Written for the NFA Oneshot Challenge
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to NCIS. Just having a little fun with Tony DiNozzo and Gibbs.
HOT SPOT, HOTSHOT
By: Vanessa Sgroi
It was the smell of smoke that woke Anthony DiNozzo from slumber. He peeled his eyes open and crinkled his nose at the acrid scent as he struggled to orient himself. He could see little in the dark bedroom of his apartment. A cough rattled through DiNozzo's chest, spurring him into movement. He rolled off the bed, hands and knees thumping on the floor. Reaching an arm up on the bed, Tony scooped his orange tabby kitten off the bed.
"C'mon, George, somethin' bad is going on, and I think we need to bail." Squinting through smoke-stung eyes, the special agent spied a zip front NCIS hoodie crumpled next to the bed. He crawled to it and awkwardly shrugged into it. After zipping, he tucked George inside. "Be good in there!" he whispered in a harsh rasp as the smoke began to lower and swirl. He swallowed against the metallic, ashy taste filling his mouth.
On his hands and knees Tony maneuvered out of the bedroom as fast as he could, cursing several times as he bumped into pieces of furniture in the dark. In the living room, he paused only long enough to grab his gun and badge off the table near the door and shove them both into his pockets. DiNozzo quickly ran his hands over the door to see if it was hot before he grabbed the handle and flung it open. Crouching as low as possible, Tony scuttled into the hallway.
The smoke there was a little less dense. Tony stood and pulled the sweatshirt over the lower part of his face, feeling George squirming against his chin. Kitten claws pricked his chest. He staggered down the hallway toward the front entrance of the apartment building.
Tony suddenly pulled to a stop in the middle of the hallway and swung toward his elderly neighbor's door.
Mrs. Ottaviano!
He and Mrs. Ottaviano were the only two occupants currently on this floor. One apartment across the hall was vacant, the other locked tight while Mr. and Mrs. Bergman cruised the Mediterranean. He hurried to his neighbor's door.
"Mrs. Ottaviano!" Tony pounded on the wooden surface. "Mrs. O, it's Tony," he paused to cough. "Th-there's a fire!" Receiving no response, DiNozzo turned and donkey-kicked near the handle, wincing as his bare foot connected with wood. He tried one more time then turned and jammed his shoulder into the door. It finally gave way, and Tony stumbled across the threshold. "Mrs. O!" He squinted into the smoky darkness but saw nothing. DiNozzo pushed deeper into the apartment, heading for the bedroom. He'd just rounded a corner when he bumped into something soft. He threw his hands out and they came to rest on a set of diminutive shoulders. He'd often teased the white-haired woman about her size saying she reminded him of Sophia Petrillo from the 80s show Golden Girls. Between her size and her personality, Tony thought the description was quite apt. "Mrs. O?"
"T-Tony?" Mrs. Ottaviano's voice was quavering and raspy.
"Yeah," Tony coughed and ran a hand across his sweaty forehead, "it's me. We gotta get outta here, Mrs. O." He pulled the slight woman toward him, stopping when she resisted.
"Noooo!" Alda Ottaviano moaned. "My Giancarlo. I won't leave without my Giancarlo."
Tony grimaced. Giancarlo was Alda's cat. He was the only thing she had left in this world, and she doted on him, only slightly more than Tony doted on George, the orphan kitty he'd found and adopted several months ago. DiNozzo knew it would break her heart to lose him. His stomach clenched.
"Listen," Tony said as he led her through the darkness toward the door. "Let's get you out of here. I'll get Giancarlo, okay?"
"You will?"
"Yes," DiNozzo helped her across the threshold and into the hallway. He gently but firmly led her toward the front entrance. He pulled a mewling George from inside his sweatshirt. "Here—you take George for me, all right? You take him outside right now. I'll go get Giancarlo." He watched her in the gloom until she was nearly at the door then turned and made his way back toward her apartment. It had grown much hotter and smokier in the building. Tony knew he was running out of time. As if to emphasize that point, an orange tongue of flame suddenly licked its way into the back corner of her kitchen.
Shit! "Giancarlo," he called. "C'mere, boy." Tony knew it was useless to think the cat would come running to him. He also knew that often animals would hide when scared or stressed. He counted himself lucky that he knew two places that Mrs. O's cat liked to hide—under the bed or in the bathtub. Tony checked the tub first and came up empty. Crawling to the bedroom, he wiggled under the bed and spread his arms. Between coughs he muttered, "Giancarlo?" His hand finally found fur and a menacing yowl accompanied a wicked slash of claws, scoring the back of his hand. "Ow! Damn it." Steadfastly ignoring the continued swipes, DiNozzo grabbed a handful of fur and pulled the feline toward him. It was now almost impossible to breathe, and Tony knew he was out of time. He clamped his arms around the wiggling mass of terrorized cat whose heart was beating wildly. Tony turned around and crawled out of the bedroom.
Upon reaching the living room, he gasped when he saw how much the fire had progressed in the time it had taken him to find Giancarlo. DiNozzo pushed to his feet and staggered drunkenly for the door. He lurched and grunted when something hot landed on the back of his neck. Dizziness washed over him and little pinpricks of light crowded his vision. Still Tony pushed forward. Down the hallway. Down the half-dozen stairs. A coughing fit doubled him over on the bottom step.
With the last of his reserves, DiNozzo careened toward the door, tripping his way over the threshold just in time to see a swarm of firefighters advancing. "Hey," his voice was hoarse, barely audible. "Over here!" The white dots turned black and coalesced. A strange buzz filled Tony's ears. Without warning, his knees gave out then made contact with the pavement. A valiant fireman managed to catch both Giancarlo and DiNozzo at the same time, saving the NCIS agent from a spectacular face plant, but Tony was too far gone to utter a thank you as the darkness pulled him under.
A short time later, DiNozzo came awake with a start. There was something constricting over his mouth and nose, and he automatically reached for it. A hand covered his and pulled it away.
"Nope—leave that be."
Tony blinked to clear his vision, eventually focusing on the stranger above him. He frowned. "Wha?"
"You'll be okay. There was just a little fire."
Fire? Fire! The pieces of the short-lived puzzle fell into place, and Tony struggled to sit up. "Mrs. O!"
"Whoa, whoa." The stranger's hands pushed him backward. "Take it easy."
Tony lifted the oxygen mask away from his mouth. "Mrs. Ottaviano? She okay?"
The paramedic adjusted the mask back over Tony's face. "She the tiny little white-haired lady clutching her cat?"
"My cat, but yeah. She's okay?"
"We'll be taking her to the hospital to get checked out, but I think she'll be fine."
"Giancarlo?"
"Your cat?"
"No, her cat…the…one I was…carrying."
The medic smiled. "He's fine. And so is yours."
Tony felt himself relax. "Good." He grimaced and reached up to rub his forehead.
"Headache?"
"Yeah."
"That's the smoke inhalation. It'll pass. So—I'm John and my partner over there is Roy…"
"Really? Like from the old TV show Emergency?" Tony interrupted.
The paramedic laughed. "Yeah, we actually get that a lot. So we're ready to get you out of here. If you need anything or something doesn't feel right, you let me know, all right?"
DiNozzo nodded then his eyes widened. "Hey, my gun and badge…?"
John nodded. "Got them right here. They're safe."
Weariness tugged at Tony and his eyelids drooped. "Good."
(NCIS) (NCIS) (NCIS)
Hours later Tony shifted restlessly in his hospital bed and came awake slowly, the familiar tang of oxygen filling his mouth and nose. He blinked his gritty eyes and brought the room into focus. The tenacious scent of smoke lingered all around him. His gaze drifted to the side of the bed and the chair positioned there. He nudged aside the oxygen mask.
"Hey, Boss," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly from smoke.
"A cat, DiNozzo?!" Gibbs said by way of greeting.
"Huh?"
"You went back—risked your life— to save a cat?" Gibbs scowled.
"Oh, Giancarlo. Ahh, Boss, I had to. I couldn't let…" Tony paused to cough, "Mrs. Ottaviano lose him. He's all she's got."
"Not all she's got."
"Wha?"
"She's got you too, DiNozzo."
It took a second, but Tony smiled when that sunk in. "Yeah, I guess you're right. So she's all right?"
"Better than you. She's already out of here. You, on the other hand, are here at least until tomorrow if not a little longer."
"George?"
Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Your cat is fine, Tony."
"Where's he?" Tony mumbled as fatigue set in again.
"He's at my place. Where you'll be when you get out of here."
Tony shifted on the bed. "How's m' apartment?"
"It's seen better days."
"Great." DiNozzo couldn't help the dejected note in his voice.
"You can stay with me. I'll even tolerate that little orange beast until you're apartment's ready."
"Thanks, Gibbs."
Gibbs replaced the oxygen mask. "Now leave that there and get some sleep before I do something drastic."
Tony's eyes were already closed. "On it, Boss," he whispered.
FIN