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Chapter Text

It was directly after yet another terrorist case. A murdered radio DJ, a mailman gone postal, and a grill bomb that was narrowly deadly but managed only a few superficial injuries. Tony’s voice had healed after a weekend of stand-down and saying absolutely nothing to anyone during that time. Sometimes the team went out for drinks after big cases, but this one, everyone just wanted to go home and get some rest, or do whatever they did to unwind. Tony wasn’t sure if Ziva ever really unwound, but he didn’t put it past her to go axe-throwing or do something equally unhinged after a case. But that wasn’t his focus at the moment.

No, his focus was staring at a blank Word document on his computer in the bullpen, trying to come up with a pleasant way to resign considering everything that had happened over the past several years. Despite everything, he didn’t want to blindside Vance immediately, going nuclear option—maybe it was the fact that the man begrudgingly respected Tony at this point, maybe it was military school drilling in some manners and the urge to never leave without a two-weeks notice. Tony didn’t have anywhere to go after this, didn’t have any plans, but he was sitting here on a Monday morning while the rest of the team took their last vacation day to do fuck-all. Vance had ordered them to stand down, but Tony had spent the weekend standing down, thinking, and wondering what would have happened to him had he been five minutes earlier to Arthur Haskell’s house, and if the man had the time to kill Tony instead of dealing with his teenage daughter.

McGee and Ziva claiming they turned off the radio didn’t mean anything. They had been getting nastier and bolder with their pranks on him and he had let it slide in the past. But knowing how big of a breach this prank could be, he listened to the files first thing this morning. First of his own, to pinpoint when he remembered no longer hearing anything from his earwig, and then to the car’s, to see if his audio really had been turned off, or even down to negligible levels. If it was really just a prank, an out of pocket comment, he couldn’t let it slide, but he might be able to get them to see sense and never, ever do it again.

But he had pulled up the files from their preliminary reports, taken a listen to the car’s audio. He worked his jaw as he heard McGee and Ziva’s voices, chatting back and forth with each other while their line to him was muted. “He’s getting on my last nerve,” Ziva had insisted, stubborn to a fault and sounding like she wanted to murder someone, which was not all that uncommon anymore, but certainly wasn’t usual to this degree.

“He’s annoying, but he’s doing his job,” McGee had replied. There was the sound of a page turning. “It’s your turn to listen to him blather on, can’t you wait twenty more minutes?” Blather on. Tony couldn’t think of a word better suited to his emotions than pure, unbridled fury at that comment. They did realize he had access to these files?

But that didn’t matter, because he heard the flick of a switch and Ziva sighed. “He’ll be fine for twenty minutes on his own.”

“Ziva!” McGee yelped, and Tony winced at the shrillness in his headphones at that noise. He looked around at the bullpen, still empty, and looked over at the teams directly behind the partition, suddenly very glad he had elected headphones for this listen. “Look, give me the headphones. I’ll listen to him early, if it’s that big of a deal for you, but don’t turn off the receiver!” The flick returned, and there was a minor scuffle and the sound of tangled cords. “Ah, fuck—“ could be heard as there was the sound of a cord being unplugged, and then Tony could hear his own voice in the car.

“McGee, I swear to you, if you do not plug that back in right now—“

“Ziva, just give me the headphones and I’ll listen, but we need to have the receiver on if we want to keep our jobs!” At this point, Tony wasn’t surprised McGee was more focused on keeping his job more than keeping Tony safe, but it still stung to hear.

“I refuse to put up with his voice any longer! I can’t stand him!” Ziva insisted, flick of the switch, and then the car was silent.

Tony could envision it. Ziva staring, cold, crazed, and murderous at McGee, while McGee gulped inwardly even as he stared at Ziva aghast. “Give me the headphones,” McGee tried one last time.

“No,” Ziva said. “He’ll be fine on his own. I don’t want you to have to deal with him, either.”

“Ziva—“

“—Reach for the headphones one more time and I will cut off your fingers!” Ziva snapped.

“Fine! Fine,” McGee had said. Tony had shut off the audio at that point. He heard all he had needed to. They turned off the audio. For real. It didn’t matter if they had played it off as a prank to him. It didn’t matter if McGee got the headphones back, if he had regained the ability to listen five, ten, twenty minutes later. He had been left without backup for—he checked the timestamps. At least seven minutes.

He turned back to his own audio at the same timestamps. His blood ran cold as he realized it was at the exact time he had been talking to Art Haskell. He was incredibly lucky to have been delayed by what he had sworn was random static in his earwig, but what he now knew to be deliberate sabotage. He had gotten waylaid to make sure his mic was working properly without being able to call his teammates, or take off the device and reattach it. Otherwise he would have walked right up to that door, possibly spooked a stressed Arthur enough to kill him, and his teammates would have been none the wiser.

But Tony couldn’t risk his life like that again. He risked his life on the job every day, this was true, but he couldn’t go into this risking his life without backup. Backup was the reason he felt secure going in to do the impossible. Backup was the reason he knew that if he got hurt, he wouldn’t bleed out on the ground without having the person he was after be safe or detained. Backup was the sole purpose of McGee and Ziva on that day, and they had fucking screwed the pooch, stopped doing their jobs, and left Tony without backup. So here he sat.

With an empty Word document, and too many inflammatory words in his head to create an actual resignation.

“DiNozzo,” a smooth voice came from behind him. Tony turned. Director Vance was leaning on the back of the bullpen, observing him carefully. “I thought you were supposed to stand down today.”

“I was doing a…personal investigation, based on some behavior on the case. Wanted to make sure I had everything straight in my report, and needed a refresher.”

“Surely, that could wait until tomorrow?” Vance asked, but there was a clench in his jaw. He suspected FUBAR, and Tony felt a small gnaw of guilt knowing he was going to be the one to cause it.

“Sadly not, Director,” Tony said. “My suspicions had been confirmed. But that is all I will say without security measures in place.”

Vance’s jaw clenched harder. “My office?” Vance asked, tilting his head to the stairs.

“Might be prudent,” Tony agreed.

They made their way to the office, Vance quietly told Cynthia to redirect any calls and stall appointments as necessary. Tony was mildly surprised Vance was taking him seriously. He had thought the respect was begrudging, and maybe it had been at first, but Vance took him completely seriously now. In this moment, he was actually being listened to. He had forgotten what that had felt like.

So this situation was really FURBAR’d.

Vance and Tony walked into the director’s office, and the Director locked the door, leaning against the front of his desk. Tony felt the sense they were talking as equals, not as superior and subordinate in this moment. “Talk to me,” Vance said.

Tony took a breath. “Agents McGee and David made an off hand comment in the car that we took to the Royal Woods investigation. I had assumed it was a poorly thought-out joke, a prank of sorts that was simply in poor taste, but I needed to know for certain if that was the case or not. They claimed they had turned off the radio in the car, the one that allowed me communication with them.”

Vance worked his jaw, going to his desk drawer and pulling out a toothpick. “I promised my wife I would stop smoking, but by god is this making that promise hard,” he said at Tony’s questioning look. “You suspected it was not a prank; you said your suspicions were confirmed in the bullpen.”

Tony merely nodded.

Vance closed his eyes slowly, took a sharp inhale. “Fuck,” he said. He opened his eyes and took DiNozzo in. “You want out, I presume?”

“That would be correct, Director.”

“Is there anything I can do to persuade you to stay? A different team? You’re a damn fine investigator and it would be devastating to NCIS to lose you.”

Tony considered. “If word gets out I didn’t hold the line, my career in law enforcement is over. The only place that would accept me is IA, and no offence, Director, but I could not stand to investigate my own any more than I already have.”

Vance was displeased, but nodded. “Very well,” he allowed. “I will not let it be known that you were the one to blow it, DiNozzo, but I will say that I cannot stop the scuttlebutt any more than you can. Clearly.”

Tony nodded. “Word will get out I didn’t hold the line, but word will also get out as to why that is.”

“Believe me, when McGee and David are suspended without pay pending investigation, the whole Yard will talk.” Vance pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will write you a glowing recommendation should you need it, DiNozzo. We have had our differences, and I do not always approve of your approach to cases and levity. But I can’t deny that you are one of our finest. I presume you want to say your goodbyes in person to anyone you may be close to here?”

Tony nodded. “I don’t know if anyone here warrants the label of ‘close’ other than Jimmy Palmer and Doctor Mallard, Director, but I would like to speak to them individually before I leave.”

The Director nodded. “I won’t take your badge and gun until you have said your parting words to them, then. Just come back here when you’re done, and we’ll discuss your next steps, where I can send a recommendation. You wouldn’t happen to have any idea where you’ll go next?”

Tony laughed. “No clue,” he said with a sardonic smile. “Same as always.”

“If you want some recommendations for private firms, I can always lead you to who tried to recruit me,” Vance offered.

“I’m not even sure I like DC that much, Director.” Tony shrugged. “I’ll find something to do with my life, but I need some space to breathe, first.”

“Completely understandable,” Vance said with a crisp nod. “I am always a phone call or an email away. When you decide what comes next, if I can help…I’m here.”

“I appreciate it, Director,” Tony said, and the men shook hands.

“Best of luck, DiNozzo,” Vance said, voice not exactly warm but definitely not indifferent and cold as he had first been. “I anticipate I’ll see your name in the news some way or another over the next few years.”

Chapter Text

Tony was relieved when he walked into autopsy and didn’t see Ducky right away. Truth be told, he was a little scared of what the man might say, and wanted to talk to Palmer first anyway. Jimmy looked up with a small smile as he saw Tony walk in. “Hey, Tony. Something up? You look a little tense.”

Tony smiled, somewhat bitterly. “There’s a lot that’s gonna happen real quick, real soon, Palmer. Wanted to give you and the Duck-man a heads-up. One on one.”

Jimmy stared at Tony for a moment, seemingly uncomprehending. Then, he fussed with the cadaver he had been preparing for Ducky, and took off his gloves, tossing them into the trash. “Okay, spill,” he said.

Tony took a deep breath. He knew Palmer would never question him, but still, a small part of him worried how his friend would react to this sort of betrayal. “I’m leaving NCIS,” he said, voice scarcely above a whisper. “I can’t…I can’t do it anymore, Palmer. Not been able to trust that my six has been covered for a while, and I’m just realizing it now.”

Jimmy’s face was expressionless, betraying none of his thoughts. Tony remembered precisely why he never played poker with the autopsy gremlin. He had an awkward streak a mile long, chronic foot-in-mouth, but he never revealed secrets that were meant to be kept until the grave. Eventually, Jimmy simply nodded. “Good for you,” he said.

That…was not the reaction Tony had expected. “You…what?” he asked.

“Good for you. Everyone around the Yard talks to each other, Tony, you know? So many team leads have come to Ducky, asking him why he thinks you’ve stuck around. Word got out a while ago about you passing up Rota, and Ducky couldn’t explain the past Director’s issues without incriminating all of us in federal investigations, so he would say something along the lines of, ‘Perhaps there is something he feels is unfinished here,’ which—“

“—Oh, absolutely nobody bought that!” Tony laughed.

“Not a one!” Jimmy agreed, likewise laughing. But he sobered quickly. “Everyone wonders why you’ve taken it from Gibbs for so long, Tony. You leaving NCIS is gonna suck, I’m sure heads are gonna roll and Gibbs is going to be unbearable for a bit, but you deserve better. You deserve to be somewhere you’re respected. Good for you.”

Tony couldn’t help it, he offered a hesitant smile. “You know what? I do. I do deserve better.”

Jimmy nodded. “Now, I’m no profiler, but I know this wouldn’t have happened without reason. If Tim’s books weren’t enough for you to quit, I wonder: what is?”

Tony sucked on his teeth. “That’s a long story, Palmer.”

“I’ve got nothing but time, Tony,” Jimmy replied. “Doctor Mallard is on call with some of his friends over at the Feebs. Apparently some serial killer is running them ragged and Doctor Mallard, predictably, is expounding on why, precisely, this calling card is unusual. You know how he goes.”

“Yeah, I do,” Tony said. He walked over and sat on one of the examination tables, Jimmy sitting down next to him. Tony found himself staring at the cadaver, realizing that could have been him on the table. His heart hammered, and suddenly the room felt sweltering despite it being one of the few levels of NCIS that always had to be air conditioned, even by the backup generators. “McGee and David went too far, this time.”

Jimmy said nothing, just looked over at Tony, waiting for him to continue in his own time.

Tony appreciated that more than he could say.

“There was…the case last Friday we wrapped up.”

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah. Your throat’s feeling fine, by the way? I can’t believe I forgot to ask.”

“It’s fine as it ever is,” Tony said with a shrug. “Better than my lungs, at any rate.”

Jimmy grimaced and nodded.

Tony sighed. “I was out getting the voice prints, all day. That’s why I lost my voice. We weren’t taking shifts, because Boss said I was the one who knew how to get the phrases for voice prints we needed the fastest. And he was right, but maybe with a little coaching the others could have helped. It’s just—“ This was hard to admit, even now. Even to Tony’s best work-friend, possibly his best off-work-friend, too. “They turned the receiver off, Palmer. They…they let it continue recording but they stopped listening.”

There was the creak of metal as Jimmy leaned back, letting out a stunned breath. He looked at Tony, pale as a ghost. “But…but that’s…” Tony waited for the denial of events. He didn’t expect it from Palmer, but even as he was bracing for the sting, he was stunned at Palmer’s next words, “But you could have died, Tony! How dare they?!”

Tony had never seen Palmer go from pale to pissed, before, but he looked like he was about ready to march out of the Navy Yard, down to McGee and Ziva’s houses, and strangle them right this instant. Tony placed a hand on Palmer’s shoulder, and the man deflated, looking at Tony, before crushing him in a hug. “Oh my god, Tony.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Tony hugged back. “I’m not able to trust them after that,” Tony admitted. “Don’t know where I’ll go next, but I need outta here.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jimmy said, pulling out of the hug. He searched Tony’s face worriedly. “Does anyone else know?”

“I told Vance. The two stooges are going on administrative leave, pending investigation,” Tony said hollowly. “He let me see you and Ducky before I go, I wanted to put in my badge and gun today, I’ll probably use my accrued PTO in the interim while looking for a job.”

“Me and Ducky. Not Abby?” Jimmy asked.

Tony shrugged. “Ever since McGee wrote his book Abby’s been acting a little different,” he said. “I think she sees McGee as more capable, but also more a victim, than he really is. You know his books talked extensively about my pranks to him. A little hazing is normal, but I know he didn’t appreciate it.”

“It’s how he got accustomed to not puking at every scene,” Jimmy pointed out. “It’s how he got used to being ragged on by other agents with more experience than even you. It got him to stand up to Gibbs a couple times, Christ’s sake! Like, yeah, were some of your pranks making him bitchy? Sure. But that’s no excuse for what he did! Tell me he didn’t play it off as a joke. Tell me he didn’t equate the two.”

The brief flicker of guilt on Tony’s face was more than enough for Jimmy to turn red. “Before you go out and commit homicide, Autopsy Gremlin, I’d like to suggest that we let nature take its course,” Tony said. “Even if Gibbs doesn’t eat him alive, the rest of the agency will, sooner or later. You want to hit him where it hurts? Sue him for defamation over that damned book. It alienated the whole team, save Abby, because he was goo-goo over her and portrayed her as practically a goddess.”

Jimmy snorted. “Of course, I know I should,” he sighed, “I just don’t want to deal with all the drama that would cause in the building.”

“If he’s getting fired, and let’s be real, Palmer, he’s getting fired—there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” Tony asked.

Jimmy considered. “That’s a good point,” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to know someone?”

“I have my ways,” Tony said, with a suitably enigmatic air about him, enough to cause both men to crack a little smile at the ridiculousness of it all, despite the situation. “Yeah, I say we both can probably get a pretty penny, me for my likeness and you for defamation.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jimmy agreed. “Oh, are we still on for drinks?”

Tony nodded. “For a little while, ‘til I figure out where I’m going, yeah,” he said.

“It’ll suck not having you in town if you move. I get it, though,” Jimmy sighed.

Considering this, Tony sobered considerably. “I don’t want to leave you in the dust either, Gremlin.”

“You could probably write a book leagues better than Tim’s and invest the revenue,” Jimmy joked.

Tony considered. “Not a bad idea, but I have too much classified in my file to really write much,” he said. “At least if I draw from experience.”

“Not only murder mysteries are made into books,” Jimmy rightfully pointed out. “I’ve seen you cook. I’ve read your file pre-NCIS, pre-departments, you’d make a killing out of a memoir of being disowned and getting shipped off to military school.”

Tony laughed.

“I’m serious!” Jimmy said.

“I don’t want to be an author, Palmer,” Tony said.

“I know someone who knows someone at universities in the area,” Jimmy said. “Word on the street is that Georgetown could use some Film Studies professors. Think you’d be interested?”

Tony considered. “That’s a better idea than an author at any rate,” he said.

“Inspiring,” Jimmy said with an eye-roll. “I’ll call ‘em and see if they have any openings for interviews.”

“You’re a real one, Jimmy,” Tony said with a smile.

Jimmy clapped Tony on the shoulder. “Anything for my friends,” Jimmy said solemnly. “Now, I suspect you need to have a talk with Doctor Mallard, and I need to get this body prepped. I’ll see you for drinks, if not earlier, sound good?”

“Sounds fine,” Tony said, forcing himself to smile despite the bittersweet tone of the goodbye.

“Cool. And, Tony?” Jimmy asked, as Tony stood and headed towards the Examiner’s office, to cut into Ducky’s conversation.

Tony paused.

“It’s okay to feel sad. It’s okay to mourn the loss of this job,” Jimmy said. “You don’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to, and you don’t have to feel any specific way, or anything, but if you feel sad for having to go…I get it. And it’s okay.”

Tony turned halfway, smiled and nodded his thanks to Palmer, and headed into the office.

Chapter Text

Tony walked into the office of one of his favorite people at his (soon to be) former workplace, a troubled expression on his face. Still, he couldn’t help but smile as he heard Ducky go on and on to one of his coroner friends about the mysterious happenings in the Feeb’s morgue, and how it reminded him of this one time when he was in medical school…

Ducky spied Tony and held up a single finger. “—Anyway, Brandon, my good fellow, I’m sure I’ve given you enough to chew on. One of my dear friends just stepped into the office and it looks like he needs a good cuppa. I’ll discuss this more with you the next time you need me. Just—drop me a line. If not, I’ll see you at Bridge, understand?”

“Understood,” a gravelly voice came through the receiver. “Talk to you soon, Doctor Mallard.”

The man hung up and Ducky looked at Tony properly. “I know you’re not much of a tea drinker most days, dear boy, but you do look like you need a cup. Can I not persuade you?”

“I need more than a cup of tea, Duck-man, I need a proper stiff drink,” Tony said with a sigh.

Ducky looked up at Tony, turning to face him fully in his swivel chair. He gestured to the second chair in his office and Tony heavily sat.

“Whatever is the matter, dear boy?” Ducky asked.

Tony rubbed his hands together, feeling where his callouses from carrying a gun caught as they ran against each other. “McGee and Ziva turned off the radio in the Royal Woods case,” he said softly, head bowed.

Ducky said nothing for a long time, and Tony was a little worried inwardly. Out of all the people at NCIS, Ducky was the one most likely to take sides. Whether it was Tony’s side was a coin toss. And for Ducky, a man of so many words, to say so little… “Anthony dear, I fear I must have misheard you,” Ducky said at long last. “For what I heard was that Agents McGee and David left their supervising officer, their direct superior, high and dry in the field, without backup.”

Tony sighed, feeling a slight rattle in his chest at the heaviness of it. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Ducky gave Tony a grave look. “Oh, this is a grave matter indeed. Let me make you some tea, dear boy, if for nothing else than for any residual gruffness after losing your voice.”

Tony, rather than brushing Ducky off, let the man fuss over him briefly. After all, this was the last time he would be able to as a colleague. He offered a resigned nod.

Ducky busied himself with choosing a tea, muttering which ones were the best for sore throats, and which would work well with a spoonful of honey. Tony was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t even realize he was scowling until Ducky said, “Something else is bothering you, lad. What is it?”

Tony looked up at Ducky, and was suddenly struck with how frail the man looked. Oh, sure, he was strong, and stubborn, and arguably a genius with a memory like no other, but he was frail, too. He had lost friends, family, coworkers close and not, to accidents like what could have happened to Tony countless times. Ducky knew. He knew how close Tony’s brush with death was. And that, more than anything, frightened Tony. Ducky knew that Tony had almost landed on his table, for what would be allegedly the third time. But most certainly the final one. “I don’t want to add any more stress to your plate, Ducky. I don’t need you getting on Gibbs’ bad side on my account.”

Ducky’s resolve hardened. “You don’t worry about Gibbs, dear lad, I’ll handle him myself. Something is bothering you, and I want to be a part of your trusted circle. Gibbs comes secondary when a man is left without backup in this job.”

“It’s just…” Tony paused as Ducky passed him a warm cup of tea, and let the man put in a spoonful of honey. “They didn’t even try to hide it. They were blatantly joking about it when I got back to the car. They didn’t laugh, though Ziva smirked. But they were just so…so brazen, so uncaring that they left me out in the field. They didn’t adjust the recordings, they didn’t mess with the timestamps, I’d be surprised if their reports included any mention of even a feedback issue that would cause them to reset their equipment. They were so certain I would sit down and take their sick ‘prank’ like I’ve never had their six.” Tony took a sip of the tea, felt the honey coat his throat. He looked up at Ducky, at a loss. “I don’t understand what I did to cause this. Joking in the office is different than joking in the field, do they not understand that? One is mildly annoying, the other has the possibility to be deadly.”

Ducky looked at Tony with a deep, tender sadness. “It’s nothing you’ve done, dear boy. Nothing in the world justifies what they did to you out there.”

“I just can’t help but wonder, if I had been a little more strict, if I had ensured Gibbs told them to respect me—”

Ducky held up a finger. “Yeah, they left you without backup. And yes, Gibbs certainly has not been upholding the chain of command like he should. But Anthony, none of that is by anything you have done. You could have been the most obnoxious, misogynistic, womanizing jocks on the planet and that still wouldn’t justify what they did. No matter whether you like someone you’re protecting is irrelevant. What’s important is that the person you are protecting is just that—protected. They let you down, dear boy. And for that, I am so, terribly sorry.”

Tony didn’t know he had needed to hear that until his eyes were already stinging. He cleared his throat again, trying to rid it of the growing lump. He took another sip of tea. “I can’t stay,” he told Ducky regrettably. “After what they’ve done, after what will be said about me, I can’t stay here.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Ducky said solemnly. “Not to say you turn tail and run at the first inconvenience, quite the opposite—you have put up with far, far too much and you finally had the courage and the wherewithal to say, ‘Enough.’ And that, dear boy, is admirable. You will always be a friend to me, Anthony, make no mistake. You are welcome at my home at any time. Doubtless you spoke to Mister Palmer in Autopsy already?”

“I did,” Tony agreed. “He said he would put a word in for me at a local University about a teaching position. I’m wondering if I should go for an interview.”

“I think you would do marvelously in any profession, but I would love to see you teach the next generation,” Ducky said with a pleased smile. “Lord knows someone needs to teach the youth how to properly film. They don’t make movies like they used to any more. Why, actually—” Ducky caught himself, smiling. “Well, you don’t need to hear all of that, do you? What’s more, you probably know all about the movies I might have watched in my youth and why the industry turned away from practical effects more and more. You’re perhaps more well-versed in that area than I.”

Tony laughed. “I don’t think I could ever be more well-versed in something than you, Duck-man.”

“You’d be surprised, Tony,” Ducky said with a smile. “Finish your tea, my dear. Sit a spell. You’re going to need the peace and quiet before you head back upstairs, and I’ll give you all the time you need.”

Tony gave Ducky a thankful smile. They sat there, both of them with tea in hand, Tony explaining the benefits of CGI as opposed to practical effects as well as the drawbacks that digitizing the industry had which gave rise to certain problems. Ducky nodded along, listening to Tony’s every word, only interjecting with a question here or there to clarify. It felt good, being able to talk about something Tony was interested in without anyone there mocking him or trying to cut to the chase. It felt like he was meandering through a garden, or writing a college essay about the Rule of Thirds in film studies.

He loved the attention, but moreso he loved the fact that the attention was positive, and it was there. Ducky knew that he was an expert in this field, and deferred to him to answer. Something about that touched Tony. He hadn’t even realized he had been longing for some kind of respect until he had finally received it again.

That was sort of messed up to think about too hard, though. So instead of focusing on what lied ahead for him, he focused on the moment, the tea in his hand, and the friend he was spending his time with.

Chapter Text

Tony was relieved when he could drop off his badge and gun with Vance and leave before anyone cornered him. He was dreading when everyone else found out; he wasn’t willing to explain to everyone how badly the team had screwed up. Scuttlebutt would eviscerate the team by the time it reached the whole building but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was the least they deserved, after all, and he wouldn’t feel the tiniest bit bad if they came crawling back to him. He’d send them off if they did. Say his last goodbyes and kick them to the curb like last year’s Christmas fruitcake.

So he went home. Drove back by the scenic route, the one that allowed him to see parts of the city he didn’t usually see. He thought he might head from Dupont Circle to Adams-Morgan, check out some small Mom and Pop shops for the day—he knew of at least one book store he had been meaning to check out had Gibbs not ran him and the rest of the team too ragged to even want to read after work. The next movie he was looking forward to coming out wouldn’t be in theaters for another two months—best to get some of his reading in now before the holiday movies started making themselves at home in every movie theater known to Americans.

He had a resumé to update, and interviews to prepare for, but that was nothing new, not really. He had bounced around every two years for quite a while before showing up at NCIS. Really, what worried him most wasn’t whether he would get a new job, but whether he wanted to stay in the area. He knew the others knew the general area of where he lived—if they found out his actual place, he’d be in deep shit if they decided to camp out and harass him. He doubted the doormen would allow it, but they did tend to fold when shown a badge and the words “clandestine” and “confidential” showed up in conversation.

No job to get to, no movies he wanted to see, nothing on his schedule. He grabbed his shoes, a light coat, and, grabbing his house keys, he decided he was going to make the walk to Adams Morgan, rather than drive down and struggle with parking.

The weather was nice, crisp fall air, and only a few clouds in the sky, none of them promising rain. He stopped in a book store, grabbed a sci-fi book McGee had been going on about how he hated—and the thought of McGee didn’t even bring about any guilt, or sadness, or even anger. At this point, Tony just felt hollow. But most of the books McGee hated, Tony loved, so he grabbed it and resolved to give it a go that night. He grabbed some ingredients from the local Italian market, wishing for a taste of his childhood dinners, and on the way back, picked up what he needed to fix the deadbolt on his door, which he had complained to the owner of the complex about two months ago and he still had yet to hear a call from maintenance. Typical. Good thing Tony was good with his hands, or he’d be SOL for a while longer.

He went home, setting everything up for a feast of one for dinner, and was working on the deadbolt when he heard the ding of the elevator down the hallway. Knowing that he wasn’t expecting any company, and no one else would be home on a Monday afternoon, the hair on the back of his neck stood up on end, further confirmed that his fight-or-flight was valid when he heard one of the few voices he had wished so desperately not to deal with quite yet. “Tony DiNozzo! You have some explaining to do!” Abby.

Tony, still halfway in the hallway, knew he wasn’t going to fake his way out of the conversation. He closed his eyes, rested his head on the doorframe a moment, and then turned to Abby with a fake-polite grin and a, “Hey, Abs. I’m a little busy right now, can we have this discussion later? Off your lunch break?”

“There’s no time!” Abby said. She grabbed Tony’s bicep and insisted, “You need to come back to the Navy Yard and explain to everyone that Timmy and Ziva haven’t done anything! Everyone’s saying that something happened between you three!”

Tony bit back a laugh, instead turning to the deadbolt, wrenching his arm free, and continuing to work. “Gonna be a little difficult to dispel the rumors, Abs. I don’t work at NCIS anymore.”

“What?!” Abby all but shrieked, and Tony heard a baby start crying on the floor below them. Tony winced. “Tony, that’s not funny! Come on, I know you were told to stand down and you wanted to use your PTO but you’re the only one who can stop the rumors!”

“I’m not kidding, Abby. I resigned,” Tony said. “What NCIS scuttlebutt says about them, or me, is none of my business anymore. I’m tired of everything that’s been going on, the disapproval, the backhanded compliments, and the blatant disregard of my safety. I’m going to go to a job where either my partners have my six, or else I don’t need my six covered from the risk of bullets.” He shrugged. “Sorry to be the one to tell you, but NCIS is no longer my problem.”

Abby stood there, apparently shocked into silence for once in her life. Then, her face set in determination. “We can stop this, I can make sure that no one reads your resignation—“

Tony nipped that in the bud. “—I already gave my badge and gun to Vance this morning,” he said. “I’m done.”

“Well, you can at least let the office know Timmy and Ziva didn’t throw you to the wolves,” Abby said.

“That’s exactly what they did,” Tony said flatly. “That’s why I’m done.”

“You can’t—what?” Abby punched his arm, hard. “That’s not funny, Tony!”

“I’m serious, Abby. They turned the audio off in the car and left me to fend for myself. In a home-grown terrorist organization.” Tony sighed, shaking his head. “You can listen to the tapes yourself and see. The audio cuts out.”

“Come on, Tony, they wouldn’t! Not if you were in any real danger! They have your six!” Abby defended.

Tony felt a growl building up in his throat that he choked back with all his strength. “They have Gibbs’ six. Not mine. If they had my six, they would have listened when I said we should alternate people. They would have listened when I said that suspicious neighbor who looked at me like I was a deer he was hunting needed a background check that never happened. They would have listened to my audio and they didn’t.” The growl was stronger, and he let a fraction of it out in his frustration. Abby looked ready to push back, to fight for her team, and he realized by that set in her jaw that he wasn’t on it, and hadn’t been for a long time. Maybe even since Gibbs had left. “They left me in the wind, Abby. If anyone had done that to anyone else you wouldn’t have let them turn in the evidence before you keel-hauled them. But because it’s McGee and Ziva you turn a blind eye.”

“Gibbs will take care of it, then! You need to come back and make sure he deals with it!”

“Gibbs might yell. He might give them desk duty. But he sure as shit isn’t gonna back me up on this one, Abs. He hasn’t backed me up in five months, and the last time he backed me up wasn’t even case related, it was relating to how far away his coffee shop was. Do you understand how much that undermines my authority? Do you understand, Abs, that when he doesn’t back me up the others treat me like I’m a dunce and waltzed my way into second in command merely by being around the longest?! As Senior Field Agent, I should have been listened to. I wasn’t, they left me in the wind, so I decided to leave and go where I’d actually be respected.”

“And where’s that?” Abby challenged.

Tony shrugged with a fake megawatt grin. “Oh, you’d love to know, wouldn’t you? Sabotage my plans and have me come crawling back with my tail between my legs? Sorry, Ms. Sciuto, I’m afraid I’m not telling you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to fix my door here, and make the most of my couple days’ leave. You can go.”

“You need to fix this, Tony!” Abby insisted. “You can’t let the others lose their jobs over this!”

“Can. And will,” Tony said coolly. “The investigation into their actions is no longer any of my concern. They’ll get what’s coming to them at the end of the day, as will we all. Justice will be served, but I won’t be the one holding the ladle. I’m afraid that honor goes to Gibbs, Vance, and IA if Vance involves them, which, judging by my resignation, he likely will.”

“You can’t!” Abby gasped.

“It’s already done.”

“Well then call them off! Tell them you were lying!” Abby exclaimed.

Tony shook his head. “That’s doing a disservice to everyone in the agency.”

“They wouldn’t do that to anyone else, Tony, stop acting like it’s some big deal!” Abby said.

Tony was so done by this point. His smile faded, leaving hardened stone in its wake. “Anyone else, huh? So it’s fine when it’s me. Good to know. Abby, if you don’t leave now, I’m calling security. And if you come back, I’m calling the cops. The regular ones, who won’t be nearly as kind to you as NCIS is. I’m not coming with you, the only time I’ll be going to NCIS is for any interviews that IA might need. I would say it’s been fun, because it was, for a time, but knowing that you think I’m acceptable collateral, I’ll hold off on that statement for now.”

Abby huffed and stormed off. Tony wished that had gone better. But he was infinitely glad it hadn’t gone worse. She could have threatened him with fabricating evidence, and he knew she wasn’t above it. Hopefully Ducky or Jimmy could talk some sense into her before she got that idea herself, but until then, Tony went back to his deadbolt. He had to screw everything in place and make sure that it was McGee-proofed. Ziva-proofed was a myth, but he’d at least be able to hear her picking the lock and her agitated growling. McGee was quieter about it, and therefore more likely to get into Tony’s place leaving Ziva to shoot him.

The deadbolt tested successfully, he went back into his apartment and pulled up his laptop. Jimmy had sent him a forward of a job advertisement for a Movie Professor at Georgetown. Tony was tempted. He might need to move if Abby found his address and gave it to the others, but he wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t mighty tempting. He’d have to consider it more, but he did send in his application, on the off-chance he decided to move forward with it. Better to have it in and decline an offer than never shoot his shot.

You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take, Tony thought to himself. Could’ve sworn I heard that somewhere.

He pulled up the classic movie station on TV and noticed with some delight that Singin’ In the Rain was on. He settled deeper into his couch to let the audio wash over him. No need to get anywhere in a hurry, no interviews to plan yet and nothing to do but idly scroll job listings on his computer or watch some TV. And personally, he’d much rather have the TV playing than think about the dread of jobs right now.

Everything would sort itself out with time.

He was going to give Fate all the time she needed.