Gibbs had to admit that Tony still looked pretty awful. He was pale and there were circles under his eyes from the sleep he wasn't getting. He was propped up in bed with more pillows that Gibbs had owned in his life. Kate and Abby had fussed over him and probably created this nest before he chased them out. Gibbs set the water filled glass down with a sharp clink. Tony's eyes were washed out and nothing like their usual green tint. "Come on, boss, I thought at least you would bring me something other than water. Can't I have some soda? Juice? Anything?"
"Ducky said water. Have you actually managed to keep more than chicken broth down today?"
The sulking glare had more heat than it had in days. "For your information, Ducky shoved a glop of gruel down my throat this morning. He claimed it was oatmeal, but it tasted like sawdust."
Gibbs looked at his second for a long moment. "Why the Hell did you open that letter, DiNozzo?"
"Do we have to talk about this now?" Gibbs' sharp retort was broken up by a bout of nasty, productive coughing. Tony rinsed his mouth and spat into the bucket that seemed to be his constant companion.
"Yes."
"Bastard." Tony leaned back. "God, I hope that ends soon."
"Answer me!"
"I had to or someone else would have died. I can't see McGee with his geeky barely in-shape frame surviving it and Kate doesn't have the body mass and I couldn't see you sick."
Gibbs' eyes narrowed. "Did she call? Was there a threat you didn't bother to tell me about?" The former Marine growled, leaning into Tony's space threateningly. The younger man simply sighed.
"No, she didn't call. It wasn't like that. I wouldn't keep something like that a secret. I'm not an idiot."
"Well, you sure were acting like one. You know better than to open up an anonymous letter!"
"Maybe I was just jealous."
"Maybe you were being an irresponsible brat. On little things, I expect it. I expect you to rag on McGee or tease Kate. I expect to need to smack you or ride to the rescue because God knows you're a trouble-maker."
"I am not a trouble-maker! Things just happen around me. I don't start fights or anything. It's not my fault people notice me!"
"You go out of your way to be noticed. Damn it, give me a straight answer! Why did you open that letter?"
"I had to." Tony's jaw clicked shut.
Gibbs was silent, waiting to see if Tony would break. He was pretty sure it would work. Tony couldn't bear Gibbs glaring at him for too long.
"Just yell, you'll feel better," he said quietly.
"You could have infected the entire team."
"I took the brunt of the powder."
"That's not the point."
"It had to be me! I told you McGee's not in good enough shape and Kate's too small!"
"So you knew there was something wrong, but you opened it anyway. Explain yourself!"
"Can't you just trust me! You trusted me to follow orders and not die on you! Trust me about this." Tony started coughing then. Gibbs supported him as he choked up a little more of the phlegm that was slowly working out of his lungs.
"I can't. Tell me what's going on here. You're never this stubborn about telling me what's happening." There was a long silence. Gibbs didn't say anything more. This was it, he could practically see Tony weighing his words, his story. His eyes narrowed. He better end up with the truth or I'll smack him. Tony had been working for Gibbs too long to play these games anymore. He'd broken him of the lying habit within the first year. He used to lie about tips and phone calls when the truth was Tony was just good enough to come up with the right answer. Tony had gotten used to hiding his brain and Gibbs usually let him get away with it. That wouldn't work this time.
"Will you let me just say it was instinct?"
"No. I want the truth. You know better than to lie to me." Gibbs kept his tone fairly neutral.
"Boss, it happened. Maybe it was just me being stupid. You know I'm not exactly faithful to one girl. So, the lipstick looked familiar. I grabbed the envelope because it could have been someone who I'd flirted with, but didn't give my name to."
"Bullcrap."
"It was just a mistake. I was expecting this pretty little petty officer to write to me and it looked like her handwriting."
That earned him a head-smack. Gibbs glared at the younger man.
"I was stupid! I made a mistake and did something I'd do at home or at the frat-house or a hundred other places, but should never do at work. I was being nosy. I wanted to see who was getting anonymous love letters."
The senior agent weighed that answer. It was a good one, but Tony was lying to him. He'd obviously given some signal that he'd believed part of the earlier explanations, which were both BS. It was something he'd seen Tony do while under-cover. It allowed him to feed the suspect false information by seeming reluctant to tell them the truth. He'd seen Tony lie straight-faced to drug-dealers and murderers to get the to confess. This was no different. Gibbs had him on the ropes now. A few more exchanges and Tony would give up the truth. He'd be too tired to do otherwise. "Stop lying to me, DiNozzo."
"I wanted to infect the entire building. Is that what you want me to say? That I was working with some girl to infect NCIS with the plague so that I could watch everyone dying from my own bedside? How many ways do you want me to tell you that I was stupid?" The false tears were a new addition. Tony didn't cry unless in physical pain.
"Overkill," Gibbs said, gesturing to his eyes.
"You think?"
"Yeah."
"Damn. And that was the one that was supposed to win me a supportive hug while you reamed me out."
Gibbs snorted. He leaned forward to whisper a soft promise. "Tell me the god-damned truth, Tony, or I will ignore every warning that Ducky gave me and take you to the mats."
Tony swallowed convulsively. "You'd break me and then who would you yell at?"
"McGee. He's started to grow a pair." Tony put a hand to his head and rubbed his temple like he had a headache. It was a signal that he really was tired and that Gibbs should let him rest, but he couldn't. He couldn't let Tony fall asleep again if he didn't get the truth. All the defenses would be back up if Tony got some sleep. "Tell me why you opened that letter." Tony sighed. Gibbs could see that he was still fighting with himself over the answer. Tony appeared to finally come to a decision. Tony's shoulders slumped and he looked up at Gibbs with a resignation plastered on his face.
"Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. This is going to take awhile to explain." Tony closed his eyes. Gibbs gave him a moment to pull himself together. He knew he would hear the truth. Tony knew better than to lie to him. "Sometimes. . . sometimes I know what's going to happen before it happens. It's not like I have dreams or elaborate visions or something. Sometimes I see what's going to happen and it doesn't make sense until the situation shows up. Other times, it's just that I know I have two choices."
"It's called being a good investigator. Your brain doesn't stop looking for patterns. It's why you can pull someone out of the way of a bullet."
"Not like that! Christ, Gibbs, it's not like that. It's like closing your eyes and suddenly seeing that you'll be in the subway and an old lady is going to be shot because she doesn't speak the language unless you jump in and translate for the muggers. Then, four years later, you're sitting there and the situation starts and you have to choose whether to walk between the cars and get shot when all you want to do is translate for them to keep her alive."
"Mahoon case in Philly."
Tony jerked at the comment. His eyes opened. He looked scared. "You heard about that one?"
"You killed four muggers and ended up in the hospital with a bullet in the gut. Of course I heard about it when I talked to one truly pissed off captain because he'd lost you."
"I had the dream in the Academy in Illinois. I put it down to stress, but it wasn't the first time that happened and it wasn't the last."
Gibbs' eyes narrowed. The young man started coughing again. He bent over the side of the bed and retched into the bucket. "I have to be back at work by next week," Tony muttered. Only Gibbs' sharp ears let him hear that.
"Why?"
Tony jerked up. "Why what?"
"Why do you have to be at work?"
Tony licked his lips, eyes darting around the room. "Because if I'm not McGee and Kate will be dead by the end of it."
Gibbs took a deep breath. "I'm going to get lunch for both of us. By the time I get back, you'll be ready to tell me something coherent. Got it?"
"Right, boss." Tony bit his lip. "Boss?"
"What?"
"Is there any ice cream?"
"I'll pick up a pint while I'm out."
Gibbs stepped out of the room and turned off the overhead light. He didn't look behind him when he heard the television turn on.
****
Tony waited until the front door of his apartment had shut. He left the comforting flickers of the television on. He wasn't actually watching it, but the sounds and the movement of light were soothing. He pushed himself upright, wavering as he stood next to the bed. He had to be in fighting shape by Monday. He forced himself to the bathroom. As he washed his hands he looked into the mirror. The apparition that greeted him didn't look all that familiar.
God, I hate being sick, he thought. He ran a hand through his hair. At least he was starting to get some color back in his cheeks. He glanced across the countertop at all the skin and hair products he kept there. It was just too much work. He'd start tomorrow. He had to be able to put on a good smile and look well enough or Gibbs would handcuff him to his desk. He couldn't let that happen. He stared into his eyes. Why? He asked a god he didn't really believe in anymore. Why me? I don't believe. I'm just a cop. There were no answers in his eyes. He let his head droop forward and leaned on the sink.
He didn't have much time. Gibbs wanted a story, but he'd also want evidence. It was who they were, after all. They were cops. They didn't convict on the basis of gut instinct, even if they did sometimes arrest on it. He went to his desk and found the key that would unlock the footlocker at the foot of his bed. He kept everything that he absolutely needed to take with him in there. There were other things that would be nice to take, but the most important things, his memories, he kept those locked away just like he had as a boy.
He opened the locker and dug down until his found the smaller box he was looking for. There was a stack of CD's and a few handwritten journals in it. He'd started keeping his, he hesitated to use the word vision, journals on disc as soon as he could. He didn't like typing, but he hated writing more. Besides, on disc he could append evidence as he needed to. McGee would approve, he thought with a smile as the flickering lights played off the disc. These ones had been burned from his floppies when he moved to Baltimore. He set them on the bed. He fished out a stack of casefiles and photographs as well. Technically, he shouldn't have the photos, but he didn't know any cop who didn't secret one or two photos away to remind themselves of what had happened.
His old partner would keep the victim's photo pinned to his refrigerator until the case was solved. When Tony had last visited, he couldn't see the door for all the photos. "It's not the same without you, Tony," Miller had said quietly before handing him a beer.
"I'm sorry, Miller," Tony whispered to the photos on his bed. He fished out one more thing, the small box his grandfather had given him before his death. It wasn't proof of anything, but Tony wanted it there to remind him of what this was all about.
"What the Hell are you doing out of bed?" Gibbs demanded as he barged through the bedroom door.
"Getting evidence for you. Will you bring my laptop from the desk when you bring the lunch tray in?"
"Think you can sit at the table?"
Tony bit his lip. "Yeah. I guess." He tried to make it to his feet on his own. Gibbs stood close, but didn't touch him. Tony looked up at his offered arm. Tony took it. "I hate this part of it."
Gibbs snorted. "Come on. I got you something better than broth."
"Thank God. Just to let you know that if it's oatmeal, I'll shoot you."
"There's an Italian dive three blocks away."
Tony smiled at that. "What did you convince her to make me?"
"You'll see. It's not pizza."
"I should hope not." Tony settled at the small table. It was large enough for two, with inlaid woodwork under the glass top. Tony liked quality furniture. This piece he'd found in a thrift store beat to Hell and back. He'd convinced Gibbs to refinish it for him. Set on top of the table was a small plate of comfort food – spaghetti with marinara sauce and grated cheese. More water accompanied it and Tony looked at Gibbs in outrage. "Water?"
"Water." Gibbs' voice was uncompromising. Tony sighed. He settled into his seat, happy enough that he had spaghetti instead of oatmeal or broth. "Take it slow."
"So what have I been missing?"
Gibbs filled the silence with a rundown of the case follow-ups the team was working on and Abby's newest experiments. "She misses you," he said.
"I'm not gone. She can call me." Tony considered. "Okay, maybe listening to me hack over the phone is about as appealing as coming over, but she still could call. I email her every day."
"Now. She was devastated when she realized that she couldn't help you."
Tony sighed. It felt good to be able to take a deep breath again without drowning in his own fluids. He shivered.
"Back to bed."
"I'm okay to stay here."
"The pasty white completion and shivering tells me you need to be back in bed. Don't cross me, Tony, or I'll ask Ducky to look after you tomorrow."
"I'll be good. I can be on my own."
"Maybe after I get my answers."
****
"I guess we should get that over with, huh?" Tony's voice was subdued. Gibbs got him back into the bed and brought one of the kitchen chairs in to sit by him. He had a feeling that this was going to take awhile. "My laptop? I need it for the CD's."
Gibbs nodded and went to get the computer and the cord. He plugged it in and set it on Tony's lap. He turned on the bed-side light, not willing to use the television as a lamp. Don't make me wait too long, DiNozzo, he thought. "You didn't believe me earlier, when I told you that sometimes I know things. This is my proof. You weren't gone long enough for me to have made all of this. I don't type that quickly. I'm also not that creative. These are my journals. Any time I have a flash of insight, I write it down. Later, when things start fitting into the flashes, I add the evidence. You know at least one of the cases, but there's hundreds of details here on these CD's and in my journals. I'll let you look at them. You get to choose which ones you want me to expand on."
Gibbs looked at the young man. "You sleep while I read. I'll wake you up for dinner and you can fill in the blanks."
"Start with the hand-written ones. They're the oldest." Tony cradled a little wooden box in his hand. He set it carefully on the bedside table. He closed his eyes and was asleep within a few moments. Gibbs watched him for a moment. He'd come so close to losing him. He hated losing men under his command. There was more to it than that, but he wasn't going to think about that until he'd found out what madness was hiding behind those too pretty lashes. Let me just have misunderstood him. I don't want him to be suicidal. Reckless I can deal with, suicidal will kill both of us.
He opened the smaller of the journals. From the date it had to be while Tony was in Peoria. He smiled; just out of college and still trying to find himself in a welter of testosterone and insecurity.
****
I had another one of those waking-dreams today. I can't take this any more. Hopefully by writing them down I can make them go away. Or maybe if I can disprove them they won't disturb me so much. I've been having this one for about a week now. I'm on a subway. It doesn't look like New York or DC. It's some train I've never been on. There's an old lady with blue hair in the next car over being hassled by some thugs. She doesn't seem to understand what they're saying. This is where the whole thing gets strange. I know that she can't understand them because they're speaking in the same back-street Spanish that Enrique used to use and taught me when I was seven. I know that if I could get there, I might be able to translate. I don't move and the thugs start beating her. She's down on the ground with her blood running under the door of the train car when I finally get off my butt and open the door. I stop frozen for a moment, watching it drip onto the tracks.
The dream was different tonight, I went through the doors to confront the muggers. They didn't bother to listen, just fired on me. My stomach still burns. But the old lady survived.
God, why won't this go away? What does it mean?
Mahoon – Philly – case 64567524MA – she lived, thugs died, 2 bullets removed from me
****
Gibbs closed his eyes when he finished reading the case file number in the margin. He decided to take a sample from the next journal.
****
Grey-haired man with gorgeous blue eyes is walking into a trap. He knows it's a trap and so do I. He wants to spring it and attack from inside. He's shot three steps into the room.
Something to do with boats. I can feel the water breeze on my face and the ground is moving like a small boat. It smells like oranges. The air is warm and moist. Maybe Florida?
Why isn't he wearing a jacket? Deathwish? He knows it's a trap and that his cover is blown.
I can't let him die. I know it will destroy me. I've never met this one. Not like when Pat was going to be shot. I can't let this be the same mess that was. I've learned my lesson. I can't stop it. Maybe I can keep him alive at least or take out his killers.
Slow down, DiNozzo. You don't even know this guy.
Gibbs – Spain – arms deal – I walked in instead, they weren't expecting me. No bloodshed. Handcuffed Gibbs to the car. Worth every bruise.
****
"Jesus, Tony," Gibbs breathed. He remembered that operation. There had been a deal going down that would have sold off three crates of Naval supplies to a group of arms dealers. Gibbs had pushed his way in as the broker. Tony had talked him into letting him come along, pleading his case by playing off the fact that he needed the experience in a NCIS operation to see how it was different from a PD operation.
****
"Please, boss, I need to see how things run around here. I'm not going to be any use to you if you keep leaving me behind to deal with paper-trails. I know how the PD does things, this is different."
"No. You're staying here to finish the follow up."
"Gibbs, Balboa is already doing the follow-up. He found the lead. Besides, if you leave me behind, I'll just sweet-talk the Director's admin into scheduling me to follow." Tony batted his lashes in mock-innocent form.
Gibbs felt his lips twitch. "Fine."
"Yes!" DiNozzo was like a little kid sometimes.
They were in Spain the next morning. It wasn't until Tony was arguing with a cashier over the price of their coffee that Gibbs realized that Tony was fluent in the language. Tony turned around with the coffee and a satisfied smile. He handed Gibbs the strong coffee and started walking towards their rental. "Where did you learn it?"
"Gardener."
Gibbs shook his head. "Give me the keys."
"Can you read the signs?"
Gibbs' eyes narrowed.
"I keep the keys."
"Brat."
"Wish I were spoiled too."
The operation was in motion when they arrived. "Listen, Gibbs, I'm not letting you take this over."
"I don't want to take over. I just want in. You need a face they won't recognize."
The agent in charge, Martins, glared at him. "Fine. Who's the new kid?"
"My new probie, Tony DiNozzo."
"Why's he here?"
"To give Gibbs someone to abuse," Tony answered. He offered his hand to Martins. The older agent chuckled.
"Good. Just keep it safe and sane."
"This is Gibbs we're talking about."
"Did you want extra sparring sessions?"
Tony gulped. "I'll be good." He put on his innocent school-boy face. Martins laughed outright then.
"Come on, I'll introduce you around." DiNozzo and Martins had made the rounds of the office. Gibbs already knew most of the agents. They all knew him, by reputation if nothing else.
Two hours later he and DiNozzo were about six inches apart arguing quietly. "You have to wear a jacket, boss," Tony said flatly. "If you don't I'll handcuff you to something until you come to your senses."
"They'll see it a mile away. These guys shoot for the head anyway."
"It's a trap. Even I can see that it's a freaking trap. They've made this deal."
"I'm going to spring it. We'll take them out all together. All we need is bait."
"What you need is a confession which you will not get since they know this is a set up. Because Martins couldn't wait to arrest the supply officers, you are now bait. They'll make you in a heartbeat!"
"This is not a debate, DiNozzo," Gibbs said coldly. "If you refuse to follow orders, I'll leave you here with Carlson."
The green eyes narrowed. "Fine." DiNozzo crossed his arms. "I'll wait in the car and keep watch for your signal. If you get yourself killed, I'll never forgive you." He turned on his heel and stalked towards the other end of the room to talk to the three agents in charge of the wires and the cameras. Gibbs watched the younger man for a long moment. He didn't know how this one would jump. The fact that DiNozzo had the balls to argue with him was a good sign though. Tony gave in a little more often than he should, but time would change that. There was still anger in the young man's shoulders and back.
Gibbs settled himself into his role as he studied the pertinent details. "Gibbs, I'll take your cuffs since you're walking in." Gibbs pitched the cuffs then the keys over to DiNozzo. Tony tucked them away in his pocket. He was wearing jeans with a white shirt. He'd lost his tie and suitcoat somewhere during the morning. His hair was ruffled from him running his hand through it as he talked to the team members. Gibbs knew that Tony would learn as much about the operation by talking as he would by reading. He forced those thoughts out of his head and focused on the details.
Gibbs retrieved the keys from his probie and settled into the driver's seat. He wasn't surprised that DiNozzo was sulking as they drove. He was playing with the handcuffs, turning them around his fingers. The soft clink of the chain didn't disturb him though. He put the car in park and turned off the engine. He turned to give DiNozzo some final instructions. DiNozzo pounced locking one of Gibbs' wrists to the steering wheel. He caught the other wrist and fished out a second pair of cuffs. Gibbs growled at him as he attached it just below the first. Tony calmly put the headset onto Gibbs' head and turned up the radio. "I'm not sorry at all, boss. See you soon."
Gibbs restrained himself from blowing Tony's cover as he walked into the middle of a death-trap. "Somebody better keep me informed," he growled into the microphone.
"Damn, guess this means I owe DiNozzo twenty bucks," one of the techs said. "Don't worry, Gibbs, you'll hear everything we do."
Gibbs listened to the easily flowing Spanish, catching only a few words here and there. Tony had introduced himself at Enrique Martinez. Gibbs maneuvered the lockpick he always kept with him to unlock the cuffs. He wanted to reach DiNozzo first when the team moved in. A soft whistle over the radio caught his attention. "What is it?" he asked.
"That boy is good. He's got them believing that he got rid of us by planting false shipping documents. He's got them eating out of his hand. They're bragging about how they're going to distribute them. Where'd you find him?" Martins asked.
"Baltimore." Gibbs got one wrist free. He worked on the other cuff. "What is he up to?"
"Getting ribbed for his shirt. Christ, I want him. How much?"
"Can't have him."
"Prepare. On my mark. Team 1."
"In position."
"Team 2?"
"In position."
"Team 3?"
"In position."
"Mark." There was a pause. "Go." Gibbs let the main teams swarm in. He glanced around the room. Then, he stalked directly to a mostly defiant, cuffed DiNozzo.
"I'll take care of this one."
One of the dealers looked over with a frown. DiNozzo looked into Gibbs' eyes. Then, he rolled his eyes. He made some comment that set the dealers laughing. Gibbs yanked not too carefully on DiNozzo's arms and walked him out of the warehouse. "You really don't want to kill me in the car, you'll never get the seats clean."
Gibbs settled Tony in the back seat and put the seatbelt on him. The green eyes were wary, but he didn't fight. "Sorry, boss, couldn't let you go in there."
"Save it."
****
He never had gotten a straight answer out of the young man. He'd put him through several punishing work-outs. He worked him until he was sure that the young man would be able to hold his own against a trained Marine, then a few more days. By the end of the week they were both bruised in places he didn't want to think about today. He smiled suddenly, thinking of Tony throwing matches just to break his temper. "I should make you show Kate exactly what you can do when you aren't holding back," he told the sleeping man. "It'll serve her right for underestimating you."
He put the journal away. He used the computer to look at the next few files. After three more files, he turned it off. There was a pattern. His eyes narrowed. He opened the bedside table and found the journal there. He pulled it out and opened it. "No," Tony said, eyes only half-open. "That's just my sketchbook."
"Go back to sleep."
"Gibbs? I don't keep a real diary."
Gibbs reached over and put a hand over Tony's eyes. "Go back to sleep."
"Been sleeping too much."
"You need it. Sleep."
"That an order?"
"Yes."
"Okay." Tony sighed and fell into a deeper sleep once more. Gibbs brushed quickly through the soft hair of Tony's head. He set the laptop and CD's aside. He opened the sketchbook and smiled. He'd opened to a picture of Abby. She was snuggled under a crumpled comforter, make-up off and dressed only in an old tee-shirt. She looked innocent and happy. He thumbed through the pages: Ducky, McGee, Kate, Paula, himself. He stopped at the next page and stared at the portrait of Haswari.
The next pages revealed people he'd never met. Some of them had dates in the corner. He paused, then went back to check if Haswari's picture had a date. It did. He did some rough calculations. The picture had been drawn about four months before the man had taken Ducky, Gerald and Kate hostage. He closed the book and put it away. He went to the living room to settle on the couch and think.
****
Tony rubbed the gunk out of his eyes. "Boss?" he said fuzzily, looking up into Gibbs' serious face.
"Dinnertime."
"Answertime."
"That too." Gibbs stayed close, but let Tony wander to the bathroom and then out to the kitchen on his own. Dinner was simple, grilled chicken and rice.
"Did you let Kate set the menu?" Tony asked in distaste. He poked at the chicken suspiciously. It looked incredibly bland.
"Ducky left instructions."
"And you're scared of Ducky?"
Gibbs snorted. "Hell yes."
Tony had to smile at that. "Okay, so let's talk about something. Maybe I'll be able to choke down the chicken. I see you're not sharing the punishment." Gibbs' plate looked a lot more interesting. There was sauce on the chicken.
"Just eat, DiNozzo."
"Boss."
"Eat."
Tony sighed. "Tell me about the redhead in the convertible."
Gibbs chuckled. "Why?"
"Because I want to know."
"That's Theresa."
"Theresa? Wife number 1?"
Gibbs paused. "Number 2 actually."
Tony's head snapped up. "Four wives? Kate was right?"
"Three divorces."
"Oh, Gibbs, I'm so sorry." Tony reached out to comfort his boss. Gibbs intercepted his hand.
"It's okay. It's been a long time."
"So, tell me about Theresa."
Gibbs' shoulders relaxed. "We stayed friends after the divorce. We both were married before. We weren't actually looking for a marriage, we just didn't want to be lonely. So, we've stayed friends."
"And she's involved with someone right now?"
"How do you figure that?"
"She's stopped coming around. She's stopped picking you up at crime scenes and driving us generally crazy."
The older man nodded. "She's involved. She also told me that I should find someone permanent again."
Tony laughed at that. "Only the best friends can tell you that. Hell, Abs gets on me all the time about settling down. Not with her, of course, and not that *she's* looking for a picket fence." He shook his head.
"But you are?"
"Well, staying over two years in one place is settling down for me," Tony pointed out carefully.
"What about love or are you in life just for the lust?"
Tony looked down at his plate. He picked apart the chicken breast. "I've already fallen in love. Don't think it's going to go away."
Gibbs was quiet for a long moment. "Not Abby. Not Kate. Paula?"
"No. It should be Paula, but it isn't."
"Tell me it's not McGee."
Tony choked on his water. "God, no. He's not mature enough. Maybe in a few years when he toughens up, but I don't do sweet."
Their gazes locked for a moment. "You serious?"
"Deadly. I haven't had a date since Ari shot you."
"You could have told me."
"I figured you already knew."
TBC