Author's Notes at the end.

Chapter Thirteen

"Remember, George, no man is a failure who has friends." – It's a Wonderful Life

"No, that is not what I said. I said that Petty Officer Reynolds could not have known that his team had already pursued their own agenda in avenging his platoon commander's harsh treatment because he was on medical leave, at a … a … Restoration Facility."

"Sure, and there's no way he could possibly have any contact with the outside world in a Rehab Facility – geez, Ziva, how long have you lived here? Like a cell phone or email, could he? Reynolds is a Navy Seal! He could have been masterminding the entire thing from a hospital bed."

Tony watched the two come out from behind their desks to spit and snarl at each other in the middle of the bullpen. "In this corner," he murmured to himself, his steps quickening even as his spirits lifted. Team Gibbs. Biting, snarling, one-upmanship one minute, defend your teammate with your life the next. Ziva was lost in translation and McGee was tech-geeking it like a boss. Which reminded him – he paused on the staircase, gaze flicking towards all the usual hiding places. Where exactly was his Boss?

"You just gonna stand up here all day, DiNozzo, or do you plan on getting to work?"

The warm presence at his back had Tony turning before Gibbs managed more than a couple of words. Smile in place, Tony leaned against the slim railing, unconsciously mirroring Gibbs' stance. "The puppies are fighting again, Dad. Want me to get out the hose?"

The smell of dark roast coffee trickled down the stairs as Gibbs sipped. "Nah. Let 'em get it out. I'd rather them fight here, about a case, than have it come out in the field." Another sip. "You get the file I sent you?"

Tony nodded. "Navy SEAL platoon at each other's throats after a 'training accident' that left Petty Officer Reynolds in the hospital. Everybody's pretty tight-lipped about the cause, of course."

"They're SEALs," Gibbs stated the obvious.

"But when the platoon commander winds up beaten nearly to death a week later, you've gotta wonder. Especially since he's not talking. Not interested in pressing charges."

"Closing ranks."

Tony had missed this. Missed the team vibe. The way he and Gibbs could – sometimes – think with one brain. He shifted his weight to look up the stairs at his Boss. "So is this a quick check, a reminder that grown up sailors don't act this way, and then let them clean it up themselves, or is it a true investigation?"

"Good question." Gibbs nodded towards the still bickering teammates in the bullpen, who had been joined by Ducky and his crisp, clear Scottish tones. "Check out any actual evidence those two have, talk to Ducky. I'm gonna head upstairs and get the answer to that question from Vance."

Hm. Tony squinted at Gibbs' bitter tone. At the tightness of his boss's jaw, the dark threat behind his eyes. "That's all you're gonna do, right? Because, thanks and everything, but I don't need anyone to fight my battles. Not even you."

Gibbs seemed to give up on staring at his agents down below and turned to meet Tony's eyes. "Doesn't mean you shouldn't have back-up. You're a big boy – hell, I'm a big boy. But this isn't going to be skirmish with Vance. I know that guy." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "And this is liable to turn into the winter campaign in Russia if you don't call in the allies."

"Death by attrition." Tony shivered. "Yeah, that won't be fun."

Gibbs laid a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Get down there. Somebody needs to have their heads smacked together." One finger in front of Tony's face shut down his immediate grin. "Not literally."

Tony waited.

"Not until I can watch, anyway."

Laughing, Tony set off down the steps. "Whatever you say, Boss."

"Hey."

He turned, surprised.

"Good to have you back."

Yeah. Tony's grin faded, but the warmth in his gut still quietly burned. "Me, too, Boss."

ooOOooOO

Gibbs stood just inside the office, watching Vance frowning over what must be Tony's recommendations about LA. Papers had been taken from the folder and were set in messy piles, post-its bearing Vance's scrawl stuck here and there. It wasn't Vance's usual tucked-in style. His normal steely focus and nit-picky organization. His tie sat crooked against his collar; suit coat abandoned over the back of a chair. This was a man in chaos.

Gibbs had followed the man's secretary into the office. She'd been carrying an armload of case files tagged with the blue borders of the OSP. She dropped them on the edge of Vance's desk and hurried away, smiling at Gibbs as he held the door for her. Vance hadn't moved.

"I don't remember an appointment, Agent Gibbs."

A slight shrug, a grimace, and Gibbs stepped forward. "Just checking in. Thought you might have a question for me."

Vance's head jerked up, dark eyes cold. "About what? DiNozzo's assignment?" He took a deep breath and stood, back straight, fingertips spread on the dog-eared papers as if he was afraid they'd get away from him. "Oh, I think he made himself very clear."

Gibbs smiled. "Good. Being clear. It's important."

"Uh-huh."

"Let me be clear, Director. Your little speech about DiNozzo's transfer not being a punishment?" Gibbs stayed relaxed, shoulders slumped, hands in his pockets. "Didn't believe it then – don't believe it now. But, if you have the urge to not punish him again, things will get real clear real fast."

"I've had just about enough threats from your team today, Agent Gibbs."

"I didn't make any threats – and I'll bet DiNozzo didn't either." He shook his head, mouth quirking up. "'Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?'" Gibbs snorted a laugh. DiNozzo had him quoting movies now. "If you'd left my team together, we might have been able to sniff out Lee and save the lives of two good men. DiNozzo worked with her for months while I was … gone. Got to know her. And, God knows, I'm not the omnipotent Superman Abby thinks I am." He tilted his head. "If you hadn't decided to try to make a quick name for yourself here in DC by pulling all the strings – strings you had no idea where they led - well, I guess we'll never know."

"I guess not."

"But, there's something I do know, Director." Gibbs couldn't quite keep the scorn from his voice when he spoke that word. "Recognizing your mistakes? Yeah, that's not a sign of weakness. It's a sign of intelligence. A sign that you're smarter today then you were yesterday." Gibbs pointed at himself. "And I should know."

Vance swallowed. Lifted his chin. "Are you finished?"

Oh, not by a long shot, Gibbs thought to himself. He nodded towards the files beneath Vance's trembling hands. "DiNozzo has skills. And friends. Something to remember." He lifted his gaze to meet Vance's, holding him there. "And I'm one of them."

He turned quickly to the door, coat flapping. "Glad you see you've moved past bullet points. Might do you some good."

ooOOooOO

"Okay, team, time to break up the fisticuffs and pretend we work for a living." Tony swept into the bullpen and behind his desk, laying his coat neatly over the credenza. He rubbed his hands together and then placed them squarely on the back of his desk chair. He frowned, head cocked to the side, fingers testing the pleather cushioning, squeezing, searching for … "Hey! Who fixed the big," he made a ripping sound in his throat, "you know, the hole," he leaned down, squinting. "Is this a new chair? I liked my old chair –"

"Tony."

"I mean, thanks and all, but I know how penny-pinching the Facilities Resources people are, and I don't want them taking the cost of a chair out of my pay –"

"Tony."

He plunked down, testing the feel, twisting back and forth and back and forth. Adjusting the seat. "Hmm. It's pretty good, don't get me wrong-"

"Anthony."

Leaning far over the side, Tony peered at the rollers on the bottom. "And that one wheel on my old one kept sticking. Dog-legging me to the left. My knee has the bruises to prove it."

"Very Special Agent DiNozzo!"

Tony looked up and smiled at the three people standing in a tight arc on the other side of his desk. At the raised eyebrows from across the sea of bilious orange dividers. The answering grins. The heads shaking in amusement.

"It's good to be home, guys."

"We're glad you feel that way, Tony." McGee was holding something behind his back and not quite holding in a tiny little Timmy-smile. "Because we are, too. And we have something for you. Just to remind you, in case you forget, of where your home is."

"Here." Ziva continued. "In this desk. Where we can keep an eye on you. And you can eye us up as well."

The almost-right phrasing with just a hint of inappropriateness made Tony's grin widen. Ah, normalcy. How he'd missed it. He 'eyed up' Ziva, head to toe, and decided the stick up her … inappropriate body part … might have worked its way loose since his last visit. He'd take it.

"Timothy?" Ducky, a gentleman down to his toes, gestured with one hand for McGee to begin.

"Something tells me I'd take this better on my feet," Tony murmured, setting thought to action. "Lay on, McGee."

From behind his back, McGee drew a cardboard box bearing the logo of Tony's favorite donut shop. "Bread," he announced. "That this house, err, desk, would never know hunger."

Tony's mouth dropped open.

"Salt." Ziva set a silver-hued box labeled Godiva's Salted Caramel Truffles in the center of his desk. "That life may always have flavor." She met Tony's eyes with a rare, honest smile.

"And," Ducky made a show of presenting the squat red bottle, "wine. That joy and prosperity may reign forever." He leaned closer, turning the label towards the light. "It is a bottle of my favorite Porto, my dear boy. I hope you'll enjoy it."

"Guys." Tony had no idea what to say. He let his hand linger on each gift, setting his heart to remember this moment. They'd gone to a lot of trouble. Quoting his favorite movie. The presents. No matter what happened, no matter who said what or what the future might bring, this was, it was … "I don't – this is awesome." His smile couldn't be wider. "Thanks."

"Just don't tell us it's a wonderful life," McGee whispered. "Please." He pretended to glance around fearfully. "People are listening."

Gibbs breezed down the steps and around the corner right on cue. "Nope. No group hugs, either. Time to get to work."

Ziva and Tim headed back to their desks, Ducky to the elevator. Gibbs paused by Tony's desk, checking out the three offerings. He met Tony's eyes for a moment before striding towards his own desk. "You wouldn't like LA anyway, DiNozzo."

"Why not, Boss? Pretty ladies. Beaches." Tony flipped open the donut box and checked out the selection. "Could work on my tan."

The continued silence drew Tony's eyes up and across the bullpen. McGee was rigid, mouth open, staring at Tony as if he'd dropped the F-bomb in the middle of a nun bowling trip. Ziva was caught, half up, half down, frowning across the aisle. Tony's eyebrows rose and they, all three, turned as one to meet Gibbs' clear blue gaze. The older man shook his head. "Nah. No snow."

Pursing his lips, Tony pretended to think about it for another moment. "You know me so well, Boss," he grinned.

Gibbs' nod was an acknowledgment and a promise. And the sigh of relief heard from all around the office sure felt good, too.

"Petty Officer Reynolds," the MCRT lead snapped, walking towards the plasma. "Whattya got?

A/N: I am very blessed by the reaction to this story – the many favorites and follows, and the wonderful reviews. Thank you all for your patience and interest – and you're great insights! Hope to play in Tony's World again soon.