Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it. All characters remain intellectual property of CBS and their creators. All locations and addresses are all figments of my imagination.
Title : Limbo
Summary : A confrontation with a suspect leaves an agent trapped between this life and what comes after. As the team struggles through the loss, he wonders what keeps him here. Deathfic of sorts/supernatural. Lots of angst. Involves the whole team, focus on Tony and McGee. Strong T for language and violence.
Author's Note : I'm about halfway through a new story, but this idea has been bothering me since the last one. It's very different from most of my usual ones as it deals with ghosts and angst. If that's not your thing, no hard feelings. I'll have my casefic up hopefully in a month or so.
This is a sort of a deathfic. Again, if it's not your thing, hit the back button. Angst here and lots more to come.
Set in season 3.
This is a WIP, so I'm not sure what the update schedule will look like.
As always, constructive criticism is welcome.
Alright, here we go.
-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-
Tuesday, February 15, 2005 – 3:18 pm – Congressional Storage – 2800 15th St. NW, Washington, DC –
As he pulls the Dodge Charger up against the curb, Tony DiNozzo stares at the dilapidated warehouse that sits in the middle of the rundown city block. Taking in the gang symbols plastered all over the building's bricks and unsavory foot traffic milling on the sidewalk, he presses his lips together. He ducks down in the driver's seat, trying for a better view.
From the silence, Tim McGee knows exactly what the senior agent is thinking.
When Tim starts to speak, a passing vagrant makes a vulgar gesture by his window. His face burns and he shakes his head, sending the homeless man away. Tony swivels in his seat, raising his eyebrows at Tim.
"You're sure this is the right place, Probie?" he asks, gesturing towards the building.
Tim pulls out his notepad to confirm the latest hit from their BOLO. While this isn't the first sighting of their suspect, he hopes that it will be the last.
As his eyes glance over the team's last three days of work, he shakes his head. Seeing all their leads in his careful script makes Tim realize exactly how many hours he's been awake since they were called to investigate the grisly, on-base murder of a quintessential Navy family.
Shaking his head again, he tries to chase the horrific images of the bodies of three young children and their mother away. For two solid days, they've haunted his waking thoughts and materialized in his nightmares.
When a fingerprint from the murder weapon finally found its match in AFIS, Tim thought he'd be able to lay the victims to rest. After a picture of the children's father, Carlos Ruiz, appeared on the plasma, his heart sank. In that moment, he realized there were so many things in this world that he would never understand.
Tim swallows hard, desperate to forget the experiences emblazoned on his memory.
"Probie?"
Tim blinks, returning to the present.
"Y-yeah, Ruiz was last sighted at Congressional Storage about an hour ago," he nods, sliding the pad away.
He knows he's repeating himself.
"Okay," Tony shrugs, clicking off the engine.
As they climb out of the car, a frigid air roars past. Tim pulls his coat tighter, shivering uncontrollably.
He gazes at the warehouse that stretches towards the cloudless sky. With its shattered windows and slipshod masonry, he debates whether or not the storage facility is still operational. As he trails Tony to the heavy wood door, a chill meanders down his spine. Tony pauses by the door, producing his gun and flashlight. When he leans against the wall, Tim notices how comfortable the senior agent appears before their pursuit. Pulling out his own weapon and flashlight, Tim tries to disregard the clench in his gut.
"Alright, McGee," Tony orders, commanding Tim's attention, "here's how this is going to go. We'll clear each floor one at a time until we check every inch of this place. Try to stick with me, got it?"
"Got it."
Tim wipes his sweaty palm on his trench coat before wrapping his hand around his Sig's grip again. Before he can raise it, DiNozzo squeezes his shoulder.
"I've got your six, Tim. Ready?" Tony places his hand on the door handle, pushing his body deeper into the wall, while McGee raises his weapon.
Tim nods and Tony pulls the door open. Advancing over the threshold, Tim swings his flashlight to the left. He hears Tony slide behind him, moving quietly over the dirty floor. As the door slams, blackness swallows the agents.
Squinting in the low light from his flashlight, Tim steps around several large boxes scattered haphazardly. He surveys the first floor of the warehouse, taking in the shipping containers that start on one wall and end at the other.
When he thinks of the seven floors above them, he sighs quietly. Hunting Ruiz will take all night, if he's even in the warehouse.
Tim creeps slowly, peering between containers to confirm that Ruiz isn't hiding between them. By the time he arrives at the wall, his eyes have finally adjusted to the darkness. Glancing over his shoulder, he realizes that he is very much alone.
Inhaling sharply, Tim spins in a tight circle.
He doesn't see Tony anywhere.
Holding his breath, he listens hard for his partner. There's nothing except for the quiet rumble of traffic on the street outside. His heart skips a beat, panic rising in his throat.
"Tony?" he whispers, backing into a passageway formed by shipping containers.
The silence deafens him. Tim grimaces, checking his cell phone to call for back-up. With no signal, he realizes that he is completely isolated.
Knowing that he needs to call Gibbs, Tim tries to double back to the entrance. He slides along a shipping container, using its corrugated exterior as a guide. When he reaches its terminus, he checks in both directions for a new route. Two identical passages lined by even more containers lay on either side.
His flashlight isn't bright enough to fully illuminate the paths. Unable to see very far down either one, Tim turns right, hoping he's chosen correctly.
"Tony," he calls again, desperate to know the senior agent's okay.
As he stumbles on his trek, Tim discerns a faint light in the distance. When he finds another wall, he smiles at the sunlight pouring through a grimy window. He's relieved that he's no longer struggling to find his way in the dark. He checks his phone again, grimacing at its continued lack of service. Sliding along the wall, he anxiously searches for a door to the outside. He just needs to get a signal strong enough to call for back-up.
A scraping noise on the opposite side of a container catches his attention.
"Tony?"
When he hears no response, Tim's grip tightens on his Sig. As the pressure in his stomach climbs into his throat, he realizes that he's probably found Ruiz. Swallowing hard, Tim doubles back into the passage. With no time to formulate a plan, he chooses to corner Ruiz between the containers.
As he flicks off his flashlight, he travels slowly back into the dark hall. Hearing a footstep deeper in the tunnel, Tim creeps around the corner, prepared to apprehend Ruiz.
He's ready to bring closure to the first case in years to give him nightmares.
Tim manages a few steps before a solid object slams into his forearms, knocking his gun away. Somewhere in the blackness, metal connects with concrete, clattering as it slides from him. Without a second thought, he follows it to the ground.
Tim's body slithers over the disgusting floor, hands fumbling through the debris for his weapon. When his fingertips touch a boot's laces, he scrambles back towards the passage. As he retreats, a flashlight pointed in his face flicks on, blinding him. It turns off again, leaving a disorienting white spot burned into his retinas.
A strong hand catches Tim by his collar, yanking him to his feet. He throws his weight, struggling to break the hold on his coat. When a gun's barrel pokes his ribs, his fight ends.
Heart in his throat, Tim raises his hands.
"You don't want to do this," he starts, although he's fairly certain that rationalizing with a man who's just slaughtered his entire family isn't possible.
A tug on the collar of Tim's trench leads him out of the shipping container maze and back to the wall lined with windows. The bright afternoon sunlight pours through the filmy windows, illuminating specks of dust that glitter in the air.
Tim sneezes.
He's spurred forward, past several more containers until they reach their end. A hard shove sends him stumbling into the corner. Turning around slowly, Tim intends to stare into the eyes of the man who will end his life.
"On your knees," Carlos Ruiz orders, gesturing towards the dirty ground.
As an icy wind blasts through a broken window, Tim's eyes meet Ruiz's.
The gaze Tim catches belongs to a man who's lost his soul.
"You don't want to do this, Ruiz," Tim repeats, watching Carlos make a face.
"How do you know what I want to do?" Ruiz asks, kicking a wood fragment across the floor. When it bumps into Tim's foot, the agent frowns. "I said, on your knees."
Heart racing, Tim sinks to the floor. To avoid provoking Ruiz any further, he locks his hands behind his head. He glances back towards the shipping containers, but sees nothing. Perspiration pricks onto his brow, finding its way down his face.
"Where's your partner?"
"My what?" Tim asks, silently hoping that Ruiz doesn't know about Tony.
"The other cop you came with. You sure as hell didn't come after me alone."
Tim exhales slowly, watching its specter Ruiz steps forward, Tim's heart skips a beat. With his back nearly against the wall, he can't move away. Ruiz taps the gun on the agent's forehead.
Tim's eyes close.
"Call your partner," Ruiz orders.
Tim swallows hard, pressing his lips together. When he doesn't see life's montage like he's always been promised, he feels forsaken.
As Ruiz clicks the hammer back, Tim's survival instinct surpasses his need to protect DiNozzo.
"Tony!"
Ruiz laughs, pulling the gun away from Tim's head. Able to breathe again, he pulls a shaky inhale. The icy air drifts through the window, crystallizing the sweat on his boiling skin. Keeping his gun trained on Tim, Ruiz nervously watches the shipping containers for any sign of Tony.
For several long minutes, Tim waits, feeling the cold ache into his joints.
His head begins to pound as hard as his heart.
As he stares at the petty officer, Tim wonders what drove the man to destroy his family. He can't think of anything that should drive a sane man to massacre anyone, let alone his own blood.
When Ruiz confirms that his hostage isn't ready to fight back, there's an undeniable rage in his eyes. Carlos advances towards the agent again and Tim's heart slams against his sternum.
"Where the hell is your partner?" he barks.
Tim's eyes widen.
"I-I- I don't know," he gasps.
"Where is he?"
"I-I-I swear I-I-I don't know."
There's a click of the hammer again and Tim closes his eyes, still surprised by the blankness of his mind.
He's always thought he'd feel something.
Anything.
The cold metal freezes the moisture on his forehead.
He's unable to stare Ruiz in the eyes. Tim knows it doesn't matter anyway.
"Last chance, cop, where is he?"
"Right here, Ruiz, leave him alone," Tony chimes in.
When the gun eases from his forehead, Tim barely inhales.
"Good, we're all here," Ruiz grins, baring his coffee-stained teeth at Tony. "Lose the gun or I end him."
As the senior agent slides out from behind a shipping container, the look in his eyes is lethal. With his weapon pointed at Ruiz, his fluid movement brings him within yards of the standoff.
"Yeah, I don't think so," Tony growls through clenched teeth.
"Put the gun down or he dies," Ruiz tries again, pointing toward Tim with his free hand.
Tim can feel his pulse in his teeth.
"Still not going to happen," Tony states, voice low and even. Almost as if unsure how to react, Ruiz glances from the senior agent back to Tim. "You can surrender or I can shoot you. What's it going to be?"
Ruiz's finger tightens on the trigger and Tony's weapon bobs to confirm his aim.
"You really didn't think this through very well, did you, Ruiz?"
Confusion clouds the suspect's eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"What did you think was going to happen? You'd tell me to put down my gun. I'd drop it and let you put a bullet in me and my partner? Come on."
When he realizes death is his only outcome, bile bites the back of Tim's throat. He hiccups at the acidity on his tongue, forcing himself to swallow his terror.
As Ruiz shrugs half-heartedly, Tony smirks.
"Yeah, well, I'll kill him if you don't."
"You'll kill him anyway," Tony replies flippantly, rechecking his aim.
Pressing his lips together, Ruiz seems to accept their stalemate. Attempting to force Tony's hand, his finger threateningly jerks on the trigger.
Tony yells something incoherent in Spanish and the gun swings away from Tim's head, lining up a new target. Simultaneously, two gunshots echo through the cavernous warehouse.
Shaking uncontrollably, Tim blinks to find both Tony and Ruiz on the filthy floor. He pulls out his cellphone, pleading for an ambulance, as he scrambles towards his senior agent.
Under Tony's supine body, blood flows freely over the uneven ground. Tim drops next to him, shrugging off his coat, and pushing it against his senior agent's abdomen. Helplessly watching the color drain away from Tony's face, Tim feels his breath hitch.
"Hold on, Tony," he begs, counting the ragged rise and falls of his superior's chest.
Tim glances over at the suspect, confirming that he was no longer breathing. A loud exhalation grabs his attention. Dropping his gaze, he's shocked to see a tight smile on Tony's ashen face.
"You okay, Probie?" Tony questions, words slurring out of his blood tinged lips.
Tim nods.
"Good."
Before Tim can ask about him, the senior agent slumps against the dirty stone. Heart beating quicker than he knew possible, Tim tries to apply more pressure to his coat. Despite his frantic attempts, the blood seeps through its fabric and his fingers.
He never knew blood felt so warm.
"Come on, Tony," he yells, shaking his superior. "Wake up! I need you to say with me! Wake up, Tony! Come on!"
He shouts for several moments before Tony's eyes flutter open again. Even though his eyes are unfocused, he still smiles. There's more redness on his pale lips.
"Is Ruiz - ?" he coughs.
"Dead, yeah. Nice shot," Tim says, watching Tony try to slip away again. "What did you say to him?"
"What?"
"In Spanish. You yelled something in Spanish. Tell me about it," Tim says, despair tinges his voice as he struggles to keep Tony conscious until the ambulance arrives.
"Yo momma's like a bicycle, everybody gets a ride," Tony laughs. His eyes close for a second before they focus on Tim again.
"What?!"
"That's what I told him. Based on that reaction," Tony grins, face contorting with pain for a split second, "I'd say I might be right."
His eyes flutter close.
As Tim presses his coat harder against the gunshot, Tony gasps. With his eyes open again, he's inspecting something just over Tim's shoulder.
"Tony?"
He doesn't respond as his vision follows whatever he sees. Out of nowhere, he nods.
"Yeah, Mom, that's my friend, Tim," Tony whispers into the ether.
"No, Tony, don't -. Please - " Tim yells while Tony's body shudders. His eyelids fall closed and his breath stops. Bloodied hand trembling, Tim reaches to check the pulse point on Tony' neck.
As the screams of the approaching ambulance resound throughout the warehouse, Tim feels nothing under his fingertips.
-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-
5:01pm – George Washington Hospital – Washington, DC –
Somewhere nearby, he thinks he hears someone screaming. Shaking his head to rearrange his thoughts, Tony rubs the back of his neck. As he opens his eyes, he finds that he's in the middle of a hospital's trauma bay. There's a flurry of activity as a group of scrub-clad personnel lean over a body supine on a table.
"We lost the rhythm again," a black-haired woman in a white coat barks, dark eyes burning. "Give me 200 Joules."
"Clear."
There's a quiet thud.
"Still nothing!"
"Administer 1mg Epinephrine, IV push," the woman orders, surveying the frenzied action of the code team. As Tony steps beside her, he can see the determination etched onto her face. It seems as though she refuses to let the patient go.
Watching the team work, Tony wonders how he's found himself at a hospital. Without wanting to disturb the code in progress, Tony slips through the double doors that lead to the emergency department. As he heads past the patient rooms, groups of people glide past him without making eye contact.
Something doesn't feel right.
Checking his pockets, he realizes that he's lost his cell phone and wallet. He shrugs, wondering how he's managed to misplace such important items. Though that's not particularly important, he just needs to find a phone so he can beg his boss for a ride.
He follows the signs for the waiting room. Passing through the double doors, he nearly bumps into an older man.
When he steps out of the way, he almost doesn't recognize Jethro Gibbs' haggard face. Planted in front of the entrance, his boss stands at attention, his eyes fixed on the interior of the emergency department. If Tony didn't know any better, he'd swear that his boss is staring through him.
"Boss?" he yelps, feeling shocked when Gibbs doesn't respond.
Tony waves his hand inches from his boss' face, but Gibbs still doesn't move.
"Boss?"
When he glances to the side, he sees the rest of the team scattered throughout the myriad of patients in the waiting room. Calmly reclining in a chair, Ziva David leafs through a magazine. Donald Mallard paces the length of the waiting room chairs, wringing his hands. The grim look on his face makes Tony's stomach drop.
"Ducky? What's going on?"
The doctor just keeps moving and Tony shakes his head.
As he continues through the waiting room, he's amazed that not a single person has acknowledged his presence. When he finds Tim and Abby Scuito together in the corner, Tony's heart breaks.
Face buried in his hands, Tim leans forward on his knees. Inexplicably, he's wearing green hospital scrubs with his dress shoes and there's little bits of what might be dried blood imbedded in his fingernails. From the heave in his chest, Tony believes his subordinate might be crying.
With her hand on Tim's shoulder, Abby stares blankly at the empty chair across from her. Pressing her lips together, she tries to appear stalwart. Unable to keep her resolve, her lips start to quiver before the tears silently stream down her face.
Abby was never one for waterproof make-up.
"Abs? Probie?" Tony starts, starting to reach for Abby's hand. "What's wrong? You guys look like - ."
His fingers touch Abby's and she pulls it away, smearing the mascara across her face.
When they don't answer either, Tony can't figure out why not a single person has reacted since he arrived at the hospital. Pit forming in his stomach, hereturns to his boss' vigil. As he copies Gibbs' stance, he waits for the unknown.
The doors swing open and the short-haired doctor from the code exits. Before the doors even close, she nods stone-faced at Gibbs.
"Agent DiNozzo's family?"
"I'm his boss."
"I need to speak with his family first," she states, turning around.
Gibbs grabs her arm, pulling her gently back. As Tony watches, there's a vulnerability on his boss' face that he's never seen before. The rest of the team convenes around the pair, faces broken.
"We are his family."
The words clench in Tony's chest. When he sees Tim's red-rimmed eyes, Tony swallows hard.
There's a reason that no one has breathed a word to him. Tony puts his hands on the doctor's shoulders.
Hugging her arms to herself, the doctor frowns deeply.
"We lost his pulse shortly after he came in. We did everything we could. Despite our best efforts, - ," she laments, losing her words as she takes in the tense group before her.
"What – what are you saying?" Tim wheezes, his voice borders on hysterical. When Abby tries to pull him closer, he shrugs her away.
"Agent DiNozzo didn't make it."
-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-
So? Good? Bad? Ugly?
Definitely hopping into a new genre for me.