Imperfect (Chapters 3 – 4)

Title: Imperfect, Chapters 3 – 4
Author: Jilly James
Fandom/Genre: NCIS, Criminal Minds, Sentinel Fusion
Relationship(s): Tony DiNozzo/Derek Morgan
Beta: Ladyholder and Naelany
Author Note: Please see main story page for summary, warnings, additional art, cast gallery, credits, etc.

– – – –

Chapter Three

The small gym was quiet and Tony appreciated the solitude. The Center tended to be fairly quiet on the weekends, being mostly filled with those in crisis, and people like Tony who were temporary residents. There weren’t many people in the facility who weren’t actively bonding at the moment, and so the gym was empty.

Tony hadn’t even been on the treadmill for a minute when Alex appeared, with an unusually flat expression. Hitting the stop button, Tony assessed the other guide, but nothing was getting past Alex’s shields, and Tony wasn’t going to invade his privacy.

“Aren’t you supposed to have the day off?” Tony asked. “Spending the day doing wicked things to your sentinel?”

“Tony,” Alex began carefully, “Gibbs is here to see you.”

All Tony could do was stare. It was like everything in him had ground to a screeching halt.

“He’s been here for about half an hour,” Alex added. “Kyle asked me to come down before they told you.”

“Did he say what he wants?” he managed.

“It seems like he may have rethought his… decision.”

Tony’s eye twitched.

“Do you–”

“No,” Tony interjected. “Everything that needed to be said has been said. I don’t need to see him. I’m done.” He’d spent a lot of his time in the Center dealing with the reality of the last eight years of his life. It didn’t matter how good or how perfect their biochemistry was, Tony DiNozzo and Jethro Gibbs were not perfect for each other.

He started to get back on the treadmill, but then stopped. Maybe there was something to say. “Actually, fuck it. Where is he?” Yanking his sweatpants on over his running shorts, he looked at Alex. “Well?”

“Follow me. But, Tony, if you want to be discharged tomorrow, your shields need to stay solid. Kyle and I will both be monitoring you.”

“Fine.” Tony was determined that his shields would be fucking perfect. There would be no unexpected surges of emotions. It was all loud and upfront right now and his shield was rock solid.

Alex led him up to the small conference room near Kyle’s office. There were four sentinels in the hall who were part of the Center’s security team, and Tony got why. He didn’t like it, but he got it. Gibbs was a military-trained sentinel and if he got out of control, it wasn’t going to be pretty. One of the four sentinels was Alex’s sentinel, Vincent, who was also military-trained. Tony had met him a couple times in the last week.

Refusing any outward displays of temper, Tony entered the conference room, finding Scott, Kyle and Gibbs waiting.

Gibbs immediately sucked in a breath and stared at Tony intently. Tony had to fight back his instinctive reaction to what he was getting from the sentinel. It wasn’t at all what he expected.

Tony sat in the chair that was across the table from Gibbs. “Why are you here?”

“I want to talk to you. Alone.”

Crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair, Tony casually replied, “Not a lot of privacy to be had here. The sentinels will be monitoring every move and every word, and the guides are going to monitor me. So say what you have to say.”

Broadcasting a lot of frustration, Gibbs looked torn between staying and taking off, but he finally said. “I made a mistake. Things aren’t right—nothing feels right without you there.” While Gibbs’ atypical struggle might have softened Tony a little, the actual words had the opposite effect.

“So your world is off-kilter and you want me to fix it,” he observed dryly, forcing himself to ignore what his empathy was screaming at him. “And once again, I apparently don’t factor into your thoughts. You have a problem that is Tony-shaped and you expect me to step up and just forget that you basically ghosted me.”

Gibbs’ jaw worked for a couple seconds. “You’re twisting what I said.”

Ignoring the comment, Tony continued. “Here’s the thing I’ve realized while I’ve been staring at the ceiling for the last ten days; you suffered an unbearable loss—something I can’t even begin to wrap my head around—and if you’d shown up here and said you couldn’t get past it, and that’s just the way it was, I’d have been hurt, I admit that readily, but I’d have understood. But there is nothing you can say to make what you actually did acceptable or forgivable. I wasn’t some random guide match who you decided to blow off. I’ve been on your six for over eight years. And when I became inconvenient, you treated me like I was disposable.”

Tony got to his feet and leaned down, bracing his hands on the table and ignoring the anger pouring off the other man. “Your loss sucks, but you use it as an excuse to treat me—and a lot of other people—like shit. And no one was doing you any favors by letting you get away with it.” He stood up straight and stared Gibbs down. “I am not going to spend the rest of my life taking your verbal and emotional hits.” Tony decided not to even bring up the physical ones he should never have tolerated to begin with; he didn’t need a sentinel brawl breaking out.

“And I sure as hell am not going to come in second in my own damn bond! And not even behind Shannon, which I might have been able to live with, but behind your grief, which you hold onto tighter than you hold on to her. Funny thing is, I can’t even tell if you want me, actually me, to be your guide or not, but I can tell you don’t want it enough to part ways with your bullshit.”

He could feel Gibbs’ anger hitting some critical point and knew Gibbs was gonna rip him a new one, so he turned around and left. Fuck goodbyes. There was nothing left to say.

He started toward his room, but Alex caught his elbow and steered him another way with Vincent following. Tony normally was okay with Alex touching him, but the added empathic noise was a bit too much at the moment, and he instinctively pulled away. Alex didn’t say anything just led Tony outside. In short order, he was taken to an SUV and hustled into the back seat. Alex climbed in with him and Vincent was driving.

“What’s going on?”

“He’s not going to be able to stop trying to track you. We need to get you out of range until he’s gone. Kyle and I agreed in advance that this is what we’d do if things went down this way, and if your shields were stable.”

Tony rubbed at his chest, aware of how his heart was pounding, trying to process what he’d known since he walked into that room. Despite everything he’d said, and his conviction that he was right, it still hurt.

“Tony?” Alex seemed to be extra careful not to touch him again. “We’re definitely out of range. You okay?”

After a long time, Tony managed to get out, “He’s so… damaged.”

“I know. I’m not sure how he’s not dormant already.”

Meeting the other guide’s eyes, Tony asked, “But he will be, won’t he?”

“Yeah. It will happen. And before you start wondering if you could have fixed him, the answer is no.”

“I could tell.” Tony shook his head. “I’m not even sure I could have bonded with him if I wanted to.”

“You’re strong enough you might have been able to forge the bond, but I have to be honest… that kind of damage coming into a bond is a situation we’d consider emotionally abusive. There’s no chance for a sentinel and guide where the bond itself is a form of abuse.”

“Jesus,” Tony whispered, shifting his attention to stare out the window at scenery flying by. “I… my empathy sort of recoiled from him the minute I walked in the room. I could have told him he was too broken for a bond, but instead, I told him off.”

“Are you questioning that choice?” Alex asked without even a hint of judgment.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m not even sure which would have been kinder.”

“I don’t think kind matters. Would you have reconsidered if he wasn’t so damaged?”

“No,” Tony replied softly, staring out the window. “It was the right choice for me.”

“Then what you said was the only thing that was relevant.”

Maybe that was true. The answer would have been no regardless of Gibbs’ situation. “What now?”

“We have lunch, wait to hear from Kyle on when it’s okay to return to the Center, you go home tomorrow and get on with your life.”

And somehow find a way to get over all this shit, because Derek didn’t deserve to come in second behind Tony’s angst over Gibbs.

– – – –

Tony stepped into Kyle’s office, finding him alone which was sort of surprising. He’d expected Scott to still be here. Kyle looked stressed and tired, and Tony felt a frisson of dread, wondering just what he was stepping into.

He’d had lunch with Alex and Vincent, then they’d stopped for a game of basketball. It was obvious they were keeping him away from the Center, but Tony had decided not to ask what was happening. Part of him wanted to know, but the rest of him really needed to let this situation go.

Kyle braced his elbows on his desk and immediately said, “There are only a few situations where the Center, as a representative of the Guide Council, can step in a prevent a pair from bonding. None of those things apply in your situation. That said, when we believe that the bond could be detrimental to either party, we are legally obligated to give you this.” He passed Tony a piece of paper. “I’ll need your signature. Just to say that you received it, not that you’re necessarily agreeing to it.”

A little stunned, Tony read the paper, then frowned. “The Center is officially advising me that a bond between Gibbs and I would not be recommended, and would create a toxic environment for the guide.” He looked up. “I already said no. Why do I need this?”

“Technically, you and Gibbs were advised of a match, and you met. At one point in this process, each of you have expressed interest in the other. So I have to do this. It’s not legally binding in any way, you can do what you want, but there have been circumstances in the past where we have strongly advised against a bond, and it was later claimed that no such advice had been given.”

Tony made a face, but signed the form and passed it back.

Kyle sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Thanks, Tony. I know this has to be incredibly difficult, but I have to follow the rules.”

“So, what’s next?”

“I would normally discharge you, but–”

“Now wait a minute!” Tony objected.

“Hold on… just let me say this.”

“Neither Blair nor I are completely comfortable with you not having a conservator, and I’ve never hidden that from you. However, you did really well today, and I planned to go ahead with tomorrow’s discharge, but things are a little more complicated now. I need you to not be where Gibbs might expect you to be. Which means not here and not at home. At least not until mid-day tomorrow. After the stress of today, I also want you to get a scan in the morning, and if everything is fine, we’ll proceed with the plan.”

Frowning, wondering what was going on, Tony asked, “So… tonight?”

“The easiest solution is to have you stay with Alex and Vincent tonight. Alex and I are most familiar with your empathic health, so one of us would have to do your scan in the morning anyway, so sending you to another Center over-complicates things.”

“And why exactly are we jumping through these hoops?”

“Tony…” Kyle hesitated. “I’m limited in how much I can say, and can really only speak to the parts that directly pertain to you. It’s not unheard of for a sentinel in Gibbs’ situation to continue to try to seek out the guide he sees as compatible. I just want to be sure he’s accepted the situation.”

“And overnight is enough time to determine that?”

“If he feels driven to find you, he won’t be able to sit on it and pretend normalcy. So if he gets back to work tomorrow, then you can take the discharge papers Alex will have and proceed as planned.”

Part of Tony wanted to ask about Gibbs, to figure out what was going on, but he knew that Kyle couldn’t really talk about it. More importantly, he needed to let go. It wasn’t easy to just say goodbye to eight years of his life, but there was no other sane choice.

– – – –

Derek arrived to work earlier than usual, noting JJ was in her office buried in a stack of casefiles as he headed into the bullpen. Rossi’s light was already on, but no one else from the team was in yet. He headed up the stairs and tapped on Rossi’s door.

Dave looked up. “You’re in early.”

“You got a minute?” When Dave gestured to the chairs opposite his desk, Derek came in and closed the door, getting a raised brow in response. “Heard from Hotch lately?” he asked first.

“I spoke with him on Saturday. He’s doing better. Thinks he’ll be back in a couple weeks as planned.” Rossi gave him a knowing look. “But that’s not why you came to see me.”

He considered what to say for a few seconds. “You know that big terrorist training camp in Somalia that the Navy brought down about two weeks ago?”

Looking surprised, Rossi nodded. “Yeah. What about it?”

“You think we could get ahold of the reports on that op?”

Rossi leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Team 1 has already been granted access.”

“Really?”

“They routinely review anti-terrorism investigations and operations conducted by other agencies. I was talking to Phillips on Thursday, and it came up. The NCIS team who put together the op used some interesting profiling techniques. Phillips submitted a request to talk to the agent who planned and ran point on the op, but he’s not available. There’s a rumor he’s leaving the agency. Scuttlebutt is that the reality of being held by a terrorist and tortured was too much for him.”

Derek blinked. He hadn’t picked up that Tony had run the op. “I sincerely doubt that’s why he’s leaving.”

“What’s your interest, Derek?”

“This between us?”

“If you need it to be,” Rossi agreed.

Nodding, Derek replied, “The Center called me about a high-compatibility match late Friday. It was…” he trailed off and made a vague gesture, encompassing the discussion they’d just had.

“DiNozzo is a guide?”

“Yeah. That empathic event that happened while we were on our last case.”

“Well, that’s… interesting. That why he left NCIS?”

“Yeah, though that part of the story isn’t mine to tell. He had good reason, and it didn’t have anything to do with the op.”

“But something to do with being a guide?”

“In a way,” Derek conceded.

“So you wanted to review his last operation. Why?”

Derek got up and began to move around the small space. “I’ve known Tony for years—play basketball when we’re both in town. As soon as I walked into the Center yesterday, I knew he was the guide they’d called me about. I smelled him before I hit the front door.”

“Is that good or bad?”

Huffing a laugh, Derek halted his pacing and looked out the window. “It’s good. It’s not the first highly-compatible match they’ve found for me, but it’s the first one I wanted to say yes to.”

“So, why didn’t you?”

“I did. I think.”

“You think?” Rossi asked sounding incredulous but also a little amused.

“We left it kind of vague. He’s… not in a great place and I didn’t want to put a lot of pressure on him.”

“Because of the op, or some related injury?”

“No.”

Rossi was clearly figuring something out. “A bit of advice. It’s great that you’re willing to wait, but if you really want him, be sure he knows.”

Derek turned to look at Rossi directly, brow furrowed.

“If he’s dealing with sentinel rejection, knowing you’re completely invested, but willing to be patient, will help.”

“Man, I know I did not say that,” he groused.

“You didn’t have to. There’s not much that would get in the way of an alpha guide bonding if that’s what they wanted. Physical injury and sentinel rejection are about all I can think of.” Rossi was a latent guide who was much too old to come online at this point, but he knew as much about sentinel and guide issues as Derek did. Maybe more so. “So why review the after-action reports?” Rossi asked again.

“Just want a picture of what he went through without having him relive it. I know he was hurt—I could smell it on him—and he was moving stiffly.”

Rossi’s lips twitched.

“What?”

“You’re almost growling.”

Brought up short, Derek was surprised at how territorial he was feeling. “Shit.”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“It is if he changes his mind,” Derek muttered.

Rossi just shot him a sympathetic look.

Derek absently rubbed the back of his head. “So, if he says yes, and this thing happens, what happens here?” He knew there were provisions for civilian guides to join a sentinel agent, but he wasn’t sure what the procedure would be for a transfer agent.

“It’s not an easy answer. Of course he can join the department as your guide, but he’s already a federal agent, so he’ll have to be vetted if he wants to actually work with us. If he doesn’t come close to meeting the standards for a profiler in the BAU… I imagine they’d bring him in as a Special Agent attached to the BAU as sentinel support. Civilian ‘consultant’ would be the only other option.”

Derek winced. That would not be good. He couldn’t imagine Tony being okay with his role being distilled down to “sentinel support.”

“What are his qualifications?”

“I… honestly don’t know. He’s talked about attending Ohio State on a sports’ scholarship. I know we’re the same age and joined the force around the same time, then both transferred to federal agencies. He has about fifteen-years’ law-enforcement experience total.”

“Let me do some checking, and we can talk later.

“Thanks, Rossi.”

– – – –

Tony entered his apartment just before lunch, and he’d never been so happy to see his place. But a few things were casting a pall on his day. First, he’d finally checked his voicemail from the confines of Alex’s guest bedroom last night. The contents were not exactly happy making—Abby had left more than a few increasingly-hostile messages and it had totally thrown him for a loop. And second, the amount of empathic noise in his part of town was sort of ridiculous. He already had a headache from it. Where Alex and Vincent lived in Falls Church was much “quieter.”

He knew he was supposed to work on blocking it all out, but it was a lot like being in a room that reeked of rotting garbage and just not smelling it. How was that even a plan?

Still, privacy was awesome and he planned to revel in it. For a few hours at least. He had people coming over at various times in the afternoon and evening. Kyle felt the visits met the burden of “stressful,” so Alex was coming over to babysit while Tony got chewed out by everyone. Well, to be fair, Abby was the only one he thought would be a problem. He didn’t anticipate issues with Ducky, Jimmy, or McGee.

For now, though, he would put the problems out of his mind and just enjoy being by himself. Well, him and the hundreds of people in his head. After dropping his stuff in his room, he went right for his piano, and quickly found that playing helped pull his focus away from the ambient emotional noise.

His spirit animal showed up at some point and was prowling through the apartment. He hadn’t seen his spirit guide much at the Center—only two or three times—but Alex had said that wasn’t unusual at first. There was also the possibility that Tony needed to stabilize a little more before the snow leopard would manifest more frequently.

Barely two hours passed before there was an aggressive knock at the door, and Tony could tell whoever was outside the door was angry and upset. Looking through the peephole, he found Abby standing with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Open up, DiNozzo!”

Sighing, he shored up his shields and opened the door about ten inches, bracing it so it couldn’t be pushed open. “Abby, I said you could come over tonight.”

She shoved at the door, glaring when he didn’t budge. “I have time now and I want to know what you were thinking. Gibbs said you were going to resign, and then you wouldn’t return my calls!”

“Not. Now.” If she pushed, and he gave in, and then had even a slight problem, they’d put his ass under conservatorship so fast his head would spin. And considering how damn noisy and frustrating the world was at the moment, he wasn’t prepared for overconfidence at this point.

“Yes, NOW!” Suddenly she blinked and just stared at him. “Why do you feel like a guide?”

“Because I am a guide,” he shot back, trying for calm. He’d always been close to Abby but he couldn’t manage her emotionalism right now. And he was more than a little disillusioned by her behavior—now and with the barrage of voicemails.

She stared at him with her mouth hanging open. Getting herself together, she asked, “Is this why you quit?”

“Abby, I told you I would talk to you tonight, and I will. But I’m not doing this now. I’m closing the door, and if you yell and scream out here, I’ll have to call the police. Assuming my neighbors don’t do it first.”

“Did you just threaten me, DiNozzo?” she yelped indignantly.

“No, I did not. I simply said that if you make a scene out here, either I or my neighbors will respond. You can come back at 2000 hours, and we can talk.” With that, he closed the door. He was pretty sure the thunk was her kicking his door, but he set the deadbolt and went to find his phone.

It rankled to have to self-report to this degree, but he’d put up with it because the alternative wasn’t acceptable. He fired off a text to Alex and got a response a few seconds later.

— Meditate. Assess your shielding. Shore up if needed. Text me back within the hour. —

He’d do what Alex said, and then he planned to purge his apartment of anything that reminded him of Gibbs. He didn’t plan for any melodramatic stunts, like burning everything, but he needed to box up all this pain he was feeling and not be reminded of it constantly.

– – – –

Rossi stopping by Derek’s desk pulled his attention from the case he was reviewing for Dallas PD. “Come up when you have a minute.”

“Be right there.” Emily and Reid shot him curious looks, but he’d come up with something to tell them later. Stepping into Rossi’s office, he shut the door.

Immediately, Rossi tossed a file to Derek’s side of the desk. “Got the file for you to review. No one else sees it.” He gestured for Derek to sit and then dug into his own work, so Derek assumed he was supposed to read it now.

It was interesting that even for the FBI, some of the report had been redacted. A few information sources were blacked out, and some references to past NCIS cases. When he got to the part about how they’d figured out where the camp was, he snorted in unwilling amusement. “They found the camp through what amounted to iPods and soda?”

Rossi looked up. “That was pretty impressive, and the part that Phillips plans to leverage for their terrorist profiling matrix. But keep reading. It gets less funny.”

He got to the part about Tony going to Somalia with the intention of being caught by a terrorist. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

By the time he got to the end, he was just frustrated and upset. He handed the file back to Rossi. “That’s messed up.”

Leaning forward, Rossi braced his elbows on the desk and gave Derek a speaking look. “It’s pretty consistent for him.”

“You looked into him,” he stated.

“Phillips was already doing it, I just looked over his shoulder. On paper, DiNozzo is qualified for the BAU—he did a Sport Science degree at Ohio State but minored in criminology. Subsequently got his master’s in criminology at Georgetown and another bachelor’s in psychology. But there are a couple issues. First is, if it all goes that way, we’ll want to have him do some actual profiles; he doesn’t appear to have done a lot of formal profiling in his career thus far. Maybe we’ll give him some old cases, strip out the BAU notes and see what he comes up with. I don’t doubt his ability as an investigator, but we both know profiling is a different skillset.”

“Seems reasonable. What’s the other thing.”

“His tendency to recklessly throw himself headlong into danger won’t work.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Derek agreed fervently, and not just because it wasn’t the BAU’s role in an investigation. That stuff was over the day Tony came online. It wasn’t just Derek it would drive up the wall, but any sentinel who happened to be near. “When we get there, I’ll talk to him.”

“Probably should leave that for Hotch. Let him play the bad guy on this one.”

“Hey, I’m willing,” Derek said with a half-smile. “You think Hotch will go for it?”

“I don’t think Hotch is going to transfer you if you get bonded, and, as a blind pick, DiNozzo’s about as good as anyone. So, yeah, I think he’ll be fine. I know you’re in early stages, but I think I need to let Hotch and Strauss know sooner rather than later. Your bonding date could be unexpected, and we need to be prepared.”

“Just… let me get through dinner tomorrow. See if things are a little more settled with him before you take that step.”

“All right. I’m talking to Hotch again on Thursday, so you’ve got a few days. You ready for some more unsolicited advice?”

Derek laughed “Shoot.”

“Coming to the BAU will be a bigger adjustment for him than you might think. From what I read, he puts himself in the line of fire on a regular basis, and spends quite a lot of time undercover. Any violent crime team is going to be under fire from time to time—figuratively and literally—but DiNozzo is on the frontline significantly more often than he should be. The BAU will be incredibly different, so there will be growing pains. Just don’t be one of those sentinels who thinks their guide is going to fall into some perfect niche.”

“Man, not even. I know some people think the sentinel/guide thing is all about the job. I want Tony for after the job. Before the job. Lunch breaks.”

Rossi smiled. “Good attitude.”

“I’ll let you and Hotch play good cop/bad cop over the adjustment issues,” Derek said, happy to pass the buck.

“And what will you do?”

“I dunno… make sure he eats on the regular, gets enough sleep, has an outlet for dealing with empathic stress. And somewhere in there we’ll work out how to function in the field as sentinel and guide.”

“You’re gonna do fine, Derek.”

– – – –

Tony opened the door and let McGee in. He was a little early, but not so much that it was a problem, plus Alex was already here.

“McGee, this is Senior Guide Alex Joyce from the S&G Center. Alex, this is Special Agent Timothy McGee from NCIS.” Alex offered his hand, so McGee shook it, but he shot Tony a confused look.

“Something wrong, Tony?” McGee asked immediately.

“I’m sort of on guide probation. Not sure yet whether I can handle stressful situations without my shields going crazy.”

McGee blinked. “Am I stressing you out?”

“Not you. But the whole night I have stacked up and just the goodbye stuff. Center director felt it met the burden for stressful, so Alex is here to monitor and help if needed. I have nearly a month of stress-probation ahead of me.” It was weird, but Tony was trying to act like it was an everyday occurrence.

Alex pointed toward the kitchen. “I’ll be in there working on some paperwork with my headphones on so you guys can have some privacy.” He looked directly at Tony. “You know I’ll join you if your shields get unsteady at all?”

“Yeah. Not a problem.” But, really, it was a problem. It sucked. He liked Alex, but he felt like he was in kindergarten. He noticed McGee was looking around his apartment curiously. “Sit.” Once McGee was on the other end of the sofa, he asked, “Gibbs give you grief for cutting out early?”

“No. Weirdly, he was late getting in, but when he finally arrived, I, uh, told him the director wanted me to bring you some paperwork and he just walked off.” McGee leaned forward, looking intent. “Tony, why are you leaving NCIS?”

“It’s just the way it’s going to work out, Probie. Besides, my likely sentinel won’t be with NCIS.”

“You found a match already?”

“A few,” he said evasively.

“That’s great, Tony. I… it was weird seeing you so messed up that night.”

Not wanting to get into it, he gestured to the folder McGee had left on the coffee table. “Vance really give you paperwork for me?”

“Yeah, he didn’t process your resignation yet. You’ve just been on leave. He said he’s willing to transfer you to another NCIS office, but if you really want to leave, you should sign the forms and I need to collect your service weapon and your badge.” McGee looked supremely uncomfortable.

Tony just nodded and grabbed a pen and the letter he already printed out. “I can’t sign Vance’s boilerplate. There are some special circumstances and I’ve addressed them in my letter. All my termination paperwork needs to be processed through the S&G Center’s legal office. Vance should know what to do.” There were certain legal formalities that needed to be handled, and the Center would do it for him. For starters, NCIS was responsible for his lungs for as long as he should live, and that needed to be covered in his exit paperwork.

He then got up for his badge and gun. He slipped the gun out of his gun safe and into a lockbox. He handed McGee the box and key, and McGee handed him a form acknowledging the receipt of Tony’s credential and firearm. It was weird and sort of final.

“Why are you so unsettled, McAnxious?”

“I… I guess I don’t understand why Vance and Gibbs are so willing to let you go. I mean, you’re going to be an alpha guide. And you’re really great at your job. Why aren’t they fighting to keep you and bring your sentinel over?”

“Well, Vance, for all that things changed over the years, they didn’t change all that much. I’m not the kind of agent he appreciates, and he’s not going to shed any tears over processing my resignation.”

“And Gibbs?”

“Gibbs’ reasons are… well, they’re his reasons. He told me, but it’s not really anyone’s business.”

McGee just shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“At first, I would have agreed with you, but the picture is clearer now,” Tony murmured. “But, I don’t want to talk about it, to be honest.”

“Yeah, okay, Tony.” He fiddled with the folder in his lap. “I know the whole thing about you being a guide was supposed to be secret, but Abby came back to the office today ranting about you being a guide, and I’m pretty sure the whole building knows now. Did you really refuse to talk to her?”

Tony tried really hard not to roll his eyes. “Yep. I set up time with her tonight but she showed up early, wanting to have it out, and I refused to let her in. My release from the Center is contingent upon how I manage things, and getting into it with Abby without someone here wasn’t a great idea.”

“Damn,” McGee muttered as he took a deep breath. “Well, Vance was pissed that she was spreading rumors, though I’m not sure why he’s so upset about it.”

“The Guide Council is doing an audit of NCIS. An employee outing a guide whose status was confidential isn’t gonna look good. Though Abby found out away from work, and wasn’t under any confidentiality rules, so Vance doesn’t have anything to worry about.”

McGee looked pained. “I thought getting Ziva back would fix everything, but now it’s worse.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you know that Ziva is probably coming back?”

“How exactly is that going to work?” Tony asked in confusion.

“I don’t know. I think they might be making her a US citizen and bringing her on as a probationary agent.”

Tony could only stare, utterly baffled. Ziva had committed espionage. In Tony’s opinion, she was also an accessory after the fact to the death of an ICE agent. “Who’d you hear that from?”

“She was in talking to Vance and mentioned it in passing. I asked Gibbs about it, and he sort of agreed it was true without really outright saying it.”

“That’s… Wow.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Look, McGee, I’m gonna give you some tough love here. And you’re not gonna like it, but it needs to be said.”

“Which is the worst prelude of all time, Tony,” McGee griped.

“Yeah, whatever. Did they promote you?”

McGee felt acutely uncomfortable and there was a lot of worry in there, too. “Yeah.”

“You’re not ready for it, and Gibbs is gonna be pissed.” When McGee’s emotional tone shifted to defensive, Tony quickly said, “Let’s be real, McGee, you did barely a third of the job when you had it the last time. You just don’t know what you need to know in order to meet Gibbs’ standards. I honestly can’t say if he’s going to be nice about it or a complete ass, but you need to be prepared for both.”

The defensiveness drained away and McGee slumped. “I already figured out that I’m gonna screw this up.”

“Well, you will if you keep thinking like that,” Tony snapped. He passed over another sheet of paper. “Here’s a list of all the different things an SFA is responsible for, and where I’d recommend you go for help to learn stuff. Figure out how to suck up and get these people to help you. You’re going to need it.”

McGee accepted the paper, glancing over it quickly. “Thanks. Is this the awful thing I’m not going to want to hear?”

“No. Though it was long past time for us to come to some understanding about what a shit job you did as SFA when I was leading the team.”

Flushing, McGee glanced away. “Then what do you have to tell me?”

“Hey! Look at me.” When he had McGee’s attention, he said, “Do not let them run you. Not Gibbs, not Ziva, not even Abby.”

“What?”

“Tell me honestly, McGee, should Ziva be allowed to be an agent?”

Eventually, McGee shook his head. “I don’t even understand it, Tony.”

“The line just keeps moving, doesn’t it?”

“How do I keep up with that?” he asked, sounding incredibly frustrated.

“Figure out where your lines are, and when you’re asked to cross them, say no. Ask for a transfer. Quit. Do something besides compromise yourself. I promise you now that if Ziva is a probie on your team, she will never acknowledge your authority. NEVER. Abby will probably try to guilt trip you into putting up with it, and Gibbs will frown at you if you say something, and outright yell at you if you go over his head. She’ll ruin your authority with the other junior agent on the team in a heartbeat. So either be prepared now to suck it up and live with it, or figure out now, before it starts, what you’re willing to do and what you’re not. And when they cross the line, you say NO!”

McGee’s expression was confused, and his emotional tone even more so. There was also a lot of dread and worry. “Tony, is that what you think happened to you?”

“This is not about me. Gibbs and I made some shit choices about the team structure and I put up with stuff I shouldn’t have. It’s way too late to undo my shipwreck, but you need to avoid your own.”

“But–”

“No buts, McGee! You and I are not the same. I can deal with insubordination day to day and still put my foot down and say no when someone is going off the rails in a way that could hurt our case. I can be a clown, by choice, Monday through Thursday and still be a hardass on Friday to make sure shit gets done.”

McGee suddenly looked enlightened. “But not me.”

“You tell me. Would you be able to stop Ziva if necessary? Or even Gibbs?”

After a long silence, McGee just shook his head.

“You have to police your boundaries, McGee. You’re naturally inclined to avoid confrontation. So everything you let slide is going to bite you in the ass later. If you want to be the SFA, go for it. I’ve given you the list of resources that should help you through it. But you need to know ahead of time where the line is, or a few months from now you’ll be way over it and not even sure when it happened.”

“And then what?” he asked worriedly. “I just quit?”

“If you have to,” Tony agreed. “What is your self-respect worth? Your ethics? Your sense of duty? Don’t be so caught up in your image of what you want to be—director of the agency, right?—that you become someone you don’t recognize who isn’t fit to sit in the chair.”

“Tony…” McGee said haltingly.

“Don’t go get all McEmo on me, Probie. I’m just calling it like I see it.”

“Why didn’t you say this before?”

“Would you have listened?”

“No. Probably not. But this summer…” he trailed off.

“We worked good together, Tim. It wasn’t my plan to go out this way, but the one thing I don’t regret is getting to see what our working relationship could really be like.”

McGee swallowed thickly and looked away. “I liked working with just you this summer. The string of probies… it was like they weren’t even part of the team. I worried about Ziva coming back and changing things, but now you’re gone.” He looked at Tony again. “When did you cross the line you wished you’d seen in advance?”

Tony blew out a breath. “When they put Ziva in Kate’s chair. Thing is, I did see it. I knew it was a big problem for me. But I… felt like I had something to stay for, a reason to put up with the horror of seeing the woman who had profiled Kate for her murderer sitting in her chair.”

“Jesus, Tony,” McGee said, sounding appalled. “Why didn’t… I mean, if you feel that way, why did you go to Somalia? Why risk your life to save her?”

Tony shrugged one shoulder. “She was still my partner. And Gibbs loves her like a daughter. Why I don’t know, but I could see he was grieving her. It was… complicated. But that moment when I should have said ‘no’ and stuck with it? When Ziva joined the team. Don’t make my mistakes, Tim. I know you can do better than me.”

– – – –

Chapter Four

The meeting with Jimmy in the late afternoon was easy and friendly, but Tony hadn’t expected any different. And it wasn’t much of a goodbye. While everyone else on the extended team were closer to Gibbs, Jimmy was undoubtedly closer to Tony. With Tony’s new empathic awareness, he could tell that Jimmy didn’t even like Gibbs overmuch, though he definitely kept that opinion to himself.

They planned to keep in touch and have dinner fairly frequently. The visit was a nice break from the difficult conversations with McGee and the expected upcoming emotionalism. Tony didn’t reveal anything about the situation with Gibbs, but he had a feeling Jimmy had deduced quite a bit.

Ducky arrived promptly at 1830, and Tony went through the motions of introducing him to Alex, who promptly disappeared back into the kitchen. Ducky watched the departing guide with a thoughtful look on his face.

“I’m sorry to hear that your experience of coming online has been so fraught with difficulty, my dear boy,” he said as he took the seat Tony offered.

“I’m doing fine now. They’re just being extra cautious because of the weird circumstances. It was this or a conservator. Lesser of two evils, and all that. Here… let me get you some tea and we can catch up. I still have that Twining’s Earl Grey you got me for Christmas. Just give me a sec.”

“Thank you, Anthony, that would be lovely.”

Once Tony returned with the tea, they chatted for a few minutes about the apartment, which Ducky had never been to, and Tony’s experiences at the Center—specifically, learning to control his empathy. Eventually, Ducky brought up Tony’s need to be monitored.

“From my past research into sentinels and guides, I would think bonding would offer you the stability you need to avoid something as arduous as a conservatorship. As I understand it, fragile guides who enter into a stable bond often find the issues managing their gifts to be immediately resolved.”

Instinctively, Tony thought there was something behind the seemingly innocuous comment, but he tried not to jump to conclusions. “I’m looking into it. But for now, I just wanted to talk to everyone. My departure from NCIS didn’t really have any warning and there wasn’t any opportunity to say goodbye.”

“I hope this isn’t truly goodbye, Anthony. I consider you a friend and would be greatly saddened if you were to remove yourself from my life entirely,” Ducky said sincerely.

Tony smiled. “It’s not a terminal goodbye, Ducky. Just… the closing of this chapter, I guess you could say. I plan to stay in touch, but I certainly won’t see you as often.”

“No, of course not. I completely understand.” He hesitated briefly. “I realize your current empathic state is somewhat difficult to work around, so if anything I’m about to say distresses you unduly, please say so.”

Frowning, Tony replied, “I realize the Center classifies me as a fragile guide, but I’m not actually fragile. You know that, right?”

“As you say,” Ducky agreed. After several moments, he said, “I admit I knew before Abigail’s revelation to the entire building today that you were online. Jethro came to me last week and confessed that you and he were a perfect match, and that he had decided not to pursue the matter.”

Tony stiffened. “We really don’t need to get into this.”

“I confess to a bit of confusion,” Ducky continued, apparently ignoring Tony’s gentle prompt to drop it. “I gave Jethro a sound talking-to, several of them in fact, and thought he’d come around and planned to correct his grievous error in dismissing the possibility of a bond with you so precipitously. Did he not come to speak with you?”

Feeling frozen in place, Tony took several beats to reply. “Ducky, I’m not going to be bonding with Gibbs.”

Ducky frowned for a moment. “I think if the two of you had a conversation where you were both open about how you feel, the problems can be remedied and you can both return to the job you love so dearly. I realize Jethro’s hasty dismissal of you must have hurt you ter–”

“Ducky!” Tony interjected. “Gibbs and I talked. I am not bonding with him. There’s nothing else to discuss.”

Looking even more confused, Ducky added, “I admit to being quite perplexed by your response. You have always shown a great deal of attachment to the team, and to Jethro in particular. I realize he erred in the way he handled the situation, but surely that’s a forgivable lapse in light of his history?”

Tony blinked in utter astonishment. “A forgivable lapse?”

“Anthony–”

Holding up his hand to forestall whatever might be coming, Tony said, “Ducky, I’m going to work on assumption that you don’t know the particulars of the situation. Because if you do know, and came here to remonstrate me for any of it, then I’d have a serious issue. With you. So for my sanity, and the sake of our friendship, I’m going to proceed as if you are–”

A sharp knocking at the door interrupted him. Sighing, he got to his feet. “What fresh hell is this?” Peering out the peephole, he found Abby waiting impatiently. “Abby’s early.”

“She has been rather impatient to see you,” Ducky commented.

Somewhat reluctantly, Tony opened the door and gestured for Abby to enter.

Even though she’d never been to his place before earlier today, she didn’t even look around, she just halted in the middle of the room and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well?”

“Well, what?” he returned as he took his seat at the opposite end of the sofa from Ducky.

“Hi, Ducky,” she said absently, not even looking at the older man. “Well… have you given up on this nonsense about quitting? I know McGee, and now Ducky have seen you. Did they talk any sense into you?”

Tony was finding Abby really hard to take at the moment. He’d always cared about her, and been really protective of her, but he was having a difficult time holding on to those impulses in the face of her complete lack of regard for him. “No one needs to talk sense into me. I am perfectly fine. The decision has been made—I’ve signed on the proverbial dotted line, and turned in my credentials and NCIS-issued firearm.”

“No!” she hollered, stomping her foot, looking entirely too much like a two-year-old. “You can’t do this to us, Tony! All that work to get Ziva back, to make the family whole again, and you just plan to ruin it!”

“Abigail,” Ducky said quickly, “you must calm down, my dear. There are many factors outside of Anthony’s control, and anger will not help the situation.”

“Well something has to help! You and Timmy tried the calm and rational approach, and it clearly isn’t working! Maybe someone needs to get angry! Maybe that’s something Tony will actually understand.”

Tony rubbed his forehead, fighting back his temper. He couldn’t afford to lose control. He got to his feet. “I have left NCIS, and that is the end of that discussion. My reasons are my business. I asked you here to tell you how much I’ve enjoyed working with you over the years, and to tell you that I might not be in touch for a while. I did not ask you here to justify my decisions.”

“That is not the end of the discussion, DiNozzo!” she yelled, then seemed to be trying to control herself. Her emotions were leaking quite strongly; it was distracting and, honestly, becoming a bit too much for him in the moment. Tony knew Abby was sensitive-mundane, and it wasn’t uncommon for sensitives to broadcast their emotions much louder than an average person.

She glared at him. “Why aren’t you bonding with Gibbs?”

“That’s none of your business!” he snapped.

“Ah ha!” She pointed directly at him. “So you admit you’re compatible! I asked Gibbs and he wouldn’t say one way or the other, but I know Gibbs, and if you weren’t, he’d have just said so. I mean, ‘Tony’s leaving because he needs to find a sentinel’ isn’t like it’s super-secret information!”

“And again I say, none of your damn business,” he said again, trying to control his temper.

“It is my business. Gibbs is my business, this team is my business, and you’re ruining it. After everything we’ve been through, you’re just throwing it away!”

“Abigail–”

“No! Tony needs to explain why he’s so determined to make Gibbs suffer.” She looked back to him. “Are you so self-absorbed that you’d deny Gibbs the chance to have a bond? He needs you and you’re just running away. Like you always do!”

“Get out of my house,” Tony said lowly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex appear in the doorway to the kitchen, a concerned expression on his face.

“I’m not done!” she retorted.

“You are done! I don’t want to hear another word. Now get out,” Tony bit out, completely and utterly pissed and hanging on to his shields by a thread.

“Abigail, we should leave, my dear. I’m sure clearer heads will prevail come morning.”

“Clearer heads, Ducky?” Abby repeated, rounding on the other man. “Did you see the expression on Gibbs’ face this afternoon? He’s hurting, and Tony’s the cause. I’m not going to change my mind about that just because I get some sleep!” She glared at Tony, frustration and fury being broadcast loud and clear. Her expression shifted to something uglier than he thought Abby was capable of. “You should hurt as much as you’re hurting us!”

He wasn’t going to wrestle her out the door, and he was afraid he was going to have to call the police to end this. He recognized that his own ability to empathically handle the situation was limited, and he hated the weakness the whole situation had exposed.

But before he could say anything else, Abby’s anger, hurt, and frustration seemed to become more directed. Almost like she was trying to attack at him. He stared at her, utterly appalled. “Are you out of your mind?” It wasn’t like she could break his shields, no mundane was strong enough to do that deliberately, but she could make him really uncomfortable and miserable.

“No! I’m making a point!” Suddenly, she snaked out a hand and grabbed his wrist, and Tony felt like he was being punched with the emotions that were suddenly ramming against his shields. “How does that feel, DiNozzo?” she snarled, her expression twisted.

He wrenched his arm out of her grasp and stumbled back, though the broadcasting emotions were still there, and now even harder to block out. His head was throbbing.

The sea of angry emotions was suddenly blocked and Tony experienced the familiar sensation of being shielded by another guide. When Abby would have clearly advanced on him again, Tony’s snow leopard appeared in front of her and took a swipe with his claws. It couldn’t hurt her physically, but it could do serious psionic damage.

She screeched and stumbled back, right into Alex who practically shoved her away, obviously not caring that she struggled to get her balance.

Tony’s spirit guide continued to snarl at Abby and slowly continued to advance on her, forcing her to retreat. She watched it with fear, hand pressed to her chest.

“Anthony,” Ducky said cautiously.

“Pavan,” Tony called to his guide, needing to deescalate the situation immediately. Pavan growled at Abby one last time, then turned and sprung up on the couch by where Tony had been seated. He pawed at Tony’s leg until Tony sat then he rested his head on Tony’s lap.

“Who are you?” Abby yelped, staring at Alex.

“Senior Guide and training specialist, Alex Joyce of the DC Sentinel and Guide Support Center.”

Abby blanched, but then turned accusing eyes on Tony. “You had someone spying on us?”

Tony felt his face twist into something unpleasant. “Ducky was introduced to Alex. You arrived early, stomped in, and started being abusive. If you don’t like that you were caught doing something illegal, well that’s just too fucking bad!”

“Anthony, I’m sure–”

“No more discussion!” Alex bit out. “You,” he said pointing to Abby, “get out.” When she hesitated, he barked, “Now!”

Abby shot him an angry look, her rage leaking all over the room, but she stomped out of his apartment with a parting, “This isn’t over, DiNozzo!”

Alex then turned to Ducky. “Dr. Mallard, I’m going to have to ask you to leave as well. I’m sure you understand that the situation has spiraled out of control at this point?”

Ducky got to his feet. “Yes, of course, I completely understand.” He looked to Tony. “Anthony, I’m quite certain Abigail didn’t mean–”

“No!” Alex snapped before Tony could manage to react. “Dr. Mallard, you need to leave now.”

Looking uncharacteristically flustered, Ducky nodded to Alex and left.

Once the door was shut, Alex sat in the armchair and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Okay,” he began after long seconds of silence. “I need to assess you, and then we need to be somewhere else.”

“I just got here!” The idea of not being able to enjoy his space for more than half a day set him on edge and really infuriated him.

“I know, but you can’t be where these people can find you right now.”

“Fuck.” He wasn’t sure he could even argue with that. His shields felt wobbly and he certainly couldn’t trust that a pissed-off Abby, or someone trying to talk to him about Abby, wouldn’t feel free to come by.

– – – –

Kyle Monahan was about as angry as he ever got, which wasn’t a good thing. Every sentinel/guide bond was unique, and the specific nature of his bond with Scott was such that the sentinel was very sensitive to his guide’s emotional state. As a result, Kyle had made a point of mastering his emotional tone. He’d always been easy going by nature, but he’d taken it to a nearly Zen degree to help protect his sentinel.

So it said a lot about his day that he was barely reining in his emotions as he followed his escort up to Director Vance’s office. Scott was following him and in a foul mood of his own. He probably would have been anyway, but Kyle knew his own emotional state was revving his sentinel up.

The director wasn’t expecting them, but Kyle didn’t give a damn.

He was aware of Sentinel Gibbs as they passed through a horrible orange bullpen, but he tuned out the damaged sentinel. Kyle considered it a great failing of sentinel and guide policy that Gibbs’ damage had been left untended for so long. Policy stated that unbonded sentinels did not have to have regular check-ins with the Center unless they were using guide services in some manner. If Gibbs had ever used a guide for even one case, he would have been required to present himself to the Center for an annual assessment. But he hadn’t, and so his damage had slowly escalated until there was almost no hope for him. Still, they had been willing to try to help him as much as possible. He hadn’t really been surprised when Gibbs refused.

After a long discussion with Blair, they could only surmise that the presence of a latent guide who was Gibbs’ perfect biological match had somehow shored up the sentinel and kept the slide into dormancy at a pace so slow it was almost unheard of. Blair had even wondered if Gibbs’ aversion to having a guide had somehow had an effect on DiNozzo coming online, even though the reason seemed to be genetic. Kyle wasn’t sure about that part. That kind of mysticism was really the purview of shamans, not conventional guides.

In Gibbs’ case, dormancy was assured at this point, and sooner rather than later. And since there was nothing they could do for Gibbs without his consent, considering he was of sound mind, Kyle could do nothing as he walked though NCIS but aggressively block out the man’s presence.

Since they were unannounced, it was a few minutes before Director Vance could see them, which just gave Kyle time to stew. Eventually Scott curled a hand around the back of Kyle’s neck, rubbing gently, and Kyle used the time to focus his emotions, and send soothing pulses down the bond.

When they were finally shown into Vance’s office, the man greeted them with a nod and gestured to two chairs across from his desk. “Guide Monahan, Sentinel Thompson, how can I help you?”

Kyle crossed his legs and picked some imaginary lint off his trousers. “Do you know why we have a Guide Council as our governing body?”

Vance blinked, and Kyle easily felt his surprise. “No. I’m not sure many people do. I certainly know it used to be a council of sentinels, but the governing structure changed in the mid-50s, as I recall.”

Nodding, Kyle replied, “Aside from the fact that sentinels have much less patience with policy and bureaucracy than guides do, they tend to be a bit too single-minded in their governance. It was much too focused on protecting guides rather than the tribe as a whole, and there wasn’t enough oversight on the sentinels themselves—or, really, even on the guides. Slowly, over many years, the Guide Council has worked to soften certain aspects of policy as it pertains to harming guides. Because the original penalties under sentinel law for harming a guide were quite draconian.”

“I’m not sure I understand the point.” Vance pulled a toothpick out of his desk drawer and placed it in his mouth seemingly by rote. “I thought we had covered the matter of Mr. DiNozzo as long as NCIS passed its routine audit—which has barely commenced.”

“Guide DiNozzo,” Kyle snapped.

“My apologies… I meant no disrespect,” Vance said immediately, if a bit half-heartedly.

Kyle sort of didn’t believe that. It was fairly obvious to him that Vance didn’t care for Tony, but that wasn’t the issue today. “The point, Director, is that if sentinels still set policy, your forensic scientist would spend the next year in jail, and NCIS would be drowning in official sanctions. So, as unpleasant as the next few minutes will be for you, I thought I might give you some perspective on how much worse it could actually have been.”

Vance’s eyes flicked to Scott, and he looked supremely uncomfortable at whatever he saw in the sentinel’s expression. “I assume we’re speaking of Ms. Sciuto?” At Kyle’s nod, Vance added, “I am completely in the dark, gentleman.”

“Now that’s interesting. I would have thought someone would try to do some damage control—at least put some spin on the situation. But here’s where we stand. Last night, several of Guide DiNozzo’s former coworkers were invited to his home for some level of explanation regarding his resignation. Presumably to also catch up, and afford some level of closure on their years working together. The visits with Agent McGee and Mr. Palmer were noted to have gone quite well. Not quite so well with Dr. Mallard, and certainly not with Ms. Sciuto.”

Emotional tone obviously worried, but displaying nothing outwardly other than the nervous habit of chewing a toothpick, Vance asked, “And what exactly happened?”

“For reasons that are the business of absolutely no one outside the parties involved, Guide DiNozzo and Sentinel Gibbs will not be pursuing a bond.”

“I assumed,” Vance interjected dryly. “Considering DiNozzo resigned. I agree the reasons why aren’t the business of NCIS. But what people do away from this building isn’t something NCIS or I can control.”

“I don’t really care,” Kyle said sharply. He probably should. People misbehaving off company time wasn’t really NCIS’s fault. But the consequences would affect Sciuto at work, so Vance could suck it up. “While I understand that Dr. Mallard was reasonably polite as he pressed Guide DiNozzo about bonding with Gibbs, it was entirely inappropriate. But as long as it didn’t distress him unduly, it’s not a matter we would pursue. However, Ms. Sciuto was quite unable to gracefully accept Guide DiNozzo’s decision on the matter and empathically attacked him.”

Vance bit his toothpick in half. “She’s mundane,” he protested.

“She’s highly sensitive,” Kyle shot back. He held out his hand, and Scott passed over the folder of legal paperwork and documentation. “When Ms. Sciuto was in college, one of her extracurricular activities was working with sensory-impaired children. Particularly the deaf. She was close friends with a young guide who attended university with her. The guide noted Sciuto’s high degree of sensitivity, and sought permission for Ms. Sciuto to have special training. Particularly in the areas of rudimentary shielding, but also in how to channel emotions so she could project a happy, soothing atmosphere for the children she worked with. As a matter of policy, all training provided to mundanes formally by the Support Centers is recorded.” He passed over the records of Ms. Sciuto’s training.

“Last night, Ms. Sciuto used that training, which she has clearly honed over the years, to attack Guide DiNozzo when he refused to discuss the matters between himself and Sentinel Gibbs. She bludgeoned him with anger and pain—a clear case of empathic assault. If you’ll note the agreement Sciuto signed with the Center, the consequences for using her training for illegal purposes, particularly on a guide, were clearly spelled out. Of course, even the strongest mundane-sensitive can’t do anything more than make a guide uncomfortable, but she then proceeded to touch him. While touching a guide without permission isn’t illegal in many circumstances, it’s certainly frowned on. However, touching one with intent to harm, whether physically or empathically, is criminal.” Tony’s degree of touch-sensitivity was also a factor, but none of Vance’s business.

Vance read through the papers he’d been provided, his expression stiff. “I assumed in a situation like this, there would be some level of investigation, not just an assumption of guilt. Taking DiN– Guide DiNozzo’s word alone in what was obviously an emotionally tense situation hardly seems just.”

Kyle smiled, and he knew it was shark-like as it caused Vance to shift uncomfortably. “You are quite right. Claims of empathic assault are closely investigated. We’d typically question the person accused and look for any sign of deception in their answers. But it’s quite unnecessary in this case. You see, the complaint and accounting of events did not come from Guide DiNozzo, but rather from Senior Guide Coordinator, and licensed guide and sentinel conservator, Alex Joyce.

“Because of the unusual circumstances of Guide DiNozzo’s onlining, and the fact that we don’t know what chemical agent was responsible for it,” he shot a pointed look at Vance, “he is in an empathic state where we are monitoring stressors very carefully. I thought having him monitored last night was probably overreacting—after all, it was saying goodbye to people he’d worked with for the better part of a decade and considered to be friends. But, to be cautious, I had Guide Joyce monitoring him through all the visits.”

Looking stunned, Vance sat back heavily.

“As I’m sure you can understand, in such circumstances, we have no need for any further investigation. Technically, because she can’t direct her emotions at any one person, Guide Joyce was also assaulted, to a degree. But since she wasn’t aware of his presence, I was reluctantly persuaded to simply charge her with one count of assault. You have to understand that guides filter a lot of emotions from mundanes every day. For most guides, even the strongest emotional attack from a mundane can be managed easily—almost swatted away, if you will. But the level of actual damage sustained is somewhat irrelevant in these cases. Intentionally attacking a guide is criminal, regardless of the outcome.”

Vance rubbed his forehead. “And why was she unware she was being monitored, if I may ask?”

“Guide Joyce was in another room, and listening to music to afford Guide DiNozzo as much privacy as possible as he spoke with his friends. I’m sure if you question Agent McGee, Mr. Palmer, and Dr. Mallard, you will find that each of them were informed of the other guide’s presence. However, Ms. Sciuto arrived early while Dr. Mallard was still present and immediately went on the offensive. There was no opportunity for explanation. As a courtesy, I’m providing you with Guide Joyce’s report of the incident.” He passed over the document.

Vance quickly skimmed it. “And the redacted parts pertain to?”

“Guide DiNozzo’s emotional state and any aftereffects of the attack are none of NCIS’s business.” Kyle pulled out another few sheets of paper. “Now, since our investigation was completed swiftly, here’s what’s going to happen: My legal department pushed through an emergency restraining order against Ms. Sciuto. It’s being served to her shortly, but a copy is enclosed for your reference. She is prohibited from any contact with Guide DiNozzo, or knowingly being within 250 meters of his location. Guide DiNozzo requested that we minimize the consequences to her as much as possible, and, for his peace of mind, the Guide Council has issued a level-2 censure against Ms. Sciuto.”

Looking constipated, Vance asked, “The terms? I know level-2 censures are time-bound.”

“For a period of one year, Ms. Sciuto will have to disclose to every sentinel or guide she comes in contact with that she was censured for assaulting a guide. The exact terms are spelled out in this form.” He passed over yet another piece of paper. “Including that every sentinel and guide at NCIS be proactively notified that Ms. Sciuto has been censured for assaulting a guide, and you must disclose the term of her probation. NCIS can take no punitive actions if any sentinel or guide refuses to have contact with her as a result. There will be a review in 90-days, in six months, and again at the end of her censure term. The dates have already been set and are in the documentation, as well as the penalties if Ms. Sciuto should violate the terms of her probation.”

Kyle leaned forward, glaring at Vance. “This is where NCIS is quite lucky. If sentinels still ran things, your lab tech would receive a life-time sanction and spend time in jail. Sentinels get very tetchy about guides being intentionally harmed.”

“I don’t suppose there’s an appeals process?” Vance asked in what felt like a pro-forma response.

“Of course there is. You can go above the head of the people who issued the sanction and request a review of their decision, but let’s be clear about who that is. In a bonded pairing, the guide technically outranks the sentinel in matters of governance, so Blair Sandburg is the highest ranked person in North America, Jim Ellison would be second, I am third, Scott,” he gestured to his sentinel, “is fourth. The four of us are in agreement about this course of action. So if you feel the need to appeal, do feel free to contact the person above Blair. That would be Richard Turner, the president of the Guide Council.”

Vance looked stunned, but managed to pull himself back together. “I’m surprised a minor assault would garner this level of attention.”

“Normally it wouldn’t. Basic censures are handled by the individual S&G Center Director or Assistant Director, and appeals go up the chain. It’s your bad luck that I’m high in the leadership structure and run the local Center. Also, for reasons I know you’re well-versed in, we’re taking Guide DiNozzo’s situation rather personally.”

Woodenly, Vance asked, “Is there anything else?”

“One small matter that is of more concern to you than to us. In defense of his human, Guide DiNozzo’s spirit animal responded to the empathic attack by taking a swipe at Ms. Sciuto. Different species of spirit guide have different strengths, but DiNozzo’s spirit animal is tier-one on the scale for channeling psionic energy. As a result, Ms. Sciuto will have sustained some level of psionic wounds.”

“Which means what for her?” Vance asked carefully.

“Until those wounds heal, which can take four to fourteen days depending upon the severity, she may be prone to emotional instability, uncontrollable mood swings, and paranoia.”

“Can she be healed?”

“Possibly, but considering why she’s under censure, it’s unlikely you’ll find a guide is who both qualified and willing to tend to her. In these cases, we recommend she be monitored in a suitable facility until she has recovered.”

“How long before these effects manifest?”

“Usually within 24 hours. I leave the matter in your hands.” Kyle got to his feet. “Unofficially, I’d recommend that NCIS as a whole leave Guide DiNozzo alone. If one more problem stemming from this agency should darken Tony’s empathic landscape, I will do everything in my power to sanction your whole agency. And I think I’ve adequately demonstrated that I have rather a lot of power.”

Kyle had never before thrown around his influence in such a way, but he was making an exception today because he was pissed. NCIS had already failed Tony, his sentinel had rejected him, and now he was being attacked by people he considered friends. In empathic terms, Tony was fragile, but saying so could actually be detrimental to Tony’s well-being based on how he and Alex read the new guide. So they did a careful tap dance around the issue. Kyle was infuriated by betrayals like this, which could easily set the new guide back considering the unique aspects of his situation.

When they were finally back in their car, Scott turned to look at him rather than start the car. “I know this whole situation is guaranteed to push your buttons, but you’ve got to let go, Ky.”

Kyle rubbed his forehead, then blew out a breath. Scott was right… the situation was pushing all his buttons, and right now he envied sentinels because they didn’t get routine headaches. Betrayal was his particular trigger, and he felt like he should have done more to prevent this situation.

“There was nothing you could have done,” Scott said softly, no doubt reading Kyle’s guilt through the bond.

“I shouldn’t have discharged him,” he insisted.

“Yes, you should have. If he’d become unstable as a result, I might be able to see you questioning that decision, but he was fine—from an empathic point of view, anyway. He was hurt, but he wasn’t damaged. And it’s not your job to protect people from their life.”

With a sigh, he replied, “I know. I just need a little more time to convince myself.”

“Let’s take a long lunch… the Center will get by without us for a few hours.”

– – – –

Continue to Chapters 5 – 6  |  Return to Main Page