Finding out Ziva had excluded him completely from her party while inviting everyone else hurt had more than he thought it would. In a way, he could understand her leaving him out. It wasn't as if she liked him all that much anyway or that they were great friends. But for the others not to have noticed or commented on his absence, that was like getting sucker punched. They knew how much he hated being left out.
With a skill he'd learned through years of practice, Tony left the office with no one noticing he was gone. He mentally saluted his uncle Sal for taking time to teach him how to do it the first time. All he had to do was wait for them to get side-tracked and wrapped up in something else. Be sure he had an excuse at the ready, 'Just going to the men's room', if any one asked where he was going, knowing full well no one would. Slip out the door to the stairwell. Then down one flight and catch the elevator the rest of the way.
He ditched the sling as soon as he stepped off the elevator. It didn't matter that Ziva said it was a scratch from a box rather than a graze from a bullet. He'd have played up the injury for sympathy out of habit more than any real need. It wasn't like this was the first bullet wound. And given the nature of the job it probably wouldn't be his last.
Driving a stick shift was like riding a bike. He'd been doing it for so long it was nearly instinctive. Uncle Sal had taught him how to do that too. The old man had used his cane to run the clutch when he'd had the lower half of his left leg removed because of Diabetes. Driving with a bullet burn was a piece of cake in comparison.
Tony smiled sadly thinking about Sal. He'd learned a lot from that man. At the moment something his uncle often said to him kept running through his mind. 'Don't expect too much from people, Anthony, they will only disappoint you."
"Amen, Sal, amen." Tony wished the old man hadn't always right.
Tony made it home without incident, just like he knew he would. His arm hurt like hell, but it had before he'd left the office so it wasn't a big deal. Nothing a little scotch wouldn't cure.
He tossed his house keys into the bowl on the small table by the door. Tony kicked off his shoes. He headed for the liquor cabinet and poured a healthy shot of scotch into an expensive cut crystal glass. He downed it before pouring another. Sal would be appalled. Good scotch should be savored.
He smirked when he heard a knock at the door. He knew he wouldn't make a completely clean escape. Although, he had hoped no one would actually bother follow him. But then his luck all day had sort of been a mixture of good and bad. No reason for it to be any different now.
He tossed a mental coin, wondering which of them it was. Not that it mattered. He didn't have any thing to say to whoever it was. Not right now. He wasn't in the mood.
A second knock came, louder than the first. Tony sighed. It was too much to hope for whoever it was would just go away. He counted silently, heading for the couch. Tony sat so he could have a clear view of the door.
Another knock. His name was called, the sound muffled by the door. He sipped his drink and waited, still counting. He could afford to wait. It was warm in his apartment and cold outside. He wasn't overly surprised to see Ziva walk through the door exactly one minute later.
He sipped his scotch before commenting casually, "Could have sworn I'd locked that."
She had the good grace to look embarrassed. He knew she'd picked the lock; he'd heard the faint scratching of metal on metal that couldn't be anything else. Although, he half thought it might be Gibbs since he knew the former Marine possessed that skill. But then Gibbs had a key to his place, and the former Marine wasn't even on the list of possible visitors. Gibbs didn't apologize, and sure as hell wouldn't go out if his way to see if Tony was all right. No amount of wishing or dreaming was going to change that.
It was good to have proof Gibbs wasn't the only one on the team who could pick locks. Ziva's little skill might come in handy some day.
"I was...worried." She offered by way of an explanation for her presence. She stepped closer, hands moving in a gesture he'd come to recognize as a sign of nervousness.
"Worried?" He arched an eyebrow. "Why?"
"You were shot, Tony."
"Hmm...no, it was just a cut from a crate." He sipped his drink, green eyes meeting dark brown easily. "No cause for concern."
"Damn it, Tony, we both know?"
"Then why tell McGee differently?"
He knew she'd meant it as a way to put him in his place, to make the injury seem insignificant. It was also her way of getting even for him getting them locked in the shipping container. He still thought getting in the box was the right move. Caught in the crossfire, there was no where else to go. It was get in the damn box or die. She was never going to see it that way, so there was no point in arguing about it.
She made a helpless hand gesture, unwilling or unable to admit she'd lied to McGee out of spite. It was oddly painful to watch her struggle for words. He preferred her sharp and mean. At least that he knew how to deal with. It had been way too long a day for him to willingly put up with any more.
"I am assuming you broke in here for a reason."
"I did not break in." She snapped back at him.
Defensive was good. He could work with that.
"Most guests don't need to pick the lock to get in. Doors are usually left open for welcomed company." He pointed out nonchalantly, settling back a bit more into the couch, enjoying the flush of embarrassment that rose to color her cheeks.
"How about you get to the point, Officer David." He didn't say, 'and then get out' but it was implied nonetheless.
She swallowed, clearing her throat. "I said I'd make you dinner."
"Some other time." Tony finished his drink, wondering it would be worth it to get up and get another. "I'm not really hungry."
She fidgeted again. It was interesting to so her so uncertain. Any other time, he'd have capitalized on it. Right now he just wanted her to go away.
"You shouldn't drink when you're on medication."
"No, you shouldn't." Tony agreed, rolling his eyes. Like Ziva actually gave a damn that he might be stupid enough to put himself into a coma. "I'm not on any medication."
"They gave you pain pills."
"Doesn't mean I took them." Tony hated pills. The ER doc who had looked him over had given him the pills without asking if he wanted them. Tony tossed them before he'd left the office.
He stood up, leaving his empty glass on the coffee table. "You let yourself in. You can let yourself out. Be sure to lock it, will ya?" He gave her a hard look. "I'm not interested in entertaining any more uninvited guests."
She flinched. "Tony...I am sorry I didn't--"
"Yeah, whatever." Tony decided it didn't matter. She wasn't sorry she hadn't invited him. She hadn't wanted him there. What bothered him was that not even Abby seemed to mind or care that he wasn't included. He expected better of people he considered friends. Sal was right. Tony should have listened to him more closely.
Seeing her still standing in the same spot, Tony sighed. "Was there something else you wanted?"
"I didn't think you'd want--"
"You should not be forced to endure the presence of someone in your home that you really don't want there." Tony smiled tightly, his voice unconsciously mimicking the overly polite tones his mother had used when she was pissed. "I'd appreciate it if you'd extend me the same courtesy."
"It wasn't like that!" Ziva protested hotly. "I just--"
"I really don't care." Tony turned way. "It's late." Way too late for any sort of lie or story she and the others might have come up with. Assuming they'd even bothered. He wasn't interested.
His breath hissed out in pain when she grabbed his injured arm. He stopped himself from lashing out at her, but only just barely. It was shamefully gratifying to see her flinch away from him in fear. He'd never raised a hand to a woman before, and now didn't seem the time to start.
"I'm sorry." She backed away immediately. "I'm sorry. I forgot--"
Tony sighed. He should have had a third scotch. "Go home, Ziva."
"I need to make this right." It wasn't quite a plea but it was close.
"Make what right?" He looked at Ziva squarely, schooling his features into something blandly polite. "You didn't do anything wrong." She hadn't. It was her party, her home. She could invite or exclude anyone she wanted.
"You're angry with me."
"I'm not mad at you." No, he wasn't angry. He was disappointed, in himself, in his teammates. It was his mistake. He never should have assumed that because he liked them, thought well of them, and wanted them to be a part of his life that they would feel the same way about him.
"You are mad at me," she countered, "I can tell." A small frown formed between her eyebrows.
"Why does it matter to you?" He smiled, looking down at her, deliberately not agreeing or disagreeing with her statement. It wasn't like she'd given a damn before, so why be bothered by it now.
She bit her lip, once more struggling for to find words. "We work together."
"Yeah, so?" Tony rolled his eyes. "You think I wouldn't back you up or something?" Jesus. Did he really seem that shallow? Did she think him so poor an agent that he might leave her high and dry for hurting his feelings? No wonder she didn't invite him to her party.
"No!" She shook her head, one hand reaching out to him before drawing back. "It's not...Look, I just don't want things to be awkward between us."
Bingo. It wasn't about him at all. It never had been. It didn't matter to her how he felt as long as he didn't make it difficult for her. Tony shook his head. How the hell did she ever make it as a spy if she couldn't lie any better than that? And why the hell did his father have to be right? Son of bitch had called it the first time when he told Tony he didn't matter to anyone but himself.
"Yours is not the first party I wasn't invited to, Officer David." He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. It was just the first one where people he thought of as friends made a point of making sure he knew he'd been left out.
"Don't beat yourself up over it."
"I am sorry."
"Yeah, I know." Tony shrugged one shoulder. She just wasn't sorry for the right reason. But, he could afford to cut her some slack; the others weren't sorry at all, for any reason. And it wasn't like he really considered Ziva a friend; certainly not now, and definitely not in the future. They were coworkers. Nothing more, nothing less. He could handle that.
Mentally relegating Abby and McGee to the same category would take a little doing, but wasn't impossible. And anything more he might have wanted from Gibbs was nothing more than a pipe dream anyway. They obviously didn't want more from Tony, so there was no reason to give it. Sal had been fond of saying, 'never give anyone anything that they obviously don't want'. At the time he was talking about a second helping of sauerkraut, but Tony figured it worked equally well in other areas.
"I could still make you dinner." The offer was hesitant. Tony recognized an olive branch being offered when he saw one.
"Some other time." Like right after Satan learned to ice skate. She might well be the type to leave him high and dry in the next fire fight, so it wouldn't do to give her reason to feel justified in doing so. No reason to alienate her completely. He'd been the peacemaker for too long to really stop now. "I'm tired, Ziva, and my arm hurts."
"Oh...of course." She nodded, looking genuinely disappointed. She was a better actress than he gave her credit for.
"You'll be able to get to work okay tomorrow?" Ziva brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I could--"
"I got home just fine." Tony cut her off. He wasn't going to owe her any favors. Not if he could help it. "Getting to work will not be a problem."
Not that he was going to work tomorrow. No. He still had a week's worth of sick leave coming to him from the whole Y. Pestris thing. Now seemed like a good time to take it. He wanted a little time. Get a little perspective on his life, the job and his 'friends'.
He'd put in the request with the director via e-mail before he left the office. She hadn't turned him down, just like he knew she wouldn't. The injury report from this last case would be more than reason enough to give him the sick leave. Assigning him on desk duty just gave him free rein to annoy half the building. Whatever else she might be, Sheppard was no fool. It was better for everyone for her to just grant the leave request.
He'd leave a voice mail message and an e-mail for Gibbs. He had to type up his report for the case anyway. By the time he got that done, Gibbs would have left the office and he wouldn't have to risk the former Marine denying his request. Neat and simple.
Gibbs could let everyone else know Tony would be out for a week if he wanted. Ordinarily he'd have sent Abby an e-mail or left a note for McGee, but he didn't really see the need to do that any more. He'd call Ducky if he got a chance, but wasn't in any real hurry to do that either. Maybe when he got back.
Tony smiled easily. He'd mastered the ability to look warm and friendly when he felt anything but years ago. "Good night, Ziva."
She smiled back, looking relieved. Hell if she thought everything was good with them, more so the better.
"Good night, Tony."
After she left, he set the deadbolt and the chain. He headed back to his antique desk and powered up his laptop. Waiting for the computer to warm up, Tony poured himself another scotch. He'd finish his report, then grab the bag that was always packed and head out. He could be where he was going before the sun rose. After that, he'd play it by ear.
****** **** ****************
Gibbs had wanted to rip Sheppard a new one for granting Tony's request for leave. But it was within her authority, and it wasn't her he was really angry with. Tony had circumvented the chain of command. The younger man had done an end run around him to get what he wanted. It was the first and only time Tony had ever done such a thing. It pissed Gibbs off.
Tony's injury was a scratch; hardly the sort of wound that warranted a week off. He said as much to Sheppard. She pointed out that Tony had the time on the books. It was his to use. It didn't matter that Gibbs thought his injury insignificant. Tony had been injured in the line of duty and was entitled to the time off if he wanted it.
"Just because you don't think he should have it, isn't reason enough to deny a valid request." She shook her head. "Besides...any injury, no matter how minor, requires an agent to qualify on the firing range to be cleared for field duty. He's not going to get the opportunity to qualify until they take out the stitches. And that's scheduled for two days after he gets back."
Sheppard huffed in annoyance when Gibbs opened his mouth to continue arguing with her. "Really, Jethro, I've seen the man in action. He's a menace when he doesn't have anything to do." She made it clear she thought Tony wasted too much time chatting up women in the building. And she was not at all pleased that her personal secretary seemed to have developed a real fondness for Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.
"Trust me, Jethro, it was better for him to take the week than stand around bothering the female personnel."
Gibbs bit back a nasty retort, recognizing a losing battle when he saw it. She didn't understand. In the four years Tony had worked for NCIS, he'd never asked for a single sick day. Pushed for a vacation and time off, sure, but never for sick leave. Hell, it had taken him nearly dying from exposure to the plague to get him to take any time at all. And even then he was back at the office the second the doctor cleared him.
Something was wrong with this picture. Gibbs could feel it in his gut. He just couldn't pin down exactly what.
Tony hadn't call Abby. He always called her. But this time he left without so much as a word to her. He hadn't said anything to McGee about leaving either. Or Ziva, although, Gibbs realized that was a bit of a long shot. She was still new to the team.
No one had known Tony was taking a week off until Gibbs checked his voice mail. The message had been left at 3 am. It had been straightforward, direct and to the point.
"Boss, it's DiNozzo. Since I'm going to be assigned to a desk for the next week...I thought it would be better to just use up some of the sick leave I have on the books. The admin people are always harping about that stuff anyway. Director Sheppard already approved my request. I'll be in at the usual time on Monday."
The e-mail he'd gotten was equally direct. It included the director's response to Tony's request and his report, but offered no more information.
By all rights Gibbs should have left it there. But he couldn't. Not when he didn't know where the hell Tony had gone. The younger man had always told him where he was going, gave him a contact number and an address. This time, nothing. It was...distressing. He hated not knowing where Tony was. What if something happened to him? What if his injury really was more serious than Gibbs had thought?
Tony hadn't answered his cell or his home phone. Gibbs had been tempted to ask Abby try to track him down, but he didn't want to worry her. She was still upset with him for not supplying more information when Tony and Ziva had been locked in the shipping container. He couldn't bring himself to admit to her that he didn't know where Tony was.
Gibbs stopped by Tony's place and let himself in with the key Tony had given him. It was the only time he'd ever been in the younger man's apartment without permission and he felt a little guilty about it. Gibbs brushed that awkward emotion aside. Tony's well being was very important to him. And for all he knew, Tony could be lying on the floor unable to reach the phone and call for help. That was not a mental image he really wanted or needed, but it wouldn't go away.
There was nothing out of place in the apartment, at least not that Gibbs could tell. It looked a lot neater than when he was there last, but not much else had changed. No sign of a struggle or abrupt, unplanned departure. The closet was still full of clothes, the bed made; Tony had even watered the houseplant Kate had given him if the faintly damp soil was anything to go by.
Gibbs looked at the blinking light on the answering machine. There were 2 messages. One would be his, so who left the other? He hesitated for a moment before hitting the play button. He'd already invaded Tony's privacy. In for a penny, in for a pound, Gibbs thought with a shrug. And this might just give him a clue as to where Tony had gone.
'DiNozzo, call me,' was all he'd said. Gibbs winced at hearing the anger and irritation in his own voice. He hadn't meant to sound like that. He was just worried. He opted to delete the message, and wished there was a way to do the same with the message he'd left on Tony's cell phone. Despite his second and third wives' insistence that he had no decent communication skills, Gibbs was painfully aware that his tone would not help fix whatever the hell was wrong that had Tony leaving the way he had.
The second message was from a man. Gibbs didn't recognize the voice and the caller didn't identify himself. There was just a hint of an accent in the words, but not enough for Gibbs to pin down anything specific. What really bothered him was the obvious affection and warmth in the speaker's voice. Whoever it was clearly knew Tony well.
"Sorry I missed your call, Tony. On the off chance that you'll get this before you leave...yes, the key is in the usual place. I know, I know, a fake rock next to that stupid garden gnome I have yet to find a way to accidentally destroy is not an imaginative hiding place. But it's worked for years, right? So why mess with it?"
There was as soft laugh. "If I'm not there, just help yourself. And for the last time, Tony, you own the place, of course you can use it if you want."
Gibbs frowned. The message was clearly not intended to be cryptic, but it raised more questions than it answered for him. Owned what place? Where? Who the hell was this guy?
He could set McGee to tracking down those answers. Have him research Tony's personal finances, get the phone log and find out who he'd called and when. But all that seemed a bit excessive, even to him. It would draw unnecessary attention to the fact that he really didn't know where Tony had gone. At the moment, all his team knew was that Tony was taking the week off. They didn't know he'd left Gibbs out of the loop. And he wasn't about to tell them differently.
Waiting until Tony got back seemed like the only real option. Gibbs hated waiting.
************* **************** **************
McGee glanced over at Tony's desk again for what had to be the hundredth time that day. He'd missed the other man. Five days without Tony around was reminiscent of his being out recovering from the plague. McGee didn't care for the comparison.
He wasn't quite sure how the hell he could miss Tony when he wasn't there, and hate having to put up with his teasing when he was. Tony was one big freaking paradox, McGee decided.
The office was quiet without him there. No faint sounds of clicking buttons while Tony played video games on his phone, no commentary while browsing online at erotic websites, no crumpled paper being shot into waste baskets scattered around the room. He was used to Tony's antics now, and the silence made it hard to concentrate.
Tony taking time off had come as a complete surprise. His injury hadn't seemed all that serious. McGee had seen him keep working with concussions, scrapes and bruises. Ziva said he'd only cut his arm on a box, but the doctor's report confirmed the injury had been a gunshot wound and had taken twelve stitches. He wasn't sure why she lied, but McGee could guess. It was fun to jerk Tony's chain some times, give him a taste of his own medicine.
All Gibbs had said was that Tony would be out for the week. McGee had expected Tony to call and check in, bored out of his mind at home. But so far no calls, no e-mails, nothing. He'd tried calling Tony's house three days ago, and had only gotten the machine.
McGee mentioned making the call to Gibbs, wondering if he should be worried. Gibbs said Tony wasn't home. So where the hell was he? McGee had been too afraid to ask that aloud.
The last time McGee had seen Tony was the right after their last case. He'd been at his desk one minute, the rest of them laughing and joking about the dinner party at Ziva's and then he was just gone. Ziva had left just a moment or so after McGee realized Tony was missing. He just assumed Ziva met up with him at the elevator or downstairs or something. She was supposed to be driving him home and making him dinner.
McGee figured Tony would have something planned to get even for his not being invited to the party. It had been a bit mean and petty to leave him out, but it was so rare that McGee got one up on Tony, he hadn't been able to resist. He knew how much Tony hated to be left out.
McGee had been a bit leery of what he might find at work the next day. But an empty desk hadn't been at all what he expected.
Ziva had seemed as surprised as everyone else when Tony wasn't at work. McGee wondered why Tony hadn't said anything to her over dinner. He wondered why Tony hadn't said anything to him either. Even Abby hadn't known Tony was taking a week off. That wasn't like Tony at all.
He refocused his attention on his computer screen when he spotted Gibbs. The former Marine had been very short tempered all week. He'd snapped at everyone for just about anything. And McGee really didn't want to give him an excuse to yell at him.
On one hand he was glad it was a slow week, with no new cases. McGee already knew first hand working without Tony was far more difficult than working with him. The man could be decidedly immature and down right juvenile, but he was no slouch as an investigator. And he always managed to carry his share of the work load.
On the other hand, no new cases meant little or no time away from Gibbs. Helping out other teams, reviewing old cases and getting ready for court were not the former Marine's favorite things to do. Gibbs was testy on a good day, and it hadn't been a good day since Tony hadn't shown up for work.
McGee knew Abby had run a GPS triangulation on Tony's cell phone. Unfortunately, Tony hadn't used his cell since he left or had it turned off. She hadn't gotten a signal yet that would give them any idea where he might be.
Tony's car didn't have LoJack or she'd have probably tried that too. It seemed wrong to McGee that they'd track Tony down when the man obviously didn't want them to know where he was. Tony had never made a secret of his whereabouts before. In fact he seemed to delight in giving them too much information.
McGee had suggested Abby just ask Gibbs. That hadn't gone over very well. He was pretty sure if looks could kill, he'd have been a pile of ash.
She did pull Tony's phone records, which McGee thought a bit extreme, but it didn't stop him from reading over her shoulder. Tony had made one phone call the night, or rather the morning, he left. The number was to a Michael Capanzini in Grottoes, Virginia. Grottoes was a small town on the west side of Shenandoah National Park, not far off state highway 340. McGee had to look it up since he'd never heard of it.
It was by all accounts a sleepy little town of about two thousand people. Founded in the last 1700's, it boasted thriving industries at one time, but now subsisted on tourism. McGee had no idea why Tony would have called anyone who lived there. He never mentioned any one named Michael Capanzini that McGee could recall.
Abby had wanted to call the man and ask him if he knew where Tony was. McGee tried to talk her out of it. It wasn't like Tony was officially missing. No report had been filed. And Gibbs knew where he was. Or at least he sure acted like he did.
He tried to convince her that they couldn't just call a total stranger and demand answers. And he really didn't think Tony would appreciate them poking around his phone record, good intentions notwithstanding.
Abby was determined to talk to this Michael Capanzini. She'd tried several times already. But each time she'd only gotten an answering machine, one with a computerized voice that told them nothing about the man they were calling. Abby had been unwilling or unable to leave a message when she didn't know for certain who was going to get it.
He knew she was going to call again today. He checked the clock on his monitor. Abby told him her what time she planned to call. He had ten minutes to get to her lab if he wanted to be there to listen in.
Gibbs was getting up for another cup of coffee. McGee figured now as good a time as any to slip out and head down to Abby's lab. Ziva gave him a suspicious look, but McGee ignored it.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he made it to Abby's lab. She glared at him. "You are late."
"I am not."
"Yes. You are."
McGee decided it was better to just quit now while he was ahead. She'd been nearly as snappish as Gibbs lately. Tony not calling her had really pissed her off. And she had been nearly frantic all week trying to find him. She dialed the phone, putting it on speaker and waited with barely concealed impatience.
She cursed when it was the answering machine again. She used more force than necessary to end the call. Abby slammed the cordless back into its cradle.
"Why don't you leave a message?"
She glared at him. "This is the last guy Tony spoke to, McGee. He could be an axe murderer or something. I'm not just going to leave a message."
"Technically he's not the last person Tony spoke to." McGee felt compelled to point out. "According to the phone records, Tony's last call was to Gibbs."
She held up a finger. "Do not split hairs with me."
"And I don't think this Michael guy is an axe murderer, Abby." McGee shook his head. "Tony's called this guy an average of once a month. He's probably just a friend."
"A friend he's never told us about." She huffed. "We're his friends, McGee. He tells us everything."
"Evidently not." McGee bit his lip. It wasn't like he told Tony everything. He winced thinking about the whole dinner thing.
"You could just ask?"
"I am not asking him where Tony is." Abby glared at him. "Gibbs should be willing to share that information. We all worry. He should know that by now."
McGee wanted to point out that the second ?B' stood for bastard but refrained. He didn't want Abby to smack him.
"Tony will be back on Monday," McGee offered. It was small consolation, but it was really all they had to go with.
"Why didn't he call me? He always calls." Abby sighed. She looked so dejected.
"I'm sure it wasn't personal, Abby." Tony wasn't the type to be deliberately cruel. At least not to Abby.
"I just want him to come home."
McGee pulled her into a hug. "Me too, Abby, me too."
Story Notes:
Story is definitely gen. But some people have read it as pre-slash. Up to you really. See what you want to see.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I didn't care for the ending of Boxed In. And this little story was born. And is proving to be a not so little story.
Chapter End Notes:
Story is definitely gen.