I don't own them, just playing ...
Special Agent Tony DiNozzo sighed as he walked along the corridor towards Interrogation. He usually looked forward to interviewing suspects and bounced with excitement when given the go ahead. Today was not such a day. He paused in front of the door, rolled his shoulders and moved his head from side to side in preparation. He doubted if any other members of his team were going to be watching from Observation: it was too open and shut a case to be of any interest.
Tony summoned up a vestige of his usual energy to walk confidently into the room. There was no need to think of an ingenious strategy to employ against the young man who sat waiting there, the simple approach would do. He went and sat down opposite Dean Watkins and placed the case file on the desk between them. Dean didn't bother to look at the new arrival but remained slumped in his chair gazing at the chewed finger nails on his tattooed hands. He had straggly sandy colored hair, pale blue eyes and skin which showed the signs of bad acne in the recent past. He was tall and leanly built and, as Tony knew, was built for speed. From the folder in front of him, Tony also knew that he was a High School dropout who had been in and out of trouble since he was fifteen.
"So, Dean, what have you got to say for yourself?" asked Tony.
Dean sighed a put-upon sigh and said nothing.
"Why'd you do it?" continued Tony but still got no reply. He drummed his fingers on the table in frustration. The case was not one which the MCRT would normally have been involved with. A children's charity had refurbished some swings and other play equipment in a rundown area of Washington. The organisers had arrived for the opening ceremony and found that the play area had been vandalised: paint daubed everywhere, swings pushed over and smashed, a mural designed by local children with holes punched in it. Still nothing to interest NCIS except that the Secretary of the Navy's sister ran the charity and had called her brother , who had called Director Vance who had sent Gibbs and his team to the scene.
The 'case' had not been difficult to solve. As the team arrived, Tony had spotted a young man looking on from a distance. There was nothing to make him a suspect but as Tony looked at him, the lad had suddenly twitched and then started running. Tony had set off in pursuit. The fugitive had a good burst of speed and, to start with, pulled away easily but Tony soon began to gain on him. He might now lack the explosive start of his Varsity sports days but he had the stamina and fitness of a trained and disciplined athlete. As he caught up with the youth he could hear his panting and puffing and knew that training and discipline were probably not concepts his suspect was familiar with. As Tony braced himself for a leap to bring his quarry down, he was surprised when the man simply stopped and stood waiting for him to arrive. It was that simple, in the end the guy couldn't be bothered to put up a fight.
Which was why Tony and Dean were now sitting opposite one another in an interrogation room at NCIS Headquarters. Special Agents McGee and David had found paint matching that at the vandalised crime scene in Dean's beat up truck and flakes of paint from the damaged mural on his clothes. There was no doubt that Dean was the culprit.
"Why'd you do it?" asked Tony again. Dean shrugged again but managed an answer this time,
"Don't know."
"Kids in that neighborhood could have had fun playing in the park. They made that picture which you smashed up. Why?"
"Why not?" came the flat toned reply.
"I'm trying to understand here, Dean. Help me out."
"Why'd you want to know? Doesn't make no difference. You've solved the case, you're done."
And Tony knew that he was done, he didn't need to do anything else. He could call Metro and hand Dean over and he would go into the system. Another sad kid who had somehow fallen through the cracks and would now probably spend the rest of his life trying to make life a bit grayer and nastier for those around him. And Tony was weary of it all, the pettiness and meanness of so many people; he had spent his working life trying to rescue people from all this sadness. He closed the case file, tapped it on the desk and prepared to leave. Something made him have one more try.
"Listen, kid, I reckon you've got one more go before you end up doing heavy duty time in jail. You're just about young enough not to be invisible yet, someone might still think you're worth giving a chance to. But carry on with this sort of mindless rubbish and you'll just be another loser going down the pan. Think about it."
"Why would you care?" and Dean finally summoned the energy to look Tony in the eye. Tony gazed down at him and considered what to say,
"I've seen too many kids like you, Dean and I hate waste. I think you're miserable and lonely and you can't stand to see anyone else being happy, so you smash things up and grind them into the dust ... but it doesn't make your misery go away. So ask for help, take it when it's given and man up. You're running out of time. Here's my card – call me if you decide to use your brain for a change. I'll see what I can do."
"Yeah, right", said Dean as he lifted a finger in a crude gesture.
Tony turned away, his sharp ears catching the sound of the business card being ripped up.
"I'll call Metro."
Tony took a deep breath as he closed the door behind him and then looked up, surprised, as Gibbs walked up to him.
"Didn't think anyone would be watching, Boss. Not my best work."
Gibbs looked at him with something like sympathy.
"Nothing you could do, DiNozzo. Turn it over to Metro, let them deal with it."
"I know, Boss. It just makes me so ..."
"Mad, depressed, sad, helpless ...?" suggested Gibbs.
"All of the above, and more," agreed Tony with an humorless laugh. Gibbs slapped him on the shoulder and led the way to the squad room. McGee and Ziva were still there, already working on their next case.
"That was quick," said Tim.
"He didn't have a whole lot to say, McGee."
"And you did not fill in the gaps, Tony? That is unlike you." said Ziva. "Did it not remind you of a movie?"
"Only a really depressing one that I wouldn't want to see again."
"At least it was over quickly," said Tim, "didn't take us away from anything important."
Tony sat down at his desk and put Dean's file in front of him. He placed his head in his hands for a moment or two and then picked up the phone,
"Gregor, Tony DiNozzo here, we've got one for you ..."
Gibbs made a decision.
"All right, everyone, let's call it a day. Go home, we'll start again tomorrow."
The team looked up in shock, it was only 17.30.
"OK, Boss," said Tony, "I'll wait for Metro to arrive and then go."
"No need, I'll do that," said Gibbs.
"You sure, Boss? Cos, that's really nice of you, not that you can't be nice ..." Tony trailed off. The others could see that he was trying to be his usual goofy self but that his heart wasn't in it so he had given up before the hole was as big as he would normally have made it. Gibbs just quirked an indulgent half smile and jerked his head in the direction of the elevator. Ziva and McGee were already half way there. Tony nodded gratefully and turned to follow them. Gibbs called him back,
"You still planning on your weekend away?"
"Don't know, I'm not sure I'll be good company."
"Thought you said that godson of yours was going to be there?"
"That's right, Jake's going to be back from Camp."
"Going through a bit of a bad patch, eh?"
"Yeah," said a clearly puzzled Tony. The Boss wasn't usually so concerned about what he got up to outside of work.
"Go a coupla days early, you've got the time on the books – take some of that Comp time you're always building up. Don't come in tomorrow."
"Boss? What's going on?"
"You were too late to help with Dean, why not go and see a boy who hasn't fallen through the cracks yet."
Tony realised that Gibbs understood his despair and he nodded gratefully and turned back to his desk.
"I'll just tidy everything up so everything's ready for McSubstitute."
"No, just go. McGee will manage."
"I seriously doubt that ..." Tony saw Gibbs glaring at him, "let me correct that. I'm sure McGee will manage ... and if he doesn't, he'll enjoy telling me all about it. Thanks, Boss. See you next week. Are you sure about this? Of course, you're sure, I'm gone."
And he nearly was but as he waited for the elevator, Tony couldn't resist one more try,
"Perhaps you could talk to Dean?"
Gibbs just flapped his hand at his senior field agent and watched to make sure he really went.
NCIS
Tony kicked his shoes off and undid his tie as soon as he got through the door of his apartment.
"Honey, I'm home!" he called out. "Hey, Kate, how's your day been?" He dropped a flake or two of food into her tank, "Sorry, it's not tofu but I think it's still good for you." He paused for a moment to watch the goldfish delicately take the food and then resume her tranquil swimming. He picked up his cell and hit one of the speed dial numbers,
"HI, Lia, it's me, Gibbs has let me off a couple days early. Can I come up tomorrow instead of the weekend? ... nothing wrong ... you sure? Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Ciao."
Tony smiled as he put the cell down. Lia always made him smile. He looked across at Kate still swimming around and wondered how the human Kate would have reacted to knowing that Tony was 'just friends' with a woman and managed to be friends with her husband as well. He seemed to remember a conversation when he had denied the possibility of a single person being friends with a married couple ...
The young Tony DiNozzo had met Cecilia MacIntosh during Hell Week at Ohio State University and they had stayed friends ever since. They had gone on a couple of dates but then Andrew Drummond had made his appearance and swept Lia off her feet. Drew and Lia had never looked at anyone else, engaged after twelve months, married as soon as they graduated and somehow Tony had been friends with both of them all the time. His team might have been surprised that it was not that unusual for Tony to stay friends with former flames although even he was surprised that the friendship with Drew had also flourished.
Drew had gone into the US Navy and Lia had accompanied him on various postings as he climbed through the ranks. She was a free-lance graphic designer and had managed to build a good reputation despite moving around so much. Earlier in the year, however, she had inherited her father's old farm in Middle Hampton in Virginia and she and Drew had decided to make it their home. Drew was expecting a posting in Annapolis so the timing was good. The plan was to turn the old farm buildings into art studios and run short painting courses or retreats for jaded city dwellers from Washington. There would also be a couple of self-contained cabins in the more remote parts for people who wanted a taste of real seclusion. They hoped that twelve year old Jake, their son and Tony's godson, would benefit from a more rural and settled way of life after moving around so much. Tony hadn't seen much of them over the years so was glad they had moved closer. The visit this weekend had two purposes; one to catch up with his friends and the other to be a guinea pig for the painting course. Now, Tony realised, there was a third purpose: 'connect' with Jake and see if he could help.
With two extra days of vacation, Tony decided he would need Mrs Smith-Jones, one of his neighbors, to look after Kate while he was away. He had thought about using the automatic dried food dispenser but didn't really like leaving her alone; he knew it was foolish but he thought she got lonely when he wasn't around to pass on the NCIS gossip. In any case, he knew that Mrs S-J, Gladys, would enjoy fish sitting. He went out to buy Kate a new container of food and also picked up chocolate éclairs from the patisserie around the corner. He knew that Mrs S-J, who was originally from the United Kingdom, would like both to eat them and tell him that they were not nearly as tasty as those she used to buy from Fortnum and Mason's when she had lived in London.
His visit to Mrs S-J took three hours: it didn't take long to eat the pastries or explain fish sitting duties but the elderly Gladys lived alone and didn't get out much. A visit from her handsome neighbor was a treat to be savored and, on this occasion, thanks to Gibbs, Tony had the time to indulge her. It was gone 23.00 by the time he got back to his apartment bearing three different types of loose leaf tea which Gladys insisted he should try. He really should introduce her to Ducky, he mused.
The three hours of undemanding chatter with Gladys had soothed his jangled nerves and he felt much more relaxed. The memory of blank, pale blue eyes and bitten nails had begun to fade a little. Now he could look forward to five peaceful days with his friends in the depths of the Virginia countryside. What could possibly go wrong?