“How the hell…?” Tony said, looking at Fornell in confusion. His expression changed to anger as he suddenly realised how Fornell knew that he’d minored in theatre at Ohio State. “The FBI did a background check when I was framed by Chip, didn’t they? “
“Had to, DiNotzo, it’s part of the job. You know that,” Fornell said calmly, entirely unrepentant. “You telling me NCIS wouldn’t have done exactly the same thing if our positions had been reversed?”
Tony was not appeased. “Well, forgive me if I’m a bit pissed that the FBI knows everything about my personal life,” he said angrily, starting to pace. “Hell, I bet Slacks had a great time digging through my past…”
“Hey!” Fornell interrupted, cutting Tony off in mid-rant. “I was the one who did the background check, and I made sure that everything was destroyed once you were cleared. Anything I may or may not have seen is no one else’s business. Unless, of course, you manage to get yourself accused of murder again.”
Tony snorted inelegantly, his temper rapidly cooling. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” He glanced away from Fornell, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish. “Thanks, Fornell,“ he said softly. “There’s a lot of stuff in my file I’d really rather people didn’t know about. I appreciate your discretion.”
“I told Gibbs I’d look after you,” Fornell said gruffly, dismissing Tony’s thanks. A fleeting thought crossed his mind; he was glad that he’d done the background check otherwise he would have wondered how someone on a fed’s salary could afford Tony’s apartment and its contents. Thanks to the check he knew that the younger man had inherited enough money from his mother’s side of the family that he could afford to indulge most of his somewhat-expensive tastes, but not enough that he didn’t have to work for a living. “Besides, now I understand why you’re so good at undercover work,” he said. “Although if you ever tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it completely,” he continued, echoing Tony’s earlier words while pointing his finger at the other man.
Tony grinned and held out the OSU sweatshirt. “So, you changed your mind about the run?”
Fornell just glared at him as he grabbed the sweatshirt and stalked off to the guest room to change.
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As he didn’t know what Fornell’s ability was, Tony started their run at a slow jog. He could feel Fornell’s gaze upon him, and smiled as the other man sped up, pushing the pace to something much closer to what Tony usually ran at. Tony let Fornell continue to set the pace, and was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t slow down until they’d run almost five miles. They slowed to a walk, allowing them to cool down from the run. “Have to say, Tobias, I’m surprised,” Tony said, grinning at the other man. “Who knew you had the heart of a runner underneath those godawful polyester suits!”
Fornell snorted. “I could say the same about you and those fancy Armani suits you wear, DiNotzo” he shot back.
“Can I ask you something?” Tony said as they headed back towards his apartment. At Fornell’s quizzical look he continued. “Why do you always pronounce my last name like that? Well, when you’re not calling me ‘DiNutso’.”
“It’s the proper Italian pronunciation, isn’t it?” Fornell answered. “My question is why don’t you pronounce it like that?”
Tony laughed. “That’s easy. Dad always pronounced it the way I do, so I guess I picked it up from him. He was never big on the whole Italian heritage thing,” he finished, a bleak expression flitting briefly across his face.
Fornell had a feeling that there was more to the story than that, but he was willing to let it drop, as he was enjoying the easy rapport that was developing between him and Tony. “You ever run any of the marathons here in DC?” he asked curiously.
“Naw, seven or eight miles at a time is about my limit. Been thinking about trying a half-marathon, though, just to see if I could do it. You?”
By this time they’d reached Tony’s apartment building and headed back upstairs. Fornell waited until Tony had opened the door and they’d entered the apartment before answering, his voice soft. “Last one I ran was with Nicky and Paul,” he said quietly. He saw Tony’s hastily-covered up wince and sighed inwardly. He hadn’t talked about his teammates in years, but something about his newfound ease with Tony made him continue. Or maybe he just felt guilty about Tony knowing about the background check. “Nicola Giordano,” he said, pronouncing the name Italian-style, “was very proud of his Italian heritage. I used to call him Nicky because it drove him crazy " it always pissed him off when people didn’t pronounce his name right. Paul Jones’ family had been in America since before the War of Independence. He used to brag that he was named after John Paul Jones, claimed he was an ancestor.”
“Tobias,” Tony said softly, “you don’t have to...”
`Yeah, Tony, I do,” Fornell said, cutting the other man off. “In 1992 I was a newly-minted team leader, and Nicky and Paul were my first team, the two of them fresh out of the Academy. God, they were so idealistic,” he said, his voice raw. “Anyway, the three of us really hit it off, really came together as a team and as friends. Made some good busts and I guess we started getting cocky. We were working this gunrunning case with a couple of other teams and somehow it ended up with a shootout at this warehouse down by the docks. Nicky and Paul were both killed, three other agents were wounded.” He had been one of the wounded, but wasn’t about to share that with DiNozzo. “Logically I know that there was nothing I could do, that it wasn’t my fault, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty anyway.”
“When Kate died,” Tony said quietly, locking eyes with Fornell, “for the longest time I kept replaying it in my mind, trying to figure out if there was something I should have seen, something I should have done, some way I could have saved her. Took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that there wasn’t.” He didn’t add that he still felt guilty sometimes that he was alive instead of Kate. He figured Fornell knew what that was like all too well.
Both men were silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Tony broke the silence first. “Thank you for telling me about them, Fornell. Maybe next year, if you don’t mind the company, we can both drink to absent friends.”
Fornell cocked his head to one side, studying Tony, before nodding slowly. “Maybe, DiNotzo, maybe. In the meantime, though,” he continued, looking to lighten the mood, “I believe you mentioned lunch?”
Tony smiled, recognising what Fornell was trying to do. “I’m going to grab a shower first, if you don’t mind. If you want one, the guest bathroom’s there,” he said, pointing to one of the doors off the livingroom. “Should be clean towels in there, and a robe on the back of the door.”
Once they were both cleaned up and dressed, Fornell wearing a shirt and sweater borrowed from Tony in place of his dress shirt and suit jacket, Tony called a cab and they headed back to Ellington’s. Sam looked from behind the bar as the two of them entered. “Tony,” he said, smiling and coming out to shake Tony’s hand. “I take it the arm’s feeling better?” he asked, fixing Tony with an assessing gaze.
“That it is, Sam,” Tony replied, grinning. “Sam, this is Tobias Fornell of the FBI. I believe the two of you sort of met last night.”
Fornell shook the other man’s hand. “Is the young lady who was waiting on me last night around?” he asked. “I think I may owe her an apology for having to deal with me last night. I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Annie’s not in today, but I’ll let her know you were concerned,” Sam replied easily. “We’ve seen worse, though, so no worries. Are you guys staying for lunch, or are you just here to pick up your keys?”
“Definitely lunch for me, Sam. Fornell?” Tony asked.
Fornell was surprised to find he was actually quite hungry. He hadn’t had anything to eat the night before but Tony obviously liked this place so the food couldn’t be too bad, he thought. “Lunch sounds good to me,” he said.
“Good,” Sam said, gesturing them towards the bar and grabbing a couple of menus. “Tony, you still owe me the rest of the story from yesterday " don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
Tony rolled his eyes, but over club sandwiches and fries he recounted the story of being trapped in the shipping box with Ziva and his subsequent discovery of the dinner party that he hadn’t been invited to. Fornell was studiously quiet throughout the story, but Tony thought he could see sympathy and perhaps a bit of anger in the other man’s eyes when they met his.
After they’d finished lunch and chatted with Sam for a while about happier and more general topics Tony showed Fornell the coffee shop he’d mentioned earlier. As they prepared to part ways, Tony to head off to the Museum of American History to see his movie memorabilia exhibit and Fornell to finally head home, Fornell put his hand on Tony’s arm.
“Look, DiNotzo, if you ever need to blow off some steam about work or anything, you give me a call, okay?” he said seriously. “Not that this changes anything at work, you understand,” he continued gruffly. “I’m still gonna bust your chops when we cross paths.”
Tony grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Fornell,” he said. “Seriously, though, same goes for you, okay?”
Fornell nodded. “Enjoy your exhibit,” he said, striding off towards his car. Tony watched him for a moment and then started towards the museum, whistling As Time Goes By as he walked. He didn’t notice Fornell behind him cocking his head and smiling at the melody.
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Tony walked into the bullpen bright and early on Monday morning, a spring in his step. Although he was still hurt at being excluded from the dinner party the week before, his conversations with Sam and Fornell had helped a great deal, as had getting together with some of his DC-based frat brothers for beer, burgers and the a football game at their favourite sports bar on Sunday. All in all the weekend had reminded him that he had friends outside of NCIS who cared about him and had his back.
As his teammates arrived, they greeted Tony and asked about his weekend. He answered them cordially, and if any of them noticed that he didn’t really elaborate on what he’d done or initiate conversation they didn’t say anything about it.
Just after lunch Karen, one of NCIS’ executive assistants, came up to Tony’s desk carrying a vase containing a dozen yellow roses. “Hi Tony,” she said, placing them on his desk. “Jack down at Security asked me if I’d bring these up to you as I was coming back in from lunch. Said to tell you that the flowers and the card’s been scanned.” After the incident that had led to Tony contracting the pneumonic plague it was standard operating procedure that any deliveries were scanned before being passed on to the recipient.
Tony frowned and looked at the flowers. He wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment, and wasn’t sure who would be sending him flowers. He plucked the card from the flowers and opened it.
To Tony " my “Rick”,
Thanks for Friday night and Saturday. It was just what I needed. Remember my offer " it’s good any time.
“Renault”
Tony grinned at the sentiment. Every once in a while throughout the rest of the day he’d look at the card and smile. He refused to answer any questions about the card, the flowers or the sender, which frustrated McGee, Ziva and Abby to no end " probably just what Fornell had in mind when he sent them in the first place.
The beginning of a beautiful friendship indeed.
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A/N: Yeah, I know Rick actually said the line in Casablanca, but it made more sense in the story for Tony to be Rick, so I took a little bit of poetic license. I’ve been thinking of doing some more Tony/Tobias pieces, mostly episode tags (I’ve got one floating around my brain right now for Jack Knife, in fact). Anyone interested in reading more of these?
Chapter End Notes:
Here’s the final chapter guys! Thanks again to all who have reviewed, faved or alerted this so far " hope you like the finale.