A/N: Hey guys, I'm back. Kind of. I'm trying to work through what I need to get done on my WIPs, but with school and work plus a brand new adorable niece that I just can't stay away from, I'm having trouble finding the time and brainpower to follow my plots through to their logical conclusions. I'm working on it though and don't worry, I will definitely finish each and every one of them. Trust me, I hate abandoned fics just as much, if not more so than the next girl. In the meantime, here is a piece I originally wrote about 8 months ago with the idea to turn it into a series of one-shots. The idea is still there and several chapters are half-written, and I've found that looking at it with a fresh perspective is helping tons. Hope you like. :D

Chapter 1: On Top of Things

Tony sighed and tipped his head to the side. The cold cement of the basement wall was surprisingly soothing against the goose egg of a lump he was now sporting on his left temple.

With the angle his arms were at, chained high above his head as he stood, he couldn't see his watch well enough to tell the time, no matter how he twisted. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to read the face anyway though, his concussion-blurred vision further worsened by the blood dripping into his eyes from a gash across his forehead.

Either way, it frustrated him to no end that he had no way of telling how long he'd been here, wherever here was.

Well, however much time had passed, it was long enough.

He could only hope that someone had gotten the message he'd managed to send before being captured. If not, then 'long enough' was looking to turn into 'the rest of his miserable life', as his captors had put it.

One bad thing—of which there were many—about Gibbs' recent retirement to Mexico was that the team was now oddly numbered. They were supposed to be assigned a new agent in the next few weeks, but for now they'd had to either all go together out in the field or split off unevenly. And since there was no way that Tony, as team leader, was going to allow his agents, either of them, to go into a dangerous situation without backup, he was the one who ended up going off solo when it was necessary.

Which was how he had landed himself in this predicament.

Basically.

He sighed again, shifting his position to try to lessen the growing throb in his shoulders from the unnatural position they were being forced into, and wiggling his fingers as best he could to try to get feeling back in his hands.

These guys, whoever they were, were seriously predictable. Typical for hired muscle, they were about as subtle as bulldozers and not quite as gentle. Of course, his trademark smart-ass attitude hadn't helped matters, but even before he opened his mouth he'd gotten the sense that they were in the mood to use him as a punching bag.

As soon as he got out of here, he was going to soak in a long hot bath, Tony decided. He closed his eyes, imagining the steaming water soothing his bruised and abused body.

Suddenly the door to his makeshift prison creaked open, interrupting his thoughts, and McGee and Ziva stumbled in. Cheered for a brief second, Tony's face quickly fell when he realized that their hands were tied in front of them as they were prodded from behind by several large men holding semiautomatics.

Great.

Despite this turn of events, however, Tony couldn't resist an opportunity for backtalk.

"You know guys," he amiably addressed the goons, "as much fun as this little get-together looks like it's going to be, my friends and I actually have someplace to be."

"Shut up!" one of them barked, backhanding Tony across the face.

He barely suppressed a gasp as he felt his bottom lip split open anew, but still managed a sunny grin as he spit his mouthful of blood onto the ground.

"Now, now. That wasn't very hospitable. I'll be speaking to the management about this, I assure you."

Not bothering to respond this time, the men simply continued chaining up his teammates on either side of him.

"Well, I guess we'll just 'hang around' then," Tony called out, his words punctuated with the slam of the door as they were left alone.

He turned to look at his team. The other two agents seemed not much the worse for wear; evidently, the goons had thoroughly worked through their anger issues on Tony's face.

Breaking the silence, Tony spoke up, unable to help the slight slur that his words had taken on.

"So… I guess you got my message?"

"I passed the pertinent information on to the director," McGee said, looking a bit green as he took in the state of the team lead. "Just like you said to, Tony."

Ziva's eyes darted quickly all over Tony, taking note of his injuries. "Then we decided to come and rescue you."

At this, Tony leaned his head back and laughed, laughing and laughing as Ziva and McGee exchanged worried glances.

Finally he stopped.

Mostly.

Shaking his head in amusement as he continued to chuckle, Tony glanced up toward his restrained hands.

"Good job."

McGee opened his mouth to protest, but Tony wasn't finished.

"You know what this reminds me of?"

Ziva sighed wearily. "A movie, Tony; what else?"

"Correct you are, Zee-vah," Tony practically sang. "But which movie?"

"I do not know, Tony," she snapped. "And I do not care, either."

Tony ignored her, still grinning.

"It's just like this one scene in Star Wars."

"Hey, wait. You mean in Episode II?" McGee asked, suddenly interested. "Attack of the Clones?"

Tony cocked his head to the side to stare at him, surprised. "You saw that, Probie?"

"Well, yeah."

Tony shook his head knowingly. "Of course you did, McSciFi. For a moment I forgot with whom I was McSpeaking. So then, you must know what happens next, right?"

McGee frowned, puzzled, before realization dawned. "Senator Amidala picks her handcuffs and gets free?"

"Exactly!"

Both men now turned to Ziva, excited.

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"So, just because you two saw this in some movie, you expect me to be able to emulate this... Senator Amidala, yes? To save the day?"

"Well, in the film, Amidala didn't exactly save the day. Not by herself, at least," McGee corrected. "Actually, I'm not sure you could really even say that the day was saved, per say- Ouch!"

"Be quiet, Probie-Wan Kenobi," Tony puffed, winded from the effort it had taken to reach out and kick McGee in the shin. "She's our only hope."

They turned back to Ziva, with an air of optimism. She glared.

"Alright, fine. I will do it. But not because of any movie. It just happens that this was my plan to begin with."

With what seemed like one swift turn of her hands, Ziva's chains slipped off her wrists and crashed to the ground.

Tony and McGee exchanged a grin. "Looks like she's on top of things!" they chorused together.

The twin slaps that found the back of each man's head were not entirely unexpected after that.

Feedback, as always, is appreciated and rewarded with good karma points.

-Tiff