Over There

Chapter Three

Tony walked into the apartment he shared with Tim. Even though he knew Tim wouldn't be there, he wasn't prepared for the shear emptiness he felt once the door was closed. He sighed, aware that he seemed to be doing a lot of that today. He set his backpack on the floor by the door at the ready for when he left in the morning.
 
He walked into the kitchen, not really wanting to eat a sandwich alone. He turned to leave but something stopped him. He opened the refrigerator door. There was a small casserole dish sitting on the top shelf with a note attached. He took the dish out and read the note.
 
"Tony," it started out in Tim's precise handwriting. "It's my turn to cook tonight so I threw this together for you from the leftover chicken. I know you wouldn't bother eating otherwise. Need for you to keep up your strength for when I get back. Hope you like it. Love you, T."
 
Tony laughed and put the casserole in the oven according to the directions at the end of the note. While it was heating through, he showered. His mind flashed back to that very morning and he could feel his lover's hands on his body all over again. He closed his eyes and his hand slid down his body. He knew Tim's touch, how his hands felt on him, touching him, loving him. He came, murmuring his lover's name.
 
By the time he got out of the shower and dressed, his dinner was almost ready. He took a cold beer from the refrigerator and a fork from the drawer and set them on the coffee table in the living room. Normally he would watch the news with Tim, but he wasn't ready for any war news tonight. He checked the guide and saw that TCM was playing the original version of "Yours, Mine and Ours" with Henry Fonda and Lucille Ball. "Just the right mix of humor and drama," he thought. The timer sounded and he retrieved the hot bowl from the oven with a towel and set it on the table by his beer. He ate Tim's casserole, which was very good, but then he didn't doubt that it would be.
 
Later he lay in the bed alone, eyes closed but not sleeping. He wondered just where Tim was and what he was doing at that moment. He hugged Tim's pillow to his chest and finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.

***

The flight was long but blessedly uneventful. Tim and Ziva slept off and on, sitting on the uncomfortable seats provided in the military transport. The marines sharing the flight with them were quiet, some reading, a few obviously playing games on their phones. Most of them had already been to Afghanistan at least once and knew pretty much what to expect.
 
Tim was not a stranger to the danger that could befall him. He'd been shot at and had to shoot his way out of situations before, and he was there to see what had happened to Chris Pacci in the elevator of the old hotel. Yes, he knew danger, but that didn't make it any easier facing the present mission.
 
"McGee, here, eat your sandwich," Ziva said, handing her teammate a plastic bag. "It won't do you any good to sit and think about things."
 
"I'm not thinking, just observing," he admitted, taking the food. "These guys are so young."
 
Ziva laughed. She saw the look Tim cast her way. "What?" he asked confused at her reaction.
 
"Nothing, Tim," she said, a smile still on her lips. "Eat your sandwich."
 
The large plane landed in Kabul. The group of marines were the first to disembark, with Tim and Ziva following. The weather was hot and dry, much different than the summer humidity they were used to in DC. They were met by Major O'Hara's aide Lt. Jasper, whom they'd talked to during their final briefing in MTAC just that afternoon; or yesterday afternoon, due to the time difference. What sleep they had on the plane would have to do because the day was just starting for them.
 
"Welcome to Kabul," the lieutenant said in greeting, holding out his hand. Tim and Ziva shook hands, acknowledging the greeting. "Shall we get to work? The situation has become more urgent over the past two hours."
 
"That's why we're here, Lieutenant. Let's go."
 
The officer led the two agents to the waiting Humvee. They got in, acknowledging the young private who was driving and the two men carrying large weapons. They drove to a non-descript stone building inside a fence made of barbed wire.
 
Ziva had been in places like this before, unlike Tim. Of course he had seen pictures and even live scenes on MTAC, but nothing could prepare him for the real thing. He wasn't scared. After all, he carried a gun as part of his job and had even used it.
 
They were shown to a small room with two men at computers.

"Here you go, Agent McGee," the Lt said pointing to an empty chair in front of an unoccupied computer. "Sgt. Brown will fill you in on the updates." McGee placed his backpack on the floor, ready to work.
 
Turning to Ziva, the officer offered to show her their accommodations. She nodded and followed him out of the room.
"It's not much and the two of you will have to share. At least there's indoor plumbing and the food's not too bad." Before her was a small room with two cots. Everything was OD green.
 
"Nice," she said with a smile. "I've been in worse. Thank you, Lt. Jasper."
 
"You're very welcome, Agent. If you'll come with me, I'll show you the rest of the place."
 
While Ziva was getting a tour of the station Tim was busy at the computer. He was handed a cup of marine coffee and took a sip. He knew Gibbs would not approve of the brew but it was caffeine and well needed. He let his mind wander momentarily to the coffee Tony had brought into work yesterday morning. His smile did not go unnoticed.
 
"Agent, you have something?"
 
"Wwwhat," he stammered, smile gone.
 
"You were smiling like you found something."
 
"No. Well, maybe. Just let me work a little more on this."
 
"Okay," the perplexed Sergeant said.

 ***

PO Klein was waiting in his CO's office as promised when Tony arrived in Norfolk. The agent interviewed him for over an hour, but the only thing he got was a new name. He would have to start with that investigation as soon as he got back to the office.
 
He left Klein at his CO's office and left the building. In the parking lot Tony pulled out his phone and checked for messages. There were none, but he had hoped Tim would have been able to call him. It was selfish he knew. Tim had important work to do and probably couldn't take time off from it just to call him. Maybe Gibbs had heard something from the director.
 
Tony exited the elevator and walked to his desk. He placed his backpack on the floor out of the way of traffic.
 
"Hey, Boss, I'm back."
 
"Anything new, DiNozzo?"
 
"He gave me another name to check out. I'm not sure if he's sending me on a wild goose chase or not. There's something not quite right about this situation but I can't put my finger on it." Seated in his chair, he got the notebook from his pocket and turned on his computer. "Um, Boss, any word on our wandering duo yet?"
 
"No, wasn't expecting any."
 
"Guess you're right. I'm sure they're busy over there."
 
"I would expect so, Tony."
 
"I'll just get to work on this name," Tony said, holding up the pad he had written the information on. He started to log onto the site he needed to check on the new name, but changed his mind. Tony checked his email. Nothing. At least nothing from Tim. There was a message from his frat brother, Jayson, no doubt about the birthday bash for Artie; there was a message from his insurance company and an offer for a credit card. "Timmy, I know you're busy, but I need to hear something from you," he mumbled.
 
Gibbs saw the look of disappointment on Tony's face. There was definitely something going on with his second in command. Finally, Tony took a deep breath and settled back in his chair and started typing on his keyboard. Whatever it was had passed and Tony was concentrating on his job once again. However, Gibbs continued mulling over the situation and an idea suddenly came to him; an idea that he found hard to believe.
 
DiNozzo and McGee? True, Tony made it a point to include both McGee and Ziva in his references, but…he shook his head, surprised he hadn't seen it before. The change was subtle but still there. Okay, he wouldn't push it. If Tony wanted him to know, he'd tell him; he could wait.

To be continued

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