They first met at a crime scene in Boston.
During his darily morning run, Anthony DiNozzo of Boston PD had stumbled over a body in the parc. It was just his luck that the body turned out to be a high-ranked Naval officer – therefore his case had been taken away and NCIS had been put in charge.
Tony had been seething with anger that evening. He had found the body, he had secured the crime scene to save evidence from getting lost, and then his investigation had been handed over to a snarly, greying, coffee-slurping Ex-Marine and his high-heeled probie. As is that hadn’t been bad enough, his boss had told him to leave well alone and not to get into a pissing contest with the leading agent, who had just stood there, looking smug.
But damn!, it was his case, and he wasn’t used to simply roll over. “Merde!” he growled and fumbled for his cell. Of course the NICS… NCSI?… NCIS (“Whatever that stands for anyway!”) agent had handed him his card with a superior grin and the words “If you can think of anything useful…”. Well, Tony DiNozzo could. And therefore he called, punching in the numbers with barely suppressed rage.
“Ja?” was growled in way of greeting.
“Agent Gibbs? Officer DiNozzo speaking.”
He took a deep breath. “I want in.” Good, he hadn’t made that a request.
A sigh on the other end of the line, then “Listen, this is NCIS-“
“You offered a shared investigation!” Tony wasn’t about to back down. “I want in. I’m useful. I know all there is to know about local affairs”, he chattered enthusiastically, “like, you know, drug rings, mafia, …” The list went on.
The less opportunity he gave that Gibbs guy to interrupt, the better.
Silence was his only answer after he finished. He waited. At least he wasn’t hung up on, yet. So he waited some more, before daring a tentative “Uhm… Gibbs?”
Tony was feeling less confident by the second.
“Good.” Silence. “Grab some stuff and get your ass over here.”
A low chuckle. “Hearing impaired?” Pause. “Thought you wanted in…”
Completely thrown, Tony stared dumbly at his cell, before he managed to shake himself out of his reverie to throw some clothes in a duffel, together with his badge and gun. He should tell his boss that – nah! He’d call from D.C.. Or not. Working with NCIS might not only be challening, going to Washington without leave might cost him his job. But then again, Tony had worked in Boston for two years, already.
Time to move on anyway.
The case turned out to be neither drugs, nor mafia, and not espionage.
A drunk Naval officer had decided to take the shortcut through the parc and had goten into a fight with a gang that happened to celebrate initiation rites there. A fight ensued in which the officer – outnumbered – was beaten to death.
Sad, but nothing spectacular.
Tony was nevertheless proud about how his knowledge of Boston streetgangs had helped them find the culprits.
After he had overcome his initial doubts about working with the people who had stolen his case, Tony had enjoyed working with NCIS. Gibbs’ team had welcomed him with open arms, and he had become very fond of that Goth forensic, Abby.
Only his “boss” for the time being had been a pain in the ass, closed up, pointing out his every mistake, glaring at him all the time, and yelling at him for spilling his precious coffee. But when all was said and done, Tony had liked working with him.
So when he received an anonymus e-mail (from Anny, no doubt) alerting him to the fact that Gibbs was looking for a new field agent, Tony jumped the next plane to D.C..
He wasn’t the only one, though, waiting in the office for the infamous agent’s return. “Probably off to grab some coffee”, Tony thought.
On cue the elevator doors opened, revealing an annoyed-looking Gibbs with a coffee cup in hand (“Ha! I knew it!”) glaring at the lot of the candidates. While the others shrunk away from that glare, all Tony did was offer a bright smile.
Seeing an answering twinkle in Gibbs’ eyes, he knew it was indeed time to leave Boston behind.