The office wasn’t always quiet, depending on who was there, but it was an obvious fact that having Tony in the office always meant no quiet. Ziva and Tim have figured this out, and it didn’t actually take that long for either of them to do so, not when they spent many hours of the day with him right off the bat. Granted, Tim was very different from when they met to now, and Ziva joining was rather sudden, and just after the tragedy that no one ever spoke about.
Gibbs read Tony nearly right away— he wasn’t as mysterious as he thought. At least, he wasn’t to people who knew exactly what he had gone through and presently goes through. He would probably never say it out loud, but the lack of silence on Tony’s part is practically terrifying for him, and the lack of Tony is even more so.
That’s why everyone is looking around, confused, glancing to phones and unanswered texts, when it’s about two hours past the time Tony always shows up, and that’s his latest hour. This has been happening lately and it’s still not being addressed. No one would say it out loud, not until the elevator chime had rung at least four times since the timeframe for Tony being there had been up. Gibbs finally stands, narrowing his eyes at the elevator opening when his agent does not come barreling through, yelling an excuse, saying how a date had gone better than he thought, how he overslept, had an appointment of some kind…
“Where’s DiNozzo?” he says, finally voicing what everyone is thinking.
“He is… not responding to my texts,” Ziva announces immediately. Again, she doesn’t add verbally.
“Same here, boss, do you think— maybe something came up?” Tim speaks up, blinking and watching his boss. The same thing today? he contributes mentally.
Radiant blue eyes continue to monitor the empty walkway from elevator to Team Gibbs’ block, but he doesn’t respond. They hadn’t gotten calls all day, so he can afford to step out for a small moment, he tells himself. His footsteps hit the floor in rapid succession, taking him to the monitored space, and he gets into the small box, dodging several people as he does.
“G-Gibbs, what do we do?” Ziva shouts after him.
“Stay put, David.”
“Maura, are you kidding me right now?”
The medical examiner in question looks up to her friend, shrugging her shoulders slightly, near exasperated with Jane for being so… whiny about this. That’s really the only word the tired, stressed woman can think— whiny.
“Jane, I can’t help where the cases take you,” she says quickly, shaking her head. She’s putting several outfits, neatly folded and fitted into a suitcase, trying to focus on that part of her routine only. Talking to Jane about this while trying to pack is proving to be a multi-tasking effort she doesn’t like. “But, I can go with you, since we’re both tied into this. I know you don’t want to go to DC, but we need to! This case isn’t going to solve itself, and you know that.”
Jane throws her hands up, mirroring the exasperation of her colleague. “Yeah, but can’t you talk our way out? Are they even sure that they need us both in DC, that they need either of us for that matter?”
Maura gives the other a look of purely unadulterated I-Am-Not-Impressed and pauses like that for a few seconds, making sure Jane really soaks up the expression and what it’s saying. After those few seconds are over, she returns to her packing, not gracing Jane with an answer before finishing the folding of her Crochet Racerback Swing dress from Gabby Skye’s clothes line.
“You’re going to like it, Jane,” she says, avoiding the questions altogether. “We’re going to be partnered with the NCIS agency— naval criminal investigative service. There’s this great man, very attractive, who leads the team we’re partnering with, his name is Jethro Gibbs. He’s a real cutie.”
“Really, Maura?” the woman continues. “What is this, a blind date? Are you my mom, Maura?”
“Ugh, Jane, just… all right, fine, I’m sorry,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “We can’t get out of this, and I… I know nothing I say is going to help, but we need to do this. We really are tied right into it, and I know you don’t want to travel, but we should do this, even if we didn’t have to already.”
There’s a deep silence between them, fueled strongly by both of their needs to apologize, stubbornly contained because neither of them want to admit they are stressed and shouldn’t be yelling at each other this way. It’s out of their hands, but one needs to break first— so Jane steps over to Maura’s side and starts helping her fold clothes, paying as much attention as she can to the method being used by her friend.
Her black curls swirl and bounce as she shakes her head as well, though it’s less visible and lasting than Maura’s from a moment ago. “I’m sorry I yelled,” she apologizes, given a nod to insert the shirt she had folded into the other woman’s bag, “and I’m sorry I got so frustrated. I won’t make an excuse.”
She doesn’t see Maura’s lips turn up into a little smile. “I know, Jane. It’s okay. It really is. I know this is a lot to take in so quick, but I grasped at straws to make this… easier on you. I hope you aren’t going to stay mad at me. It’s alright if you are, but I just hope you don’t, and if you do, that there’s something I can do to make it okay.”
“Maura…”
Jane leans against her, gently butting her forehead into Maura’s temple. It’s her way of talking with her actions, and Maura knows this sign very well— the It’s-Okay-Please-Don’t-Apologize signal. Her smile widens just a bit and she tilts her head back enough to kiss Jane’s nose.
“Okay,” she murmurs affectionately.
Jane chuckles. “Okay…”
Not an hour later, Tony trudges into the office, seeming very unenergetic, and even upset. Ziva is the first person to look up, and her eyes widen, a soft gasp coming from her as he makes his way to his desk. Tim looks up next, his reaction mimicking Ziva’s. They simultaneously jump up and follow his steps toward his desk, Ziva standing to one side while Tim stands to the other.
“Tony, where’ve you been all day?” McGee asks, squinting at him.
“You are late, and Gibbs is out right now, looking for you, we assume!” Ziva adds incredulously.
He doesn’t speak, instead starting up his computer with a low grunt. Ziva and Timothy look to each other at the same time, both exchanging the same ‘did he just do that?’ expression before focusing on Tony again. His behavior is odd indeed, but his unresponsiveness is only involved in cases where something really bad happened.
Ziva means to reach over and poke Tony’s shoulder in the playful manner he often extends to her, but before she can even touch the intended target, the man’s hand whips up with lightning speed and smacks her away at the wrist, halting her before she can get even a foot’s length to his body. It shocks her enough that she responds in turn by jerking her arm back to her chest, defensive, eyes wide.
Timothy stumbles back from the pair before Ziva can say anything, staring at the two of them with a visible expression of surprise. That smack had been pretty loud.
The senior field agent stares at the woman as she holds herself out of range, at a distance, but the only hint that he is confused, maybe even shocked at himself, had shown when she pulled back before, and only then. It is gone before she can even address it, and now, the only thing on his face is cold neutrality.
“Agent David,” he says very slowly, through gritted teeth, “I politely ask… that you get the hell away from my desk. Now.”
The agent in question does so, turning a brief moment after the order is given, and marching away. Not to her desk, but to the elevator, her path undetermined even by herself at the moment. As she briskly makes her way from the team, she tries to sort out what her feelings are about that whole prior situation— the only time Tony, or any of them really, act like that in response to touch, is when something bad had happened.
He’s missing until just a small time past his being late time, and then he walks in, hateful and non-responsive as can be. Why? Did something happen? She tries to tell herself it is most definitely that Gibbs found him, chewed him up and spat him out, and then sent him to the office in an angry mood. But then, she considers, where is Gibbs, and why isn’t Tony making jokes about it? No, something is most definitely wrong.
And then she slams straight into Gibbs.
“David—”
“Something is wrong with Tony,” she interrupts, looking up to stare hard into his blue eyes. She makes sure he stares back before she continues, but when he does, Ziva practically hisses, “Did something happen? Did you find him and… chew him in?”
“Chew him out,” Gibbs responds in a mutter, shaking his head, “and no, I did not.”
Slowly, he pulls his gaze away from her concerned face and focuses over her head, on the agent in question who sits at his desk. It looks like Tim is trying to communicate with him from his own desk, but the senior agent doesn’t seem to respond at all.
Ziva follows his gaze back to Tony, frowning, her upset mood spiraling down even further. “Then…?”
“Somethin’ happened to him.”
The very, very minute shake in her voice tells Jethro the obvious, what he already knows, that Ziva is upset and worried, as she asks, “But what?”
He shakes his head, his voice low and soft when he states, “I don’t know.”