𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ━━ 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐳𝐳𝐨

TWENTY FIVE | father-son pair

"Big d as in dimwit, little i as in idiot, big n as in nimrod, little o as in obtuse. . ."

As I head straight towards the other two in the bullpen, a pained sigh escapes my breath, and I lean against McGee's desk.

"Do you know what's going on?" Ziva mutters lightly.

I touch the half-drunk coffee to my lips. "He's just trying to withdraw some money from a New York bank, but his account's been confused for one of his dad's."

"What does he need the money for?"

"He wouldn't tell me. I even offered to —"

"Do we really wanna know what you offered him?"

". . .no."

The current case takes us to Pax River where the driver of Prince Sayif was killed by a car bombing meant for the prince.

"Excuse me. You must be Evaline Giudice."

The husky voice of an elderly man speaks in front of me when I put away the last of the files pertaining to Walid Abbas.

"Yes, it is. And who might you. . ."

I can't help the widened eyes or dropped jaw when I come face to face with the man I'd only heard stories about.

"Anthony DiNozzo, Sr.. But you can call me Dad."

"Uh-huh. . ."

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the wedding. Didn't receive an invitation or return address, so I couldn't mail a gift."

"Uh-huh. . ."

"Junior's hardly shown me a photo of you, but you are stunning, Evaline."

From the corner of my eye, I notice the paralyzed senior agent crouched in front of M.T.A.C. with an ecstatic McGee standing behind him.

The elderly man follows my line of sight and beams at his son's presence.

"Junior."

"Dad."

The father-son pair occupies the lower level of the team's space, and the rest of the debate discusses the situation in hushed whispers.

The rest of the team along with the prince leaves for his prepared suite in the Adams House Hotel. Meanwhile, Tony and I arrive a little bit later.

"Is he staying with us?"

"Of course not. He's got his own room at a hotel."

The smack sounding from my palm grazing the back of his neck echoes loudly within the hallway. A few agents and royal guards turn their heads at the sound.

"Nothing to see here. Move along."

One of our own agents swings open the double door entrance to the prince's suite.

"Hey, boss." Tony greets him and the others with a nod. "Got agents posted in the lobby and the garage. The royal guards are covering the stairwells and the corridors."

A mere hour later when a member of the N.S.A. reports a message following the lines of the prince's attempted assassination being sent from a computer in the guest business center of the Adams House Hotel, the team scurries through the hotel to capture the culprit.

Anthony DiNozzo, Sr..

With a brief interrogation, Gibbs releases him — along with me and Tony — for the night.

"Macallan 18, three fingers, one ice cube. Virgin mint mojito with two limes. And a nonalcoholic beer, please."

I twirl the thin, black straw against the rim of the glass of my second beverage. Meanwhile, Tony drums his fingertips against the countertop in an old-fashioned, nervous manner.

"Are you sure you're gonna be alright while I'm getting a lecture from Senior?" He turns his back to the edge of the bar.

"Believe me, I'll be fine." My hand slides over the spa certificate his father had kindly purchased for me. "Question is, are you gonna be okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just remember: he's your dad, T."

And as the last of the drinks arrives — a single-malt scotch — he presses a soft but commandeering kiss to my lips before facing the music.

The next morning, Tony and I are finally relieved from prince-sitting.

But are placed on keep-Senior-away-from-the-Ibn-Alwaan-family duty.

"Come on, Dad. I got a lot of work to do."

Tony whispers in a panicked tone from my desk, watching his dad use his computer for God knows what.

"Almost done, Junior." Senior barely spares a glance. "You'll be happy to know that, among other things, I've straightened out that mixup with your bank account. The funds will be available."

"Oh. Th-That's great."

But when Tony approaches his desk, Senior tilts the computer monitor away from his view.

"Do you have to stick your nose in everyone's business?"

"Makes me a good investigator."

And somehow within the next ten minutes, Tony's signed me up to give Senior a private tour of the building.

"Has anyone ever told you Tony's exactly like you?"

"It's been mentioned here and there."

"I'd like to say I know Tony. . .very well."

My palm stings from the impact of hitting the emergency button in the elevator. The overhead lights flicker off, and all movement halts.

"Especially when he was dying in a hospital bed from the pneumonic plague four years ago."

"He-He never told me he was sick."

"You have this amazing son, and you don't even keep in touch with him. I mean, what are you even doing here, Mr. DiNozzo?"

". . .I should tell you to piss off. But I do know that you are Junior's entire world. So I'll keep this civil."

A short exhale slips out. "As someone who lost her mother when she turned 18. . .I'd give anything to have her in my adult life."

I flick the emergency button again, allowing the elevator to resume normal activity.

"You have your chance to get to know Tony. Don't waste it."

"Are we finished?"

The doors slide open, and Gibbs stands in front with a knowing expression across his features.

"Yes."

Soon, Abby reveals the person behind the bombing — who happens to be the victim — Walid. And the one to have given him the orders? Sayif's own brother, Abdalla.

"I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye to your dad." I toss a few popped kernels into my mouth. "It's just, I —"

Shaking his head, Tony leans forward to peck my cheek. "Don't worry. He told me about the elevator. Said he enjoyed having a real conversation with his daughter."

"He didn't tell you anything else, did he?"

"Not at all. Except. . ."

"Except what?"

"Except you remind him of his first love." He stares into my eyes, the hint of a sad smile growing on his face. "My mom."