Tony and the Moose

by scousemuz1k

AN: This was supposed to be a single shot epilogue to 'Destina', but a few kind people mentioned the ADVENTURES – plural - of Tony and his motorbike. So I sat down and gathered some scattered thoughts together… the only problem is that I found it very hard to organise them into a coherent time-line. Anyone surprised? Don't answer. First chapter…. A bit of a meander, really. Proseac and I didn't know we were doing research for this tale on the two marvellous visits I've made to Canada and the USA. Neither did Binkeybella! So apologies if it reads like a travelogue – some of the places mentioned are places we went and enjoyed. No harm in having Tony enjoying them… ;)

Anyhoos, I know that a lot of people don't care for stories written with lots of flashbacks and recollections – too confusing. Sorry… I've tried to be as clear as possible!

I'll explain about the about-face re the gun, in a later AN, or this one will go on for ever.

He loved that first moment of waking; when you knew only that you were warm, comfortable, rested, and without a care in the world. You were hazy on such things as who you were, or what you were doing there; this was of course before the real thinking began, and life began to poke away at the lovely, warm bubble.

He opened one eye. Sunshine was forcing itself past the dark blue curtains, helped by a light breeze coming through the open window. There was no sound of traffic outside and the air smelled fresh, so he didn't bother to grope for his watch. It was early. He closed the eye again. He was retired, he was in Niagara on the Lake, Ontario, at the lovely old inn, the Olde Angel, the world was his oyster, and today was Tony DiNozzo's fortieth birthday.

He rolled over, stretched, and curled up again. Time to go through the checklist, as he'd done every morning since he'd ridden Destina out of the Navy Yard, quite possibly never to return.

Check 1: Deep breath. Careful analysis of how that felt – it felt good.

Check 2: Firm reminder that he did NOT have to get up at the crack of dawn to go into work – it felt damn good!

Check 3: This was where life began to do that poking thing… A very firm reminder that he did NOT have to spend his time worrying about how Gibbs was feeling. He'd tried all that for months, or was it years? Gibbs was his own problem now, not Tony's – that felt bad, and he dared say it always would, but it wasn't his fault and he was moving on. It still felt good.

Check 4: It didn't matter that he didn't know where he was moving on to – the rudderless feeling was gone. He might not know now, but he didn't doubt that he would know in the end. Life was good. Life really was good. And since he couldn't remember a time, since he left Ohio State, when that had truly been the case, even although, (never mind check 3,) he did worry about Gibbs, he was going to hang onto that glorious feeling.

He lay dozing for a while longer, simply because he could, until his stomach reminded him melodiously that this was the time of day when it expected to be filled. Fifteen minutes later, showered and comfortable in T shirt, jeans and sneakers, he headed down to check that Destina was still safe where he'd left her, and look for some breakfast. Over a Full English, he made plans to walk around the town for a while, and visit places he'd read about like the fudge shop, the Christmas shop, the apothecary and the Native Canadian art gallery. He'd even heard of a shop that sold jam and marmalade. He had to see that. And Sunset Beach… that sounded so Hollywood… but it looked good on Google Earth, so he'd go there too. - then down into Niagara Falls to do touristy things like eating a beavertail with maple syrup.

As he neared the end of his meal, his young server came over to top up his coffee, and he wondered why another girl came with her. It took two to fill a coffee mug? The other waitress produced a side plate with a large cupcake on it. Stuck in the cake was an American flag, and a lit candle. They sang 'Happy Birthday' - and they knew his name - in breathless giggles, so he obligingly blew the candle out.

"How did you know?"

"Louise heard you talking about it on your phone last night, when she served your dessert, and she didn't like the thought of you having no-one to wish you 'Many Happy Returns', so – Many Happy Returns!"

He was touched, so he stood up and hugged them both, and took a selfie with them. They went off, still giggling. Tony sat down again, took a long sip of his coffee, and shook his head with a smile. He loved Canadians.

o0o0o

Flashback: two days after Tony retired…

"You know you don't have to go yet, don't you? You're welcome to stop here as long as you need to..."

Tony smiled his thanks. "I know, Breena. You and Jimmy have already done enough for me -"

"Tony, the apartment and the Mustang – it's the other way round!"

He reached out and squeezed her hand. "Well, we're quits, then, if we're counting. Which we're not. No... everything's sorted, and I'm itching to be on the road." They heard the front door opening.

"Bree? Tony?"

"In the kitchen, love!" Jimmy came in beaming all over his face, and kissed his lady in greeting. She looked at him quizzically. "What's the big grin about?"

"What big grin? Oh, my big grin. I've been talking to Liz."

"Agent Gibbs. How can I help you?" Hmm, I rather expected this. I'm not sure I expected Miss David as well.

"You can tell me what's going on! Where's the Director gone with my agent? Why was he up here half the afternoon?"

I have a name, Liz thought. It would be polite for you to use it… huh, I don't suppose you even know it! "Agent Gibbs, you'll really have to ask Director Vance that."

"I just did! He won't tell me what's going on with my agent!"

Liz waited, as she heard Vance's returning footsteps.

"He's not your agent any more, Gibbs," the Director said as he re-entered the office. "He's not even my agent. He retired, officially, as of this afternoon. He needs to look after his health, as he can't count on anyone else to do it."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Think about it, Gibbs. You left him to deal with a lung-sick man. He got sick himself as a result. He got back to work, and got damn-all understanding of the situation from either of you. He doesn't intend to die of chronic lung disease before he's fifty – which Dr Pitt has warned him was a possibility - so he took the best course of action he could, and got out. He restrained himself from spitting in your eye first. Does that answer your question? I'm beginning to doubt your abilities as a team leader!"

Gibbs' jaw worked, but he didn't speak.

"So..." Ziva said in a puzzled tone, "He has already gone?"

"I believe he went down to say goodbye to Miss Sciuto," Vance told her. "But broadly speaking, yes, he has."

He wasn't surprised when Gibbs stormed out of the office without another word, with the Israeli agent trailing in his wake. He and Liz shook their heads at each other.

Tony tried not to feel satisfied – even a bit vengeful - by what Jimmy told him; schadenfreude is not a nice emotion, after all. He was still amazed that Vance had gone in to bat for him in the way he had. But somewhere down inside, the pain eased a little. Someone had told Gibbs what was what, when he hadn't been able to find the energy to. There was still no clue as to why Gibbs had turned on him the way he had, although he felt that he knew. The other thing that he knew was, he'd learn not to care.

"Liz sent you this," Jimmy said, producing a glass jar from his backpack. Tony took it reverently; Manuka honey. Wow, Liz… "She also said I was to give you a hug and a kiss from her, but I think Bree had better do that."

o0o0o

The first place Tony had travelled to was in completely the opposite direction from the one he intended to take eventually; he headed down to Norfolk to see McGee. On impulse, he'd ridden out via Annapolis and the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, down the peninsula, and over the bridge/tunnel, simply because he never had before, and he felt like it. Destina was having an effect already.

Now they were sitting on the balcony of the tiny apartment Tim had been assigned the use of during his stay. Tony had brought the obligatory beer, rightly guessing that Tim wouldn't have had the time or the inclination to go booze shopping. There was hardly a thing out of place, he'd noted with heavy approval.

"Well observed," Tim had snorted, falling into the old banter immediately. "Get up, shower, get over to the US Navy supply Center at Craney Island. There are nice young seaman apprentice ladies who bring you breakfast so you can start working immediately. They bring you lunch, and honestly, there are no laws against stopping to eat it, but there's so much to get through." He grinned. "Mind you, another two weeks and we should know it all. The trap's closing… so it should be, the work the team's put in. We may go for a meal in the evening, but usually we just look at each other, and shrug. Too damn tired. Back here, sandwich, watch TV for a bit, fall into bed. Rinse, repeat. I'm not here enough to make a mess. It was great to quit early today when you let me know you were coming.

"So, I'm your get out of jail free card," the older man said with a grin.

"Stoppit. No, that's not the only reason I'm pleased to see you." Now he waited somewhat anxiously to hear what Tony had to say.

The older man took a deep breath; Tim absently drank his beer straight from the bottle, hardly tasting it as he listened.

"Didn't think it was something I could do on the phone, Tim..." Tony said finally. Not a grin now, not a nickname, Tim noted, and after what he'd just been told, he wasn't surprised.

"I heard today that Gibbs has been making waves to get me back to DC the last couple of days," he told Tony. "Now, I guess I know why." It had been plain as day that things were wrong, and he hadn't really wanted to leave the Navy Yard and come down down here, leaving someone he considered a friend, to fend for himself.

Tony read his look. "Not. Your. Fault." he said firmly. "Tim… I came down here to – I dunno – say what you've probably already figured out. Things are going to be different, and I've no idea how. You'll either be his blue-eyed boy, or his replacement whipping boy. I just wanted to say – if that's the case, don't wait as long as I did to cut yourself loose."

He looked at Tim in wide eyed surprise as his one-time probie said flatly, "I'm thinking about doing it now."

Tony looked down at his hands as they rested loosely on his knees, for a moment, then he looked up again and said seriously. "Not telling you what to do, Tim… I did say if, and if he blames me for Jenny's death, and if me being gone solves the problem, things might be OK. He might need you."

Tim shrugged. "Maybe. He should have thought about needing people before he drove you out."

They'd ordered takeaway, got mildly drunk, and talked about other things until they began to nod. Tony had curled up on the sofa, and next morning he watched Tim going into the 'get up, shower' routine like an automaton. Tony washed in the kitchen sink. When the young agent came out of the bathroom, more like a functioning human being now, he'd tried to find the right words, but found himself hopelessly tongue-tied.

"It's OK," Tony told him. "Whatever you do, you'll decide right. Look..." he lifted something out of his back-pack. "Will you look after this for me?" It was his Sig and holster.

"Shit, Tony..."

"I can't really take it with me, got to get used to living without it, but I don't want to turn it in after Vance swung it for me." Tim just nodded. Tony moved to the front door. "And here's my new phone number. You, Jimmy and Vance are the only ones who have it. I've got my laptop – if you want to talk Gibbs things, or anything, just skype me." They looked at each other, eyes filling ridiculously. A quick hug, and Tony was gone. A few moments later, Tim watched the black bike and its rider purring away up the street.

Work. Come on, work… Damn Gibbs.

o0o0o

Tony sat on Sunset Beach, remembering; it was still early morning, as it had been then, three days ago. He scrolled through the photos on his phone, recalling the journey. He'd headed north-west, and then north, into the Shenandoah National Park, avoiding towns and travelling by minor roads. Over the course of those three days, he'd taken himself through as many National parks as possible, stopped frequently to look at anything that caught his eye, eaten when he'd spotted a pleasant diner, and used an app on his phone to find decent places to stay.

He looked at a picture of one of them, in northern Pennsylvania. He'd parked Destina safely; (she had the most amazing immobiliser, and he was almost wishing for somebody to try to steal her so he could watch their faces,) and gone for a walk beside the Allegheny before returning to the motel to get a meal. He'd fallen into conversation with the proprietor, who was a friendly type, a good talker and a good listener. As Tony sat on his tall stool at the bar, after a really good steak, the man, 'Oh, call me Pop, everyone does,' had drawn out of him the story of his road trip. Well, the physical story, anyway. He was gradually sloughing off all things Gibbs, and wasn't going to talk about him.

Pop had been interested in Tony's avoidance of towns. "Ya have to use the freeways sooner or later, Tony. Open that nice bike up a bit."

"Well, yes, I guess. But I've been on some good roads, and had them to myself. Gonna have to use the freeways to get to the Peace Bridge, of course."

Pop shook his head. "Hey, no. Well, not if you take my advice! You have to go through an awful lot of Buffalo to get to the Peace Bridge… it's a mighty good place to visit, but not to drive through. Nothing to see on those roads… Listen, you head further north, go through the Iroquois Wildlife Refuge, and head for the Queenston-Lewiston Bridge. Still freeway, but much nicer scenery. And take in Medina – friend of mine runs a real nice cafe in the old shirt factory on West Centre Street. Tell her I sent you!"

So he he'd done that, taking his time, unwinding with the roads. And, with something in his mind about a Christmas Shop in Niagara on the Lake he'd heard about, (which he couldn't be this close to and not visit,) when he'd crossed into Canada, he'd turned right as soon as he could get off the toll road, and here he was.

He took his shoes and socks off. (He'd left the leathers in his room and just wore jeans. He wasn't going far.) He pulled up the legs of his jeans, and went for a paddle about in the water's edge, before deciding to head back. He was happy as a kid when the bascule bridge at Lock 1 on the Welland Canal went up as he approached. At home on Long Island he was lucky if he saw a ship in the distance - on the rare occasions he got to the coast – and he watched the towering steel transport ship go slowly past with an excited smile hidden inside his helmet. Lord, he felt so different these last few days!

Leaving Destina safely at the inn again, he dropped his helmet off in his room, and headed off to see the sights he'd promised himself. As he wandered, he thought how English the town was, and how his mother would have loved it. So he bought himself a tiny crystal angel from the Christmas shop to remind himself of her – even though he'd told himself over and over that he shouldn't buy souvenirs anywhere on his travels. Destina's pods had their limits.

Just as he was leaving the fudge shop – well, he wouldn't need to pack that – his phone buzzed. Text.

Hey Tony, Many Happy Returns! Get yourself down to the Zip-Line by the falls, I've just booked you a trip for your birthday. I said you'd be there around 1pm. Enjoy! Black Lung.

Wow. He was really going to be doing the tourist stuff. Right… if he walked briskly to the WeGo terminus, and hopped on one of the huge bendy buses, he could make it. He didn't suppose there was an exact time anyway. If he took Destina he'd have to carry his helmet round all day. The Zip line! He wondered if it would feel like his involuntary parachute jump, not so many years ago. He began to think about that being in the days when he and Gibbs got on together, and for a moment his mood threatened to plummet, but then that pleasantly excited feeling that had been hovering all day settled again. It's my fortieth birthday, and I've had a cake, and been sang to, and I've got a present, and I feel like a kid again. Double wow.

As he sat on the bus, he tapped out a thank you to Jimmy, with a promise to let him know how it went, and looked up where to find the Zip-line. Apparently it went from the top of the Niagara Falls boat trip building; the bus had a 'next stop' display, but the highly skilful lady driver called the stops out anyway, so he wasn't going to miss it. He looked across the river to the USA side; he could already see the American Falls in the near distance. 'Goodbye, home… don't know when I'll be back..'

The bus came to a gentle stop, and the door hissed open. Tony stepped off, and wandered first of all towards the low wall and railings at the top of the escarpment, to look at the breathtaking sight of the two – OK, three if you counted the small one at the end – waterfalls. He stood for a few minutes, then remembered what he was here for. He turned and headed back towards the boat pier, but that didn't seem to be the right place either, so he walked on a little way further, to the tall black tower with its big letters, ZIP LINE TO THE FALLS, that he really should have seen in the first place. As he looked up he was only vaguely aware of people standing at the foot of the tower, but he dragged his eyes back to ground level because something…

"Finally," a voice said.

"Tony, you're gawking like a tourist," another added, and Tony's jaw fell open.

Tim and Jimmy stood there grinning. "We're coming with you," Jimmy said.

Tony went all Tackleberry. "You guys..."

AN: Tackleberry – Police Academy, remember? Sorry for the travellogue – next chapter NOT travellogue, and reintroducing two characters from a previous story.