Hello and thanks once again to everyone who has taken the time to review/message/alert the story – your continued support has made writing a real pleasure and helped to keep the inspiration flowing.

We are at the final chapter now and while it has been a long time coming, Tony is now an official member of "Team Gibbs" and NCIS – we all know which one is the more important!

I'm so sorry it has taken me this long to finish – 2012 has been a hectic year, so much more so than expected, and finding the time to settle down and find the right frame of mind to write has been difficult. I do not think I have even seen an episode of NCIS this year – the UK screenings are obviously later than in the US but I could not even hazard a guess as to where we are with the seasons now.

So, sorry once again, and thank you for your patience.


Tony wasn't sure what to expect when he next entered the bullpen.

He had not been at NCIS long before he had learnt that the scuttlebutt in the building travelled as fast as wildfire and could be just as damaging. He also knew from an early stage that he had made enemies simply by being given a chance to earn a spot on Gibbs' team; Ducky had suggested professional jealousy rather than anything of a more personal nature, but Tony had suffered too long through the paranoia of his unpopularity at Baltimore to be so easily dissuaded from that line of thinking.

Now he was not only Special Agent DiNozzo, and ahead of schedule, but he was also going to be working alongside Gibbs on a more permanent basis.

As far as Tony was concerned he may well have just committed social suicide within the confines of NCIS.

Gibbs had headed straight to the labs, looking for Abby's final test results on the case and Tony appreciated that it needed to be done so that all pertinent information could be passed along to both the prosecution and other agencies involved; however, Tony couldn't help but wish for Gibbs' presence when he stepped off the elevator into the bullpen, no matter how juvenile that request sounded!

All faces seemed to turn to him as one, and not one of them was smiling.

All of a sudden, Tony felt a slap on his back and he fought down an instinctive jump at the unexpected contact before he turned warily only to find the jovial face of Agent Pacci smiling back at him.

"Tony, congratulations," he offered out a hand and when Tony hesitantly met the handshake, Pacci brought his other arm in to rest on the younger man's elbow; a silent but understood show of support that Tony greatly appreciated.

He didn't really know Pacci yet, but what he did know was that the man was fastidious in all things, from the way he dressed to the way he kept his notes; OCD tendencies aside, he was a good man with solid principles and an easy smile. He had been one of the first from NCIS to offer the hand of friendship and had done so with no expectation of having the favour returned.

"I knew you were going to be in this for the long haul," Pacci grinned, ignoring the avid stares directed their way.

"Do I want to know how long you guessed in the betting pool?" Tony asked with a wry grin.

Pacci's grin deepened; Tony's comment had not been particularly loud, but it had been loud enough so that some of the eavesdroppers knew that the latest addition to the Agency was far from oblivious.

"You ever make it that long, and I'll let you know," Pacci offered, not so subtly allowing Tony and everyone else to know that he expected the younger man to pass many a year in the agency.

Tony laughed, glad for the evident support in front of the rest of the bullpen's onlookers at a time when he was feeling more than a little vulnerable.

"Listen, I've got to go," Pacci informed him. "The rest of my team is waiting for me in the garage, but I just wanted to quickly stop and offer my congratulations; you've more than earned this, if what I've heard is anything to go by. I'll see you later," Pacci waved genially as he got on the elevator.

'And what has he heard?' Tony asked himself rather worriedly. He turned around and started to head towards his desk when he once again became aware of everyone looking his way.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that staring isn't polite?" Tony muttered to no one in particular.

An agent started towards him hesitantly, and Tony recognised him as Agent Adnams, a rather confrontational young man who had let the newbie know exactly how little he thought of 'the rich wannabe cop that should try not to choke on the silver spoon in his mouth.'

Tony had refrained from saying anything at the time as he had only been a few days into his job and hadn't wanted to rock the boat. He was used to those insults, ones that were aimed at his father's money and his prestigious boarding school education; he was used to them, but he still loathed them!

It was a common assumption that money automatically meant happiness and one that Tony had given up trying to dispel; instead, he used the invisible barrier that money (or the appearance of it) seemed to conjure as an added layer of protection between him and the world.

People might envy his rather urbane look and private educational history, but they also used those markers to isolate him from the crowd; sometimes that separation was a welcome reprieve from the usual snide remarks that people seemed intent on directing his way.

That Tony grew up in a big house with expensive furniture was undeniable; so too were the many private schools that he attended throughout his childhood. He never suffered through a night of darkness because the electricity bill had been unpaid and he often went to bed more than full after gorging himself on a particularly sumptuous meal.

However, no one ever took into account the fact that he was all alone in his father's Long Island mansion; the only child of a workaholic who liked one drink too many and was rarely home and of a New York socialite who was becoming increasingly reclusive as her mental health diminished. The hired help had all been much more patient with Tony than anyone else had ever been, but they had their jobs to do and their own families to return to once the day was done.

The vast tracts of land that surrounded the house were beautiful, but more than a little inconvenient for picking up idle conversation with the neighbour's kids, and his time away at the various boarding schools throughout his childhood often meant that he didn't really know any of the local children as well as the fact that his closest school friends might not even in the same state once the holidays arrived.

His dinners were often much more grand than a seven year old needed, but they were prepared by a cook and not his mother; he often ate his meals alone and those he did have company for were very formal affairs with his father's business friends who rarely appreciated his outlook on life.

So yes, his childhood had been one without material want, but it had lacked in every way that mattered and Tony loathed being penalised for a time he would, more often than not, rather forget.

"Agent Adnams," Tony greeted him coolly, wondering briefly just what he could say should the young man start giving him any lip over his Special Agent status.

"Is it true?" the Junior Agent asked, his expression a mixture of grudging respect, mild disbelief and curiosity.

Tony sighed. He had expected all sorts of digs being thrown his way, but he hadn't thought he'd have to actually prove his newfound status.

"Yes, it's true, I can show you my badge if you don't believe me," Tony offered, sarcasm lacing his tone.

"Your badge?" Adnams questioned confusedly. "Oh, no, we all know that is true; the Director's secretary told us yesterday."

"Then what are you talking about?" Tony asked, feeling his own confusion coming to the forefront.

"Did you really save Gibbs?"

"Save Gibbs?" Tony repeated, wondering what the hell the younger man was talking about. He looked up and noticed that everyone had seemingly shifted one or two steps closer to them in a poorly concealed effort to listen in on the rest of the conversation.

"Yeah, the day before yesterday in the interview room; did you really save him?"

"Do I look like I need saving, Adnams?" came a wry voice from behind them even as Tony mouthed to himself 'in the interview room?' The newly appointed Special Agent had been so caught up in his bemusement that he had failed to notice the elevator's quiet 'ding' behind him. His wonder quickly turned to panic: what if the Senior Agent thought Tony was trying to bolster his pathetic reputation at the expense of Gibbs'?

"Gibbs, I have no idea what the hell they're talking about, I swear I've not been saying anything…"

"I think, DiNozzo," Gibbs interrupted the man's nervous rambling. "That they're referring to the incident where you threw yourself between me and a pissed off, un-cuffed Marine." The Senior Agent had been careful not to say that he needed rescuing, finding the very idea more than a little offensive, but he was under no illusion that many in the bullpen would believe otherwise.

Normally he would not endure such tripe, but he also knew that there were many in the office who needed to see that DiNozzo had been handpicked by him for a damn good reason, and the young man's ability to watch his six was just the starting point. Over time, Gibbs was certain that most of them would understand DiNozzo's abilities were not to be questioned; while the young man's often abrasive personality would mean he will always have one or two in-office rivals, his success would speak more eloquently than even the verbose Special Agent could manage.

"That?" Tony queried with just a little disbelief. He could honestly say he hadn't thought anymore about it from the moment he threw a pissed off Aikers back into his seat.

"Yes, that," Gibbs agreed, perfectly able to read the man's incredulity.

"I was just doing my job; what the hell is there to be so curious about that?" Tony asked, turning to face Adnams suspiciously, his mind automatically making the leap to any one of a number of snide remarks that could be thrown his way any moment by the crowd of onlookers.

Gibbs bit back a sigh; he knew that for Tony the man really had just been doing his job the only way he knew how, and the Senior Agent was acutely aware of the rather disturbing fact that throwing himself between an irate and highly-trained Marine and his injured boss was par for the course and certainly one of the less dramatic circumstances DiNozzo seemingly always attracted.

The fact that the younger man's posture had automatically switched to a more defensive position as his suspicious mind kicked into top-gear was a thoroughly depressing one. Gibbs found himself once again wondering just how deep the emotional wounds inflicted by DiNozzo's fellow colleagues in law enforcement went and just how much of the man's career had been blighted by such animosity.

"DiNozzo, Morrow might have given you a free pass for your classes the rest of this week, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be so nice," Gibbs uttered. He had noticed the increasing unease that seemed to radiate from the younger man and knew that while DiNozzo might be one of the first to seek the spotlight, he did so on his own terms and felt more than a little wrong-footed when faced with intense and unwanted scrutiny.

"I don't think I've ever expected such pleasantries from you, Boss," Tony offered cheekily, momentarily forgetting about his avid audience.

The other agents all seemed to hold their collective breath, never having heard anyone get away with being so blatantly impudent to the gruff, no-nonsense Marine.

"Desk, now, DiNozzo!" Gibbs offered with an exaggerated sign, masking his concern and his humour at the bullpen's comically overdramatic reaction to DiNozzo's quip with his usual mask of frustration and exasperation.

"Sure thing, Boss," Tony offered with an easy grin and turning away from the gathered crowd without another thought about them.

"Don't you have any work to do?" Gibbs asked rhetorically before heading towards his own desk and hiding his amusement at the way they jumped almost to attention in unison; with their fear of him and the utter bewilderment that often seemed to follow DiNozzo he really could have a lot of fun.


"For the last time Hallom, yes, it was DiNozzo that ran into interrogation to help Gibbs with their suspect," came an exasperated voice that Gibbs recognised as belonging to one of the techs that often passed their time in the observation room, recording every second they were legally able to in order to provide NCIS and the courts with every scrap of information gathered.

He had stepped out for yet another coffee run after the paperwork had stated to blur and had decided to find one of Abby's Caff-Pows, as well as a tea for Ducky and a ridiculously sweet coffee for DiNozzo; the coffee shop was a regular stop off for many that worked on the Navy base who found the workplace coffee just a bit too tame.

It had been while he was waiting for everyone's drinks to arrive that he overheard someone mention DiNozzo's name.

It was hardly surprising that people were talking about the newest Agent.

DiNozzo was no longer a possibility at NCIS but a permanent fixture and one chosen by the infamously ornery Gibbs; there was always going to be something in the scuttlebutt about the younger man.

Gibbs slinked down at the front of the busy queue to listen in unseen, eager to hear what people were saying when they didn't know they were being overheard.

"So the newbie really saved Gibbs?" asked a dubious Agent.

Gibbs frowned, why did everyone seem so set on the idea of him needing to be saved?

"I'm not sure the man needed saving," the tech replied, and the Senior Agent was more than a little grateful for the confidence in that assertion. "But DiNozzo certainly had his six," and at that, Gibbs smiled; that was the point that everyone needed to grasp.

DiNozzo was more than just a competent Agent, he was the kind of Agent that would go to great lengths to look after those he countered as his own, and NCIS should feel damn lucky that the young man had decided to make his home there!

"Really?" came an incredulous voice.

"Yeah…?" the tech answered slowly, as though waiting for an explanation behind the incredulity.

"He's just so…" the Agent reached for an appropriate word. "So…"

"So what, Rotherstone?" asked the tech, his tone turning to one of irritation. "So far he's been nothing but nice to me and the rest of the guys; for one thing, he doesn't pretend as though he's not in the same room as us, unlike some assholes in this building. And from what I've heard about his abilities in the field, there doesn't seem to be much lacking there, either.

"His actions in that interview room have only strengthened my good opinion of him, and if you're going to hold the fact that he's got some rich daddy back in New York against him, then frankly, you're a fucking idiot! The fact that he's here and doing this job…that he chooses to do this job…is one of the most important things you need to know about him, as far as I'm concerned.

"And personally, I think that if he has lived the luxurious, easy-going life you all seem to think he has, then he shouldn't be anywhere near as cynical as he is; so you've really got to ask yourself, where did all that come from? Look, I've got to go; Pacci is bringing in a suspect and we need to prep one of the interview rooms, but do me a favour and lay off DiNozzo; he's already done more than enough to prove himself."

Gibbs smiled a bitter smile. A tech that worked in observation, the type of employee that was often overlooked by the more senior members of staff, had DiNozzo pegged better than the paid investigators.

The tech had understood, without asking and without being told, that DiNozzo's life had been far from easy and his fabled silver-spoon life had done nothing to curtail his rather jaded outlook on life; that the tech had even spotted that cynicism through the multitude of masks DiNozzo donned spoke wonders about the man's observational skills. Maybe Gibbs should see about getting him promoted.

He headed back to the bullpen, happy in the knowledge that the number of those fighting in DiNozzo's corner was gradually increasing.


The two of them had finished all the necessary paperwork for the case and handed over all relevant documents to the prosecutor who was eager to start the legal proceedings against Aikers.

Between the seemingly endless bureaucracy and the unnerving stares being directed his way, DiNozzo was very much on edge and Gibbs knew that he had to get the younger man out of there and quickly.

The gun range out of town was far enough away from the Navy Yard that they wouldn't have to worry about anymore unwanted stares and it promised a good diversion for a couple of hours.

At first they had shot at their targets in silence, their attention focused downrange as they systematically shredded their paper cut-outs.

Gibbs had stopped firing when he noticed the target next to his had not got one bullet-hole centre-mass. He was about to ask DiNozzo if he was aiming with his eyes closed when he noticed where the bullet-holes actually were; the younger man had been aiming at the limbs.

He had seen in DiNozzo's first few days at NCIS another target with similar holes and he acknowledged the good sense of learning to take controlled, non-lethal shots at the limbs for a chance to bring in a coherent and, most importantly, breathing suspect.

Unfortunately for Tony, Gibbs still wanted to put him through his own unique and unusual barrage of tests.

"You know that what you're asking me to do basically amounts to sacrilege of the highest level," Tony pointed out entirely serious.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs sighed with exasperation.

"I've had it since college! It's my happy make feel good movie!" Tony protested, resolutely pointing the gun anywhere but downrange.

"The pay is pretty lousy, but I'm still relatively certain that even a Special Agent could afford to buy another DVD," Gibbs challenged the younger man with a raised eyebrow.

"But…" Tony lamented, trying to think of any reason that he could give Gibbs that would make the stubborn man change his name. "My mother bought me that," he finally settled on.

Gibbs wasn't impressed.

"You're mother died when you were a kid, DiNozzo; I'm far from being a technological expert," he gave Tony a fierce look at the man's snort. "But even I know that DVD's aren't that old, and bringing in a dead relative…?" he asked in disbelief. "That's pretty low, DiNozzo."

"It was worth a try," Tony shrugged unrepentantly. He had loved his mother dearly; despite all her short-comings as a parent and her various psychological imbalances she had loved him fiercely.

He also knew that those looks people gave whenever they caught a whiff of childhood tragedy drove him towards rather inconvenient homicidal urges; to avoid those faux expressions of sympathy and meaningless platitudes, it was, more often than not, easier to pretend that the whole incident hadn't left any adverse effects on him.

He was beginning to understand that he didn't need to play such games with Gibbs, but a lifetime of habits was hard to break, no matter how impressive the scowl, or how high the eyebrows arched in disbelief.

"You so owe me the special edition DVD, Boss," Tony said with a sigh as he raised his gun and aimed reluctantly down-range. He fired and didn't need to look to know that he had just shot a hole through 'It's a Wonderful Life', shattering his favourite feel-good movie.

"Atta boy, DiNozzo," Gibbs said proudly as he patted the younger man on the top of his head with what could almost pass for affection.


Tony was packing up what few belongings he had at Gibbs house, finally ready to move into his new flat. He had bought himself a new bed and Abby had stocked his fridge with all the essentials before Ducky vetted it, adding vegetables and other healthy items and muttering to himself about the amount of room taken up by beer.

The flat still looked like no one could possibly live there due to the present sparse nature of the place, but Tony was looking forward to making it his own. He had thankfully talked Abby out of providing him with a coffin for his lounge, but he had no doubt that her enthusiastic nature would mean her presence on one of his many outings to further furnish his apartment.

"Hey, are you nearly done?" Gibbs asked as he entered the room, looking around and feeling more than slightly depressed at how few material possessions the younger man carried with him; he looked forward to DiNozzo settling into his new apartment if only for the touch of finality it might add. If Tony had a place to call home, with things to call his own, then maybe he would be more prepared to stay beyond his usual two years.

"Yep, all packed up and ready to go," Tony smiled as he turned around. "Listen, Gibbs, I just wanted to thank you for all of this," he gestured to the room around him. "For everything, I mean. For putting me up and for giving me a chance to prove…"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs interrupted with a sigh. "I need a beer, and to do that, we need to get going to your apartment, seeing as how Abby bought you a brewery's worth."

Tony smiled; he knew that Gibbs was not into the whole speaking from the heart thing, but at least now the man knew he had Tony's gratitude, even if the Senior Agent wouldn't let him get the actual words out.

"Well, come on then chauffeur; no racing and ruining the Doctor's hard work, mind you," he grinned cheekily at the older man as he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the door.

Gibbs laughed to himself and followed him out; things were becoming more concrete with DiNozzo being granted his Special Agent status, and things had never felt more right.


"So, here we are then," Gibbs said as he settled down on the floor next to DiNozzo and held out a beer for the younger man.

"Here we are," Tony agreed as he chinked their bottles together.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, savouring their beer and the quiet companionship.

"God, you really need a sofa, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he stretched slightly trying to find a more comfortable position.

"Too much for your old bones?" Tony asked teasingly. "I thought you Marines were supposed to be tougher than that."

Gibbs merely raised a challenging eyebrow as he reached over and slapped the younger man up the back of his head without a word; it was something that Tony was sure would become a familiar ritual as his time at NCIS passed.

"That's never going to get old for you, is it?"

"Not as long as you continue to earn them, DiNozzo," Gibbs agreed with a wry grin.

"Then I guess I'd better get used to it; I've never been very good at behaving myself," Tony supplied with a wicked grin.

"Ya think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs snorted at the understatement. "I actually had figured that one out for myself back in Baltimore."

"Well then, I guess you deserve every mess I'm bound to drag you into."

"I guess I do," Gibbs sighed resignedly.


Gibbs had returned home and Tony was left alone for the first time in his new apartment. He stood in the middle of the lounge and looked around, trying to visualise the place as his own and wondering what he could add to make it feel like a home rather than simply a place to rest his head.

Back in Baltimore, Tony's apartment had been sparse at best, but then he had never really needed to make it his own as, more often than not, he was never there; the long hours taken up by Baltimore's Homicide Department kept him busy enough but Sam had always made sure his free time wasn't spent lounging on a sofa feeling sorry for himself in a half-empty apartment.

Sometimes the two of them would go out to a local diner and talk about anything but work – the latest sports game, a new movie, their favourite Bushisms; other times he would go to Sam's house and he would be presented with a home-cooked meal and trade banter with Sam and his daughter.

Of course, Tony also had his own way of entertaining himself in such a way that inevitably kept him out of his apartment; the bars and clubs in Baltimore afforded him ample opportunity to pick up his latest conquest, and when he was truly determined to go home with some beautiful woman, his natural charm ensured that he never struck out.

Common sense dictated that it was always much better to go to their place and avoid any awkwardness with his latest one-night-stand in the morning by simply leaving as soon as he woke up; there were far too many complications attached if it all happened in his own apartment!

The ring of his cell phone drew his attention away from his private musings.

"Hey Sam," Tony smiled, always happy to hear from one of the few people he counted as family. He had wanted to talk to his former partner in depth about the latest changes in his life but he had thought he'd have another couple of days to get himself together and figure out exactly what it was he wanted to say.

"Hey kid, how are you doing?" came the jovial response.

"I'm ok, I'm good, really good actually…I think," Tony did not normally struggle for a comprehensive answer to such simple questions.

"You think?" Sam queried, a little concern creeping in.

"I, er…well, my probation is over," Tony started. "They've granted me full status as a Special Agent."

As soon as he confessed to that out loud, he felt the guilt coil in his gut, heavy and hot like molten lead. He already knew of course that he could no longer work alongside Sam, either in Baltimore or anywhere else, due to his record and Sam's disability, but the confession finally made it seem real.

The admission felt like the final act of separation in their partnership and while Tony was going onwards and upwards in regards to his own career, Sam's newfound disability had more or less ended his, taking the man away from everything he loved about the job, like walking the streets and chasing down the perps.

To Tony and his unyielding attitude towards loyalty, it felt a lot like betrayal, and the fact that he felt this way about Sam, who had done so much for him in both his professional and his personal life, made him feel physically sick.

"Well of course you did, you idiot," came the unexpected reply over the phone-line. "Congratulations, Tony, I couldn't be more proud of you."

"Really?" Tony asked quietly. He knew that they didn't need to be face-to-face for Sam to pick up on his uneasiness; they never had. Sam had learnt to understand Tony in a way few others had ever managed; even after only two years, Sam knew Tony better than people who had known him his whole life.

Gibbs was clearly a quick study, but Tony wasn't sure how far the man would go; he was observant but the former Gunnery Sergeant also did a lot to avoid the more personal aspects of any kind of relationship.

"Tony," Sam sighed down the line. "Of course I am; how could I not be," he stated rather than asked. "My life isn't over, and even if it was, there is no way in hell I'd ever be ok with you putting everything on hold because you feel like you're abandoning me. News flash, kid, shit happens and you can either give up or move on, and I've never been the surrendering type."

"But you make such a pretty damsel in distress," Tony teased, briefly lightening the mood before returning to the more serious side of their conversation. "I can't stop feeling that way though, you know," he confessed quietly.

"I know you can't," Sam smiled. "While I hate the fact that you feel like hell when you should be out celebrating, your loyalty is something that I could never regret being on the receiving end of, understood?"

"Understood," Tony agreed with a sigh. He hadn't known just how badly he had needed Sam's blessing until it was given.

"So, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, huh? That's a hell of a mouth full!"

"That's what all the girls say," Tony quipped.

"Ha! I'm sure, kid," Sam said in a teasing tone that insisted he was anything but. "Is Gibbs treating you alright?" Jacobs knew that Gibbs was intelligent enough to know that someone of Tony's calibre should never be underappreciated, but the Marine was a gruff man not used to showing his emotions, and if there was one person who was perhaps a little too used to being on the receiving end of stoicism and a firm hand, then it was Tony DiNozzo.

"Yeah, he's been really good with helping me out, with just about everything," Tony replied with mild surprise at just how accommodating the gruff man had been as he thought of the guest room he'd inhabited, the steak dinners he'd eaten and the beers he'd shared as well as all the help with the more professional side of his new life in DC.

"That's good to know," Sam sighed with relief; DiNozzo had come a long way from the wary and ridiculously reckless young man that he had first come across in Baltimore and he would hate to see all those positive changes disappear.

Tony's natural suspicion of his fellow colleagues had grown out of years spent at the mercy of their malicious gossip and sometimes physically vicious hazing; too few of the men and women he worked with seemed inclined to ignore his roots and get to know the man in spite of it all.

Slowly but surely, Tony had left just enough of his suspicions behind to place his trust in his new partner; Sam had certainly reaped the benefits of that change, as he earned a loyal partner and friend who was damn good at the job and trusting enough to go to him before heading off on one his more hare-brained schemes.

Sam had managed to curtail some of Tony's more dangerous lone-wolf tendencies which allowed him to sleep a little better at night, as he'd managed to convince himself that even though the younger man still seemed to possess little understanding on the benefits of self-preservation, his chances of surviving to retirement had increased.

Eventually, the younger man had managed to gather enough faith in Sam that he was open to other detectives, other officers and other civilians; some of them, like Blackburn, had become fast and close friends, trusted with all job-related issues, others became friends while the rare ones, like Cathy, became family.

He knew very well that Tony was still very closed off about his more personal feelings and beliefs, but his burgeoning ability to place trust in his fellow officers was one that was vital to the job and could one day save his life.

Trust was always going to be a difficult issue with the younger man, and Sam hoped that Tony never lost his faith in him, because he doubted if he would ever get it back; Tony might give you a chance to prove yourself, but his suspicious nature and past experiences would mean he was not prepared to give much more than that.

"He, er…he actually took a bullet for me," Tony confessed quietly, still in mild disbelief at the Senior Agent's actions.

"Really?" Sam felt his eyebrows rise into his hairline; he had hoped that Tony might not start his new job by diving into the middle of a gunfight, but clearly that was asking for too much. "He ok now?"

"Yeah, it was a flesh wound to the left shoulder; he lost a lot of blood though," Tony admitted quietly and Sam could envisage the moment when the younger man had found Gibbs' injury and wondered if he was going to bury the Senior Agent rather than start working alongside him.

"He was a Marine, Tony," Sam started to explain.

"Kind of already had that one figured out for myself," came the wry if slightly bemused response.

"He's seen action and just because he was a Scout Sniper, that doesn't mean he avoided any up-close action out in the field."

"I never thought it did," Tony said, not quite sure where his former partner was going with his line of thought.

"He's been in the military and he's now a Federal Agent; so I imagine, with all that experience, he knew exactly what he was doing when he put himself in the path of that bullet," Sam finally came to the crux of the matter.

He knew very early on in their partnership that Tony would take a bullet for him without a moment's hesitation; unfortunately, it had taken Tony a lot longer to understand that the same was true in reverse. DiNozzo seemed to lack the necessary understanding to realise that Sam thought he was just as worthy and that he was just as prepared to endanger his own life if it meant saving Tony's.

"You're starting to sound like a shrink, Sam," Tony replied distastefully, although in truth he was glad for the understanding the other man never failed to supply.

Tony doubted if he would ever be able to let go of the guilt that seemed to coil itself around his gut, all leaden and raw, when someone got hurt on his behalf, but he knew that he was going to have to learn to live with that guilt. Sam and Gibbs had both now tried to convince him that it was not his fault, and while it didn't clean his conscience, their absolution helped lessen the knot in his stomach, making moving on that much easier.

"Well, you would know that better than anyone," Sam smiled as he thought of all Tony's previous grumblings about the mandatory psych evaluations required after every shooting, which in Baltimore was unfortunately rather too often.

"I've already had a second meeting," Tony's voice picked up a childlike whine to it as he complained.

"And how did that go?" Sam asked cheerily, not at all sympathetic to the younger man's plight; he'd had his own fill of departmental shrinks since his shooting.

"I might not have been entirely honest with her," Tony confessed rather petulantly.

"DiNozzo, I think you're going to have plenty more opportunities to lie to the shrink," Sam laughed, not at all surprised. He had heard the younger man lie, often with half-truths and misdirection, to all manner of people, from a witness right up to the Chief of Police without ever once giving the game away. He had no doubt that Tony would give the shrink exactly what was needed to keep the sessions to a minimum.

"Like I'm the only one," Tony scoffed. Sam had been a well-seasoned Detective even before Tony arrived on the scene, and due to his involvement in various on-the-job shootings had been obligated to attend more than enough appointments in the departmental shrink's office. Before that, the older man's Special Forces career within the US Army Rangers had come with a full barrage of psychological tests throughout his time on active duty.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam dismissed the barely veiled hint at his own deception.

"So how is everything going in Baltimore?" Tony asked.

"Well, actually I have a piece of news you might be interested in," Sam replied with a smile. If his news would help alleviate some of DiNozzo's misplaced guilt, then it could only be a good thing. "I've been asked to teach at the Academy as a full time instructor."

"That's brilliant, Sam!" Tony exclaimed, with genuine joy and excitement for his friend travelling loudly down the phone line. He had been quietly worried that the limitations of his injury would break Sam down, as Tony had seen depression and bitterness consume so many other former cops. He had been anxious to find some way to make sure Sam would avoid that particular pothole but he had had no idea on how to go about achieving that goal.

Sam was the job as much as Tony was and while he was no longer in the role he had fought for during the length of his career, the fact that he could still be involved with policing would be a life-saver for a man who couldn't abide sitting on his arse and doing nothing.

"Yeah, I mean it's something…," Sam granted with a little less enthusiasm, still not used to the idea of being so involved in teaching cadets.

"It is more than 'something' Sam! This is a job where you can do just as much good as if you were still a Detective," Tony responded with certainty.

"They've got me started with firearms training, but they say it's likely I'll become more involved as time passes and that I'll no doubt act as a mentor to some of the cadets," Sam explained. It wasn't what he wanted as what he truly wanted was to be a Homicide Detective in the city he loved, however, it still afforded him the opportunity to make a difference. He had to admit that the idea of his cadets being the future policing force across the US did give him a slight thrill.

"I can't think of anyone more suited to the job of mentoring cadets," Tony said quietly but firmly, thinking on all that he had learnt as a result of Sam's patient and instructive role during their partnership.

"Thanks kid, that means a lot," Sam replied, his voice a little rough with emotion. He knew that his newfound disability limited his career options, but he had been initially unsure about the new venture. However, he also knew that one of the things he had most enjoyed about his and Tony's too-brief partnership were those quiet moments when Tony had looked to him for guidance and the former Ranger had been able to help hone the kid's natural talents; to know that he had a hand in shaping Tony into one of the best investigators he had ever had the good fortune to work alongside was one of his proudest achievements.

"Just think of all the fun you can have scaring the shit out of some of those cocky cadets who already think they know everything because they've seen a few too many episodes of 'NYPD Blue'!" Tony grinned and spent nearly an hour talking with his former partner about everything and nothing, joking about their past and about their respective futures before turning in for a peaceful night's sleep, safe in the knowledge that Sam still had plenty of fight in him.


Tony and Gibbs sat quietly together on the former Homicide Detective's brand new sofa, each carefully nursing a beer and reflecting on their day.

DiNozzo had been at FLETC during the morning to finalise his last courses for the following week, catching a lift back with a certain talkative M.E. while Gibbs had gone into the office to finalise his own paperwork on his latest recruit with Morrow and HR.

After Gibbs had finished work, he had promptly arrived at DiNozzo's apartment, all too aware that the man's excitement might be too much for him to bear for the short trip to Baltimore.

Tony's excitement levels rivalled that of a four year old on Christmas morning because he was not only going to collect his prized possession, his beloved car, but he was also going to see his former partner, Sam Jacobs, for the first time since he had started working in DC.

They were meeting at a diner not far from Jacobs home, where the car would be sitting out front; Tony had rather nervously told Gibbs that he could drive at his usual speed if he wanted to, his anxiety over his 'baby' being parked on the mean streets of Baltimore overriding his self-preservation.

Gibbs was still recovering from his injury, but he did not let that stop him; he was quietly enjoying the speedy drive along I95, having missed that luxury with Tony's careful chauffeuring during his recovery.

Jacobs had looked a lot better than the last time Gibbs had seen him and for that he was infinitely grateful. The man was still moving slowly and with the continual use of a stick, but he was moving under his own steam nonetheless.

Gibbs knew that Tony didn't have any real regrets about leaving Baltimore PD for NCIS, save one or two, and they were inextricably tied up in leaving behind his former partner. Of course, it was that loyalty that had first attracted Gibbs attention; the mouthy Homicide Detective, who managed to look somewhat urbane despite his crinkled suit and five o'clock shadow, stepping up to meet an irritable Gibbs head on and threatening the Senior Agent's team with a smile on his face, for no other reason than the fact that Gibbs had managed to piss off his partner.

Unfortunately it was that same fierce loyalty that had fuelled DiNozzo's self-recriminations as he asked himself again and again what it was he could have done to save his partner from taking a bullet that effectively ended his career.

Seeing his former partner in good health would go some way to bolstering DiNozzo's own spirit.

That Jacobs looked more put together than DiNozzo was not surprising, since Tony had received a serious chest wound in his final days in Baltimore, but the contrast between the two men, as well as Jacobs' narrowed eyes and assessing gaze did serve to remind Gibbs at how much the younger man had been through and how much further he had to go before he made a full recovery.

Sam was moving more easily with his stick, despite the often frustrated sighs and glares he let loose when he found movement particularly slow. The older man had a great deal more colour to his face and he had already put back on the weight that his hospital stay had robbed him of. Despite his careful examination of his former partner and of Gibbs himself, Jacobs looked happy and at ease.

Gibbs turned to discreetly observe DiNozzo as he chatted animatedly with his former partner, and he wasn't reassured by what he saw; now that the case was over, Gibbs could truly see what an effect it had had on the younger man.

Tony had still not regained anywhere near the amount of weight he had lost during his recovery and his still too-pale and gaunt face further highlighted the bags under his eyes. The younger man still held his upper body with a little more care than was natural, but Gibbs couldn't tell whether that was because DiNozzo was still feeling some degree of pain or if it had simply become second nature during his recovery.

On the other hand, DiNozzo's eyes were still full of his impish charm and his whole body was vibrating with his seemingly untameable energy. His smile was easy and not at all forced and he was not lost in the paranoia that can follow a shooting.

No, Tony still had a way to go before he was healthy, but the man was seemingly happy and at ease with himself and the world, and Gibbs felt as though he had had a hand in that. He didn't know why that thought made him feel a small degree of pride in both himself and in DiNozzo, but he liked the idea of helping Tony and shaping him into the investigator that Gibbs knew he could be with a little guidance and more experience.

The greetings had been warm and heartfelt before the three of them had settled down in a window seat for something to eat and drink.

"I wonder why you might possibly be wanting a window seat, kid," Sam said dryly, raising an eyebrow and sharing an amused look with Gibbs.

"Hey, you know as well as I do that my baby is just asking to be taken, sitting pretty like that on the street," Tony waved outside as he once again checked to see that his car was indeed where Jacobs had left it. "And I can't fault a car thief for wanting such a ride, but that doesn't mean I won't hunt them down and hurt them if they so much as scratch my girl!"

"Heaven forbid!" Gibbs mumbled to himself, barely concealing his own amusement at the over protective streak in DiNozzo over an inanimate object.

"Well, you drive a piece of crap sedan," Tony motioned to the NCIS registered vehicle. "It's boring and has no character or charm, so I'm not surprised that you're not overly protective of it; you're probably hoping someone will pinch it so you can get on at the Brass to replace it with something better…something more enjoyable."

"Yes, DiNozzo, that must be it," Gibbs muttered an agreement in such a way that Tony knew it was anything but.

"You don't even lock your front door, Gibbs," Tony pointed out. "Maybe that's because you know no one can carry your boat out the front door, but some people, they want to protect what they have."

Gibbs looked down at the warm drink in his hand and slowly sipped at his coffee in an attempt to avoid eye contact.

He'd already had what he most valued taken from him and nothing else he had seemed to matter after that. Anything he had in the house that he had held onto for sentimental reasons were the exact type of things that a would-be thief would overlook; a patchwork quilt that Shannon had made when she was heavily pregnant with Kelly, a few drawings of a happy family that he'd received during his time on tour, a stuffed animal he had bought from the PX on base that Kelly had dragged with her through rain and shine, snapshots of their too short time together…

"Some people live in nice neighbourhoods, Tony," Sam was quick to point out having picked up on the Senior Agent's rapid descent into melancholy.

"There was nothing wrong with my neighbourhood," Tony sighed, as though this was a much repeated conversation between the two of them.

"No, not at all," Sam agreed a little too genially. "I've always wanted to wake up and find a body on my doorstep, too."

"One time, Sam, it was one time!" Tony groaned.

"You'd only just moved there!"

"Exactly, and did it happen again? No!" Tony sat back in his seat, smug that he had made his point.

"You're right Tony, the fact that they moved the dump site a couple of alleyways down changes everything…"

Gibbs watched them banter back and forth, shaking off past memories as he tried to focus on the present. He downed his coffee and signalled for another from a passing waitress.

Eventually the time came to part ways.

Sam took Gibbs aside as Tony disappeared to the toilet.

"He's doing better than I expected, Gibbs," Sam confessed. "Thanks for looking out for him; I know he doesn't always make it easy, but he needs someone to keep him on a straight path and he needs to know he's got someone in his corner. I know I can count on you for that," Sam stated rather than asked. "If you're ever in doubt about his frame of mind, give me a call, because you can guarantee the kid won't, not with his stubborn pride."

Gibbs nodded and offered a firm handshake. He liked Jacobs, but he still worried about the hold the former Homicide Detective had over DiNozzo. He needed to be able to create his own partnership with Tony out from under the shadows of his former ones, the good and the bad, if he was going to try and hold onto the man for more than a two year period.

"Sam, I told you this one was on me," Tony whined as he came back from the cashier only to find that Sam had already picked up the tab.

"You can get the next one," Sam promised. He had purposefully ignored Tony's offer at paying as it gave his the chance to reiterate the fact that although they were both moving on to pastures new, this was not the end for their friendship.

"The next one," Tony agreed with a ridiculously happy grin.

The two men, knowing it wasn't a final goodbye, gave each other a quick hug in typical male fashion, with one arm hung loosely around the neck while the other gave a solid thump on the back before parting.

"See you soon, Sam," Tony waved as he practically danced to his car, excited to finally have her in his grasp again.

"See you soon, kid," Sam agreed, giving Gibbs another perfunctory nod as he waved them both off into the night.

The drive back had been quiet without DiNozzo sitting next to him, fiddling with the radio dials and the constant fidgeting and relentless energy that seemed to follow the man everywhere. Despite the digs that had been directed at his driving, the Senior Agent noticed that DiNozzo did not have any difficulty keeping up, and it was not all down to the powerful engine he was behind.

The secure, off-street parking gave Tony some peace of mind as it offered his most prized possession that little bit more security. It wasn't his dream car and if money had been no issue then he would probably have gone for something even more fast and flashy, but he had put a lot of years into earning the money for his car and the vehicle itself acted as a tangible piece of evidence as to that fact.

Some might think it shallow and rather ridiculous that he got more sentimental about a car than any of his other possessions, some of which were family heirlooms, passed down through the generations. But his car had been a constant in his life since his last year of college, and it had been with him when all other relationships had failed; he had thought his job would be a constant in his life, but in the end, the car had been the only thing that had survived the years of turmoil that followed his graduation from the Academy.

He'd invited Gibbs into his flat; it was still rather bare but he figured he at least owed the man some drink for driving him up to Baltimore

"That the Ramirez file?" Gibbs asked as he caught sight of a rather tattered looking bunch of papers, something he was all too familiar with as he thought of his own ratty looking cold-case files, some of which had found a depressingly permanent home in his desk drawer back in the bullpen.

"Yeah, just thought I'd give it another glance over, see if I missed anything the first time," Tony shrugged, aware that he'd given the file a thorough going over the first five times he read it.

Gibbs knew that NCIS were not all too happy with files being removed from the building, but it happened often enough and Gibbs himself had managed several breakthroughs re-reading cold-cases in the comfort of his dimly lit basement with a jar of bourbon by his side and the smell of sawdust in the air; sometimes a change of scenery and a more relaxed atmosphere could make all the difference.

"We'll order in some Chinese and then we'll go over it together

"You're not going to tell me that I'm wasting my time?" Tony half asked; he already suspected Gibbs' answer but he was too used to being derided for his determination to see every case through to the end no matter how unrealistic the ideal was. Sam had encouraged him in his pursuit of justice but he had also been there to help when frustration with dead ends became too much to handle. He had never heard an 'I told you so' from the man and he knew that was a phrase he would not hear from Gibbs.

"For a Marine? Never," Gibbs said, making sure to look the younger man in the eyes and allow him to see the sincerity in his usually stoic expression. He wanted Tony to recognize the fact that he was talking about more than just a missing Marine. He wanted Tony to understand that while Gibbs knew perfectly well that Tony could goof off with the best of them, he still trusted that the younger man would get the job done. Most of all, he wanted Tony to know that Gibbs trusted him and his instincts.

"Good to know," Tony replied uneasily. He wasn't entirely sure he got the gist of what the older man had being trying to convey but he had a pretty good idea; he only hoped that he wouldn't screw that faith up!


Tony had spent his morning wading through all sorts of bureaucratic crap before he felt the distinct need for a bit of caffeine and sugar to help him pass HR's distant finish line.

There was a small kitchen of sorts just off the main bullpen, armed with a kettle, a percolator on a never-ending cycle, a small fridge that was usually crammed with sandwiches and a couple of vending machines. The coffee machine was dreadful and Tony had learnt early on that it was always safer to go out for coffee, but time did not always afford that opportunity. However, the vending machines came loaded up with all sorts of sugary goodness that offered the quick hit that was sometimes needed to get over the final hurdle.

"Well, well, look who's joining us simple agents in the kitchen," came a snide voice from the doorway as Tony was slotting in the necessary change for a chocolate bar. "I'd have thought you'd be going to a coffee shop with Gibbs, or maybe to a restaurant with Pacci. Of course, most agents don't need a minder."

"Nice to see you too, Rotherstone," Tony rolled his eyes.

The Agent had been his fiercest critic yet and certainly the most vocal. Tony had heard that Rotherstone had been one of those hoping for a spot on Team Gibbs, but he had also heard through the scuttlebutt that the Agent had several complaints in his file for overly aggressive behaviour, towards both his suspects and his colleagues.

Even Adnams thought that the man should be removed from the field!

"What are you even doing here?" Rotherstone asked sourly. "Everyone knows you'll be gone in two years anyway; I'm guessing people must start to learn how full of crap you are by then."

Tony turned round to face him, his sugary treat forgotten.

"Two years? Ha! You'll screw this up within two months," Rotherstone spat. "Maybe you'll hold out for longer but I doubt it will be long before Gibbs realises what a mistake he made in hiring an incompetent fuck-up like you!

"You're nothing but some rich kid playing at being cop and everyone knows that's all you are, DiNozzo; soon, so will Gibbs. When push comes to shove you'll do what you have to do to help yourself, and not the Navy personnel you're supposed to be serving. Gibbs needs good, solid agents on his team, who understand the Navy and the people NCIS deals with; what good is someone like you to him?"

Tony said nothing.

What could he say?

He knew that Rotherstone was full of all sorts of crap, especially with the usual 'rich kid' rhetoric being thrown in his face. He hadn't been a rich kid since the age of twelve when his father has disinherited him and shipped him off to Rhode Island Military Academy without so much as a wave goodbye.

Every penny he had in his bank account he had earned.

However, Rotherstone had hit upon a sore point. Tony knew that he was a pretty good cop, but he still didn't understand what it was about him that made Gibbs think he would be a good member of his team.

He knew that Gibbs had high standards, not least because the man had told him that himself, but ever since that day he first arrived at FLETC and found that everyone around him had all sorts of academic based degrees he had felt a little out of his league. No matter which way he looked at it, his Phys. Ed. Major paled into insignificance next to the multitude of law degrees, and those trained in computer skills and criminal psychology.

He was used to the pace of life inside your average PD, where DNA results could take weeks to work their way back to you, where the paperwork always seemed to take over the field work, where you worked with more faces than you could name day in and day out, where the Captain was just as likely to screw up and where the Chief of Police could call you into his office for a favour one day and a fierce reprimand the next.

Life at NCIS seemed to be in the fast lane.

Abby got results at a speed that would be impossible elsewhere, and Gibbs seems to have sequestered her as his very own lab tech, seemingly refusing to go elsewhere for his forensic answers.

Whether it was Gibbs' own approach or one fostered by NCIS in general, there seemed to be less emphasis on paperwork, although there was still more than Tony would have liked. Perhaps this had nothing more to do with than the fact that fewer cases crossed their desks than he had faced back in Baltimore and Philadelphia, perhaps there was more importance placed on results in the field, or, more simply, that they were better funded and better organised.

The faces he had worked with inside NCIS were already familiar and there seemed to be very little change. He also imagined that over time he would become familiar with the Metro DC regulars, especially since Gibbs seemed to want to have nothing to do with them. There was also, of course, Fornell and his FBI cronies. A lot of faces, but on the whole there did not seem to be the constant mishmash that he had faced back in the PD, where a multitude of different precincts, agencies, Federal LEOs and State Police crossed paths every day.

And as far as chain of command went, there was seemingly very little interaction there. It seemed as though Tony would deal with Gibbs and Gibbs would deal with everyone else. Apart from a few words from the Director, Tony had not seen him since and he had not noticed all that many other people headed towards the man's office either. Like the military, chain of command inside NCIS seemed to be fiercely regimented.

So all in all, despite everything that he had already gone through with Gibbs both in DC and back in Baltimore, he was feeling more than a little out of his depth and he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Rotherstone merely reiterated something that Tony had already been wondering.

"DiNozzo, any reason those forms still need to be filled out?" Gibbs said as he leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed firmly before him, pointedly ignoring the other Agent in the room.

Tony just about had a heart attack, not at all expecting Gibbs to have been nearby and hoping against hope that the man hadn't heard the latest discourse on his various character flaws.

"Just getting some sugar, Boss," Tony answered quickly, using the title 'Boss' specifically because it was the only way he could make a little dig at Rotherstone without revealing anything to a (hopefully) oblivious Gibbs. He got his chocolate bar and headed out of the room quickly without another word.

Consequently, he missed the fierce glare Gibbs directed towards Rotherstone and the way the younger Agent physically cowered under it.


"He didn't even argue back, Duck, he just stood there and took it all without a word!" Gibbs vented. He had thought that the inter-office bullshit that had been directed at DiNozzo since he arrived had died down after the younger man had gone above and beyond proving himself capable. His frustration that an idiot like Rotherstone may just undo all his work in building up DiNozzo's confidence in his new surroundings was incalculable.

"I imagine he is still testing the waters, Jethro," Ducky patiently surmised. "Young Anthony does not strike me as the sort of man who would take anything unwarranted lying down; however, he is still unsure of his inter-office allies and is rightfully cautious about launching into any defensive moves that may well see him unseated before he has truly acclimatised himself to this new office atmosphere."

"How is he ever going to acclimatise himself if every idiot with an opinion winds him up and leaves him with no way to wind down?" Gibbs demanded.

"So find a way to wind him down," Ducky stated plainly.

"And just how in the hell am I supposed to do that?" Gibbs snapped at his friend, his frustration getting the better of him.

"What do you do to unwind?" Ducky asked, pointedly ignoring the aggressive tone.

"He's not me!" Gibbs had had enough of the thinly veiled comparisons his old friend had been making. He liked Tony and expected great things of him, but he couldn't see any similarities; the younger man's tendency to overshare, his need for attention and the complete set of masks that covered everything in between seemed to differ greatly from his own more reluctant approach to socialising and his no-bullshit, straight-to-the-point attitude.

"I never said he was," Ducky said, truthfully. He had been very careful not to say it outright but he knew that even Jethro, who could be ridiculously obtuse when it came to mysteries of a personal nature rather than of a criminal one, would pick up on the undertones.

He suspected that young Anthony was far more concerned with Gibbs' own views rather than those of his fellow colleagues; although there was no doubt in the Doctor's mind that the seemingly never-ending stream of misgivings would be having a detrimental impact.

He knew that much of the gossip had died down after Anthony had successfully proven himself during the gun-smuggling case, but he also knew that there were one or two holdouts who were bitter at the fact that Gibbs had seemingly lost interest in finding anyone else for his team now that he had Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

"Jethro, you're no stranger to the various stresses this job can bring about," Ducky calmly explained. "You are in a much better position that I am to understand exactly what it is he needs right now."

Even though the M.E. had his doubts about the Senior Agent's social prowess, he believed that Gibbs would be the only one to get through to Tony if the younger man's doubts had well and truly taken a hold of him.

Gibbs didn't say a word.

When he was pissed at the world, which was more often than not, he would hide himself away in his basement with a good glass of bourbon and work out his stress and frustration by losing himself in the rhythmic motion of sanding his boat, or in the gentle give of the plane over his latest plank for the hull.

He wasn't sure what really worked for Tony; they had tried the range and that had been ok, and he didn't think that DiNozzo was yet fit enough for any work in the ring down in the NCIS gym. However, he wanted to get Tony's mind off all work related issues and give his insecurities a risk; if he gave him target after target to aim for then Tony might suspect that Gibbs too had his doubts.

Maybe he could allow the man to share in one of his own methods until Gibbs was better versed in DiNozzo's quirks.

"I'm going to see the Director," Gibbs nodded goodbye to Ducky, noticing but ignoring the look of triumph that flashed in the older man's eyes.


"Agent Blackadder?" Tony asked, his surprise at her presence clear.

"Hello Detective DiNozzo," she greeted him with a smile that seemed a little forced as she dumped her belongings on her usual desk.

"Ah, actually it's Agent now," Tony admitted rather sheepishly; he was still trying to get used to the difference. Of course, while his job title made him sound more official, he was already beginning to understand that NCIS was not a name that many held as being synonymous with law enforcement; giving a brief description of the Agency before conducting every interview would get really old really quickly!

"Oh?" this time it was Blackadder's turn to be surprised.

"Yeah, it all happened a lot quicker than I was expecting," Tony could understand her shock as he was still trying to take it all in as well.

Viv didn't know what to say; the man in front of her had been nothing if not dedicated to the job back in Baltimore and between the local LEO's and NCIS they had got the results they needed. However, she couldn't say that she felt entirely at ease with the fact that Agent 'second B for bastard' Gibbs himself had chosen to add DiNozzo to their little motley crew; she dreaded learning what exactly it was about the former cop that drew her irritable and demanding boss' attention.

She was glad that Nixon was gone, having found the young man too brash and unable to think on his feet, and she was also glad not to be facing the wrath of Gibbs by herself, but DiNozzo was the great unknown.

She missed the predictability of the FBI and her last team had been small but comfortable with one another; life with Team Gibbs could be anything but predictable despite his military background and his regimented upbringing in the Corps.

The man's temper could be ignited at the drop of a hat or it could simmer away in the background. His gut could lead them to a killer, but it also seemed to bring them into contact with at least three different authority figures destined to find out about that second 'B'. He didn't seem to give a crap about his team most of the time, with his demeaning reaming out in full view of the bullpen and his seemingly endless glares, and then the man would risk his all to pull you from the fire, sometimes quite literally.

She had a lot of respect for Gibbs but that didn't mean she liked working with him.

And now she had DiNozzo to contend with, who, if possible, seemed even more contrary than Gibbs.

"Where is Gibbs, anyway?" Viv asked.

"He went up to the Director's office about twenty minutes ago," Tony informed her, slight apprehension in his voice. "I hope Morrow hasn't changed his mind." Gibbs had stalked past him with nothing more than a quick and quiet 'You, my house tonight; I've got a boat needs sanding and you've got two spare hands' before disappearing up the stairs and heading towards the Director's office. He wondered if Gibbs was fighting a losing battle on his part against the never ending list of his deficiencies as listed by men like Rotherstone.

Before Viv had a chance to ask for an explanation she heard a voice calling her from above; she looked to see her Team Leader making his way down the stairs.

"Blackadder, you back with NCIS now, or are you running off back to that circus in the Hoover Building?" Gibbs asked as he dumped a few forms off on Tony's desk.

"No, I'm back, Gibbs," Viv stated quickly, eager to avoid any diatribes on the failings of her former employers.

"Good," Gibbs said as he stalked to his desk before picking up a stack of files and dumping them unceremoniously on her desk. "Cold cases," he confirmed after catching the brief look of dread that crossed her face. "DiNozzo, you've got a long weekend off; I suggest you catch up on sleep and get some damn furniture for that apartment of yours. The boat isn't going anywhere so no rush, but bring beer," he ordered before heading up the stairs to MTAC without another word.

Tony looked after him and the only thing that stopped Viv spitting out some vicious tirade about the unfairness of it all in his direction was the total look of shock and confusion on his face; clearly the newest member of Team Gibbs had been expecting that almost as much as she had.


"So I get that you're not exactly going after Mr. Popularity at NCIS but do you really need to get your only other team member pissed at me, too? You think Rotherstone needs any more members for my enthusiastic cheer team?" Tony asked as he watched Gibbs wipe clean a jar that had mere seconds ago contained nails, before filling it with a small amount of bourbon and handing it over to the Junior Agent.

"Rotherstone is an incompetent halfwit who wouldn't know a murder suspect if the guy came up to him covered in blood holding a signed confession. I wouldn't trust his judgement on anything," Gibbs said his disdain for the Agent dripping from every word.

Tony agreed silently that Rotherstone did seem a little oblivious to the obvious but he figured he hadn't yet earned the right to comment.

"As for Blackadder, she needs to learn where her loyalties lie," Gibbs shrugged; he was completely unrepentant about leaving Blackadder alone to deal with the paperwork that afternoon. His team were not on rotation that weekend and they wouldn't be working any new cases until Tony's final courses at FLETC ended.

"If she wants to be an FBI Agent, then she should quit NCIS. I'm not here to offer her work experience, I'm here to do a job and I need a team I can rely on to do that job; I can't rely upon her if she's not even in the same damn building."

Tony nodded. He had thought it odd at how Blackadder had spent so much time over at the Hoover Building, even if an old case had blown open.

That afternoon, Blackadder had not seemed all that happy to be back within the bosom of her own Agency. Tony could understand that initial hesitancy, after all, he had worked in more than a few places where he had been made to feel less than welcome, but letting that hesitancy take over could start all sorts of trouble for yourself and for your team.

"You weren't being serious were you, about your boat I mean?" Tony asked as he looked gingerly towards the wooden structure as though it was going to reach out and strike him. He had tried many different activities throughout his life, but never woodwork and he dreaded to think about just how much damage he could do with a little sandpaper and a lot of ignorance.

"Have you known me to lie to you yet, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, an expectant eyebrow raised as he looked up from where he was sanding down the latest joint.

"Well, no, but it's just even though your boat is never going to leave your basement I don't want to be the one to screw it up for you, and I'm pretty sure I'm not exactly carpenter material," Tony explained hurriedly.

"DiNozzo, do you have any idea how long you'd have to be sanding in one spot before you compromised the strength of the structure? I'm pretty sure you'll figure it out," Gibbs offered holding back a sigh at the normally enthusiastic man's look of wariness.

"If you're sure," Tony offered reluctantly, still clutching his jar of bourbon and not even attempting to make a move towards the boat.

Gibbs didn't hold back a sigh as he stood up, headed over towards his stubborn Agent and none too gently slapped a piece of sandpaper in his palm.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said, waiting for the younger man's eyes to meet his own. "You'll be fine, DiNozzo; you'll do fine," he half stated, half ordered.

Tony knew instinctively that he was not just talking about his newly acquired carpentry demands. He had thought that Gibbs must have overheard some of the earlier comments in the bullpen, but nothing had been said so he assumed he had been wrong.

Now he knew otherwise.

Gibbs' confidence in him sent his morale soaring, but it also scared the crap out of him; there was no way to disappoint someone who expected nothing from you. His father had told him that he would end up in the gutter, and at twelve years old those words had stayed with him; as he moved on from one precinct to another he had begun to believe in those cruel words.

It had taken Sam a great deal of time and effort to change his mind.

Their rapport and their faith in each other had built up over time, and they had learnt of each other's strengths and weaknesses, their traits and their intentions.

Gibbs' confidence seemed to have been placed in him before he was even looking for it; the man had made it clear that he saw something in Tony that was worth holding onto, but Tony was at a loss as to what that might be.

Most of the other agents at NCIS had quietened down in their remarks since he had received his Special Agent status and he hadn't really expected to feel affected by the remainder, but the truth was he had already started to think about making a home for himself in DC and on Team Gibbs; he was tired of moving on every few years and never having a home-base, and he wanted to be able to settle down. To know that so few people expected him to succeed in that seemingly simple venture had a greater impact on him than he was expecting after the hazing he had received in so many other departments.

He didn't want Gibbs to hear such comments and question their validity, but he was beginning to suspect that the older man was not so easily swayed by the scuttlebutt.

He sat up straighter as he told himself that Gibbs had chosen him.

Out of all the eager beavers that had milled around his desk for days, hoping to be invited onto his illustrious team, Gibbs had instead driven to Baltimore and picked a Homicide Detective who had been shot in the line of duty; it was hardly the most compelling set of circumstances to make an acquisition, but one that Gibbs had made nonetheless.

He had some time to figure out just what it was that Gibbs saw in him and expected from him, but the one thing that he did already know (and the one thing that he found to be the most important) was that his new boss expected him to do his job and to do it to the best of his abilities; that was something he knew he could do without any problems.

It would take some time before he would be fully settled at NCIS but he had no doubt that Abby and Ducky would do their best to make him feel welcomed and part of the group, and if Gibbs' words were not always so encouraging, his actions so far had been.

The saying 'actions speak louder than words' had a lot of truth behind it, and so far Gibbs had invited Tony into his home when he had nowhere else to go, he had taken care of finding a suitable physiotherapist, he had found an outlet for Tony's pent up frustrations and irritations, he continued to ignore the wildfire of the scuttlebutt that had been anything but complimentary, he had faced off with the Director without a mention of what the possible consequences were for himself and he had even thrown himself in front of a bullet with Tony's name on it.

He might not know Gibbs yet like he did Sam, but he was already aware of one of the most important things a LEO needed to know; Gibbs had his six, unequivocally.

The man had his flaws, but he was relatively straightforward and Tony knew that while there would undoubtedly be problems to be found working alongside the demanding man, they made an excellent team and he could learn a lot from the Senior Agent.

There were fifty rules after all.

"You'll do fine, DiNozzo," the Senior Agent repeated firmly, making sure the younger man had no doubt about the absolute faith Gibbs had in his newest team member.

"Yeah, Boss, I know," Tony smiled a genuine smile before downing his bourbon and standing up, sandpaper in hand, before he turned to Gibbs and grinned, "I can't promise the same for your boat."


And there we go…another story has reached the end. Please review and let me know what you think – constructive criticism is always welcome. If you spot any errors, please let me know – I do my best to catch them, but some will undoubtedly slip through.

For those that need them…

HR – Human Resources – a Department in many businesses that is usually full of perfectly lovely people, but unfortunately they always come armed with a million and one forms that need to be filled in.

PX – Postal Exchange – a sort of mini department store on base or in an area of operation where it is (usually) run out of a cargo container on site where soldiers can pick up anything from batteries to adult diapers.

LEOs – Law Enforcement Officers/Officials.

Thank you once again to everyone who has taken the time to read and review. Some of you have been with me since 'Quiet Anger' and have really helped with my confidence in writing FF and your constructive criticism has been useful all round.

Many thanks to you all!