Hello again, my friends at FF! I offer you a Tony-story (everybody gasps with surprise...) with a slightly different POV. I just love outsiders' POV and my favorite is probably StarvingScriptWriter's story with Gladys. I'm planning a second chapter, but it's not finished yet.
As always, I hope you enjoy, and for those of you who didn't know it, I don't own any of the NCIS characters.

Casanova

Unable to do anything else, I studied his ashen face for a long time. It was taut with pain and glistening with sweat and I was afraid that if I looked away, the next time he would be gone. Dead. Lost to the world.

He trembled in a horrific manner, grinding his teeth against the pain. The brunette by his side looked worried and that scared me even more. She didn't strike me as a person who worried easily. I guess the blood pooling on the floor beside him was reason enough.

He apparently tried to joke with her, talking in a weak voice, but she only stroke his cheek and told him to be quiet or somebody named Gibbs would be angry with him. This gentle display of obvious love had me choking back tears. Then he coughed blood all over her shirt and I cried openly.

I didn't care what happened to me as long as he didn't die. Because that would be all my fault.

"Ma'm? Ma'm, you all right?"

"Yes, Special Agent, thank you."

"You want another blanket?"

"No. Thanks, I'm fine."

"Would you answer a few questions for me?"

"Please. Go ahead."

"All right. What were you doing in the bank, ma'm?"

"I was just…just going to pick up my new checkbook when it happened."

I was standing in line in the bank on my lunch break, thinking how stupid it was of me to be standing in line in the bank on my lunch break. Lunch hour is always the worst. People everywhere. Busy, busy time of day, but oh, so slow lines.
I was entertaining myself by watching all these people standing in line on their lunch breaks, in the bank, slowly inching forward.

And he caught my eye.

The analogy is corny, I know, but he was like a ray of sunshine among all the dull faces and grey suits and briefcases. He was humming with life; pure joy was beaming from his green eyes, making them look bigger and more innocent than was really suiting him. He was a player, I could tell.

I really couldn't make myself care, however, because when he caught my eye and I somehow didn't find the will to look away, his smile simply eclipsed those eyes. It was blinding and I let myself be dazzled. It was my lunch break after all. I could do what I bloody well pleased on my own time, even if it meant I was being played by a handsome Casanova in the stupid bank.

I felt myself smile back, like a star-struck teenager. It should be impossible, but his grin widened even more and those emerald greens were sparkling. He looked like a boy in a man's body. Mind - immature, body…very mature. Was it getting hotter in here? Suddenly I didn't mind the queue moving so slowly.

Then he cringed - in astonishment or simple pain I couldn't tell, because the petite dark haired woman jabbing him in the ribs looked like she could inflict some serious damage if she wanted to.

Girlfriend, most likely. He immediately gave her his full attention and forgot about me. Oh, well, I had moved somewhat forward in line during my moments of bliss.

I was almost at the counter when they came barging in, voices raised and guns blazing.

"What happened then, ma'm? You see their faces?"

"No. No, they had ski masks on. Original, huh?"

"They usually have. Accents? Tattoos? Anything like that?"

"Midwestern. No tattoos, no distinguishing clothes, no limps, no scars, nothing."

"You sure?"

"Well, I had some time to watch them, didn't I?"

"Just doing my job, ma'm."

"So was he. My Casanova. Just doing his job."

You think you know how you will react in certain situations. How you're going to handle it. At least I did, until I was faced with real, live, gut wrenching terror like this. I always thought I would be cool and stoic and not cry and scream and cower like I did. Embarrassing, but I really didn't worry about that right then. Not when they struck out at the security guard, sending him to the floor with a bleeding gash on his temple and not when they fired their guns with ear shattering noise.

There were three of them, complete with masks and bad attitudes. After they had sprayed the place with bullets and hollered at us to be quiet and stay where we were, they locked the doors and one of them - probably the leader - ran to the counter.

The poor woman behind the desk looked very pale and I could see her hands trembling, but she did what she was told and started putting money in a bag. In my haze, I could at least think that they weren't after the big money, just an easy way of getting enough cash to get through the day. Amateurs.

I don't know why, but I found myself looking for my Casanova. I was scanning the room, looking at everybody cowering on the floor. Mostly businessmen from the look of it, an elderly couple and two youngsters. Below one of the windows, I found him. He was crouching in front of his lady friend, trying to keep her behind him. He didn't look terrified like the rest of us and I wondered about that. My own fear melted away a fraction, as I watched him reach back and put a hand on the pretty brunette's arm, scan the room with a calm expression and ease back against the wall, apparently satisfied. With what I had no idea, but the sight calmed me.

Then he caught my eye and winked at me.

"He winked! I almost laughed out loud."

"I hear he's like that."

When the poor desk clerk was finished with putting money in the offered bag, she gave it to the man with trembling hands. He snatched it from her and gave her a backhand that split her lip. I couldn't hear if she whimpered, because everything was drowned out by the gasps and cries from around the room.

"Shut up!" one of the robbers roared. "Shut the fuck up!" The cries soon turned into sobs and he twirled slowly around, as if he was taking us all in for the first time. "Lie down, now! And keep quiet!"

I kept down on the floor, sobbing and trying not to be noticed. Because that is what you keep thinking. Not me, not me. Better somebody else than me. I guess we all thought it.

Except for him.

"Did you know he was a federal agent?"

"No, not then. He seemed so…childish, you know? Egocentric. Not like the kind who would risk his life to protect somebody else."

"Who was he trying to protect?"

"He wasn't just trying! He did."

"Who, ma'm?"

"Me."

We all kept down like they ordered, and hoped they would leave quietly now that they got what they came for. That's when we heard the sirens. I feeling of relief washed over me, but the moment after I didn't think about much else than the gun pressed to my temple. I was terrified and I think I was crying, but I didn't scream.

"Who pressed the fucking alarm, huh?! Who did it?" He was furious. The sounds of car tires screeching on the tarmac outside was unmistakable. The cavalry was here. "I'll put a bullet through her brain!"

I looked with wide eyes at the handsome man standing up in front of me.

"All right, tough guy, just calm down." His voice was smooth and calm with a hint of mockery in it. I hoped Tough Guy didn't pick up on that. "Let her go. Didn't your mom ever tell you not to pick on those smaller than you?"

I could feel the tension in the room. It was vibrating. Everybody holding their breath.

"You're a cop, ain't you?" the Tough Guy hollered. "Ain't you?!"

"Just take it easy, okay?" Casanova said with his hands raised in the unmistakable sign of surrender. "Why don't you pick on me instead?" His voice was quiet and he still looked calm but the smile was gone.

I drew a sharp breath.

When he looked at me, his eyes were dark, and his expression cooler. Harder. I guess I noticed it before, subconsciously. That idiotic grin of his didn't seem to fit him. It was beautiful, but it just didn't fit. The smile was a façade. This look was the one that was etched in his features. This serious look. This grim look.

I would never have guessed.

"He drew the attention to himself?"

"Yes."

"And was shot?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"What do you think happened?! The bloody thug pulled the trigger and I think he liked it. Sadistic son of a…"

"What happened, ma'm?"

"Casanova was trying to…to protect me. Oh God, he was protecting me."

"Why don't you pick on me instead?"

"Because I like girls better. Now sit down!" Tough Guy was getting really angry.

I was looking at my hero now with fear in my heart, shaking my head slowly at him. Don't, don't...

"No", he said, "I won't sit down. Not until you leave her alone."

Tough Guy cocked his gun, and I cringed, but he wasn't aiming at me anymore. "Sit. Down. Now."

"Let her go."

The silence stretched on. I almost didn't dare breathe. I met formerly sparkling green eyes, now darkened by new emotion. I saw this other side of him and thought that this wouldn't - couldn't - end well.

"I said let her go." Icicles were hanging from those words now.

"That's when he got shot?"

"No. No, he didn't stand a chance, though. The two other thugs threatened to shoot his girlfriend as well. He lowered his gun then and…he didn't stand a chance. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

I never got the opportunity to thank him. Never caught his name either.

He'll always be 'Heroic Man-child Casanova' to me.

TBC