Hiding in Plain Sight - 10/21

[xanthefic]

Hiding in Plain Sight
By Xanthe
Part Ten

Tim McGee lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. He felt tired, not least because Gibbs was only allowing them eight hours downtime to themselves at night, most of which was taken up with sleeping, while the other sixteen hours of the day were spent going over and over the evidence; the tapes, the files, the interviews – everything they had. The problem was they weren’t finding anything and that was making Gibbs bad tempered, and, as a result, all his subs were on edge too.

It had been four days since their abortive questioning of Rodney Sheppard. Tony clearly felt responsible for how badly wrong that had gone, and Gibbs had been making his views on that screw-up abundantly clear. Tim even felt a little bit sorry for Tony as Gibbs sent him on various tedious or downright unpleasant errands around the city, and he got the feeling those daily spankings Tony took from their top had been especially tough of late.

He wished he could switch off but he was so worn out by the grinding pace that he was almost beyond sleep. He hadn’t even had the energy to make his usual notes for story ideas – he had just thrown himself on the bed the minute Gibbs had allowed them to retire to their rooms.

There was a little noise at the door, and Tim sat up.

“Who is it?” he whispered.

“It is me,” Ziva told him, hesitating in the doorway. “Is it okay to come in?”

“Of course.” Tim sat up. Ziva had come to his room every night since that first night a few days ago, and he still wasn’t sure why. Sometimes they talked, and he loved that, and sometimes they just sat in silence, and that felt good too. He didn’t like to ask her what was going on in case she stopped visiting him at night and he really, really didn’t want that to happen.

“Do you mind me doing this?” she asked him, crossing over to the bed, removing her outer clothes with the same lack of embarrassment she always had, and slipping under the covers.

“No.” Tim shook his head.

“You are still dressed,” she pointed out.

“I can’t sleep. You?” he said.

She gave him a strange look. “Tim, I have not been able to sleep for the past few nights. I try and then I give up. Why else do you think I end up coming into your room?”

“Oh. Uh. I don’t know really,” Tim whispered. “I thought…well, I really don’t know.”

“No. You really don’t, do you,” she said, with a little grin.

“Well, I suppose it is weird,” he said. “Being on a strange planet and so far from home and with all that’s going on here.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “But that is not why I cannot sleep.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure if she wanted him to ask her about that, or wanted to confide in him, so he just sat there, wishing it was easier to talk to tops. Damn it, even when he had one sitting in his bed he *still* didn’t know what to say.

“Are you worried about the case?” he asked at last.

“It is proving hard to solve,” she replied. “Being away from our usual facilities does not help. It takes hours getting information back from Earth.”

“Yeah. Gibbs is getting frustrated I think.”

“You think?” She raised an eyebrow. “Good detective work, probie!”

Tim shook his head, chuckling. “I wish he’d let up on Tony though – and that’s not something I say very often! But it wasn’t his fault he was wrong about Rodney.”

Ziva stared at him, and then laughed. “You really do not understand tops at all, do you?” she said.

“Uh…well, no, to be honest. Why? What am I missing?” he frowned. Ziva leaned in close, so close he could smell her hair, and he longed to bury his nose in it and inhale deeply.

“Gibbs cannot let up on Tony right now or Tony will do something stupid,” she said. “Something more stupid than usual,” she clarified.

“What makes you say that?” Tim asked, still frowning. Ziva sighed.

“Because he is Tony. He tries so hard to impress Gibbs and this time he was wrong – spectacularly wrong. If Gibbs does not punish him for it Tony will punish himself, and Tony is extremely inventive so that will not be pretty.”

“And you can tell all this because you’re a top?” Tim asked. Ziva laughed.

“Yes, Tim. And because I know Tony – and Gibbs,” she added.

“I haven’t seen Tony sit down comfortably since that night we questioned Rodney,” Tim said. “So I’m guessing Gibbs must be spanking him pretty hard. I sometimes wonder how tough a hide Tony must have to take that, every day.”

He remembered earlier in the evening how Tony had leaned against the wall when they went through their case notes, and how he’d found Tony sprawled face down on the couch when he’d returned to their quarters the previous evening.

“Gibbs will only give him what he can handle,” Ziva replied. “He has some kind of strange sixth sense for that. Most tops would love to have the instincts he has for handling a sub. I find it…puzzling a lot of the time.”

“Really?” Tim smiled at her. He was glad there was something she wasn’t good at because most of the time she seemed so effortlessly cool, zipping around zapping the bad guys and being the consummate agent she was.

“Really.” She leaned in again and nudged his shoulder with her own. “Gibbs says…” she paused, and then continued. “Gibbs says I must learn to trust my own instincts more around subs but…I am scared.”

“Why?” Tim blinked. What did she have to be scared about?

“I am scared my own instincts might be…harmful,” she said softly. “And that I might hurt any submissive I cared for.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Tim said, without any doubt at all. She stared at him thoughtfully.

“You have such confidence in me,” she said.

“Well…no…but…I’ve met some dangerous tops in my time and you…you’re scary in other ways but not like that,” he told her, with a laugh. She gazed at him for a long moment, from those deep, dark brown eyes, and then her face softened.

“Thank you, Tim,” she said. She snuggled down under the bed clothes. “Now, we only have a few hours left if we want to get any sleep,” she said with a grimace. “So I think we must both try harder, yes?”

Tim grinned and nodded. He got up and stripped down to his boxers and a tee shirt and then slipped into the bed beside her. He reached for her, the way he had each night these past few nights, and was as astonished as always that she allowed him to hold her like this. He pulled her close and she came to him, willingly, and he wished she didn’t always have to be asleep when he told her he loved her.

He held her body carefully, like the precious creature she was. If he had a top such as this he would sacrifice his body to her every command, kneel by her side for eternity and die for her if she asked. But she would be gone in the morning. She always was. He’d wake to an empty bed and when he went out into the living area she’d be there, hair tied back, beautiful face emotionless. Nobody knew that she crept into his bed like a scared child at night, and asked to be held.

He buried his face in her dark hair and kissed it. “I love you,” he whispered, and then he stiffened, wondering if she was asleep, because her hand seemed to stroke his, where it was resting on her belly. She said nothing though, and her breathing didn’t change, so he relaxed – she must have been asleep after all.

Tim fell asleep too, easily this time, now that he had her in his bed, and, in the morning, she was gone as he had known she would be. He went out into the living area to find Gibbs sitting at the dining table, making notes on files with impatient flourishes of his hand, his body language radiating his ill humour.

Tony was lying on the couch, face down, reading through a file that was on the floor beneath him. Gibbs had him reading through the personnel files of every single person who had been on Atlantis for the past three and a half years – both military and expeditionary – even the ones who had left. It was a huge task but one that Tony was doing without complaint. Everyone was walking on eggshells around Gibbs at the moment.

Tony glanced up as he came into the room. “Hey probie,” he said, rolling sideways off the couch and getting up with a wince. “You seen Ziva?”

“Me? No…uh…why? Why would you think…uh…” Tim glanced at his bedroom door, wondering, ridiculously, if he’d somehow not noticed that Ziva was still in his room. Not that it would matter if she was, would it? He wondered if Gibbs would mind – his top had firm ideas about his subs taking strangers to their beds, but he’d never said anything about them asking his permission to sleep with each other.

“Relax, probie – it’s not an interrogation…although, methinks that maybe the probie has a guilty conscience…hmm? So what’s going on, McGee,” he said, coming up close, his green eyes surveying Tim with a sharpness that was at odds with his mocking tone of voice. “You been hiding any tops in your room, huh?” Tony asked. “Has the McVirgin finally got laid?”

“DiNozzo – here.” Gibbs clicked his fingers and Tony made a face at Tim, and then, with a quick, “I hear you, boss”, went over to the table and knelt down beside his top where he was greeted with a firm slap to the back of his head. Tony put his head down obediently, but not before he shot a wicked grin and a lascivious wink in Tim’s direction.

Tim felt his face flush – he was sure Tony was just being his usual annoying self and didn’t actually *know* about his virginal status, but all the same that comment hit too close to home. Gibbs glanced up at him, and Tim felt those steely blue eyes reading him like a book. Gibbs shot him a little smile and Tim realised, with a jolt, that even if Tony had just been guessing, Gibbs definitely knew he was still a virgin.

Ziva, Ducky and Abby joined them a few minutes later, and they set off down to the cafeteria for breakfast. Gibbs released them from their leashes when they got there and sent Tim, Ziva and Ducky to get food for the rest of them. Abby then ran off with a squeal as she saw the tall figure of General Sheppard enter the room, with his leashed husband. They’d been confined to quarters for the past few days and this was their first time out – and Tim knew Abby had missed the irascible scientist. He wasn’t sure why the two of them had struck up such a rapport but Abby clearly adored Rodney and the feeling seemed to be entirely mutual.

“Rodney! I missed you,” Abby said, wrapping her arms around him after a quick glance at the general to make sure that was okay. Tim stopped on his way back to the table with trays of food for them all and gazed at John Sheppard and his husband, struck by how different they looked.

The general had a prowling, almost predatory quality to him that Tim hadn’t noticed before – he also seemed to have had a hair cut. Rodney, on the other hand, was radiating a kind of blissed-out happiness, and looked as if he was walking along on some kind of happy cloud all of his own. His normally coiled-like-a-spring body language had changed and his shoulders were now loose and lacking any kind of tension. He looked more in love with his husband than ever; their bodies were pressed close against each other, and when they moved they seemed to do so completely in unison.

Tim was about to turn to Tony and say something, when he stopped. Tony and Gibbs were also watching the general and his husband and seeing the same things he was seeing, but Tony’s shoulders had tightened into an unhappy knot, while Gibbs looked more intense than usual, his blue eyes cold as ice. Tim noticed that Gibbs was still holding Tony’s leash, and the knuckles on the hand he had wrapped around it were white. The tension between Gibbs and Tony was so thick it was almost tangible, and Tim stepped quietly towards them with the tray, wondering what it meant.

They all converged on the same set of tables to eat, and Tim sat down, watching the whole time, fascinated by the strange undercurrents around the table. Rodney’s eyes were shining, and the general literally couldn’t keep his eyes – or his hands - off him as they shared their breakfast. Tony was leaning against the wall beside Gibbs, standing up as he ate with an air of studied nonchalance that seemed to imply that he was *choosing* to eat standing up because he liked the view rather than it being a necessity because his ass was too sore to sit on it. Tim also noticed that Rodney shot Tony a glance or two, and there was clearly no love lost between the two men. The general and Gibbs, on the other hand, seemed to be on good terms.

“I see you fixed that problem you had,” Gibbs commented to the general with a grunt.

John gave a smile. “I did – with a little help from you. Thank you again, Agent Gibbs,” he murmured. Rodney looked up, wide-eyed, from where he was eating and John’s hazel eyes went back to him immediately; the look of intense love he gave his husband almost took Tim’s breath away.

“And the hair is a big improvement,” Gibbs said. John laughed out loud.

“This is just the way it usually is,” he said. “Things have been so hectic lately that I forgot to get it cut before. I got Carson to fix that this morning.”

“Yeah, about that,” Rodney said, his mouth full, “Carson really isn’t a barber you know. I dunno why you asked him to do it.”

“Aw, you’re just antsy because he’s pissed with you for lying to us all,” John said, with a grin. Rodney flushed and John laughed at him. “It’s okay, Rodney. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get too terrible a revenge on you next time you visit the infirmary.”

“He said he was keeping some medical instruments especially for use on me,” Rodney said, gazing at Abby mournfully.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” she said.

“He’s keeping them in the *refrigerator*,” Rodney added, a tragic look on his face.

Gibbs laughed out loud at that, and Tim glanced at him in surprise. His normally taciturn boss didn’t usually laugh much – and if anyone made him laugh it was Tony. Tim didn’t miss the sour look Tony shot in Rodney’s direction but it went entirely over Rodney’s head. He was just gazing goofily at his husband. Then Tim noticed that Gibbs seemed transfixed by the way the general was petting Rodney, and that was when he noticed that Gibbs *still* had his hand wrapped tightly in Tony’s leash – although he’d unleashed the rest of them some time ago. He wondered if Ziva knew what was going on because there was definitely *something* going on here that he couldn’t figure out.

After breakfast Gibbs took them all down to the south pier, the way he did every morning. Atlantis was a beautiful city, and, the way the boss was working them, they mostly only got to see the inside of it. Gibbs didn’t leash them for their morning walk – and it wasn’t really recreational, as far as Tim could tell – more an opportunity for brainstorming, if anyone’s brain could storm anything while trying to keep up with Gibbs because he walked so fast. Gibbs liked to go over all the salient points from the day before and then assign them all their day’s new work by the time their walk finished.

They didn’t usually start talking about the case until they reached the end of the pier, so the pace wasn’t as fast to start with. Tim walked beside Ziva, wishing he could slip his hand into hers and they could stroll along, hand in hand, like lovers. It was an exceptionally lovely day, and Ducky was regaling Abby with a very long, convoluted story about his childhood in Scotland.

Tim let the sound of Ducky’s voice wash over him as he gazed out at the ocean. The large yellow Atlantean sun was already high in the sky, while the smaller, more intense white sun was lower on the horizon, but both of them were sending fizzing glints of light over the surface of the blue water.

“Bet you wish you could sail that boat of yours out on a surface like this, huh boss?” Tim overheard Tony say to Gibbs. Gibbs looked, for a moment, almost benign, as he gazed out at the ocean, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, Tony. Looks like a great ocean to sail,” Gibbs murmured, and then they both leaned forward at the exact same time, in the exact same way, to lean on the balustrade together.

Tim had a sudden flash of insight into a jigsaw puzzle he hadn’t even realised he’d been trying to piece together – but then it was gone. He saw a colourful alien bird swooping overhead and pointed up at it. Tony turned to look, taking a step towards him and Ziva, and Tim was about to say something when a loud noise ripped overhead and into him at what felt like one and the same time. He heard someone screaming, and, as he stood there, the entire world seemed to slow down, and everyone started moving as if they were going at half-speed.

He saw Tony, acting without thought or hesitation, throw himself at Gibbs and push the boss to the floor, then roll him over towards the cover of an awning. He saw Ducky seizing Abby and watched them both duck instinctively, then run towards the side of the building and take shelter there. And in the middle of it all was him, standing there while everyone around him was moving, and there was a pain in his arm and he could feel something warm and wet soaking through his shirt. Then Ziva was shouting something, and she shoved him – hard – and he fell, and in one continuous motion she turned, gun drawn, and was firing up at something.

It was almost comical, lying there, a loud buzzing sound in his ears, watching as DiNozzo rolled off Gibbs, and turned, and then saw him. Tim could see everything so clearly now. Tony’s eyes, usually always laughing and teasing, were deadly serious – and kind of worried as he gazed at him. He was shouting something at Tim – something Tim couldn’t hear - and seemed to have morphed effortlessly into the fast, deadly agent he became whenever things got serious.

He saw Tony wriggle forward, coming towards him on his stomach, and he wanted to laugh because Tony was a big guy and it looked kind of dumb like that, but then Tony stopped and covered his head with his hands, and there was another loud noise.

Ziva was yelling something and shooting her gun again, and now Tony was wriggling towards him even faster, and had reached him. Behind Tony, Tim saw Gibbs roll onto his feet and get up, in one smooth motion, his gun drawn. He started shooting too, up at the same spot Ziva was shooting at, far above them into one of the gleaming silver towers.

Then Tony was looming over him, blocking out the sun, and his hands were pressing down hard on Tim’s upper arm, and that’s when Tim realised it really, *really* hurt.

“Oh shit…I’ve got you, Tim. Hold on,” Tony said. “Seriously, probie, if you wanted Ziva to notice you I’m sure there are better ways you could have gone about it than getting yourself shot.”

And he gave Tim a grin that didn’t disguise the worry in his eyes. And before the clarity faded, and everything speeded back up again, Tim wondered why he had never seen before that Tony - annoying, teasing, tormenting Tony - cared about everything and everyone more than anyone was ever supposed to know.

“You like me,” he muttered, as his eyes closed.

“Yeah, probie,” Tony replied, and his hands closed over Tim’s shoulders and Tim felt him pulling him over to the safety of the side of the building, where Ducky and Abby were sheltering out of range of whoever was shooting at them. “Keep it quiet, but I kind of do.”

~*~

“Well, Abby confirms it,” Tony said, ending his radio conversation with the forensics expert from where she was working in her makeshift lab. “Tim was shot by a P-90.”

“General Sheppard said there were no P-90s missing from his armoury,” Gibbs snapped, prowling their quarters like a caged tiger, all controlled, angry energy.

Ziva watched him, feeling detached. She would find out what she needed to know, and then she would act.

“There aren’t,” Tony confirmed. “But the fire onboard the Daedalus a few days ago? Funnily enough, it took place right next to the armoury. Door was blown right off by the force of the explosion.”

“The weaponry?” Gibbs asked.

“Things were so badly burned up in there that it’s taken them awhile to go through the inventory. It seems all the weapons are accounted for - except one...”

“P-90,” Gibbs finished, shaking his head grimly. “Looks like that bomb on the Daedalus was more than just a diversion.”

“It’s looking that way, boss,” Tony mused, scratching the side of his face with his pen.

“Tony – get General Sheppard to give me a list of all the men under his command who can shoot moving targets from that kind of range with this kind of weapon,” Gibbs ordered.

“On it, boss,” Tony said, turning away and tapping his radio again.

Ziva closed her eyes momentarily and re-lived the flash of gunfire, seeing the livid red spot that appeared from nowhere on Tim’s shirt. She had turned, locating the shooter by instinct, and fired off some shots before shoving Tim out of the way so he wouldn’t be hit again. Then she had covered Tony while he crawled over to aid Tim. Gibbs had joined her, and they had fired for several minutes until they realised they weren’t getting any returning fire.

Then she, Tony and Gibbs had pursued the shooter while Ducky and Abby had radioed for help and taken care of Tim. General Sheppard had arrived within seconds, and they’d run up to the tower where the shots had emanated from, only to find it empty when they got there.

Ziva wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Gibbs so angry. He’d thumped his hand angrily against the window the shots had been fired from and then had them working it as a crime scene for the next few hours, looking for some clue as to who the shooter had been. So far, they’d drawn a complete blank. This man, whoever he was, seemed to walk around the city leaving no trace of anything. He'd policed his brass and left no fingerprints, or anything else they could use to track him.

“What the hell was the shooter trying to achieve by firing on us?” Tony asked. “He wasn’t a very good shot, either – McGee sustained a minor gunshot wound but none of the rest of us got hit.”

“Maybe he wasn’t intending to hit anyone,” Ducky murmured, from the corner of the room.

Ziva looked up, sharply, to see Gibbs turn and march towards Ducky.

“What are you saying, Ducky?” he demanded.

“I don’t know…just, there was a lot of noise and gunfire and we were in a tight knit group but despite that he only managed to hit one of us – and not a very good hit at that,” Ducky mused. “Why go to all the bother of stealing a weapon if you’re not that good a shot?”

“Maybe he just got lucky,” Tony said.

“Maybe.” Ducky shrugged. “Or unlucky,” he mused, frowning. “Perhaps it was just designed to frighten us off?”

“He thought he’d frighten off NCIS with some random gunfire?” Gibbs said, his tone a combination of disdain and disbelief.

“And how is this linked to the murders?” Tony asked. “Is this our killer, or is this someone else? And if it’s someone else, why the hell does he want us dead?”

“So far, we’ve got a killer who preys on subs, who likes to perform his own autopsies and who can shoot,” Gibbs growled, pacing again. “That makes him what? A soldier with some medical training?”

“You mean like a field medic?” Ducky asked. “It’s possible – Jennifer Keller’s body wasn’t opened up the way a trained medical examiner would open a body, but it was carved into by someone who knew their way around the major organs in the body. As, indeed, were all the other bodies.”

“Tony – find out how many field medics on Atlantis can also shoot and would have known where to find the armoury on the Daedalus and have access to explosives,” Gibbs said. Tony nodded and tapped his radio again, turning away as he did so.

Ziva blinked, and saw a flash of light and Tim standing there, a surprised look on his face, as if he didn't know he’d been shot. She blinked again, fast, trying to clear the image but it wouldn’t go away. Someone had shot him. Someone had tried to kill him - and she would have to kill someone for that. It was her right. She felt a surge of darkness deep inside, and smiled to herself. This was one thing she understood, one thing she was good at. She would go out there, find this person, and slide her knife between his ribs. She would carve into him until he was begging her for death but his death would be slow and painful. She would make sure of that.

She got up and began walking to the door…then stopped, as someone stepped out in front of her, blocking her way. Gibbs.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he asked sharply.

“To visit McGee in the infirmary,” she replied coolly.

“No you’re not.”

“You cannot stop me,” she said, her mouth twisting into a dark little smile.

“The hell I can’t. Tim McGee is my sub, Ziva, in case you’ve forgotten, and it’s my collar he wears around his neck,” Gibbs told her, and she almost missed the note of danger in his tone. “Nobody goes to see my sub when he’s injured without my permission – got that?”

“Dr Beckett says he’ll be fine, my dear,” Ducky told her, from where he was sitting at the table. “It was a clean wound – he lost some blood but he’s been stitched up now. Carson says he can return to quarters tomorrow, Ziva.” His tone was placatory. She glanced at him over Gibbs’s shoulder, her gaze cool and dispassionate.

“All the same, I will see him,” she said in a cold, hard tone.

“Not like this you won’t,” Gibbs growled, and he took hold of her arm and physically thrust her into his bedroom, shutting the door angrily behind him. “Snap out of it!” he told her, clicking his fingers hard in front of her face. She didn’t even flinch at the sound. She was a long way away, somewhere dark, cold and familiar. She liked it here – it felt good.

“I will see Tim, and then I will kill whoever did this to him,” she said, as if it was that simple.

“And then what? You go back to McGee full of bloodlust and rip him open with your teeth?” Gibbs asked. “Listen to me, Ziva David, you’re not going anywhere near McGee when you’re like this. You’ll terrify him half to death, and he’ll never come near you again. You want that? Huh? You want to scare him so much he flinches whenever you go near him?”

She gazed at him steadily, trying to process what he was telling her.

“You have a choice – right here, right now,” Gibbs told her, in a low, urgent tone. “I know you like Tim, and I know he sure as hell likes you. I know you’ve been sneaking into his room at night, and I know he lets you.”

That registered. She moved her head to look at him more closely. “How do you know this?”

“I know everything,” he told her, with a wave of her hand, as if that explained it. “Listen, Ziva – this is the moment, right here, when you decide what kind of a top you want to be. You can still have Tim, if you want him, but if you do, if you really do, then you have to learn to control what’s inside of you, and I don’t see you doing that right now.”

“Tim is mine,” she said, robotically. “And someone tried to kill him. I will have my revenge and I will…”

“No, he’s not,” Gibbs interrupted her. “Tim McGee is mine, right up until the time he takes off that collar around his neck, or I take it off for him. Understood?”

Her brain took a moment to process that. She was surprised to realise that what Gibbs was saying was correct. Tim wasn’t hers. She hadn’t claimed him. She hadn’t even slept with him. She closed her eyes, and saw red blood staining his shirt, and his eyes, those beautiful green eyes, wide with pain and surprise as he looked at her. When she opened her eyes again, Gibbs was standing in her space, his face too close, his gaze scorching her with its intensity.

“Now you want him, you can win him – I’ve no doubt about that,” Gibbs told her. “But first you have to win that battle with yourself. Can you do that, Ziva? Can you be what he needs you to be, and not what you’ve been in the past?”

“I…I do not know,” she said, feeling the darkness subside into a dull ache in the pit of her belly. “I want blood for this,” she whispered. “I want to make someone pay.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t have anyone who fits the bill right now,” Gibbs snapped. “But we do have an injured sub lying in an infirmary bed who could use a friendly word from the top he’s crazy about.”

“I…” She hesitated. “I want to hurt someone,” she murmured. “Supposing it is him I hurt?”

She did want to hurt him. She wanted to hurt him for scaring her, for making her care about him, and then for nearly dying. She wanted to hurt him as she had hurt Ari – she had loved her half-brother and he had betrayed her. That was what love did – it made you weak. You had to destroy the other person before they destroyed you. She dug her fingernails into her palms. Would she really do that? Would she go to Tim’s bedside and deliberately hurt him because she was too scared to love him?

Gibbs gave her a cold, hard look. “Right here, right now – you make that decision, Ziva, because I’m not letting you leave this room until you do.”

She swallowed hard, and felt little droplets of blood run down her palms from where she was digging her fingernails into the skin.

“I used to have a dog, when I was child,” she whispered. “I loved that dog so much but…I used to hit him, just so I could kiss him after and make him love me again. And he did. He loved me so much that he just took it, and every time I hurt him, I would see that look in his eyes. Betrayal, pain…maybe I just like seeing that look,” she murmured.

“Maybe you do.” Gibbs took a step forward, crushing her into a little space between him and the wall behind her. “Tim McGee is a gentle soul, Ziva. He's not like you, or me, or Tony. He's not as tough, or as sure of himself. And he’s not one of those subs you can take to your bed and hurt because they like it because he doesn't want that. He’s not one of those vicious lost souls you seem to have an instinct for picking up, either. You don’t slap him around, and tear into him, and fight him into submission. He’s not like that. He’s inexperienced and he’s scared. You need to figure out whether you can gently take him to a place where he’ll eat out of your hand, and you have to decide if you’re worthy of him, because if you get him eating out of your hand and then you turn on him, I promise you, I *will* track you down and I *will* make you suffer for that. Understood?”

She felt suddenly frightened – not of Gibbs but of herself. Was she really that dark inside? Was she so far gone that she’d hurt someone as kind and trusting as Tim McGee? She remembered his big, innocent green eyes and she wanted, suddenly, to take him in her arms and kiss him, and tell him it was going to be okay. She didn’t want to hurt him - she wanted to take care of him. She wanted to love him.

“Okay…you’re back with us,” Gibbs said, taking a step back. “Now, you make this decision once and for all, Ziva – who are you? Are you someone I can trust, or are you always going to be fighting your dark side? Because I think you can beat it, but you need to step up to the plate and do it. Make your choice, Ziva, and make it now. Who are you? Who are you in here?” He tapped her chest, over her heart, with one hard, pointed finger.

“I am Ziva David. I am a Mossad agent and an NCIS agent. And I would like to be…I would like to be Tim McGee’s top,” she told him, liking the way that sounded.

“You think you can go down there and be the kind of top he needs right now?” he demanded. “Because that’s what a good top does – they put the needs of their sub before their own.”

She lowered her head and gazed at the ground, then took a deep breath and looked up again. This man, he was always getting into her head and into her space and forcing her to make the hard decisions. He was so demanding and uncompromising and he saw something in her that she did not even see in herself. He had put his collar on her, and brought her into his team and helped her belong just when she had lost her old family and all her old certainties.

He was always needling her, to bring out the best in her, and with him she felt known. He was a top, like her, and a top who had seen and suffered so much. He had gone through the tough times and come out the other side like this – wounded, for sure - but battle hardened and tempered by his experiences. He understood her - she could see that when she looked in his eyes. There wasn’t any part of being a top he didn’t understand, and maybe this was a battle he’d had to fight with himself too, a long time ago.

“Yes,” she said firmly, seeing the one thing she needed in his eyes – his faith in her and his determination that she would *not* fail. “Yes, I can be that top,” she said. The darkness in her belly dissipated a little. She knew it would always be there, and she would always struggle to control it, but she also knew now that she *could* fight that battle and win - and she had never been sure about that before.

“Okay…then you can see him.” Gibbs stepped back, and gestured with his head at the door. “But you see this through, Ziva. Don’t make him want you and then decide you can’t be bothered with this kind of sub. He’ll never be a warrior, like you. He’s a different kind of soul – but he’ll give you his devotion for the rest of his life if you let him. Don’t ever throw that back at him.”

“I would not,” she whispered, suddenly awe-struck by how she felt. Tim McGee had been under her nose the whole time, wanting to give her what she needed – love, loyalty and every ounce of devotion in his steadfast soul. And all this time she’d turned her nose up at such a gift. She was an idiot. They weren’t mismatched at all; he was *exactly* the kind of sub she needed to take her out of herself and make her laugh, to bring a lightness into her life, and to make her feel loved.

She walked slowly out of the door and down to the infirmary. This was important – she had to do it right. This was about Tim as much as it was about herself and she knew how scared he was of tops, and how much he feared his own sexuality.

Tim was sitting up in bed, his arm in a sling, his face so pale that it made his eyes – those beautiful eyes – look lovelier than ever. Those same eyes lit up when she came into the room and she felt her heart break a little. How could she ever have dismissed his devotion so casually? He was beautiful, and he could be hers if she went gently with him. Being gentle was a new thing for her – she who threw her subs to the ground and took what she wanted from them. It felt…surprisingly good.

“Hey,” she said softly, and she leaned over and kissed him on the lips, just a little affectionate kiss, and it felt good to be able to touch him.

“Hey.” He looked up at her, a dazed expression on his face. “I was wondering if you’d come and see me. All the others have been.”

“I know. I…wanted to wait until I was feeling less upset.”

“You were upset? About me?” he asked, those large, expressive eyes full of hope. She sat down beside the bed and took his hand in her own.

“I was. I was angry that someone had hurt you, and I was worried that you were in pain.”

“You were?” He looked surprised, and she squeezed his fingers gently with her own.

“Yes. I was,” she told him softly. “Tim…I have Gibbs’s permission to stay here and to watch over you. Is that okay with you?”

“Um…well, yes – that’s fine,” he said, looking tired but happy. “Tony likes me,” he told her, conversationally. “He’s trying to deny it now – he says I was delirious at the time and misheard, but he definitely said he likes me.”

“Of course he likes you,” Ziva chuckled. “He always has. You did not know that?”

Tim frowned. “Do I miss everything?”

“Well…maybe you are not quite as observant as Tony or myself, but you are getting there,” she said smoothing her hand through his short hair. He grinned at her, and then suppressed a yawn. “You must be exhausted – Carson says you lost quite a bit of blood. Why don’t you sleep,” she said to him. “I will stay here with you.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, then opened them again. “You won’t go while I’m sleeping will you?”

“No,” she promised.

“Not even if they find out who shot me?” he asked.

She thought about that for a moment, and how it would feel to allow Gibbs and Tony to take her revenge for her and for that particular bloodlust to be forever unsatisfied, and found that she didn’t care. Tim needed her right now and the others could take care of their murderer if they found him.

“No. Not even then,” she said. “Here - let me show you.” She climbed onto the bed and lay down next to him, then put her arms around him and held him close, going gently, taking care of his injured arm.

He gave a little sigh and relaxed against her, and she thought of all the recent nights when he had held her, and kept her demons at bay. Now she would do the same for him.

His breathing slowed and deepened as he fell asleep. She moved one finger, stroking his hand with it tenderly, and as she did so she pressed her nose against his short hair and breathed in the scent of him. She thought of the many times he had done this to her over the past few days, thinking she was asleep, and that made her think of something else he also did when he thought she was asleep. She smiled, and snuggled in even closer, watching over him and keeping him safe.

“I love you,” she whispered.

~*~

Abby sat on the floor of her room, knees under her chin, gazing out at the moonlit ocean beneath her. She usually liked to sit on her balcony, enjoying the warm, soft sea breeze before she went to bed, but Gibbs had forbidden them to sit out now that pot shots were being taken at them. Their balconies were only partially overlooked from other areas of the city and any such shot would be almost impossible, but Gibbs wasn’t taking any chances.

The ocean, which she’d loved so much since arriving here, now looked dark and unfriendly. This whole city, so beautiful, rising out of the sea with its silver turrets, full of technological wonders, had now turned into something more sinister. Someone was stalking through its hallways, murdering people in their rooms and workplaces, and taking shots at her and her friends. She didn’t feel safe here any more.

She remembered when she’d received a death threat before testifying in court once, and had stayed in the elevator for hours, going up and down endlessly, sitting at the back on the carpeted floor, too afraid to leave. Gibbs had come to sit with her for some of the time; he’d put his arm around her shoulder and she’d snuggled in close because Gibbs was the only person who could ever make her feel safe. With Gibbs beside her she knew she’d never come to any harm; he just wouldn’t allow it.

She ran her fingers over his collar, gratefully. She was lucky he let her wear it. She remembered how he’d put it on her, several years’ ago. She’d been at NCIS for a few months and had a sneaking envy for the fact that Ducky and the field agent Stan Burley both got to wear Gibbs’s collars. She’d done some good work and Gibbs seemed pleased with her, and she had been going through a tough time after breaking up with yet another totally unsuitable top.

“You do seem to attract ‘em, Abs,” Gibbs had told her in her lab one day, giving her that unnerving look – the one that seemed to reach into her soul and lay it bare, so she felt she had no secrets. “What the hell was there about this top that you thought she was worth taking all this crap for?”

“I like to give people a chance,” Abby replied. “And she was nice to me. Well, at first. And she’s a Goth, like me, so I thought we had a lot in common.”

“And she owns her own funeral home,” Gibbs commented mildly, with just a hint of a grin on his lips. Abby rolled her eyes.

“Okay, so the thought of us sharing a coffin at night was pretty hot – at first,” she said, grinning back at him because this one had hurt, and it was easier to laugh about it than cry. “I thought I’d met a kindred spirit, Gibbs!”

“A kindred spirit who cleaned out your bank account to keep her funeral home in business when the bank called in her loan,” Gibbs said, with a shrug.

“Yeah. That’s the bit where I figured out that she and I were doomed.”

“No it’s not, Abs. If it were, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Gibbs told her, an uncompromising look in his eyes.

What conversation? Abby wondered. They just seemed to be chatting – it didn’t seem to be a special kind of conversation.

“But you were still seeing her and still making excuses for her when she kidnapped you and drove you to your mom’s house at gunpoint to try and scam *her* out of her life savings as well.”

“Well, Gloria wasn’t suckered in,” Abby said, as if that made everything all right. Gloria had known something was up because Abby had signed her and Cicely hadn’t figured out what she was signing. Gloria had gone into the bathroom and texted Gibbs on her cellphone.

“Gloria is a smart lady.” Gibbs shook his head. “Smarter than her daughter,” he added.

“Gibbs! I was blinded by love!” Abby declared. “I didn’t know Cecily was going to turn out to be some crazy psycho grifter!”

“I could have told you,” Gibbs said. “I DID tell you as I recall.”

“Not that she was a crazy psycho grifter!” Abby protested.

“Nope – that she was trouble and you should stay away from her,” Gibbs reminded her. “Abby, I know you’re attracted to the crazy ones. I know you’re a sucker for a sob story – the sobbier the better.”

“I don’t think there’s such a word as ‘sobbier’,” Abby retorted, turning away from him to work in a different area of her lab because she really didn’t want to hear this. Whenever she turned he was in her face again, the little smile on his lips softening the hardness in his eyes.

“I don’t think crazy is what you really want, underneath,” Gibbs said. “You just feel sorry for these tops because they’re outsiders and you think nobody ever gave them a chance. I don’t think you even consider that maybe they’ve had dozens of chances and nobody’ll give ‘em any more because they are beyond help; nobody except you that is.”

“Well, that’s just the way I am,” Abby declared. “I don’t DO boring, Gibbs. I want something different, something cool and unusual. I want…”

“To be safe,” he finished for her. “Because that’s what I keep reading from you, Abby, and yet you keep on choosing the kind of tops who put you in danger.”

“I don’t mean to,” she said, feeling a little contrite because he had had to rescue her from her mom’s house and then he’d nearly been mown down by Cecily’s hearse as the psycho top from hell had made her getaway.

“I know.” He shrugged. She liked the way he said that – it was never a flat statement with Gibbs – he always put a little inflection in it that made it seem like he DID know, that he always knew everything. “So I was thinking about a way we could keep you safe – which you want and god knows I want – while still giving you the opportunity to at least flirt with crazy and exciting – the way you want but I’m less keen on.” He gave a wry grin at that.

“What did you have in mind?” She put down the evidence bag she was holding and gazed at him, puzzled.

“My collar.” He took a plain, black, leather collar out of his jacket pocket.

“How romantic!” she laughed.

“Nothing romantic about it – just practical,” he told her. “Like with Ducky and with Stan. I’m not taking any subs to my bed but…”

“Which is a pity, Gibbs – you must get lonely,” she said, eyes wide and sympathetic. “And you’re nice – you deserve someone really special.”

“Been there, done that, got the alimony payments to prove it,” he told her with a wry grin.

“So how would this collar work then?” she asked, frowning. People did have all kinds of arrangements but mostly tops collared subs they were sleeping with. She wasn’t sure about Ducky but she knew Gibbs definitely wasn’t sleeping with Stan because the field agent had told her so.

“If you wear it, then you’re my sub – like Ducky and Stan. No sex, no sharing a plate or any of that stuff. But the collar might scare off some of the more insane tops you seem to attract – all I’ll ask is that if you want to date someone, you introduce me first. I say they’re crazy, you don’t date ‘em.” Gibbs shrugged.

“That’s all?” Abby picked up the collar and held it in her fingers. There was something appealing about the idea. She’d envied Ducky his collar for ages, and she knew the love between him and Gibbs, though deep and abiding, wasn’t essentially sexual in nature.

“Well, that and discipline,” he grinned at her. She felt her stomach do a flip. “Easy,” he laughed. “The rules will be simple – I’ll only spank you if you lie to me or disobey my direct order. That’s it. Oh, and if you get in any trouble with the Director, he’ll have to come through me to deal with you because nobody else is laying a finger on you. But you’re a good girl, Abs – you don’t get into trouble. And I promise you that if you do I’ll always be on your side.”

He would as well. She could sense that. He was the kind of top who didn’t let a sub get away with any kind of shit, but he’d also stick with you, no matter how badly you screwed up.

She was shocked by how much she wanted this. Okay, so it wasn’t *ideal*, and it certainly wasn’t what she’d imagined it would be like to be collared, but it was…kind of nice.

“You intend to collar all your team?” she asked. “First Ducky, then Stan, and now me?”

Gibbs grinned. “It helps knowing you all answer only to me – that there are no other tops on the scene. Means I can keep you all safe and focussed on the job.”

“Heh – slavedriver!” she said. He laughed at that. She wasn’t sure why he’d collared Ducky, but she knew that Stan had struggled with alcoholism and Gibbs had put his collar on him to help keep him clean. It was working as well; Stan hadn’t touched a drink in two years and was proving to be an excellent agent. She also knew that Stan had been offered a new job and she wondered what would happen then. “If Stan takes this job he’s been offered, will you take his collar away from him?” she asked.

“Yeah. Can’t keep him collared if he’s working hundreds of miles away.” Gibbs shrugged. “But it’s done its job – time for Stan to move on.”

Abby knew that while Stan really appreciated what Gibbs had done for him, he needed to find someone whose collar would be more than platonic; both he and Gibbs were in agreement on that.

"I'll miss Stan," she sighed.

"I know."

"Will you get a new field agent?" She didn't like new people; it took ages to get used to them.

"I guess." He shrugged. "I'm up to my eyeballs in resumes at the moment – boring as hell."

"Poor Gibbs." Abby fingered the collar thoughtfully. She wondered if he'd given his spouses plain black leather collars as well, or something more personally meaningful to them. Then she wondered why he HAD so many ex-spouses. He was a nice guy – why did his marriages always fail? Ducky had worn his collar for years and clearly loved him, and Stan had always worn his collar with pride as well. Maybe Gibbs was better at collaring subs than marrying them.

“Think about it, Abby,” Gibbs told her. “No need to rush into it. And if it doesn’t work out – there’s no pressure. You can just repudiate the collar. Maybe you’ll find the right kind of top and want to take their collar in time.”

“With your help?” She raised a cheeky eyebrow. He grinned at her and kissed her forehead.

“I just want to keep you safe, Abs,” he replied, walking towards the door. She knew he did, and she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to be the collared sub of a man like Gibbs, to walk on the end of his leash beside Ducky and Stan. “Like I said, you think about it and…”

She reached the door before him, running at full pelt, so fast that he almost tripped over her as she knelt down in front of him and held up the collar.

“I’ve thought about it,” she said. “Yes please!”

He laughed out loud at that. “You sure, Abs?” He stroked her dark hair.

“Positive! It all sounds really cool – uh, except for the discipline part so if you ever have to spank me please go easy on me.”

“Well…” he paused in opening the buckle on the collar. “I can’t promise that, Abs. Never disciplined a sub yet and went easy on ‘em. Can’t see the point of it. It’s confusing to the sub and doesn’t get the job done. If they don’t deserve a spanking don’t give them one, and if they do, then do it properly. Still want to wear the collar?” He held it up, a question in his eyes.

She thought about it for a moment. She wasn’t the kind of naughty sub who was always getting into trouble – she wondered how Gibbs would handle that kind of sub and thought it’d be fun to watch. But she wasn’t like that, so she thought she was safe.

“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ll just have to trust you.”

“That’s all I ask.” He fastened the cool leather of the collar around her neck and buckled it into place. She placed her hands over his where they were working.

“Your hands are strange,” she said. He raised an amused eyebrow, clearly wondering if this was going off into some crazy Abby place.

“In what way?” he asked. “Or am I going to regret that question?”

“No…it’s just, I’d have thought a man like you – you know, ex-military, law enforcement, big bad top and all that…that you’d have these big, blunt hands but you don’t. You have quite creative hands.”

She took hold of one and examined it. They were quite square and neat, the palms flat and smooth, the nails clean and trimmed.

Then she realised something; these were hands that sanded down boats, lovingly crafting shape from raw wood. And these were hands that were used to holding a sniper’s rifle, taking their time, being patient, waiting for the right moment to strike before quietly and efficiently squeezing around a trigger.

They were subtle hands, expert hands, not blunt instruments. She wondered what these hands would feel like making love to a submissive, running over a bound, naked body, full of intent and purpose, and she gave an involuntary shiver. These hands were beautiful but frightening. She didn’t think they were hands she wanted spanking her or claiming her, but they *were* hands she wanted keeping her safe. She raised the hand she was holding to her lips and kissed it, then glanced up at him.

“Thank you, Gibbs,” she said.

“You’re welcome, Abby,” he replied, and then he lifted her chin and kissed her gently on the lips for the first time.

Abby smiled at the memory, and then got up from where she was sitting. It was late, but not time for bed yet. She’d heard Gibbs and Tony return about half an hour ago but hadn’t wanted to move from the quiet spot in the corner by the window where she’d been sitting. Gibbs had poked his head around the door anyway, to check she was alright, and she’d seen the spark of concern in his eyes that she was sitting in the dark with her knees pressed up against her chin, but she’d waved him away.

Now she felt lonely – and a little afraid. Ducky was spending the evening with his new friend, Richard Woolsey – she wasn’t sure what was going on between them but she had noticed that Ducky walked around humming a lot these days. Ziva was spending the night in the infirmary with Tim. That had taken her by surprise; Tim’s hopeless infatuation with Ziva was pretty obvious but she’d never seen any evidence that Ziva returned his feelings.

Tony and Gibbs had been working late, questioning all the marines on the base about their medical expertise and their ability with a P-90, and she’d been alone in their quarters for a few hours now.

Rodney had asked her if she wanted to spend the evening with him and John but she’d declined. Whatever had happened between them during their four days confined to quarters seemed to have affected them profoundly, and right now she was pretty sure they wanted to be alone together.

She went out into the living area and paused in the doorway. Gibbs was sitting in the armchair, reading through his notes. He was at least wearing his reading glasses, which always made her chuckle because he did like to pretend he didn’t need them. He had one leg crossed over the other knee, and his elbow was resting on the arm of the chair, one finger tapping the side of his jaw as he read.

Tony was lying on the floor at Gibbs’s feet. He was on his stomach, which was pretty much his main position these days when he wasn’t standing, and she wanted to feel sorry for him but he seemed fine with it and never complained so she thought that maybe it was what he wanted – or needed – or something like that anyway. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black shirt, and he was reading another one of the stacks of personnel files Gibbs was making him go through. There was a huge pile of unread ones beside him to his right, a smaller pile of ones he’d finished to his left, and an even smaller pile of ones he'd read but thought might be hinky in the middle. When he was done with one, he took it and put it on one of the other piles.

What struck her though, was that he was resting his chin on Gibbs’s boot, the file lying open in front of him, and they both looked so comfortable, utterly at ease with each other. If Abby hadn’t known better she’d have assumed they were sleeping together, and that Tony was Gibbs’s sub in every sense of the word. They just looked like a dominant and a submissive should look – the sub resting on the floor at the dom’s feet, chin on his boot, and the dom comfortable with that, unmoving, neither of them speaking.

She stood there for a long moment, just watching them, and she felt another pang of loneliness.

Gibbs became aware of her, and he looked up and gave her a smile.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay, Abs?”

“I…I’m kind of feeling creeped out,” she admitted. “People getting carved up in their quarters, and then someone taking a shot at Tim…it doesn’t feel very safe around here any more.”

She hugged her arms around her body. She knew she could take care of herself if push came to shove – she had done it before when some bad guys had captured her - but that didn’t stop her being scared anyway. She remembered those gunshots and the way Tony, Ziva and Gibbs had immediately leapt into action, and how Tim had looked lying on the ground with blood soaking through his shirt.

“You want to sleep in my room tonight?” Gibbs asked her, and it was tempting. She knew he’d just hold her all night and she’d be safe because nobody would get past Gibbs to get to her. She was about to say ‘yes’ when she saw the look in Tony’s eyes. He wouldn’t say anything, and she knew he wouldn’t begrudge her, but it would hurt him all the same.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Really.” She turned to go back to her room.

“You want to spend the night in Colonel Lorne’s room, Abs?” Gibbs asked, and she felt her stomach do a flip. She turned back.

“You think he’d mind?” she asked.

She saw Lorne every day as he had taken it upon himself to be her bodyguard, with Gibbs’s permission, and she loved their easy banter and the way his eyes followed her around the room. She hadn’t had a whole lot of free time but she’d spent a couple of evenings with him when Gibbs wasn’t working them all to the bone. She liked him more and more but somehow that made it harder to take the next step. She couldn’t believe this was for real; she’d never met anyone who made her feel like this and she kept waiting for the crazy shit to start and for it all to fall apart. He’d been patient, never going further than she wanted to go, which had only been a few kisses and the feel of his fingers tightening on her wrists so far. He never asked for more though, just sat back and let her dictate the pace.

Tony laughed out loud, rolling over to look at her properly. “Mind? I think he’d be ecstatic,” he said.

“Cool!” she grinned, walking towards the main door to their quarters.

“Not so fast, Abs – Tony will take you there,” Gibbs said, gesturing with his head. Tony got to his feet and sauntered over to her. “After this morning we can’t take any chances.”

“But then Tony will have to come back alone,” she said, terrified of losing any of them. “And you remember what that strange old lady said the first night we got here, Gibbs? She said something about you arriving with five and leaving with one. Supposing that’s what’s happening? Supposing we’re going to be picked off, one by one, and Tim was just the first?”

“Well, first off…” Gibbs said, standing up. “McGee isn’t dead – he’ll be fine. And secondly, Tony is a trained field agent who knows how to use a gun and you aren’t. Thirdly, Tony has twenty minutes to take you there and come back and if he isn’t back by then I’ll call General Sheppard and get a consignment of marines to go looking for him. Does that make you feel better?”

Abby thought about it for a moment and then nodded. Gibbs laughed out loud. He came over to where she was standing and gave her a little kiss on the lips, the way he always did when he wanted to reassure her. She had no idea why people found him so scary – he was always so loving and protective of her.

She left their quarters with Tony at her side.

“So…looks like you’ll have the place to yourselves tonight,” she told him, with a mischievous sideways glance at him. “Just you and Gibbs – alone together. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, Tony!”

“Yeah, right. No chance of that,” he sighed. “It’s just such a waste, you know. Nice looking top like him, in his prime, five subs and none of us get to warm his bed. The man’s self-control must be…”

“Legendary. I know.” Abby nodded. “But he’s been burned in the past, Tony, you know that. All those ex-spouses…”

“Yeah.” Tony nodded. “But what happened before then, Abby? That’s what I want to know.”

Abby stopped and looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve done some digging but I can’t get anyone to talk. Ducky clearly knows but won’t say anything, obviously, and sometimes I think Ziva knows – but if she does, she also knows that Gibbs will kill her if she says anything. Gibbs says he’s been married three times but I’ve found four marriage certificates…”

“Tony!” Abby was shocked. “Gibbs really won’t like it if he knows you’ve done this kind of checking up on him.”

“I know,” Tony sighed. “That’s why I stopped there. But all the same, it’s driving me crazy. Why is he lying about that? What’s he hiding?”

“I don’t know, but if he doesn’t want to tell us then we have to accept that,” Abby replied. She saw the look in his eyes and reached out a hand to touch his cheek. “You really like him, don’t you, Tony?”

“Just the challenge of trying to get into the pants of a top I’ve never had before,” he told her, with a wink. “Never yet had one who turned me down.”

Abby gazed at him, feeling kind of sorry for him. “Well, you do keep on trying. Maybe he’s the kind of top who needs to chase a sub – did you ever think of that?”

“You mean I should stop flirting with him?” Tony asked.

“Well…if you can. I mean, flirting with Gibbs does seem to be like eating and breathing for you so you might not be able to do it,” she grinned.

He thought about it for a moment. “I could try,” he said at last. “Maybe if I play hard to get he’ll come around, huh?”

“Maybe,” Abby said, although privately she thought it unlikely. Gibbs had been very clear on this topic when he’d collared her, and she was pretty sure he’d given Tony the same talk. “You know, Tony, first thing you did when those gunshots rang out this morning was push him to safety and throw yourself on top of him to shield him,” she said. Tony gave her a blank stare.

“Just a reflex,” he said, with a shrug.

“Okay,” she said, unconvinced. “If that’s the way you want to play it.”

“Don’t do love, Abby – never have,” Tony told her. “Tops always let you down in the end anyway.”

“How would you know?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously, Tony – you’ve never been in a relationship long enough to have one cheat on you.”

“And that’s exactly the way I want to keep it,” he told her with a grin.

~*~

End of Part Ten
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Hiding in Plain Sight: Part Eleven