Chapter Fifteen
Tony absorbed what Gibbs said and then fell into silence. He wasn’t used to anyone looking out for him, anyone wanting him like this. Philly and Peoria hadn’t been thrilled to see him go, but they didn’t shed tears either.
And the guys here…they were okay. Despite the screw ups, they weren’t bad men, just bored with their jobs. Tony knew that if he kept up and if he stayed here, one day he’d be just like them. They were jaded and distanced from it all. Nothing seemed to shake them any more.
Things shook Tony on a daily basis. Every crime, every victim haunted him, and the ones he hadn’t yet solved stuck with him. He was different from Bart and the rest of the guys, the ones who were just marking time at work. The ones who weren’t personally invested any more. Maybe Tony did need to be hardened, but he had no interest in becoming like them.
But were Gibbs and his agency the answer? Gibbs had to be at least forty, had seen and experienced a hell of a lot. Tony could read that from staring into Gibbs’ deep blue eyes. There were a lot of stories there; he’d seen a lot of good and bad things, a lot of happiness, tragedies, and pain. And Tony had the sense that Gibbs was as driven as Tony himself became when a crime still needed to be solved. He’d seen it in the way Gibbs had yelled at the Baltimore cops.
“What’s your secret?” Tony asked softly. He was feeling pretty rough and talking hurt like hell, but he had questions he needed answered.
“To?” Gibbs asked, and Tony was struck by how Gibbs conveyed so much in so few words. His looks were their own language and Tony wanted to learn what they all meant.
“Passion,” Tony replied. When Gibbs didn’t answer that, Tony felt the need to expand his thoughts, make them less general. “Those guys don’t have the fire any more. They lost it a long time ago. You…still have it. It’s burning in your eyes right now, Gibbs.”
“Is it?” Gibbs asked, leaning closer. “Sure that isn’t directed just at you?”
Tony shivered. There was no way his body could react"or so he thought"but his cock made an effort to salute before giving up. This connection with Gibbs had Tony burning up; he’d never felt this way about anyone before. And he didn’t want to stop. Despite everything, despite how stupid it was to get involved with someone in law enforcement"a guy no less"Tony wanted Gibbs. Badly.
And then there were the pesky man in authority kink issues to get through as well…
“Positive,” Tony said, but his voice was shaking now. This was an important conversation and he needed Gibbs’ answer about it. “You still have passion. You still care about the victims. You’re…” Tony trailed off, frustrated, unable to put the defining word to what he meant.
“Driven?” Gibbs supplied.
“Driven,” Tony repeated, nodding.
“Day I’m not, I quit, Tony. Day I don’t care, I can’t do my job right, can I?”
“Guess…guess not.” Tony had examined the problem before, but Gibbs broke it down just like that to a couple of sentences. “How do you keep yourself caring?”
“Don’t know,” Gibbs admitted with a sigh. “Not something I think about. Just is. Tony, you have it. You know you do.”
“They don’t.”
It was clear that Gibbs knew who “they” were. His eyes sharpened and he nodded. “Why you need to be with me. They’re slower, they’re not as sharp. Could get you killed.”
Tony wanted to remind Gibbs that “they” didn’t have anything to do with what had happened, but he had a feeling that Gibbs would connect that back to the break in of Jarvis’ room and he was probably right. It had to be a part of the bigger problem. It was too coincidental to be anything else.
“What made you tell me to get down?”
“Don’t know,” Gibbs admitted with a shrug. “Gut feeling, Tony. Knew you were in danger.”
“It was directed at me and me alone?”
“Think so.”
Tony fell silent then, wrestling with the knowledge that he had been a likely target. He filtered through open case files, considering and dismissing people one after another.
“That’s why,” Gibbs said conversationally, his voice cutting through the clutter in Tony’s mind.
“What?” Tony asked, confused. He was hurting and tired and he didn’t know what Gibbs was referring to, and it was making him a little cranky.
“You’re thinking. Always thinking, Tony. You have the drive up here,” Gibbs said, tapping his forehead. “And here too,” Gibbs tapped his chest. “Not everyone has that, Tony. Not everyone has the blend of the two. That takes a good cop to a great cop.”
Tony blinked a few times and looked at Gibbs. “You think I’m a great cop?” he asked. Nobody had ever seen him that way and it shocked Tony that this guy who had seen such little of his police work was actually able to make that assessment.
“I think you’re a good cop becoming a great cop,” Gibbs said completely seriously. “Think working with a partner who has your six all the time and who listens to your theories will be good for ya. Think with a little training you could be the best I’ve worked with. Don’t want you marking time here like the rest of ‘em. You’re too talented for that, DiNozzo. Your instincts are sharp and you’re good with people. Come to NCIS. Work with me. I’ll take that good cop and make you great.”
Tony didn’t know what to say to that, so he just held Gibbs’ gaze as long as he could and then looked away. Nobody had put this much faith in him since his college spots days and that was different; that was physical rather than mental. Yeah, he was a smart athlete, but it wasn’t the same mental processes as crime solving. Not by a long shot. How come this guy who barely knew him and had no clear idea about Tony’s talents in the field had so much faith in him? When three police departments hadn’t.
Tony swallowed, the realization that he not only wanted, but needed, to work for Gibbs rising up inside him. It might take a while for it to happen, but he had to do it. To be in an environment where he was wanted and valued, where a boss or partner had faith in him as a cop…
Tony was completely floored by that. He had a lot of questions he wanted to get answered, but knowing what he knew about Gibbs, the other man wouldn’t give anything away. It would be a pointless exercise anyway.
“You’re considering coming to NCIS.” It wasn’t a question from Gibbs; it was a statement that Tony didn’t even bother answering. Gibbs would know that he was right without any intervention from Tony. He had such great instincts.
“Maybe,” Tony allowed. He was going to say more, but then the door opened and the NCIS doctor came in, followed by the tattooed woman.
“See, Abigail, he’s going to be fine. A minor injury, all things considered. It’s good to see you sitting up, young man.” He waved some gauze and a bottle of liquid at Gibbs. “And don’t think you’re getting away without me treating that scratch, Jethro.”
“Are you really okay?” the woman asked, rushing across the room and squeezing Tony’s hand. “We just found you. There’s no way you’re leaving us now!”
“Relax, Abbs. He’ll be ours soon,” Gibbs hugged the woman close. “He’ll be ours soon,” he repeated, locking his eyes on Tony’s, and Tony knew that Gibbs meant it.
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