Tony checked his appearance in the mirror, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. Clothes didn't make the man, but people definitely responded to appearances. A suit, silk tie and four hundred dollar shoes had gotten a doorman to call him 'sir', a cab to stop in a bad neighborhood, a second glance from a pretty girl.
Perception often became reality. If he looked professional, he stood a better chance of getting treated that way. He knew it was all smoke and mirrors, nothing of substance. But Tony readily admitted to himself, knowing people thought better of him when he was in a suit than when casually dressed was just the little boost of confidence he wanted to start the day with.
He was desk bound until the stitches were removed tomorrow. It meant he wouldn't have to worry too much about ruining the Armani suit. Assuming, of course, he didn't open any infected letters again. It still bothered him that they'd destroyed his other one. It had been one of his favorites.
Tony sighed softly, thinking about last night. He really had been surprised to see Gibbs staking out his apartment when he'd gotten home. "Could have knocked me over with a feather," Tony murmured to himself.
Gibbs was brutally honest on a good day, and he'd never outright lied to Tony. So Tony decided to take him at his word. He really had been worried. Gibbs hadn't used the resources at his disposal to track him down out of respect rather than hubris.
The fact that Gibbs had even said the words, 'I'm sorry', was something remarkable. Tony couldn't remember the former Marine ever saying them before, to anyone.
But he knew better than to assume his well being would ever be Gibbs' main priority. The job always came first with the older man. Always.
Kate told Tony when he'd been chained to Jeffrey White, Gibbs said he hadn't lost an agent yet and he wasn't going to let Tony mess up his record. Finding him had never been exclusively about Tony at all; it was about Gibbs record and stolen artifacts that made the U.S. look bad. The same could be said about the last case. Gibbs might have been worried about him and Ziva, but he was probably more concerned with finding the weapons they'd been looking for.
Tony shook his head. Hell, he hadn't even been trapped in the sewers for a day when Gibbs had given his desk to McGee to use. So if they'd gotten a case, he had no doubts that Gibbs would have tracked him down and ripped him a new one before putting him to work. And he was okay with that. It was normal for Gibbs. The former Marine didn't play favorites, or pretend to be friendly. He treated everyone the way he felt they needed to be treated to get them to do their best.
Not calling in had been a deviation from the norm. Tony hadn't honestly thought it would be cause for worry. In the past, when he'd called in on vacation, Gibbs always sounded annoyed to hear from him, as though he hadn't wanted to be bothered. And when out on sick leave recovering from the plague, Gibbs hadn't seemed overly concerned about him. The former Marine hadn't called or stopped by or even sent an e-mail.
Kate and McGee hadn't either. They didn't seem to have missed him at all as far as he could tell. It was just business as usual. He should have caught a clue then.
Abby had seemed delighted to have him back, but recent events had Tony calling his own perceptions into question. Abby was just naturally exuberant and wired on caffeine most of the time. It didn't mean anything that she was happy to see him. He never should have assumed it did.
Hell she was happy to see him after he and Ziva had been missing, but she hadn't even noticed he wasn't at Ziva's dinner party. And McGee had looked proud to have gotten one over on Tony. Palmer probably felt the same way, although, he and Tony so rarely interacted it was hard to know for sure.
Tony didn't know if Ducky had been there but it was a safe bet he had been. It only made sense. Ziva liked Ducky. Everyone liked Ducky, as opposed to the 'tolerated for the job sort of reaction' Tony got.
Tony pointed at his reflection. "Never were the sharpest tool in the shed, were you, DiNozzo."
He pulled on his overcoat. He filled his travel mug with his favorite blend of coffee. He grabbed his pack and headed out the door.
Tony let the Mustang warm up, sipping his coffee as the windows defrosted. The stitches still pulled a little when he shifted, but his arm no longer hurt to use. It would be one more scar to add to his collection.
Tony stopped at the bank on his way to the office. He always kept some cash on him, just in case. Making a living tracking other people, had made him more conscious of paper trails. So he habitually kept enough money in his wallet to buy a full tank of gas, find a place to stay, and buy dinner. Tony rarely used his credit card for anything. If he didn't have cash, he didn't buy it.
Nodding to himself, Tony withdrew a little extra. He put the extra in his suit coat pocket. It was time he paid up on those debts left outstanding. It had been okay to owe friends. Ultimately, he always planned to pay up, but friends were willing to make allowances or accept excuses. Owing coworkers or casual associates was not really acceptable.
Tony usually arrived at the office between six thirty and six forty five. Until Ziva had joined the team, he was often the first one in.
As he went through the metal detector, the guard nodded to him. "Good to see you again, Tony."
"You too, Allan." Tony smiled at the older man. He was on a first name basis with all the security staff. Although, spending late nights at the office he was more familiar with the night shift than day.
"Heard you were out sick." Gray eyes gave him a frank appraisal. "You feeling all right now?"
"Yeah, Allan. I'm good." Tony patted Allan on the shoulder. "No worries."
"Thought it might have been a relapse," Allan confessed, still looking a bit concerned.
"Nah. Nothing like that." Tony collected his gun and backpack from the belt. "Just didn't want to be desk bound after getting shot in the arm."
Allan's eyes widened. "Didn't know you'd gotten shot."
"Just a graze." Tony made a dismissive motion with one hand. It was one thing to play up his injury for sympathy among his teammates but he didn't like to have people really worry about him. "Have to qualify on the shooting range again and I can't do that until I get the stitches out. Made more sense to me to just take the week off."
"Damn, Tony." Allan shook his head. "You gotta take better care of yourself."
"Trying to, Allan." Tony smiled. "I'm trying." Taking the week off and staying at the cabin had definitely been a good start. Putting his plan in motion would be the next step.
Tony got on the elevator. He held the door for Marissa, the Director's personal assistant. She smiled at him, warm and inviting.
"Good to see you back, Tony."
"Nice to be back."
Marissa was a lovely woman. Dark curly hair nicely accentuated her cafe au latte skin and stunning brown eyes that were highlighted with flecks of gold. She had a great figure, slim and athletic, and a quirky sense of humor which made her even more appealing to Tony.
It was a shame he'd mentally marked her off the list of date material. It had taken him awhile, but he'd learned not to date women he worked with, even if they weren't on the same team. It caused way too many problems when things went bad. He still liked to flirt with her and she gamely played along, enjoying the attention.
He leaned in slightly and caught the scent of her perfume. She tilted her head, arching her neck, giving him greater access. He gave her a wink, "Very nice."
"Thank you." Her eyes dropped enough for her to look up coyly from under her lashes.
They immediately adopted neutral expressions when the elevator announced the floor. When the doors opened, Tony made a graceful hand gesture, inviting her to precede him. She did, walking a way with a bit more hip action than necessary, nicely showcasing her ass. Tony shook his head. It really was too bad they worked in the same building.
He headed for his desk, dropping his backpack next to it. He powered up his computer. There would be dozens of e-mails. There always were. Most of them would be crap he never read, although, he now made a point of reading memos that came from the Director.
Who knew she'd be so touchy about being addressed as ?Madame Director'? Tony snickered to himself. Somehow the title always conjured up an image of her in leather with a whip. It was either that or her in a red lace teddy in a room full of courtesans preparing for a burlesque show. He'd pay good money to see either one.
Tony's focused on weeding through the crap that had accumulated in the week he'd been gone when McGee arrived. He didn't look up or acknowledge the other agent until McGee stopped in front of his desk.
"Tony...You're back."
"Sharp observation there, McGee." Tony responded automatically, keeping his tone dry. "Going to make a trained investigator out of you yet."
McGee rolled his eyes. He grinned. "How's the arm?"
Tony shrugged. "It's fine." He turned his attention back to his computer.
McGee seemed disconcerted. He clearly hadn't expected Tony to stop with such a short answer. It was a bit mystifying to Tony why McGee initiated the conversation at all. The last time he'd been out on sick leave McGee hadn't said one word to him when he'd come into the office. And on any given day, it was usually Tony who started their conversations. Just more proof, Tony told himself, that we aren't really friends.
McGee fidgeted in front of Tony's desk. "Did you...ah...have a good week?"
"Yeah, I did." He knew McGee expected him to expound, but Tony wasn't going to tell him about the cabin. And he wasn't in the mood to make up a story. Besides, it wasn't like McGee wanted to hear anything about his life outside the office anyway.
Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out the bills he'd put in there. He offered them to McGee. "Here."
McGee frowned, hesitantly reaching out to take the money. "What's this?"
"What I owe you." Tony thought he had the count right, but he hadn't watched things as closely as he should have. Not that it mattered from here on out; he wouldn't be borrowing from or betting with McGee any more.
"What you owe me?" McGee repeated slowly, looking befuddled, forehead furrowed as he looked down at the money.
"Yeah." Tony shrugged. "You might want to count it. Make sure it's enough."
McGee stared at him. He probably never expected to get paid back. Tony added the lack of faith and trust to the list of reasons why they weren't really friends. He'd never deliberately stiffed anyone. McGee should have known that.
McGee tried to hand the money back to him. "You don't have to?"
"Yes, I do." Tony shook his head, pushing McGee's hand away. "It's yours."
McGee looked confused, but nodded slowly. He pocketed the money without counting it. Tony mentally shrugged. If the debt wasn't paid in full, it wasn't his fault.
McGee went to his desk. He kept shooting puzzled and concerned glances at Tony. Tony chalked it up to his just not acting the way he normally did. But then McGee hadn't liked him much the other way either. Contrary bastard, Tony thought. At least this took a lot less effort on his part.
Gibbs strode in, coffee in hand. "We've got a body."
The former Marine looked around. "Where the hell is Ziva?"
"Here." She rounded the corner, looking frazzled and out of breath. Tony wondered if she'd missed the bus again, but didn't ask.
Gibbs gave her a hard look, but didn't comment. He reached into his desk and then tossed a set of keys to McGee. "Get the truck ready to go."
"DiNozzo."
Tony stood. "Yeah, Boss?"
"Give Ducky the address." Gibbs offered him a slip of paper with the location of the body. Tony gave it a glance glad he'd learned to decipher Gibbs' handwriting years ago.
"Have Ducky meet us there."
"Will do."
"I call you when we have more details."
Tony nodded. Doing research in the office was not nearly as much fun as being in the field, but at least he'd still be contributing to the team. Ziva looked a bit confused as to why he wasn't going with them. Tony didn't bother to enlighten her. Gibbs or McGee would explain it if she asked.
She followed McGee as he headed for the elevator. Tony gave her points for catching on fast about not getting left behind.
Gibbs stopped by Tony's desk. He smiled. "Nice to have you back, Tony."
Tony tipped his head in acknowledgement. "Nice to be back."
And it was, he realized with a smiled. He still loved this job, no matter how messed up his relationship with his coworkers might be. It was still better than what he'd had in Philadelphia or Baltimore.
He was glad the rest of them would be out of the office though. It definitely made things a lot easier for now.
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