a long time after she found out there was nothing real between us was the reason for rule 12. What you and I have is real. I love you. Now that being said, the agent afloat asked for ‘our’ as in the main office’s help. Not us specifically. We happen to be on call. Now go shower, you reek of sex.”
Tony deliberately sniffs himself, “I dunno, I like it.”
Gibbs nuzzles Tony’s neck, “I like it too but if we turn up in the same car with you smelling like that we might as well put an announcement in the society page.”
“That a proposal Jethro?” Tony teases as he gets out of bed. “You aren’t joining me?”
“I showered before I woke you. After I arranged the team’s flight.”
“Doing my job? Fringe benefits. I approve.”
“Don’t get used to it. I’m not going to do it at the office.”
“Good thing Boss. I wouldn’t know how to react to it,” Tony quips on his way to the bathroom.
In the car Tony is awake and alert but tense as he tries to switch gears. He knows today there will be no thinly veiled conversations. No commiseration with Abby. Not even any stolen kisses on the Lincoln. “Can we stop for coffee?”
Gibbs chuckles, “You’re asking me to stop for coffee?”
“I’m not good with priority rides, more so on an empty stomach. And my date kicked me out without breakfast when my boss called.”
“Not sympathetic to your demanding job?”
“I don’t think that’s it. But the fact remains I am unnourished.”
Gibbs pulls into a Panera drive through and orders coffee and bagels for the whole team. “Quit claiming I neglect you. Abby would hound me to within an inch of my life.”
“Thanks Boss,” Tony offers with a grin and a kiss on the cheek. “How ‘bout I barely had time to kiss my date goodbye because the bossman was on his way over to pick me up?”
“You call that a goodbye kiss?” Gibbs challenges as he stops at a red light.
Contorting himself slightly to compensate for the gearshift Tony leans in for a deep, slow proper kiss. The car behind them honking draws them apart. Tony murmurs, “Sorry to cut our weekend short Jethro.”
Silence reigns for several blocks. Then something occurs to Tony, “You tell Abby we’re going to miss dinner on Monday?”
“Not yet. Didn’t want to wake her.”
“You are such a pushover with her.”
“She’s my baby girl.”
Tony nods his understanding. “We have anything else on the case? Are they being hurt or just knocked out?”
“All they said was drugged but stable. I get the impression the agent is a little green.”
“Oh joy. Is it too late to call in dead? Ducky‘ll back me up.”
“I let you sleep in Tony, that’s the best I can do.”
“I do appreciate that, no matter how much I might whine from here on out.”
Once they pass base security Gibbs glances over at him, “If they ask, you bought breakfast.”
Upon their approach McGee turns to Ziva with an outstretched hand, “Told you so.”
“I do not think so,” Ziva returns smirking.
Tony checks his hair in the car window, then his fly. “What?”
“Ziva bet me $20 that the reason you had to be picked up is that you were at your mystery woman’s. Dressed like that? I don’t think so.” The last is directed at Ziva.
“There is no mystery woman,” Tony objects genuinely, crossing his arms protectively over his OSU sweatshirt. “And there’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing.”
“Really?” Ziva raises an eyebrow.
“Washington state is cold. I put on a sweatshirt. I still look hot.”
“If you say so. I was questioning your assertion that there is no mystery woman.”
As they board the cargo jet Tony is pleased to note this particular plane must host passengers more than most as there are a few real seats just aft of the cockpit. “What makes you so sure there is?” He challenges while waiting for Gibbs to take the window seat.
“You have a picky on your neck.”
Tony forces himself to drop down beside Gibbs without reacting, “The word is hickey and no I don’t.”
“You do actually,” Gibbs throws in with just a hint of dark satisfaction. Tony resists the urge to whisper dire threats.
Instead he challenges, “Where?”
“Just here” She touches his throat just under his chin before taking her seat.
“That doesn’t mean he was with her this morning though,” McGee defends, on behalf of his money of course.
“You know I’m eating the breakfast I brought you. Want another bagel Boss?”
“You brought us breakfast?” McGee asks, clearly surprised.
“I was in a good mood,” He pulls out one for himself and one for Gibbs.
McGee hands Ziva $20.
“Traitor,” Tony mutters but throws the bag of bagels to McGee.
“Toss me some cream cheese McGee,” Gibbs instructs and catches the tossed tub easily.
“Why is she such a secret, I wonder,” Ziva muses accepting her breakfast. “Is it perhaps because she matters?”
“If you ladies are finished gossiping I’d like to catch some shut eye,” Gibbs growls in his usual gruff fashion.
“Want me to see if they’ll sling up a canvass seat in back for you Boss?” Gibbs smacks Tony on the back of the head, rather lightly but a smack none the less. “Shutting up Boss.”
Within minutes Gibbs has dropped off to sleep and not long after, resisting the urge to cuddle manfully, Tony joins him.
Tony awakens slowly to the murmur of quiet voices nearby. He keeps his eyes shut and listens as if still asleep.
“But why wouldn’t he tell us? He tells me whenever a girl remembers his name,” McGee is insisting.
“Perhaps we know her. He and Abby seem awfully cozy lately.”
Tony forgets himself and splutters “Abby?! You think I’m dating Abbs? First of all, she’s like my little sister or maybe my niece. Second I’m not her type either. Third the bossman would kill me if I touched his little girl.”
“Which reminds me,” McGee puts in, to break the tension, “Did you hear the rumor that she really is his daughter?”
“You know better than to listen to rumors McGeek,” Tony scolds more to amuse himself than to keep the secret.
“Normally I wouldn’t but Friday Cynthia told me that the director had her pull Abby’s personnel file on Thursday and when she got it she canceled all her afternoon appointments.”
“Well Boss, is it true?” Tony asks knowing full well Gibbs is awake despite outward appearances.
“Have I ever given any of you any other impression?”
“I knew,” Tony reports evenly.
“No you didn’t,” McGee objects instantly.
“Oh come on McGee, you never noticed all the ‘I just tell him I love him’ and ‘I am his favorite’ comments? The fact that once she knows for sure she’s in trouble she runs right to the boss. And you call yourself an investigator.”
“It was not in your dossier,” Ziva directs toward Gibbs.
“It wouldn’t be. Both the primary paper records on the subject come up when vetting Abbs but they have no bearing on my files and I like it that way. The fewer people know she’s my little girl the lesser her degree of danger is. Despite her taste in men.”
“You’re never going to let her forget that she should have just let you break that freak’s legs are you?”
“Not until she gets it, no.” He opens his eyes and glares at them, “Don’t you three have something better to do? Like review the case file?”
“It’s a one page report Boss, we’ve all read it three times. No cell reception or wi-fi. For once we really don’t have anything better to do.”
“Then catch some shut eye or discuss someone else,” Gibbs growls and Tony bites back a laugh because he can tell it’s all for show, no real annoyance or impatience.
The others fall silent so Tony pulls the book he’s been reading from his bag. It’s only as he’s settling in that he realizes how far from his cover the image of him reading a book, a biography none the less, is. He hopes to hell Ziva has no idea who Charles Butler McVey III is. McGee might buy that it was work related but he’d made a big deal about preferring movies to books to Ziva on more than one occasion.
“Am I correct, is it that we know her?” Ziva asks after a short silence.
“There is no her,” Tony doesn’t even look up.
“Then why was your phone off all day Friday?”
“I had the day off. I hadn’t been sleeping. If the boss needed me he knows how to find me. If I‘d been on call I would have answered the phone.”
Their landing cuts the conversation off and Tony can’t help but be relieved. That is until he switches his phone back on and the voicemail indicator starts flashing.
“Forget something at her place?” Ziva probes.
Tony ignores her and plays his messages.
“Hey Tony. I guess you and Pop are busy. I just had a question about tomorrow night’s menu. Call me.”
He calls her back. “Hey Princess.”
“Hi Tony.”
“I got called in on a case. Can you tell your dad we’ll have to reschedule our dinner together?”
“You with McGee and Ziva?”
“Got it in one.”
“Where are you?”
“Washington state. I gotta go Princess, duty calls.”
“Bye Tony. Make him call me later.”
“Princess?” McGee questions incredulously.
“Daughter of a friend. I was supposed to have dinner with him tomorrow. As we‘re a little far from Georgetown I don‘t see that happening.” Ziva gives him an appraising look but doesn’t comment.
“Tony, contact the Lincoln. Get us an update.”
“On it Boss.”
“Okay this is a weird one. All three were drugged, they think it was Rohypnol in their coffee. When they passed out they were stripped naked and left where they lay with all their clothing and belongings stacked neatly nearby. No signs of any sort of physical assault. None of them had access to anything sensitive or strategic. Two of them knew each other casually. The third had no connection. They didn’t go to the same places while in port. That‘s all they‘ve got for us so far.”
“When we reach the Lincoln, McGee you check their racks. Ziva you interview their direct supervisors. Tony you’re with me interviewing the victims.”
The agent afloat meets them at the infirmary. “What have you got so far?” Gibbs asks relatively patiently.
“J-just what I reported to Agent DiNozzo, Sir.”
“Don’t call me sir. Any of the other crew members unaccounted for?”
“I um, I don’t know si- Special Agent Gibbs.”
Gibbs just glares at him and heads into the infirmary.
Tony glances after his boss and takes pity on the young man, “Harper right? Find out. And just call him Gibbs.”
“Thanks,” Harper murmurs as he hurries off.
Gibbs is talking to the first young man, Seaman Reynolds according to the chart hanging from his bed, and Tony takes a moment to glance at the others. He’s taken aback by the similarities between the three. Clearly their assailant has a type.
“Did you do anything differently yesterday?”
“No. I got up, had breakfast in the mess. I reported to my duty station, after that I just don’t remember.”
“Was anything missing when they gave you the inventory of what was found on the scene?”
“Just my St. Christopher’s medal.” Tony makes a note.
“You always wear it?”
“Since my father gave it to me ten years ago.”
Gibbs nods. “Anything else? Did you see anyone acting strangely in the mess?”
“Just Wilkes making an ass of himself over some piece of base tail.”
“Any enemies?” Tony throws in.
“No. I don’t have anything to be jealous over. No girl, no money, no plumb assignment. Might be a guy or two out there that’d want to take a swing at me but nothing like this.”
“Why would somebody want to take a swing at you?”
“Cause I won a game of ball or a hand of cards they thought they shoulda won.”
“Any pissed off exes?” Tony tries curiously.
“Nope. They usually leave me.” He grimaces just a little, “Not much help am I?”
“Don’t worry about that, it’s our job to catch him, not yours,” Gibbs assures the stricken young man.
The second and third interviews go much the same, minor troubles and some odd happenings but no real leads from any of the victims.
Harper catches up with them as they’re headed to speak to the base commander. “We’ve got three men unaccounted for. Two are off duty and may just be out of contact. The third never reported for duty yesterday. I didn’t make the connection…”
Gibbs ignores the apology, “Get us their files. And the files of three in the infirmary.”
“Right away Gibbs.”
“I trust you‘ve received an appropriate level of cooperation Special Agent Gibbs?” The commander asks as they emerge onto the dock.
“So far,” Gibbs allows.
“We’ve set aside a house in off base housing for you. I’m afraid it’s only a three bedroom, it’s all we had available.”
“I’m sure we’ll make due, Sir. I trust my other Agents will be escorted to the house once they’re finished here?”
“Absolutely.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So I guess I’m sleeping on the sofa then,” Tony bitches without any vigor upon inspecting their home away from home.
“Or you could make McGee do it,” Gibbs throws back with half a smile.
“Thought I was supposed to be maturing,” Tony teases.
“It can be a slow process. Glacially slow.”
“And I do owe him for that bet bullshit.”
“She did win fair and square you know. I did have to drive you in because you were with a date.”
“Doesn’t count if it’s your bed you pulled me out of,” Tony counters evenly. “Which reminds me. I really didn’t appreciate that stunt with the hickey.”
“I’m still the same old bastard Tony,” Gibbs warns seriously.
“I know that Jethro. I meant giving me another one so damn soon on my neck. Can’t you mark my collar bones for awhile instead?”
“I might be persuaded to.” A knock sounds on the front door. “Duty calls.”
Tony examines the living room as Gibbs answers the door. The cursory inspection is enough to tell him that they won’t be using the TV as a monitor. Instead he shifts things to free up some wall space. “Files?” He asks as Gibbs re-enters the living room.
“And some supplies. Redecorating?”
“Just clearing some space for us to compile and compare information with less than state of the art technology.”
Gibbs chuckles but hands over the pictures of their three known victims.
In the box of office supplies that Harper dropped off Tony finds tape and a roll of banner paper, as if someone anticipated the tech issue.
He quickly tapes up the pictures and a sheet for each victim.
Seaman Gregory Reynolds
6”1’ 184lbs (per med staff)
Brunette, brown eyes
DOB- 5-29-1986
Tat on Ass “Helen” (recent)
Missing St. Christopher’s Medal
Found at 0624
Petty Officer 3rd Class Emil James
6” 1’ 182lbs (per med staff)
Brunette, brown eyes
DOB 10-8-1982
-
Fight with Petty Office 3rd Class Carter two days ago
Found at 0718
Corporal Kevin Evans USMC
6”1’ 189lbs (per med staff)
Brunette, brown eyes
DOB 1-11-1983
Appendectomy scar
Girlfriend dumped him for hitting on a girl in a bar
Found at 0840
“I miss anything from the interviews Boss?” Tony asks as he steps back from the wall.
Gibbs reads each list before responding. “No but it seems like I did. When did Reynolds mention a tat? Or were you checking out his ass while I was working?”
“None of the above. I guess the doc was a little surprised by it, there was a note right there on the front of his chart.” He smirks, “You ever consider a tat boss?”
“Not really. Abbs tries to convince me once a year but I just don’t see the appeal.”
“She keeps telling me I need one too. We’ve walked by her tattoo parlor a couple times and she always puts a hand between my shoulder blades and says I need to let Ginger put something there.”
“Don’t.” Gibbs’ tone shocks Tony. It is unmistakably a request. Not so much as a speck of command.
“Not that I want to or anything but why are you so against it?”
“On me? Because it gives too much away. On you? Because you’ve got enough scars. Enough pain and marks to last a lifetime. And for the record? Things like this conversation are why we need some distance.”
“Guess I shouldn’t pin you to the sofa and suck your tonsils out then, huh Boss?”
“Had my tonsils out when I was fourteen DiNozzo.”
“An NCIS agent always verifies his facts Boss.”
“You’ve checked three times already just this morning. What’s next for your charts?”
“The files.” He kicks off his shoes and flops down on the sofa, “Which means I need to start reading.” He glances up at Gibbs before opening the first file, “Call your daughter.”
“Yes dear,” Gibbs quips easily, having been informed by same said daughter about Tony’s unease at being seen as his little wife.
“You’re not funny,” Tony tosses out without looking up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ziva and McGee arrive bickering over something half an hour later.
“I take it this relates to our case,” Gibbs growls at them.
“She tried to convince Special Agent Harper to let her drive.”
Gibbs’ glare is eloquent enough in its own right to get them reporting.
Tony puts the file down and takes notes discreetly.
Ziva flips open a notebook, “James is evidently an unremarkable worker. Competent and efficient but not overly so. His superior described him as friendly and able. No recent changes in behavior or work ethic. Reynolds works hard and was described as a good sailor. He’d recently taken a real interest in some of the machines he was working on and his supervisor says he’s going to recommend additional training at the end of this deployment. Says the Petty Officer has an aptitude. Evans is a member of the Marine unit onboard. His supervisor says he, and the rest of the unit, was chaffing a bit at being so long in port. Evidently the mix of four days training and three days liberty each week was something none of them were able to become acclimated to.”
“Did Major Castor tell you what that meant exactly?” Tony questions absently.
“The Marines were evidently becoming increasingly troublesome in town during their liberty periods. Including a few minor run-ins with local law enforcement. Sand-ups and bothering women mostly.”
“Dust ups,” Tony corrects unthinkingly as he considers that.
“McGee, what’ve you got?” Gibbs prod when the silence stretches.
“Just your normal stuff mostly. Evans had a few pictures of a woman, and about seventy dollars tucked under the edge of his mattress. James had a stack of cocktail napkins with phone numbers on them an inch thick. Most were from a bar called Hawk’s. Reynolds has a computer in his foot locker but it‘s not even password protected. No need to assault him to gain access.”
Tony moves backs to his charts silently.
Seaman Gregory Reynolds
6”1’ 184lbs (per med staff)
Brunette, brown eyes
DOB- 5-29-1986
Tat on Ass “Helen” (recent)
Missing St. Christopher’s Medal
Found at 0624
Hard worker, up for specialization
Gambles a little
Petty Officer 3rd Class Emil James
6” 1’ 182lbs (per med staff)
Brunette, brown eyes
DOB 10-8-1982
-
Fight with Petty Office 3rd Class Carter two days ago
Found at 0718
Numerous women’s numbers on napkins
Regular at “Hawks”
Corporal Kevin Evans USMC
6”1’ 189lbs (per med staff)
Brunette, brown eyes
DOB 1-11-1983
Appendectomy scar (old)
Girlfriend dumped him for hitting on a girl in a bar
Found at 0840
Bothering women and picking fights in town
Had pictures of unknown female
$70, gambling?
“What are you doing?” McGee asks watching him.
“Since we can’t really figure out what’s being done to them I decided to compile some basic profile information to see if we can’t figure out why these particular men have been chosen.” He steps away from the charts, “The fact that they are very similar in appearance seems important to me but I just can’t place what it means.”
“No injuries?” Ziva questions studying the charts.
“No, and only the Rohypnol on the tox screens. The only missing item is Reynolds’ St. Christopher’s medal. They were just drugged, strip naked and left.”
“The folding and stacking of the clothes might be an obsessive thing. Is there something about these men that he might see as dirty or disorderly?” McGee chimes in.
“It would have to have been something about their attitudes or behavior. And they weren’t all that similar,” Tony ponders aloud. “Reynolds was a little shy. Self-depreciating. James was… cocky, brash, a little self-serving. Evans was more your stoic tough guy. These guys were nothing alike. Aside from all being stationed on the Lincoln and looking more similar than the Ryan brothers there is no connection between these three guys.”
“You finish with those files Tony?” Gibbs asks hoping Tony hears the unspoken, ‘You’re on the right track, keep going.’
“On it Boss,” Tony flashes a quick hint of a smile as he lays on the sofa again.
“McGee, pull and crosscheck their phone records. Ziva, find out what Harper did with the physical evidence.”
“I’ll get right on that Boss,” McGee hurries into the other room to get his laptop.
Gibbs makes himself comfortable beside Tony’s outstretched feet and after noting that Ziva is facing out the front window strokes a thumb over the inside of Tony’s left ankle. Tony manages to stifle the gasp but glares at Gibbs. “What are you working on Boss?” The tone makes it clear he’s trying to steer both of them back to the business at hand.
Gibbs smiles, unrepentantly stroking that sensitive inch of skin once again before answering, “The files on the other possible victims.” He tosses aside the first file after only a few seconds, “Blonde.”
Ziva turns back to them upon hanging up her phone, “Harper took the evidence to the bases’ lab, I am meeting him there in half an hour.”
“Let me know if their tech isn’t up to par,” Gibbs instructs absently.
McGee hurries into the room, “I got something Boss. All three of them have called the same number, A Mary Anne Marsden, several times in the last three weeks.”
“Address?”
“Got it Boss.”
Gibbs deliberately rests his hand on Tony’s leg as he gets up, “Call if you get a break. And ask around about a decent Chinese place if you get a chance.”
“Sure thing Boss,” Tony offers up evenly, “Want me to order?”
“Not until we see how this plays out.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
A new case...