[personal profile] emeraldsnakes
emeraldsnakes: (House)
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Title: Co-Workers

 

April 16 2005; House's House; New Jersey; 8:40am

 

House looked at the phone, irked that the NCSI guy-or whatever he was- had hung up on him so abruptly. Only he was suppose to do that. Smirking, and hoping that one day he'd get to meet this guy he closed the phone and set it back down on the coffee table.

 

He limped back into the bathroom and leant against the doorframe to take the weight off his bad leg. Wilson was sitting on the floor against the bathtub next to the toilet. "Least I didn't get your furniture," he mumbled.

 

House scowled. He really didn't give a damn about his furniture as long as the damage could be fixed.

"That's exactly what I was thinking when you stained my carpet with vomit."

 

Wilson smiled slightly and sadly, ''sorry."

 

"Doesn't matter."

 

House tossed his cane into the bedroom then leaned onto the sink and held a hand out to Wilson. Wilson took it and was hauled up unsteadily. House wrapped an arm around his waist and, using the wall for support, helped Wilson to the bedroom.

 

''Why are we in here?" Wilson asked tiredly, head tilted forward.

 

"You're using the bed; it's more comfortable." House explained as he let go of him and made it so he fell

on the bed.

 

Wilson feebly crawled up so that he was fully lying on the bed, "Mmmm... I have to work."

 

House snorted, "Sleep. Cuddy would kill you for walking into their hospital hung over."

 

“I have patients, and a board meeting."

 

“Cuddy won't just kill you, she’ll fire you then kill you." House smirked.

 

Wilson sighed, closed his eyes and let sleep consume him. House knew that the hangover would pass pretty quickly, they always did for Wilson. Rest and a good coffee when he woke would have him back up and running normally.

 

It didn't stop him from worrying though. The causes of this burnout were still there, hanging over Wilson like the plague, and now it seemed as if more problems would be added. He wasn't stupid to think that there wasn't something more going on with the death of Wilson's mom. NCIS was a Military Investigation division. Wilson had no ties to the Military so something else made the Military take control. His only hope was that it would not endanger Wilson.

 

April 16 2005; The Naval Yard; D.C.; 8:45am

 

“McGee, get your laptop" Gibbs ordered as he entered the bullpen.

 

McGee did as he was told quickly, "I thought I was going to Jersey?"

 

"You are," Gibbs answered putting on his coat. "I’m coming with you. Dr. Wilson received a message from his father, I want you to analyze it while I question him before you go to Julie Wilson's place. Gas up the car."

 

“On it." McGee left promptly.

 

Gibbs glanced over at Tony, who was staring at him. Gibbs motioned for him to follow him to the elevator where they had a conference. He gave Tony a compassionate but stern look.

 

"Stay focused on your task, let us do the rest. When we get your brother and this goes to trial I don't want there to be any question of competency.”

 

Tony nodded. "I need to know everything McGee finds."

 

Gibbs didn't like that idea, but he knew it had to be done in order to find David. He didn't want Tony getting any revenge ideas. "You'll have it.''

 

Tony hesitantly took Gibbs' hand and started to play with it, biting his lip as he focused on what he was doing. ''when will you be back?''

 

"Tomorrow morning. Stay with Abbs tonight."

 

"Can't I just stay at your place?'' Tony asked softly.

 

“You’ll be alone."

 

"I know,'' Tony said looking up at him with pleading eyes. ''I'll be fine.” Gibbs nodded and Tony gave him a short but greatful kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow then.”

 

. . .

 

“Gibbs knows something he's not telling us," Kate told her companion as she entered the basement where they were examining the evidence.

 

Ziva paused momentarily, before continuing her work, "so does Tony."

 

''Really." Kate asked coming up beside her. "I'm surprised he isn't holding it over our heads.”

 

“It could be personal."

 

Kate chuckled, ''Tony does it do personal, not like that."

 

“What do you mean, exactly."

 

Kate shrugged, "You’ve seen the way he acts around women. Those stupid enough to fall for him he disarms and hey get personal with him. They tell him things they wouldn't tell any of us without resorting to Gibb's intimidation. But have you ever noticed that he doesn't get personal with them, even a little bit? Most people are comfortable with talking when they know something about who they're talking to, but not with Tony.”

 

"Is it not the same with Gibbs? How much do you really know about him?"

 

Kate thought about that. What did she know about her boss? Nothing much when she considered it. Three ex-wives, a likeness for red heads, a boat he was building in his basement, can understand and speak sign language and had an odd relationship with Fornell. All of this were just little things that barely

scratched the surface when getting to know Jethro Gibbs.

 

"Thought so," Ziva continued. "As private as they are though, you can learn things about them by the way they react to certain situations. Gibbs has become protective of Tony, and Tony is taking this case hard."

 

“But why?''

 

Ziva shrugged, "It could be anything."

 

They continued to work in silence, pouring over the evidence with a quick but well trained eye and making note of the more significant pieces.

 

''Why do you think Gibbs doesn't believe Antonio killed his mother? "Kate asked after a long while.

 

Ziva stopped and turned to her, "I believe it is one of his gut instincts, and my experience here has taught me not to question them.”

 

“But you do question them, don't you?'' Kate prodded.

 

Ziva stared hard at her before nodding reluctantly.

 

Kate suddenly smiled, eyes going wide with a bright idea. ''I'm going to find out what happened to him,"

 

Ziva frowned, ''Antonio?"

 

Kate nodded enthusiastically, "Gibbs may not think he's important to the case, but I do. That gun was his, that's prevalent to the case and I'm going to find out everything I can. Abby will help me."

 

Ten Minutes Later.

 

Kate stormed back into the basement, walked around in circles a few times before slamming her hands down onto the table Ziva was working at. Ziva was not amused.

 

"Abby's in on it too," she said furious.

 

"What makes you think that?"

 

"She told me there was no way to get the information on the gun, nor did she have time for such a ‘pointless’ task." Kate scoffed. "Abby never turns down a mystery."

 

Ziva quirked an eyebrow, "We'll have to figure it out ourselves then."

 

Kate's anger fell away and she brightened, "You're going to help?"

 

"I never said I wouldn't."

 

April 16 2005; Bank; unknown; 2:00 pm

 

He was not an overly cautious man, but he knew the world in which he lived and its reputation for doing things for no reason. He wasn't a bad man, never did anything against the law but he'd set up A precaution in case Someone decided to come after him.

 

And although he'd never expected the safe deposit box in which lay a completely new identity and five thousand dollars in it to be used he was glad he had it now. His wayward child wouldn't be able to track him now, nor would anyone else trying to look for him. Jonathan Wilson ceased to exist, and in his place Robert Alskov was born.


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