The official conference rooms of NCIS had been the stage for a lot of interesting meetings. Tony DiNozzo checked his surroundings and shook his head. His father’s third wife had tortured the family with her inane ramblings about interior designs and he had done his best to forget what she had said. He had to give Natalie her dues, she wouldn’t have made this mistake. Whoever had decided that orange and earth tones would provide a soothing background for possible emotionally charged meetings should have his or her head examined. It might have been intended to be encouraging and up-beat but the last thing they needed now was more energy.
A big table with modern chairs dominated the room, some smaller ones had been positioned along the far wall to provide space for files, water pitchers, snacks and other things that would otherwise distract from official looming cleanliness of the oval center table and its purpose.
Tony had heaved his clingy daughter on the big table, stood beside her and waited for Ducky to appear. The four adults huddled around the child, exchanging uncomfortable looks over Sam’s head. So much attention had finally managed to intimidate the girl, Her dad could feel her trembling under his hands even if she faced the strangers with a raised chin. The only one who didn’t look unsure was, to no one’s surprise, Gibbs. Tony couldn’t help but envy him. Pissed off to the point of inscrutable seemed to be Gibbs’ default settings in emotionally difficult situations, covering everything up in a camouflage blanket of storm and lightning. Both men used different masks to cover what lay beneath. While Tony’s smile worked to cover up inner feelings, it didn't strike the same note of fear into the beholder as Gibbs' don't fuck with me stare.
It was interesting that the appearance of Sam could cause such a disturbance, but Tony had always tried to understand people’s reactions and their motives. This case was easy. His colleagues had been complacent in their belief that they knew Tony DiNozzo well, that there was nothing more to him. It didn’t help that he had encouraged them in that belief. Sam's existence threw them a curve-ball and they were pissed off because it called their observational powers into question, made them feel incompetent. They wanted to get on even keel again. It happened every time Tony stepped outside his role. And they never seemed to learn.
Dr. Donald Mallard entered the room, greeted them cheerfully and was promptly introduced to Sam. She beamed when he made a very formal bow. Tony helped her off the table, this was a new acquaintance she didn’t feel uncomfortable with. People might find it strange that he wanted a coroner to act as his daughter’s physician but Tony couldn’t think of a doctor he trusted more. Ducky examined her and found some souvenirs of her fight with Sophie-Ann. Scratches on her arms and shoulder and a bite mark the good doctor wanted to treat. The other adults quietly observed the duo, the weight of the discussion they couldn't have with Sam able to see them hanging heavily in the air between them.
Ducky smiled indulgently, nodded at Tony understandingly, and coaxed his patient to the far side of the room, a small writing pad facilitating conversation between them. Halfway there he stopped and raised his voice. “Ah, I probably should tell you that Abigail is on her way up.” Soon Sam was busily scribbling something on the pad and the doctor attentively smiled at her.
At least the gang would be in full attendance and Tony would only have to tell the ‘not so sordid tale of how Anthony DiNozzo managed to spread his genes’ once, so he waited and used the opportunity to arranged words in his head. Tsunami Abby was fast approaching and ready to drown them with babbling.
“Tony, is it true? Why didn’t you tell me?” The energetic Goth stormed into the conference room. She threw her arms around Tony’s neck and torso and jumped up and down, nearly smothering him.
“Abby, air in my lungs would be good!” As much as he loved the Goth, at the moment she was too much for his frazzled nerves. A moment later, help came from an unexpected source. Abby yelped and backed off, rubbing her ribs where a sharp elbow had poked her out of the way to make room for a scowling obstruction.
Tony had a short, panicky vision of what his overtired and exasperating daughter could do to the lab tech and it wasn’t a pretty picture. Playground scuffles, from what he had been told, could provide a Marine with pointers about down and dirty fighting. Another thing he should address, his charming daughter’s problem with dealing with aggression peacefully. Problems left, right and center and he was floundering helplessly.
He knew from experience (and hadn’t that been another fucked up situation, he still had nightmares about their excursion to the zoo last week) that Sam knew were to punch and how to yank to make it count. And Abby’s outfit - short plaid skirt, skull and bones T-shirt and so many clinking chains a ghost would be envious of them - gave enough weak points for a possible attack. He had hoped that these two girls would like each other if they ever met, but it wasn’t going according to plan.
“You’re Sam, yes? You are so cute; your dad has the same pout anytime someone doesn’t pay attention to him too.” Nope, Abby didn’t seem to be put off, but she wasn’t earning herself any brownie-points either.
“Tony, she just looks like you except for the eyes! And they told me she can sign.” That was something he never understood, how people insisted that children resembled the parents. Yeah, they shared the same hair color but how could anyone tell what these childish features would look like one day? He, himself looked nothing like his father, and thank God for small mercies.
“You wouldn’t believe the rumors I’ve heard!” Abby exclaimed.
“I would, but you don’t have to tell me.” He didn’t want to hear it and Sam didn’t need to know. Office rumor tended to be vicious. He could clearly remember what they whispered about, just within his hearing range of course, after he was demoted when Gibbs came back from his sojourn in Mexico.
“Now Abby, you interrupted a very important consultation. This little lady needs my professional services. The cuts on her shoulder will not disinfect themselves, so how about I take her back to the table and you speak with Tony.” Ducky smiled disarmingly down at Sam and she beamed back up at him. The Medical Examiner had won her over completely.
“I can translate for you.” Abby’s hands were busy signing but when her sunny smile wasn’t met with approval by either party her enthusiasm finally faltered. Ducky shook his head.
“That’s not necessary. Sempera and I have no problem communicating with each other. Something other people," a stern glance was thrown in Gibbs’ direction, “fail to accomplish spectacularly without having the excuse of a handicap and should really work on achieving.” He returned to one of the tables on the far side of the room where his bag had been placed and prepared some gauze. Ducky was a patient man, he would get the whole story later.
“Sempera?” Four voices exclaimed unison. Tony could have strangled the quirky M.E.
“A very special name for a very special girl. I asked her what her full name is and she spelled it out for me.” Dr. Mallard walked back over to them and extended his free hand to Sam. “The tincture is drying up, please come over and let me apply it to those nasty scratches. We don’t want them to scar. And you can have a look into my bag.”
Tony raised his hands to translate but it really wasn’t necessary, Sam seemed to have no problem understanding Ducky’s body language and he spoke clearly enough for her to lip read the rest. His patient made two steps in his direction and then turned around again and addressed Abby. ‘Don’t grab -‘ She made a name sign and nodded in Tony’s direction’ again. I do not like it.’ Off she went to the doctor, peeling her sweater away from the injured shoulder. Abby was not taken aback by the attitude.
“Possessive, isn’t she. How sweet. But, Sempera?” She sniggered.
Well, that was at least an opening he could use. "Ok, let's get this over with. Her name wasn't my idea, so don't look at me like that."." Tony sighed and avoided looking at his boss, but before he could go on he was interrupted.
“They're saying she's your lovechild with one of your former partners when you were a detective in Peoria, and-"
“Abby, shut up. Let him explain. And you know that I hate scuttlebutt.” Gibbs’ reprimand made her pout prettily. Wasn’t that a laugh. Tony knew that the boss listened to rumors; he just hated it when his people repeated them without checking the facts first.
Gibbs leaned against the center table, Ziva and McGee flanked him. For just one moment, Tony imagined simply refusing to answer anything. He sighed. But that wouldn't sail. They would haunt him, or investigate Sam. It was better if the information came from him, so he knew they got it right at least.
“Ok, ok.” He positioned himself with his back to the corner where Ducky and Sam were occupied with examining the medical bag. His collagues and boss were leaning on the table and he was facing them without any support which gave him an unwanted dejà vue back to college. Oral presentations had never been his strong suit. Tony drew a deep breath, and began. “I didn’t know that I had a daughter. Remember the incident with the sperm bank?” They should, it had been embarrassing enough.
“Nobody wanted little DiNozzos.” McGee still looked disgustingly pleased.
“Turns out nobody got the chance to have little DiNozzos.” How to put it as simply as possible, all the facts without touching the more sensitive issues? “My father was never happy with me and due to a medical condition he couldn’t try for a better heir. So he bought the whole batch, don’t ask me how he knew and it isn’t important, kept it stored as a back-up and waited for the right moment to use it. He paid a woman named Evelyn Peltier a lot of money so she would let herself be artificially inseminated and voilà, nine months later Sam was born. No big secret, no torrid love affair, so sorry to disappoint you.”
Abby looked a little bit abashed and smiled apologetically. He could forgive her insensitivity, he knew she didn’t have one malicious bone in her body. McGee and Ziva on the other hand - they were both gaping at him, McGeek more obvious than Miss Superspy. Served them right to think the worst of him and then be proven wrong. Tony stuck his hands in his pockets. The next part was much harder.
"Problem was, Sam was born deaf and my elitist father refused to accept a cripple as his heiress.” A dangerous growl came, predictably, from Gibbs’ direction. “Hey, his words, not mine. I tell it to you like he told me.” His darling father had said that he should have known, after the disappointment Tony had been, that all offspring out of his loins would be also flawed beyond redemption. ”He didn’t try again and left Sam with her mother instead of raising her himself.”
“Maybe not his worst decision.” Gibbs voiced his opinion and Tony agreed.
“No, Evelyn was, as far as I know, a very nice woman and good to Sam. She needed the money to pay some debts or lose her house. Never met her or her husband.”
“And Sam’s name? It means always in Latin, doesn’t it?” Ziva asked. Couldn’t she have forgotten about that? Gibbs would either love it or be angry.
“Yes, it does. It isn’t a good name for a little girl, sorry Boss, but it isn’t. Like I told you, I wasn’t there to veto it. One of the reasons my father chose Peltier was her profession. She was a marine, she was dedicated to the corps. Think about our boss’ favorite saying.”
He saw understanding dawning in Ziva’s and McGee’s faces. Tony mouthed the words but didn’t speak them out loud, in a way he didn’t feel like he had the right to do so. Gibbs had never let him use a Marine uniform for undercover work even if it would have been a possible option and he always got the impression that his boss wouldn’t be happy about Tony using the Marine motto either. It stung, but he had always tried to stick to the rules, spoken and unspoken.
Against his expectations, Gibbs hadn’t shown a reaction to Tony’s explanation or what he thought about Sam’s name. Tony didn’t add further details of how his little girl got her name, his collagues didn’t need them to understand the situation. It was connected to why Evelyn Peltier had been selected and when he talked to his father- His cruel words still rang in Tony's ears, ‘I tried to lessen any impact your sissy genes might have had. Someone patriotic, intelligent, strong and loyal had to be chosen. I should have known that you would taint everything you touched.’
“That doesn't explain how you're involved. You said you never met the woman?” Gibbs finally asked a question. Tony could imagine him assembling the puzzle in his mind. Gibbs had more background information about Tony’s family than the others to fill in some of the details Tony left out.
“Told you, my father wanted nothing to do with her, but he was at least responsible enough to create a substantial trust fund for Sam and find a home for her.” And a lot of legal papers dealing with disinheritance and other oh so important things. “The Peltiers kept Sam. I probably wouldn't have ever known about her. About three months ago there was an accident. Drunk driver torpedoed Peltier’s car. He was dead immediately, Evelyn died two days later in the hospital. The drunkard walked away nearly without a scratch. My name was on Sam’s birth certificate and, something I am grateful for; additionally I was named in the Peltiers' will as Sam’s guardian in case something happened to her mother and stepfather. You cannot imagine how surprised I was when social services contacted me. I accepted the responsibility and tried to get to know her in the ten days I was off and whenever her school time and my free time coincided. End of story.”
The others were staring at him. Tony tried conveying with his expression that he had shared all that he wanted to with them and hoped they would get the hint.
.-#-.
“David, McGee; Enough with the private stuff, you got the gist. I do not pay you to stay and chat. Go down to the squad room. The paperwork for the Kieran case won’t do itself. Abby, I want that analysis you promised for the cold case evidence, it could blow it wide open. I have to clear some details with DiNozzo in the meantime.” They wanted to stay and he could see mutinous thoughts flickering behind their eyes. This wasn’t finished, they knew he wanted to speak with Tony in private, but so did they.
“Why are you still standing here?” He gave his voice a steely quality that promised dire repercussion if they didn’t do what he told them to do. “Waiting for an engraved invitation?”
“No Boss, I just wanted- “ It was nice to see that McGee wasn’t the spineless blubbering geek anymore, but he clearly hadn’t learned when to show his backbone and when it was better not to. David glared at him and ushered him out of the room. Abby was thoughtfully looking between the Bossman and his uncomfortable looking Senior Agent.
“Oh. Well… I’m going.”
“And I will stay with Sempera. The poor dear is exhausted, no wonder with the day she had.” The medical examiner had joined their group and gestured in the direction of Sam. She lay curled up in one of the few comfortable armchairs which had been added by a former director to all conference rooms. Tony could easily picture Tom Morrow, the first director he had worked under, dragging one of them to the center table to preside over the crowd, instead of using the generic chairs. Morrow hadn’t insisted much on protocol, one reason why he and Gibbs had worked so well together, but the man had known how to emphasise his position, if he needed to.
Now his little girl was sleeping in one of them. The cat fight, being suspended, her journey through DC and then meeting the team had tired her. One of her hands clutched a stethoscope and Ducky had given her his cardigan as a blanket.
“She’s ok? “
“Her wounds of war are superficial Anthony, don’t fret. I will sit with her and read up on some articles in my forensics journal.” Gibbs knew that his old friend always had one or two in his bag. More often than they wanted, Ducky found himself in a hospital waiting room courtesy of one more injured Major Crimes Response Team member and the hospital reading material wasn’t to his taste.
“We don’t want her to wake up and witness another distressing scene, do we?” this jibe was clearly directed at Gibbs. On his way back to the girl he pitched his voice low enough to only be heard by Gibbs. “You are underestimating Anthony more than you imagine, don’t do something you will regret.” Damn it, Ducky knew him better than anyone else and he had earned the right to speak his mind.
“You going to chew me out because I didn’t tell you about Sam?” Tony had moved a little bit and it saddened his boss to see that the Agent had put more distance and a chair between them. Tony’s knuckles were white as he clutched the back of the chair.
“It is something I should have known about as soon as it happened.” Both men pitched their voices low. Sam couldn’t hear them anyway but Ducky, even if he was giving them privacy, could.
“No, not at all!” Gibbs could see Tony’s jaw working and wondered if one of the words the other man was suppressing was ‘Kelly’. He hadn’t told his team about his daughter either, they had found out due to circumstances out of his control. The unspoken name hung between them like lead but to Gibbs there was one huge difference. Kelly was… dead, nothing could hurt her anymore. Just him. Sam was alive.
“You are her sole guardian, yeah?” Gibbs looked him straight in the eye. "What would have happened with her if you were injured or God forbid killed and I didn’t know that there was someone dependent on you?”
“Vance knows about her, why do you think he allowed me to take ten days off with such a short notice? And there was a notice added to my personal file exactly for that scenario.” Vance knew? Tony had told the director but not him? That he had told someone showed some sense on Tony’s part but the choice of confidant rubbed salt into Gibbs’ wounds. He snatched the chair, one of the million barriers between them away and crowded Tony against the wall. They looked at each other. Tony was defiant and stubborn. A low, pain-filled voice cut the silence between them.
“You say I should have told you, but it was private. You said to me that you 'are the job' and you 'expect your agents to be as well. Therefore, if I'm not the job, I am nothing to you. And that means I do not have to tell you private things, because you do not want to hear them.”
“You are talking shit.” He remembered that conversation. He had chewed Tony out about caring more about his beloved car than a hot case. He should have known that the reprimand would cut deeper than intended, Tony’s vulnerability when it came to praise and discipline wasn’t something new. And that had happened on top of the Jeanne disaster.
“Am I? Don’t think so. There were a lot of close calls for me, I am not superhuman. I tried to be more careful, now that I have Sam, take fewer risks, but there is no guarantee.” Tony let himself lean backwards to get some personal space back, the conveniently near wall keeping him upright. “I try to be more careful.” Gibbs didn't let him escape, closing the distance between them with a decisive step.
“As you should.” Gibbs had noticed this change in behavior in the field but put it down to Tony maturing. Tony had been maturing indeed, but the reason for it had escaped his boss. It hadn’t affected the job negatively. The job….
Yeah, he really should have known that his callous words would be taken the wrong way and now he couldn't find the words to convince the younger man of how highly his boss regarded him. Gibbs wanted to argue, wanted to disabuse Tony of his assumptions about his worth but he didn’t know how. The other Agent had good instincts and would be able to tell if he wasn’t told the whole truth. And he would, in typical DiNozzo fashion, construe some warped explanation instead of the truth.
It was puzzling how someone who could interpret human behavior that well could be so blind when it came to anything personal. Only complete disclosure would maybe help but it could have unforeseen repercussions as well. Gibbs cursed his own shortcomings when it came to communication.
His silence had lasted too long and Tony was eying him tentatively, his comment was hesitant. “Sometimes I wonder if that damn coma erased something essential within you.”
Erased? Hardly. Brought forward more likely, awakened memories and made him re-evaluate his current relationships, oh yes.
“You’re still talking shit.” The second the words left his mouth he wanted to take them back but that was impossible. Tony had a talent for provoking the worst reaction possible. Gibbs couldn’t apologize for this oral slap in the face, it would only confuse Tony more because it was not something he expected of Gibbs. Why couldn’t he for once voice the thoughts that were in his head and heart instead of pushing the people who mattered most away? It wasn’t a new problem for him.
Gibbs had had a lot of time on his hands during his semi-retirement in Mexico. Shannon and Kelly’s deaths, fresh and without the numbing effect 15 years had provided before his head injury and the resulting partial amnesia had nearly crippled him emotionally. The complete unnecessary explosion of the navy ship with the resulting deaths of the crew made it clear that he couldn’t count his job as a source of stability while he recuperated. How could he deal with his issues if he didn’t feel safe in his surroundings? He couldn't.
Gibbs had needed the distance, the alcohol, the silence. Mexico and the simple lifestyle it provided had been a welcome safe harbor. Nobody had demanded anything more complicated of him than to fetch a new Corona or to hammer some planks onto the leaking roof of his host’s vacation shack.
The memories of what he had shared and lost with his family had hurt. After some weeks, whenever he had thought about what he felt for them, another face began to appear in Shannon’s shadow. Observing him, smiling at him and telling him, in unison with Shannon herself, that he should stop being a miserable bastard and pull himself together. Tony had lured him back into the land of the living but not all the way. Gibbs couldn’t bring himself to take those last steps. He didn’t even know for sure if the womanizing Tony had any interest in him that way.
After his return he had shoved down and locked away any private feelings for his second in command, refused to examine them further. Before Mexico they had been more than work colleagues, but not really friends. Something intangible, tantalizing and electrifying in their everyday interactions prevented it. Too much, too tempting, too soon. Distance was key, at least Gibb’s had thought so.
And now it looked like he had damaged that relationship without realizing how much, in his haste to not present a vulnerable front anymore. This was like sailors of old must have felt when confronted with icebergs. They appear, you are aware of sudden danger but you know that there is much more beneath the surface and you have to navigate very, very carefully to avoid damaging the ship below the water line.
“You don’t trust me anymore, do you, Tony?” They were so near, he could imagine hearing the raised heartbeat and could see a pink tongue nervously wetting those soft lips. Could see the defiant glitter in Tony’s eyes.
“You asked me what would become of Sam if something happened to me” Tony slowly raised his hands and with one finger to Gibbs’ chin forced the other man to turn his head in direction of the corner where Ducky was sitting watch over Sam’s sleeping form. “Guess who I named in my will as her guardian.” Tony’s laughter was bitter and he let his hand fall down again.
“You're a cold bastard, but I know you well. You would raise hell and challenge Satan himself to keep a child safe, you even open up for them. Do I trust you with the life and well-being of my daughter? Yes, of course. Do I trust you with the same for me outside work? No, not at all.”
Gibbs couldn’t move. He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Then Tony ducked, stepped around Gibbs and went to Ducky. Stooping down, he picked Sam up, still rather clumsily, and prepared to leave the room. The child was sleeping deeply, her head lolling on her dad’s shoulder.
“I don’t think we’re gonna accomplish anything more right now. Please keep in mind that I tried to avoid this situation. Ball’s in your court.” He left.
“You’ve got it wrong, completely wrong. Damn it.” Tony wasn’t there to hear his words and Gibbs had, once again, not sized the opportunity to express his feelings.
“Jethro?” Ducky had collected his things and was studiously not looking at him. “You know the saying that you can be hurt worse by a person you like than a stranger? Anthony looked pretty hurt.” Strong, agile fingers closed the old, beaten medical bag. “Take my advice and clear things up and do something already about this dance you and your boy have danced for as long as you know him or make a clean cut and let him go.” And with that Ducky left the room, leaving a confused and frustrated Leroy Jethro Gibbs behind to stew in his own juices.
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