Rule 39: There Is No Such Thing As Coincidence (Tony DiNozzo Love Story)

Scapegoat

Erin's POV

"Hello again," I say.

Gibbs doesn't say anything, he only sits down and places his new file on the table in front of him. He scoots his chair in and folds his hands then begins what he's good at. He stares. He stares at me for I don't how long and with the training I've learned from him, I stare back. Despite the last few days of him nursing me back to health with the help of Ducky and my doctor, he pushes that aside to close this case. Long minutes go by before he finally makes a small squint to his eyes and leans forward.

"Venetia," his tongue rolls the name and I feel a tingle cross the back of my neck. "Or should I say Matrona? Which one is it?"

I say nothing.

"You know you look a lot different from these photos," he says as he pulls out a photo. A photo that I know can't exist, a photo clearly showing a brunette woman with blue eyes.

"We got this from your reflection in this car," he says as he shows me another picture. I inwardly slap myself for making such a rookie mistake.

"It's very different from now." He pulls another image of my face. He stands up and walks around the table to stand next to me. He leans on the table with arm and picks the photograph up. He holds it and looks in the mirror.

"It's good work. Must have been a lot of money though. All those prosthetics and applications. How long did it take? As long as it did for you to kill that guy in Belize?"

I say nothing and stare into the mirror. He gets irritated and tosses the photo onto the table, searching through the others.

"These men. Antoine Vega and Victor Jean. What did you do that they want you dead? Come on, look I know you're smart. You've probably calculated to the second you have to clear this room and make your way out of this Navy Yard. So what could a trained killer like you do to end up as their target?"

I contemplate my words of what I want to share, not because I'm afraid of the petty consequences of going to prison for obstruction but to prove that I'm not the bad guy.

"Antoine Vega and Victor Jean," he says again.

"What about them?"

"Why do they want you dead?"

"Easy Gibbs, you don't want to be eating dessert before the main course."

"Who are you?"

I sigh and look away. "You, an agent, judge, assassin, missionary; a messenger and worker of true justice."

"Who hired you?"

"No one. Everyone. Take your pick," I say.

"How do you know my team?"

I smile and sit back slightly.

"Do you honestly expect me to give up that secret so easily?"

"How do you know me?" He asks, leaning on the table and narrowing his eyes in his way.

"We go way back."

"How far?"

"Far enough to know that you're on your fifth cup of coffee today and you've been chewing that exact piece of gum since this morning."

"Tell me about Belize."

"Someone tried to put a bullet through my head. Damn good job they did."

"Why were they hired to kill you?"

"Remember those two guys you asked about earlier?" I nod encouraging him. "They put a heavy stake out there for me to end up dead or at least close to it at their doorstep. Just so they could watch me take my last breath. Which is where Gabriel came into play. But you don't care about that do you Agent Gibbs, you want to know why? Well, let's see, Vega and Jean are crime bosses that have hubs all over South Europe, South America, and Central America, including parts of the U.S.; and I, well let's just say that when Vega asked me to take a load off and make myself at home in one of their villas they own I did and some stuff might have gone missing. I didn't steal it, so don't even go there. I was trying to apprehend the thief that stole from the thieves. See someone on the inside was stealing product out and someone had to take the blame.