Current NCIS Director Jen Shepard closed her weary eyes and sighed with relief, leaning back into the comfortable confines of the backseat of the agency's provided car and trusting the competent driver behind the steering wheel to get her where she needed to be. She wanted to suggest he just head the non-descript vehicle out of the city, get on the closest strip of blacktop, and keep driving until they either ran out of road or out of gas, whichever came first. A this moment, she really didn't care. And, as tempting as the idea was to her, Shepard knew she'd never be desperate enough to do something so outrageous, so spontaneous, and so out-of-character, and let the whim evaporate almost as quickly as it had formed.
She chalked her prevailing frame of mind up to her fatigue. She was tired...no, more than tired...but, as exhausted as she was, Shepard knew there was no possible way she'd be getting any rest until personally delivering the tragic news she'd recently received to Jethro Gibbs and the remainder of his investigative team. Pinching the bridge of her nose between forefinger and thumb, she tried to mentally brace herself for the storm she knew would come once returning to NCIS Headquarters and prayed she'd be able to make the announcement with just the right amount of needed sympathic concern. It would be difficult, to say the least, but Shepard realized she had to put her own personal feelings regarding the agent in question aside and focus on those who remained behind. They'd probably all be devastated by the news and, except for Officer Ziva David, who'd only been with the team for a brief span of time, would probably also request and need to be given some bereavement leave...at least until Anthony DiNozzo's ashes could be passed on to a member of his surviving family and his final memorial services completed. She'd work it out to give them each a few days, if need be.
Sighing again, Shepard re-opened her eyes and watched the passing scenery without any real interest. The late-afternoon traffic would have been bothersome if she'd been the one behind the wheel but, as a passenger, all she was required to do was sit back and enjoy the ride...and try not to dwell on the morning she'd just spent on The Hill.
Glancing quickly to the briefcase resting against her right thigh on the seat beside her, Shepard knew the confidential documents tucked safely inside would bear another, more intense examination before she filed them away forever. Her copies of the joint-agency capture of Brazilain chemist and doctor, Emilio Martinez, the unexpected infection of NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo with one of Martinez's deadly serums, and the agent's subsequent final hours while under the care of some of the government's top physicians would, undoubtably, be requested by Gibbs for his own assessment. Unfortunately, Shepard would have to deny his access.
These were sensitive documents and included classified information he wasn't permitted to read but, she suspected, he would push her hard to get all the answers he needed to satisfy his curiosity. Shaking her head slightly at the thought of having a confrontation with Gibbs right now, Shepard knew she'd have to convince him it served absolutely no purpose to know the details anyway. DiNozzo was gone, the remnants of the earthly body held within the standard, requisite container at the crematorium near the hospital he'd received treatment at in Pennsylvania, awaiting to be claimed by his next of kin or an appropriate substitution. Shepard had no doubt Gibbs would volunteer to recover and deliver the ashes of his senior field agent to the proper relative himself. It was just in his nature to take full responsibility for those under his command and, even though DiNozzo was dead, Jethro Gibbs would probably not rest until his agent's ashes were in the hands of those who knew and loved him most.
Glancing again out into the traffic, Shepard frowned. This whole, unfortunate, sordid mess and the unexpected involvement of several directors from other top agencies, made her all the more fretful of the decision she'd made to become a top administrator at NCIS. It was hard enough being a beautiful, intelligent woman within the 'boy's club' mentality of the Navy's investigatory services but to actually be in a command position over so many dedicated, educated, and highly capable people, including one of her ex-lovers, made her job even more stressful and, on some days, just set her teeth on edge. Like today. Today, she would have to deny Jethro Gibbs the information concerning his agent because it was her job to do so and, no matter what anyone else thought, Jen Shepard took her job and her hard-earned position very seriously.
Besides, she thought absently, letting her mind track in a totally different direction for a moment, with DiNozzo gone, Jetho Gibbs just might need a little tender comfort and a warm, sympathetic ear to bend. Letting that thought grow, Shepard hummed contently to herself and considered all the doors that just might open wider. She hadn't been on the job when Agent Caitlin Todd had taken a round in the head while chasing terrorists with Gibbs but had, of course, read the evaluation reports from the mental health specialists assigned to the remaining team members. Things had, obviously, not been good for Gibbs and his people and, after studying those reports, Shepard had secretly wished she'd been around to offer her own brand of comfort to the man. Maybe having this newest tragedy so soon after the Todd woman's death would turn out to be a very good thing indeed...at least, for her.
Smiling at the new thought and eyes bright with an eager gleam, Shepard reconsidered her original assessment of the whole Martinez situation and, instead, now contemplated all the wonderful possibilities awaiting, simply because of the loss of Anthony DiNozzo. The situation was unfortunate, true, but, for her, it was nothing more than just a small, insignificant bump in the long road of life.
*************
Finally, four long, agonizing days after DiNozzo's ashes had been claimed by his father's personal secretary, and after being denied the requests made to the family for some type of memorial service specifically for those who had known and had worked with the young agent, Jethro Gibbs and his remaining team returned to their jobs and tried to pick up the pieces. They'd heard rumors of a quick, private family service in Connecticut, somewhere on a rolling estate near Hartford, and had grudgingly appreciated the elder DiNozzo's final gesture for his only son...until they heard the rest of the story.
Directly after the final words had been spoken and the last of the small family group had departed, DiNozzo's father had turned the agent's ashes over to his personal ground's keeper with instructions to dump the remains over some back acreage in a place he's never have to see again. Gibbs had bristled at hearing the news but, realistically knew it really didn't matter. Dead was dead and DiNozzo, wherever he was now, wouldn't give a rat's ass fuck anyway. But for some reason, the thought of DiNozzo being regulated to some back spot by his father, even in death, made Gibbs grit his teeth and seethe silently in anger.
Now, sitting at DiNozzo's desk in the padded chair adjusted to his height and comfort level, Jethro Gibbs began the painful task of clearing out what remained of Tony's belongings. Gibbs purposefully ignored Ziva David's dark, curious gaze from her position at her own desk and focused on the job at hand, pulling open the bottom drawer and slowly, gently, removing the items he found. He tossed away the expected magazine with the scantily-clad, busty female adorning the glossy cover but had to pause as he uncovered an assortment of LEO periodicals stacked neatly beneath. He casually thumbed through one, not really seeing the printed information, but merely trying to absorb a sense of the agent he'd worked with for the past several years. A good man, a caring friend, a devilish rogue...DiNozzo had been all those things...but he was a damned good investigator and one of the best undercover agents Gibbs had ever worked with in all his years in law enforcement as well.
And a tender and giving lover.
Gibbs angrily pushed those traitorous thoughts away and continued his task, removing the odd candy bar or the pack of chewing gum where they lodged to one side but it wasn't until he had his hand on the metal box stuffed deep to the back of the drawer that he finally paused, a sharp prickling of a strange sensation running up the length of his back and settling across his shoulders. He rested his fingers on the non-descript package, skimming his roughened pads over the surface, before convincing himself he wasn't about to open something that belonged to Pandora and should be left alone. No, this was DiNozzo's stuff and he just *had* to see what it contained. Pulling the box out of the drawer and resting it on the surface of the desk, Gibbs opened the top and froze.
*No.*
Biting back the quick moan of denial and wrestling to control the building ache in his chest, Gibbs could only stare at the contents. He forced a few deep, even breaths before going any further and, when he thought he could move his hand without it trembling, he proceeded carefully, almost reverently. Dipping his fingers into the interior, he slowly pulled out one of the cold, metal inhabitants, immediately recognizing its significance, and wondering when DiNozzo had started collecting and keeping these commendations for him. Letting his eyes drop back to peer inside, he saw there were several, and the ache intensified as the significance of his answer grew.
For years.
DiNozzo had been secretly keeping all of the medals and service awards Gibbs had earned, and so blatantly ignored, for years and, now, they were all suddenly here, exposed, to mock his impotence and laugh at his ignorance. He truly hadn't known, hadn't had one inkling of DiNozzo's honest feelings for him until just after Caitlin Todd's death, when everyone and everything seemed so raw and overwhelming. They'd danced around each other, passing significant looks and off-handed innuendos, trying to come to terms with their individual feelings over the tramatic loss of a friend and teammate. But a spark of something dangerous and forbidden had already ignited between them, growing slowly but steadily, and Gibbs had fought tooth and nail to keep his stoic professionalism to the forefront, fighting back his building need and lustful thoughts. DiNozzo was a subordinate and, therefore, strictly off-limits.
Gibbs gave a grim smile at the thought of DiNozzo ever adhering to the rules when it came to his libido and clearly remembered the very first time the young agent had actually proclaimed his real affection. The quick "I love you, Boss" had almost been lost under the sound of the rain peppering the roof of the car as Gibbs delivered the pizza he'd swiped from night shift and presented to DiNozzo at the hotel the younger agent had been staking out. He'd let the words slide at the time, brushing it off as nothing more than DiNozzo's dry wit, but vividly recalled growling some ego-bursting rejoiner, effectively killing any real significance to the softly-spoken declaration, and pushing the younger man out of the car so they both could continue their tasks.
'What a fool I was,' Gibbs thought blearily, quickly placing the useless award back into the confines of the box with all the others and snapping the lid closed, securely sealing away the reminders of DiNozzo's misguided and unrecognized affection. Carefully sliding the box to one side but still within easy reach, Gibbs continued his task.
There were several other items of interest but none that were of any great significance to him, so Gibbs finished up his task and rose from DiNozzo's now-barren desk, gently lifting the container of worthless medals and tucking it securely under one arm. He turned toward Tim McGee's desk and saw the younger man steadily meeting his gaze, a sympathetic, knowing _expression banking the sad, soulful eyes. He bristled slightly but quickly realized it was because the young agent thought Gibbs was only now finding out about DiNozzo's acute case of hero-worship and had nothing to do with the new relationship they'd started just before his death. Sighing softly, Gibbs tilted his head to one side and gave the younger agent an appraising look.
"McGee," he said calmly, "I need for you to box up and send the items I left on Tony's desk to his father..."
"Sure, Boss," McGee was immediately rising from his seat without preamble.
"...and, while you're here, take a few minutes to make sure the hard drive is clear of anything..." Gibbs searched a moment for a politically-correct word, "inappropriate. You know how DiNozzo was."
That brought a small smile to McGee's face. He knew *exactly* how DiNozzo had been but seriously doubted the senior field agent would have left anything some stranger could find. Still, it was best to be certain.
"I'll get right on it," McGee nodded and stepped forward as Gibbs vacated the area. There was no doubt of McGee's sincerity or his wish to be of assistance. He, too, had lost a friend.
Gibbs sighed again and turned away from the scene, setting his feet on the path leading him toward the elevator. He vaguely heard Ziva sofly asking McGee if he needed any help but didn't bother to listen to the young agent's response. He needed to see Abby now, to assure himself the Goth tech was all right on her first day back, but to also find out what she knew of DiNozzo's hidden affections, his penchant for collecting useless medals, and his need of keeping them squirreled away in the bottom of his drawer here at work. If anyone had been made privy to DiNozzo's thoughts, it would have been Abby, and Gibbs didn't think she'd mind, now, revealing a few of the secrets they'd shared.
The first thing he noticed upon entering the lab area was the silence, the complete absence of the music they'd grown to expect and tolerate, and that alone made his concern soar. It was...deathly...quiet and the use of that horrible adjective made him flinch.
"Abby?" He called gently but with a bit of volume, head swiveling from side to side as he searched the surrounding area.
"I'm here," came the soft, toneless response from the darkened, glass-walled office off to one side of the lab.
Gibbs turned immediately in that direction, squinting into the dimness, until he found his subordinate against the wall in one corner, legs pulled up and knees tucked under her chin, her smooth, sweet face sadder than he'd ever seen in his entire time with her at NCIS. Her expression was worse now than it had been when Caitlin Todd had died and that had been one of the most disturbing experiences of her young life.
Walking quickly to her position, he eased down beside her, wrapped a strong arm over her shoulders, and snugged her in tight, feeling the slight trembling under his hand. He gently laid the small box of medals to the floor on his other side and concentrated on the young woman. The dead could wait for awhile...the living needed him now.
"I'm sorry..."
Gibbs' arm tightened around the forensics specialist. "Don't, Abby. Don't you ever apologize for feeling like you do."
He could sense her slight nod against his shoulder and heard her sniff quietly. She seemed to struggle a bit more before speaking again but Gibbs was nothing but patient, satisfied to let her have as much time as she needed.
"I'm just so damn mad!"
Her sentiment was unexpected and he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, seeing the tears spiking the dark lashes and the truth reflected in the stormy depths. Abby rarely cursed. She *was* well and truly mad.
"Tell me." His instructions brooked for no argument.
"When Kate died...we...we at least had a body to bury," her voice shook with emotion. "She was here, down with Ducky, and we all had the opportunity to speak with...to..her. I had time to come to terms with it, I could say goodbye the way I wanted. But this...this just sucks, Gibbs."
He couldn't agree more but chose to remain silent. This was Abby's time to vent, not his. Besides, this wasn't the way he'd do it. Hell, no...
"I grew to love Kate like a sister," Abby was continuing, voice growing a bit stronger and steadier, "but Tony...Tony was almost a soul mate. We shared so much, Gibbs. I told him things I never told Kate and he told me..." she hesitated and looked away, "well, he told me things, too."
Gibbs couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever been a topic of their conversations but didn't ask. Again, this was about Abby and her needs. He let a hand rub lazily up and down an arm, silently supporting and urging her to continue...if she wanted. They remained on the floor, side by side, lost in their own thoughts, and Gibbs began to think she'd decided not to say more. He was wrong.
"You know, there was a time I thought I'd have a go with Tony," her roughened voice held a note of playfulness. "We'd flirt and say inappropriate things to each other, just to see how far we could push it. I even got him to lay inside my coffin once!"
Her eyes were back on his face again and he could see it was a happy memory for her. He offered an indulgent smile of his own but the thought of Tony in a coffin just made his stomach hurt.
"He didn't like it very much," she conceded with a small, sly grin, "but we sure opened up about our fetishes after that."
"Fetishes?" Gibbs growled gently. "I don't even want to know." And, in all honesty, he didn't...not now.
"You sure?" She teased. "I can tell you some pretty juicy things, you know."
Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure. No thanks."
"What I really don't understand about all this," she began after a short pause, "is why his father wouldn't even let us pay our respects. Couldn't he see how much Tony meant to all of us?"
"I don't think he cared a bit about what we thought," Gibbs' ire for the elder DiNozzo flared again, "and I don't think he cared what his son felt for us either."
Abby was nodding in agreement. ""Did you know his dad never wanted him to go into law enforcement? Tony said his father was so angry he gave him an ultimatum: he either had to drop his 'foolish idea at being a civil servant'," Abby puffed up as she repeated the words and Gibbs could almost imagine DiNozzo demonstrating his father's demeanor for her, "or he would 'no longer be considered part of the family!'. His decision cost him his inheritance and everything. His father refused to even speak to him on the phone. Not even for birthdays or holidays or anything." She curled back up and nestled her head against his shoulder. "I asked him once if he minded but, you know Tony, he just laughed it off and told me he always had plenty of other company on those special days."
Gibbs nodded but he'd observed his senior field agent on several of those 'special days', when no one else was around to see, working quietly at his desk in the all but deserted office, trying to get ahead on a case or finish up some loose ends on a report. Now, those days were gone, including the 'special ones'. No more bithdays or holidays or working alone at his desk while others were with friends or family. And no more making up cover stories to conceal his solitary life. It was all gone, now, scattered like his ashes on the wind.
"Gibbs," Abby's voice held a strange tone and he felt her shift a bit away, "can I ask you something personal?"
"You can ask, Abs," he whispered, "but that doesn't mean I'll give you an answer."
"That's okay," she put her head down again, "I think I'd be able to guess the answer without hearing you say it."
"Oh, yeah? And how would you do that?"
He felt her give a small shrug. "I don't know. I think I'd just be able to tell by the vibes you'd give off. You're a pretty 'vibing' kind of guy."
Gibbs couldn't help the grin. "Vibing?"
"Oh, yeah," she straightened a bit and turned those mischievous eyes his way again. "You *always* give off these totally awesome vibes when you feel deeply about something." She tilted her head to one side. "Though, I've got to admit, your 'truly pissed-off' vibe is stronger than most of the others, I can usually tell 'upset' or 'frustrated' or 'pleased' or..."
"Okay, I get the picture," he agreed, just to shut her up. "Go ahead...ask."
"Did you love Tony?"
He didn't look away from her penetrating gaze nor did he answer. Letting what he felt for his now-deceased lover wash over him, he could only wonder if she could see into the depths of his wounded soul and divine the answer like she professed. He and Tony hadn't had much time together in their new roles in each others personal lives but he didn't regret any single second of what they *did* have. They'd grown comfortable with each other over the years, the supervisor/subordinate relationship growing slowly into mutual admiration, then morphing into an easy friendship, and, finally, into a scary kind of wonderful affection. They'd wasted so much time before and, especially, after Kate's death. Gibbs let his eyes drop away and focused on the box at his side.
"Oh, Gibbs, I'm so sorry!" Abby was cuddling close, her arms reaching to hold the former Marine, face pressing into base of his neck. "He loved you, too."
"And how do you know that?" He asked gruffly, wanting and not wanting to hear her reasoning.
Gibbs debated telling her he was aware of DiNozzo's feelings, to let her know they'd finally gotten their heads out of their asses, and had just recently taken the first steps in building the type of relationship they both craved. Instead, he kept those memories to himself and guarded them close to his heart. They'd never, actually, spoken the word 'love' to each other, except for DiNozzo's pizza-induced declaration on that rainy night months ago, because it had been way too soon for that kind of affirmation. But, just because they hadn't spoken the words aloud, didn't mean they weren't felt inside.
"I see you found your medals."
Abby's quiet statement brought him instantly back to the present and he glanced, again, to the gray box on the floor. "Yeah, just a little while ago."
"You really didn't know he was keeping them for you?" Her soft voice held a note of disbelief.
"What?" He scowled teasingly. "You think I don't have anything better to do than dig through my agents' desks while they're away?"
"No, Gibbs," she grinned at his false indignation, "I think it's just one of the many ways you use to keep everyone on their toes around here. Besides, I think Tony was kind of hoping you'd look one day, you know, to give him a roundabout way of telling you he cared."
"I knew he cared, Abby," Gibbs sighed, resting one hand tenderly on the box, "I only hope he knew I cared, too."
They sat for a while in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, hoping the young man they'd both grown to know and care for was, finally, at peace...
Several hundred miles away, in a undisclosed location, and far from the eyes of the general public, a frightened and disoriented young man opened his eyes for the first time in a very long while and began to scream, the rough, agonized sound of his injured throat raising the hackles and sending shivers down the backs of the two technicians monitoring his progress in an observation booth above his line of sight. The sound reverberated off the cold, sterile walls, bouncing around the room and settling upon their shoulders like a heavy, unwanted blanket. They watched his body writhe and arch against the restraints holding him to the examination table in the center of the room and knew this small, sudden burst of energetic awareness would soon drain away. It couldn't last long, not in his present condition. He was too weak and, as they peered down, they saw his struggles slowly fade. These sporadic moments of wakefulness and lucidity were going to become more common soon but they both were concerned whether, in the end, any of it would really matter.
All but one of the handful of individuals involved with this project were certain the young man's consciousness wouldn't be able to tolerate what was happening to his body and seriously believed he was slowly being driven out of his mind. None of them were sure if it was a side-effect caused by the serum he'd been injected with almost a week ago or if the continued confinement and constant barrage of tests and examinations was shoving him to the brink of insanity. Either way, if something didn't change soon, he'd assuredly be dead. It was just a matter of time.
Turning toward the patient now that his useless exertions were bleeding away, a lone figure stood to one side of the table and observed, taking rapid notes on his ever-present clipboard. He heard the one word the young man had continued to repeat, over and over, since being brought to this facility uttered again and shook his head at the futility of it all. Stepping forward, the masked form gazed down into the face set in the rigor of agony and carefully watched until the glazed, green eyes drifted closed, the blessed relief of unconsciousness pulling him away from the harshness of his reality. Beneath the sterile mask, a cruel smile formed.
'Gibbs' would not be coming to the rescue, nor would anyone else for that matter. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. To the world outside these walls, Anthony DiNozzo was dead and there was no sense in searching for a dead man, especially deep within the confines of an experimental laboratory built in an abandoned missile silo in southern Idaho. No. 'Gibbs' would *not* be coming.
Quickly jotting down a few more scribbles in a style only he could understand and glancing one last time at his only patient, Emilio Martinez quickly made his way toward the room's singular entry, extremely pleased with today's test results. If all went as planned, the world, itself, would soon know of his brilliance and his name would be synonymous with the greatest scientific minds of the time. And, more importantly, he would have all he'd ever dreamed: wealth, power, and, most of all, his long-lost youth. Barely able to control his giddy rush of glee, Martinez closed the door and sealed the fate of Anthony DiNozzo.
TBC
Author's Chapter Notes:
Gibbs and his team try to come to terms with DiNozzo's absence.