The uniformed officer, Millard, who gave Gibbs a ride to the hospital, drove with the same aggressive style as everyone else in Houston. It wasn’t as reckless or cavalier as his style of driving, but Gibbs found himself gripping the door handle anyway. He wasn’t afraid---he simply hated having anyone else drive. Giving up control, of anything, wasn’t easy for him to do.
Gibbs made a point of memorizing the street names, picking out landmarks along the way for future reference. He was definitely going to be renting a car. Not only would it give him more control, but he wouldn’t have to rely on strangers to get him around town. He’d have to ask McGee if he could pull up some sort of map or something for alternative routes. There had to be a short cut he could take, some way to avoid the worst of the traffic.
Once they got to the hospital, Gibbs ignored Millard as he headed for the elevator. He could feel the man’s eyes on him as he walked with him. The man had been look at him off and on since picking him up. It annoyed Gibbs and he kept waiting for Millard to say something. To his surprise and increasing irritation, Millard stayed silent.
“Something on your mind, Millard?” He asked finally, keeping his expression neutral as he turned to look at the other man. Gibbs didn’t think the cop look old enough to shave much less be carrying a gun. Was this kid really supposed to protect anyone?
Millard squared his shoulders and faced him with more confidence than Gibbs expected. “Yes, Sir, there is.”
“Don’t call me Sir,” Gibbs growled, stabbing the button for the elevator again.
“Yes, Sir.”
“What is it you want to know?” He barked out instead of rolling his eyes the way he really wanted to.
“Everyone says Tony used to work for you.” Millard fidgeted, reminding Gibbs of McGee when he first started on the team. “I was wondering if you were thinking of offering him his old job back.”
That made Gibbs pause. He eyes narrowed as he measured Millard. “You hoping I will?”
“No, Sir.” The young man shook his head, a blush warming his cheeks all the way to his ears. “I like Tony. He’s a good guy. I’m sure you already know that.”
“I do.”
Millard continued as if Gibbs hadn’t spoken, his expression earnest. “Tony took time out to help me work on my aim. Improved my score by nearly forty points because of him.” There was a definite note of pride and satisfaction in that statement.
“And he showed me some hand to hand moves. Nothing fancy. Not like the stuff you see Jet Li do or Jackie Chan.” Millard made a dismissive wave of his hand. “I couldn’t do most of that anyway. He just showed me stuff that really works. He said he learned a lot of that from his old boss. That must be you, I guess.”
The awe in his voice made it clear Tony had impressed him a lot. It made Gibbs wonder just what moves Tony had shown him. Gibbs couldn’t remember ever actually teaching Tony any hand to hand combat. They sparred together regularly, but Gibbs had never stopped to explain how he’d gotten the better of Tony or even how to execute a single move. But then most of the time, Gibbs didn’t teach, his team had to learn by example and paying attention. Tony was one of the best at learning that way.
“I thought when he got here, coming from a federal agency he might be a snob, you know? Act all superior, like he was too good for grunt work the rest of us had to do. But he works nights and weekends without complaining about it. He helps out with cold cases. He’s got a great sense of humor, and it really helps to lighten the mood when things get ugly.”
Gibbs jaw clenched, stepping on to the elevator that had finally arrived. He regretted ever opening his mouth and asking Millard to speak. He did not need to know how well Tony fit in. His teammates had already made it very clear that Tony was part of their family. Millard was just more confirmation that Tony did for them what he used to for Gibbs and his team.
“So are you going to offer him his old job back?” Millard asked. “I mean, no one has ever told me why he left the feds, but if he fucked up somehow it couldn’t have been too bad or you and your team wouldn’t have come all this way.”
Gibbs clenched his hands into fists fighting himself not to punch Millard. Tony hadn’t quit because he’d ‘fucked up’. The mistakes made had been Gibbs’, and he didn’t really appreciate being reminded of the fact.
“He’s been a hell of an asset to the PD here so he must have been pretty good there. It only makes sense you’d want him b"“
Gibbs glared at Millard, stopping the flow of words. When it looked like Millard might open his mouth to resume speaking, Gibbs increased the intensity of his gaze. Millard stepped back, eyes and shoulders dropping like a kicked puppy.
Gibbs wasn’t going to tell this too young cop that he knew exactly how good Tony had been working at NCIS. He wasn’t going to mention that Tony refused to come back months ago. He wasn’t going to spell out how there was still a spot open on his team. That he’d resisted filling it and would continue to do so, even though he knew Tony wouldn’t be coming back. Adding another person to the team, letting a new body sit at his desk was a final acknowledgement of Tony’s decision to go back to Houston that Gibbs was unwilling to make. He would tolerate Ziva and McGee handling what had been Tony’s duties, but he wasn’t prepared to accept anyone else. None of that was anything Gibbs thought this kid needed to know.
A tense silence reigned for the remainder of the ride up to the ICU. Gibbs refused to feel bad for making the kid cower. It wouldn’t hurt Millard to think before he let his mouth run away with him.
Gibbs stalked off the elevator, heading for Tony’s room. He nodded to the guard at the door, showing his ID more out of habit than necessity. Gibbs ignored Millard speaking to the man in hushed tones as he gave the door a perfunctory knock before stepping inside.
“I must say I was rather put off by…oh, hello, Jethro,” Ducky greeted him, turning in the chair to address him, abruptly breaking off whatever he’d been saying to LaFiamma. Gibbs figured it had been probably been one of the many stories Ducky was famous for telling.
“Duck.”
LaFiamma stood near Lundy’s bed, he nodded to Gibbs. Gibbs nodded back. He gave the other man a quick once over, pleased to see he was looking better than he had the last time Gibbs had seen him. He was wearing clean clothes and had shaved at some point, but the biggest difference was in his eyes. LaFiamma didn’t look haunted or desperate any more.
“They doing okay?” Gibbs asked, eyes shifting between the Tony and Lundy hoping improvements in either or both was the reason LaFiamma seemed less stressed. Tony appeared unchanged, but Lundy had more color in his cheeks and seemed to be sleeping comfortably.
“They are both doing quite well.” Ducky smiled. “Dr. Kline has started decreasing the dosage for the drugs keeping Anthony in a coma. He should wake late tomorrow morning or early evening.”
Tony would be awake tomorrow. Gibbs felt the band that had been around his chest since getting LaFiamma’s call finally loosen. Tony would be awake soon, he repeated silently to himself just to take in that fact and savor it.
“They may opt to keep the respirator nearby as a precaution but Dr. Kline feels Anthony is progressing well enough less extreme measure to assist his breathing will suffice.”
Gibbs frowned not liking how that sounded. “Less extreme means what exactly?“
“Nasal crannula or an oxygen mask.” Ducky explained. “Supplemental oxygen that will make breathing easier but still allow him the freedom to breathe unassisted. That should help stave off concerns of pneumonia developing.”
“Pneumonia?” Gibbs chest tightened again as he keyed in on that one word. “No one said anything about him having"“
“He doesn’t.” Ducky clucked his tongue. “Honestly, Jethro, did you not hear me? I said stave off pneumonia developing. That is always a concern when someone with a lung injury like Anthony’s is on a respirator. The lungs won’t clear themselves because he can’t cough or take deliberately deep breaths.”
Gibbs nodded. He vaguely remembered something being said about that before, but he had only focused on the most important detail when he’d arrived---Tony was alive and he was going to stay that way.
“And Lundy?”
“Will be fine as long as he does what the doctor tells him to,” LaFiamma stated with certainty.
“I’ll be fine regardless of what that quack says,” Lundy retorted quietly, surprising Gibbs. He thought the man was asleep.
“Lundy"“
“LaFiamma, I am not going to spending a week in this damn bed, much less two.” Tired brown eyes opened to fix a level stare at his partner.
“If Kline says you will, then you will.”
“Bullshit.”
“You nearly bled out, you moron. You don’t brush that off like it was nothing.” LaFiamma practically growled.
“Joe"“
“It will take time for that artery to heal.” LaFiamma gently poked Lundy in chest with one finger. “You aren’t going anywhere until I know you can walk without me having to pick your ass up off the floor.”
Gibbs expected him to look as angry as he sounded, but if anything LaFiamma looked pleased, turquoise eyes alight with happiness. It struck him as odd until Gibbs realized that if Lundy was awake and aware enough to argue, he was definitely doing better. The cop was on the mend.
“Don’t see what the big deal is.” Lundy mumbled before he smiled up at his partner. “You’ll pick me up every time no matter what.” There was no mistaking absolute confidence in his voice.
“That is not the point.” LaFiamma shook his head, his expression softening. “You know I am right. You are just being stubborn"“
“Tenacious.” Lundy countered.
“Pigheaded is more accurate.”
“Determined.” Lundy’s eyes closed.
LaFiamma cupped Lundy’s cheek with one hand, his thumb lightly caressing the high cheekbone. “Go to sleep, Cowboy. We can argue about this some more when you wake up.”
Lundy yawned. “I want some crutches tomorrow.”
LaFiamma snorted. “Only if I get to beat you with them.”
Lundy grinned, turning his head to rub his cheek against LaFiamma’s hand. “And you told me you didn’t have any kinks.”
LaFiamma laughed softly, bending to place a kiss on Lundy’s forehead. “They must still be giving you the good stuff.”
“Don’t want…any more…of that either.”
“Ah-hunh.”
Gibbs knew that sound was simply LaFiamma acknowledging of what Lundy said. He wasn’t agreeing with him.
Gibbs caught the look of fond amusement on Ducky’s face. Clearly the older man had developed some sort of kinship with the Houston cops in the time he’d spent with them. Gibbs wanted to be annoyed by that, but honestly couldn’t bring himself to be. As much as he hated the fact that LaFiamma and Lundy had a deeper relationship with Tony than he did, he couldn’t deny the fact that they were otherwise good men.
LaFiamma rested his hand on Lundy’s chest, directly above his heart. It was almost as if he needed the physical connection to be sure the other man was okay. Gibbs could understand that. He found himself moving closer to Tony, reaching out to touch his hand, relieved to find it warm. The steady rise and fall of his chest was reassuring if he ignored the respirator tube and mechanical sounds it made.
“I’m rather surprised Levon was awake,” Ducky said when LaFiamma turned to face them again. “The painkillers being administered should have easily kept him under for several hours.”
“You’d think that,” LaFiamma smiled ruefully, “but you’d be wrong.”
“Beaumont said you called,” Gibbs said. He trying not to push but he wanted to know what, if anything, LaFiamma had found out.
“Where are you on the case?” LaFiamma asked instead of offering any information.
It was on the tip of Gibbs’ tongue to demand LaFiamma go first, but a kick to his shin from Ducky stopped him. His glare at the older man was returned with a mild, reproving expression.
“Play nice, Jethro,” Ducky murmured. “You’ll catch more flies with honey.”
I’ve been playing nice since I got here, Gibbs snarled mentally, and I don’t want to catch any damn flies. Knowing he wasn’t going to win against both LaFiamma and Ducky, Gibbs opted to just go first. He summarized what they’d found so far, watching as LaFiamma digested the information. He had the same thoughtful look Tony got whenever they discussed a case. Gibbs remembered times when bits and pieces came together for Tony and he half expected there to be a light bulb over his head as inspiration struck. He missed seeing those blinding moments of insight. He tightened his hold on Tony’s hand, wishing he was having this conversation with him instead of LaFiamma.
“Burn phones are those throw away cellphones, yes?” Ducky asked as he stood and stretched a bit. “Ones without a long term contract or commitment.”
“Yeah.”
Ducky nodded, looking pleased with himself. “I thought Anthony used that term during a campfire once. I’d never heard it before so I needed him to explain it to me after everyone else had gone. It’s nice to know my memory is still serving me well.”
Gibbs blinked at that. He’d forgotten that for as much as Ducky contributed to their cases he wasn’t often involved in all aspects of their investigations. Things like burn phones weren’t exactly common parlance for a medical examiner. And they hadn’t done a ‘campfire’ since before Tony left. Ziva and McGee had made their feelings clear on how they felt about them, but Gibbs had never thought to ask what Ducky or Abby might have thought of them.
“Who in DC would"“ Ducky stopped abruptly, evidently seeing something in the look that passed between Gibbs and LaFiamma. “Perhaps now would be a good time for me see if a good cup of tea can be had. Would either of you gentlemen care for something?”
“Coffee,” Gibbs said.
“Nothing for me. Thanks, Ducky.”
Ducky clucked his tongue. “You really should get something to eat, my boy. I haven’t seen you eat anything all day.”
“I’m fine.”
Ducky scowled. “I’ll see if I can get you something just the same.”
LaFiamma waited until Ducky left to roll his eyes. “Everyone on your team is pushy, Gibbs.”
Gibbs snickered. “They fit right in around here then.”
LaFiamma grinned. “Nothing but pots and kettles.”
“What did you find out?” Gibbs asked, focusing on the case again. Tony was going to be awake tomorrow, and he wanted to have something positive to tell him.
“I called a few people who know a few people.” LaFiamma shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing you could really take to court but word is the CIA might have been having second thoughts about having Kort take over for Benoit. Seems they may not be entirely sure of where his loyalties lay. Something about a cover up on an unsanctioned hit was mentioned as one of the reasons for their lack of faith in him.”
Gibbs frowned. The lack of trust might be genuine---Gibbs couldn’t vouch for Kort’s integrity---but even without a sanction, Benoit being dead wasn’t a big issue for the CIA. And regardless of what he’d told the FBI and proof he’d produced that Benoit’s murder was his doing, Gibbs would bet his life the CIA higher ups knew full well Kort hadn’t killed Benoit.
“That doesn’t wash.” Gibbs made eye contact with LaFiamma. “They knew Benoit was looking to retire. Hell, they tried to kill his daughter to get him to toe the line. They might as well have ordered Kort to take him out and saved a lot of time and effort. It’s probably why they agreed to make it look like it was ordered in the first place.”
“Rumor and gossip are rarely the whole truth, but often contain grains of it.” LaFiamma held out his hands as though weighing something. “The lack of trust might be genuine. And it could be someone went looking for a reason why he wasn’t as trusted as he once was. We aren’t the only people who get curious, you know. And more than one person might have realized the sanction for taking out Benoit was backdated. Even if no one went looking, someone had to know the man was dead for months before an authorization to kill him was asked for.”
Gibbs grimaced. LaFiamma had a point. Ben Franklin got it right when he said the only way three people could keep a secret was if two were already dead. Far too many people knew or suspected things weren’t entirely on the up and up with Benoit’s death, and by association Kort’s rise to take his place.
“What was more interesting was the bit of gossip that suggested the CIA may have considered Kort’s usefulness in the field at an end.”
Gibbs raised both eyebrows. “Why would they--”
“It’s one thing to keep tabs on a weapons dealer; it’s another to have an agent who actually is one.” LaFiamma shrugged. “No plausible deniability, plenty of autonomy which equals damn little oversight, not to mention all the power and money that might tempt him further into the dark side and turn him completely.”
Gibbs hadn’t thought about it from that point of view. It would explain why the CIA had wanted to keep Benoit in position rather than just kill him when he started talking about wanting out---if nothing else, they could take him out whenever and where ever they chose. That was the whole reason for trying to kill Jeanne; it was a show of force to scare Rene back in line. Benoit refusing to play ball and then dying to a free agent had possibly left the CIA scrambling. Kort taking over might have been the only option or face losing all they’d gained by having him involved with Benoit in the first place.
And they may not have realized the man was dead---at least not initially. With Rene missing in action, Kort could have been ordered to take over temporarily, at least until they could figure out a long term solution. But when the FBI began investigating his death as murder sanctioning the hit on Rene only made sense. As Gibbs had told Kort when he’d asked him to take responsibility for Benoit’s death…it cemented his position as the new top dog, and it fit the cover already in place. Gibbs grimaced wondering if he’d played into the CIA’s hands, or if it was just dumb luck that had their respective objectives aligning. Either way it explained why Kort didn’t fight harder being the fall guy for Benoit’s murder.
LaFiamma pursed his lips. “It’s possible whoever leaked Kort’s identity didn’t think the CIA would mind if he was taken out. Whoever it was may have thought the agency would owe them one. Or that they wouldn’t investigate too closely. God knows they didn’t look that close at Benoit’s death.”
LaFiamma sighed. “But I can’t think the CIA would have wanted him eliminated this way.”
“Why not?” Dead was dead to Gibbs way of thinking. And if Kort was a liability now, removing him fast was the best option rather than have a double agent running amok.
LaFiamma blinked. “Tony wasn’t kidding when he said you didn’t know anything about politics, was he?”
Gibbs glared at him. “Just answer the damn question.”
“Because, they wouldn’t just be removing Kort, they have to find someone else to replace him with. Kort took over for Benoit…who takes over for Kort? From what you said about his girlfriend, it won’t be her. She might have the know how, but not the balls.”
Gibbs frowned seeing LaFiamma’s point. “A power vacuum would not be in their best interest.”
“Exactly.” LaFiamma nodded, making a definitive gesture with one hand. “They may have wanted him out of the picture… eventually. But Kort dying now was inconvenient. They have to figure out who the hell the new player will be rather than having one set up beforehand. A puppet they own or can control would be ideal, and that doesn’t happen over night. I don’t think Kort has been in charge long enough for them to put person in play.”
LaFiamma rubbed absently at his right arm. Gibbs remembered him wearing a sling previously and wondered when he’d gotten rid if it.
“But the real reason I don’t think the CIA is directly involved is the simple fact they apparently don’t know he’s dead yet.”
“Covert op would be quiet.”
“True. But they couldn’t have expected anyone here to know who Kort was. Me and Levon, Tony…were barely a blip on the CIA’s radar when it came to La Grenouille. Tony was better known, but the FBI didn’t even know he had moved to Houston, I doubt the CIA was any more informed. So by all rights if they’d set up Kort to get killed, they’d have expected someone to run his prints and photo through the system. Someone should be sweating bullets over the fact that the usual time for things isn’t being followed. Which means there should be someone digging into why they haven’t gotten the expected reason to show up, take over and shut us out.”
LaFiamma gave Gibbs a flat look. “When things don’t go according to plan, people get chatty trying to figure out why. No one is talking about this…so either it was very well planned or the CIA wasn’t directly involved.”
Gibbs nodded. “Doesn’t prove Shepard was though.”
“No, it doesn’t.” LaFiamma agreed. “But she has been using NCIS resources to keep tabs on Kort.”
“How do you know that?”
“I called in one of Levon’s favors.” LaFiamma smiled tightly. “Shepard used the same tech people who tracked and kept tabs on Benoit for her to do the same with Kort. Not exactly the brightest crayon in the box that one.”
Gibbs would have liked to argue. She’d been a good field agent once. But something happened between then and now to change her radically from the person he’d worked with.
“And she’s been talking to the CIA.”
That grabbed Gibbs’ attention. “What? Why would she talk to them if she wanted to kill Kort?”
“They have a dossier on her father. Or so it seems. All highly classified stuff from what I’ve been told.”
Gibbs’ jaw clenched. Shepard was obsessed with proving her old man innocent. With proving he hadn’t committed suicide. She’d definitely want any information they had on him.
“Could be she was negotiating to get her hands on that information.”
“But what does she have to bargain with?” The CIA wasn’t exactly short on resources. And they were likely still pissed at her interference with La Grenouille. Would they even want to negotiate anything with her?
“She takes care of Kort for them.” LaFiamma suggested. “CIA can dump an asset that’s becoming more of a liability without having to get their hands dirty or admit they might have fucked up letting him so far off leash. They get plausible deniability and they don’t have to worry about losing face or having one of theirs take out one of their own. She gets a testimony that stands and won’t be recanted. The file on her old man thrown in for good measure to either uses prove his innocence or burn it to hide his guilt. Win/win.”
“Except the time table wasn’t quite what the CIA would have wanted.” Gibbs pointed out.
“Using someone like Nunes to do the deed doesn’t exactly guarantee the right time frame. Not exactly a precision weapon. But it would have mattered who or what she used to kill him, I don’t think she’s got time to waste.”
Gibbs cocked his head to one side, studying LaFiamma. “Why not?”
“She’s been seeing a specialist.”
“For what?”
“No idea.” LaFiamma shook his head. “It’s going to take a better hacker than I could beg, borrow or steal on short notice to get into her medical file.”
Gibbs nodded. If he put McGee and Abby on it, he’d have to tell them what he suspected. He wasn’t adverse to bringing them in the loop---except he was hoping they would find evidence to independently confirm his and LaFiamma’s theory. If the burn phones could be linked to Shepard directly, he’d have that confirmation, but they might not be able to do that.
He didn’t have to use both of them though. Abby could hack in on her own. Medical records weren’t like getting into the Pentagon. And it would give her something more to do on the case while McGee and Ziva worked other angles. It was also something she could possibly do on her laptop from the hospital. She could stay with Tony and Gibbs knew her being happy about that would offset her being unhappy about having to keep it a secret from McGee and Ziva for awhile.
“I’ll put Abby to work on it.”
“Okay.”
Gibbs didn’t quite know what to make of the easy acceptance of his decision. Not that he wanted LaFiamma to fight him over it, but he expected something more.
LaFiamma looked amused. “I’m too damn tired to fight with you right now. But if it makes you feel better, I promise to fight with you later.”
Gibbs smiled. “That’s okay, for once I think I’ll just take the easy answer and be happy with it.”
“Fair enough,” LaFiamma chuckled. “You going to hang around or head back?”
He didn’t have a car, and Gibbs doubted the other officer waited around once Millard relieved him. Unless he called a cab, Gibbs wouldn’t have a way of getting back to the office until Millard’s relief arrived. Not that it really mattered. Since taking Tony’s hand, Gibbs hadn’t released it, and he couldn’t seem to bring himself to let go. There was nothing he could do here for Tony, but Gibbs found himself wanting to stay just the same.
“I’ll stay for a bit.”
LaFiamma nodded. “I’ll get another chair.”
“It better not one of those damn torture devises.”
LaFiamma grinned at him, bearing his teeth. He laughed as he left the room.
Gibbs was sure he’d come back with something destined to cripple him. “Asshole,” Gibbs muttered, but he was smiling as he said it.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Gibbs at the hospital