Gibbs sighed softly, reviewing the case file in front of him. According to McGee's final count, which was confirmed by Petty Officer Warren's confession, a total of three million, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars had been stolen from the Navy. The bulk of it had been recovered and was still being logged as evidence. What they couldn't recover outright was in Warren's apartment; hanging in the closet or part of his entertainment system set up.
For all Warren's skill with numbers, he was no murderer. That much was blatantly obvious. And fortunately could be corroborated by what McGee and Ziva had found out at the bar.
The bartender at The Hayloft not only remembered Earl Kinsac, he remembered the altercation that probably killed him. He reiterated the same story he'd evidently told Warren when the Petty Officer had come looking for his brother. Kinsac, after drinking heavily for more than an hour, hit on a biker's girlfriend, something said biker objected to---forcefully. He'd slammed Kinsac's head several times into the solid brass rail that decorated the top of the bar.
The bartender hadn't thought much of the incident, telling Ziva, "Guy was drunk, and Darien's a big dude. Figured the combination was enough to put the other guy down for the count. I thought he'd be safe enough sleeping it off in the alley for a bit. Less trouble to leave him there until Darien and his old lady left. When another guy showed up looking for him, I told him what happened and where he could find his buddy. Figured he made it home okay since they didn't come back in."
Gibbs suspected Ziva had come very close to hurting the bartender for his callous disregard. The man hadn't even considered the possibility Kinsac might be seriously injured, or that leaving an unconscious man outside in the middle of winter could result in his dying from exposure. Gibbs shook his head. Some days he really hated people just on principle alone.
Fortunately for the bartender, locating 'Darien' hadn't been hard to do. The man didn't deny 'smacking some sense' into Kinsac as he put it. Until McGee informed him he was being arrested for murder, the man thought he was being charged with assault and battery and was muttering about how he'd get back at the 'pansy ass for siccing the cops on me'.
Darien and everything related to Kinsac's murder, with the exception of the money, had been turned over to local law enforcement. Gibbs hoped they'd be able to get a conviction, but given the damage Warren had done to his brother's body, it was a toss up. Darien and the bartender would probably be charged with negligent homicide. There were enough witnesses to the beating and abandonment in the alley to get at least that much to stick. Murder one would be a reach that most prosecutors wouldn't even bother trying to make.
Gibbs closed the file. It wouldn't be complete until the team's summations were included. Ducky's final autopsy report wouldn't be available until tomorrow, and by then the others should have finished their own paperwork.
Abby told Gibbs she planned to stay late to get every single serial number documented. Having lost Ziva and McGee when they went to the bar to check out Warren's story, she still had a lot record. She'd asked for help, big blue eyes flickering toward Tony's desk when she did. Cataloging evidence was something they'd done together many times, catching up with one another and covering all sorts of topics at the same time. Helping each other out was one of the ways Tony and Abby became friends when the younger man joined the team. Gibbs knew Tony wouldn't refuse her silent request, so Gibbs did it for him; Tony had already logged enough hours.
Gibbs gave her Ziva instead. Ziva was making the effort to be a true team player. And for the most part, she'd been doing rather well, but Abby still had yet to completely accept her. Scuttlebutt had it Ziva and Abby had gotten into a fight when shortly after Gibbs had been caught in an explosion and was then in a coma for several days. Gibbs didn't want the details; he just wanted them to work it out. Spending a little time together should help them iron out their differences, and maybe find some common ground.
Gibbs looked up to survey the bullpen, unconsciously checking on Tony, making sure the younger man was still sleeping peacefully. Or at least as peacefully as you can in a chair, Gibbs thought with a wry smile. He should have told him to find somewhere to lie down.
He caught McGee sending a concerned glance toward Tony. Under normal circumstances dozing off would have warranted a head slap and a scathing remark. Gibbs wasn't known for his tolerance of goofing off on the job.
"It's not what it looks like, Boss," McGee said softly, light blue eyes meeting Gibbs' warily, his expression earnest.
Gibbs arched an eyebrow, surprised by McGee's effort to defend Tony. He kept his voice low, tone dry when he casually noted, "It looks like DiNozzo is sleeping."
McGee winced. "Okay...so it is what it looks like, but it's not what you think."
"And what do I think, McGee?"
"That he's wasting time. That he's slacking off." McGee stood and approached Gibbs' desk. He wasn't quite whispering, but he was definitely doing his best not to draw attention to himself or disturb Tony. "He's got a really good reason for sleeping at his desk, Boss. He does."
"And you know this because?" Gibbs made a 'go on' motion with one hand, curious to hear what McGee had to say.
"When you were checking out Kinsac's car and hotel room, Agent Stoddard stopped by." McGee shifted his weight nervously. "She said she wanted to thank Tony for helping them with a case. She made it sound like they couldn't have solved it without him. I think Tony might have been here all night."
"He was."
"You already knew?" McGee blinked. "Of course you did. Tony told you."
"No, he didn't." Gibbs shook his head. Tony only ever mentioned his 'campfires' with other teams if Gibbs brought it up first. He rarely offered any information.
McGee frowned. "Why wouldn't he tell you---" He swallowed hard. "You aren't pissed that he helped out another team, are you?"
"Do I look pissed?"
"With you, some times it's hard to tell," McGee muttered, looking just a bit horrified when he realized he'd said that aloud.
Gibbs couldn't resist giving McGee an evil, little smile. He liked honest. Especially when it wasn't something he was expected to overhear.
He softened his smile. "I'm not pissed Tony that helped out another team." That Tony didn't get any sleep as a result was another matter. And he wasn't pissed, he was concerned. There was a difference.
McGee studied Gibbs' face before sighing and nodding. He bit his lower lip. "So if you don't mind Tony helping out another team, and you knew about it, why didn't he just tell you he was here all night?"
"Because he's not looking for me to make excuses for him."
"But?"
"Do you want me to cut you slack?" Gibbs asked, arching an eyebrow. "Make allowances? Maybe let things slide for you?"
McGee looked offended. "No."
Gibbs nodded, seeing McGee understood. All his agents took pride in meeting or exceeding Gibbs' expectations. No one who worked with him and lasted for more than a few months wanted him to go easy---it meant they didn't or couldn't measure up. It was an insult and meant they couldn't be trusted to get the job done. They learned not to make excuses, and ultimately wouldn't accept them either. Part of not apologizing really boiled down to not needing to apologize in the first place.
"You want me to wake him up?"
"No." Gibbs shook his head. If anyone was going to wake Tony it would be him. "Go home, McGee."
"Home?"
"You did good today, Tim." Gibbs stood up, reaching out to lightly pat his shoulder. "Go home."
"Are you sure I shouldn't go help?"
"Positive." There was no need for McGee to stay. Abby and Ziva would probably appreciate the help, but having Tim around would skew the dynamics. Better they were left to their own devices for tonight.
McGee nodded slowly. He went back to his desk, powered down his computer and grabbed his backpack. He hesitated, looking at Tony again. It was reassuring to know McGee cared, to have that small proof of friendship, but Gibbs just wanted him gone.
"Go, McGee." Gibbs ordered softly.
McGee bobbed his head. "Good night, Boss."
"Good night." Gibbs stepped over to Tony's desk. Before he could even reach out to touch his shoulder, Tony's eyes opened.
Green eyes stared at him blankly, making Gibbs smile. Tony could and often did come awake with fight or flight instinct fully engaged, but when relaxed and feeling secure in his surroundings Tony was usually slower to respond, taking his time to really become conscious.
Gibbs put a hand on Tony's shoulder. "You awake?"
"Yeah." Tony blinked, focusing on Gibbs before he smiled warmly. "You need something, Jethro?"
The use of his first name told him all he needed to know about just how awake Tony truly was. He had never used Gibbs first name anywhere but in private. So while he looked coherent, he probably wasn't. Gibbs wished they were anywhere else---the car, the elevator, his bedroom---anywhere he could just take advantage of that half asleep state. Gibbs sighed and forced himself to maintain a polite distance so anyone watching video feed from the camera wouldn't see anything unusual.
"It's time for us to go home, Tony."
Tony frowned, tensing as he looked around, now wide awake. Seeing their location, he grimaced, rubbing his face. He winced when he sat up straight, tilting his head right and then left to work out the kinks his position had no doubt caused.
Tony looked at his watch. "Shit...didn't mean to sleep for so long."
Gibbs rolled his eyes. Tony had only nodded off a little over an hour ago. Before falling asleep he'd pulled together most of the stuff Gibbs had been reviewing in the case file, fielded a few phone calls, and had gotten another Caf-Pow for Abby.
"Just let me get my report finished and I'll--"
"No."
Tony raised both eyebrows. "It won't take me--"
"No."
"But--"
"Tony, it can wait until tomorrow."
Tony looked doubtful. For all his tendencies to goof off with computer games and pointless conversation, Tony was very conscientious when it came to his paperwork. Not that anyone but Gibbs knew it. Tony liked to surprise his teammates, making tasks look effortless and easy, preferring to do a lot of his work late at night when no one could see. And goofing off during the day made it a lot easier to maintain the facade of a carefree, frat boy. Although, given what McGee had recently discovered about Tony's work ethic, it was going to be harder for Tony to pull that off in the future.
"McGee's isn't done. Ziva's either. Abby hasn't finished logging in all the money. And Ducky's final autopsy report won't be on my desk until tomorrow."
"And you're okay with that?" Tony gasped, eyes twinkling it was what an obvious tease. "Letting them get away with taking more than a day to finish up a case." Tony tsked. "What will the Director say?"
Gibbs smirked. "That we cost too much in overtime."
"We're salary." Tony grinned. "We don't get overtime."
Which was why Tony shouldn't have to worry about 'making up time' when he had to step out for a doctors appointment or needed to run errands. But he did anyway. Hanging around the office made him fair game for everyone needing help who wouldn't approach when Gibbs was around. Gibbs decided he was going to have to find away to stop that. And getting Tony to agree to spending every night together might just be the way.
"Home." Gibbs stated, leaving no room for argument.
"Home, it is." Tony agreed with a smile. He stood up and shrugged into his heavy coat. "Mine, yeah?"
"Yours." Gibbs agreed. They traded off where they spent the night when they spent it together. Gibbs wouldn't admit it, but he preferred Tony's bed to his own...or rather he had until Tony had sprung for several of sets of high end sheets and a new comforter.
Together they headed for the elevator. Gibbs took advantage of their being alone in it to offer his hand to Tony. He loved the way Tony's hand fit so well with in his. All of his wives had such small hands, he was almost afraid to hold too tightly for fear of hurting them. Tony's hands were strong and capable, and always warm.
Gibbs was tempted to reach for the emergency stop button, but resisted. If he started anything now, without a pressing case and a mostly empty building, he'd give in to those basic urges that good sense argued against. Sex in an elevator wasn't something he really wanted. Sex in an elevator was for guys whose knees didn't ache every time it rained. And the romantic in him wanted time to enjoy the afterglow.
"Won't take that long to get home. Half an hour tops."
Gibbs chuckled. "Have I always been so easy to read?"
"Always...no." Tony grinned, leaning over to give Gibbs a quick peck on the cheek. "But I am getting better at it."
Better all the time, Gibbs thought with a fond smile. He winced when Tony yawned wide enough to make his jaw pop. "You okay to drive?"
Tony nodded. "I'm okay to drive."
Gibbs studied him. "I'll follow you."
"Mother hen," Tony muttered, sounding more affectionate than annoyed.
"I prefer cautious."
"More like overbearing."
Gibbs countered, "Concerned is more accurate."
"Uh-hunh." Tony snorted. "Semantics."
Gibbs laughed. "And it is so important."
"That it is." Tony's eyes sparkled. "Love you."
Gibbs squeezed Tony's hand. "I love you, too."
Author's Chapter Notes:
Wrap up details of the case. Gibbs and Tony head home.