AN: Right after 'Un Mallard Imaginaire', where we left Tony sleeping happily on the floor of his hospital room with Tim as a highly embarrassed pillow. Well, Proseac, Binks, Phosphorescent and Ytteb, all made comments that set me thinking. Why leave them on the floor like that? So thanks for the inspiration, ladies!
I've made it a separate story because I've left it far too long to make another chapter. Again, blame Proseac, because I've spent an hour and a half every evening, when I could have been writing, practising for her choral concert in Inverness at the weekend – have you ever tried rehearsing with a choir (and they are brilliant, believe me,) when you're in England and the choir's in Canada? Well, was – they got here yesterday, and I'm soooo excited!
Zilch
by scousemuz1k
"Where are you?... OK, don't then. Not my problem. Yes, they have been arrested... yes, kidnapping, assault on a minor, extortion, conspiracy to murder... what am I going to do about it? Nothing unless I get paid up front. I'll be fighting a losing battle anyway, they've got them bang to rights, and I'm a small time lawyer who hasn't been paid for the last scrape he got you out of... Same to you. Go use some of the ransom money to pay someone high powered, let him beat himself up trying to do the impossible. My advice, get out of town."
The lawyer found himself talking to the ringing tone. He shrugged. The callous but inept Holton brothers, three in prison and one on the run, weren't his problem any more.
Spencer Holton seethed. $250,000... in a sports bag... in his hand... where the hell was it now? Who'd hit him? One of his brothers? Had Vo followed him? Their degree of mutual trust was about the same... but if Vo had taken it he'd have run, and only the two youngest would be in custody now. He crouched in the shadows, a block down from the shingle he shared with his youngest sibling; (since his divorce there'd been room for the kid, who didn't want to stay at home with Mom any more,) glaring at the unmarked police vehicle, sitting there in case he came back to it. Well, he wouldn't be seeing much of Mom, or any of them now. They'd been stupid enough to get caught, they'd have to fend for themselves. He needed to get away, and for that he needed that money.
The Holtons controlled all the petty crime on that stretch of coast, and Spencer controlled his brothers, so his own innate brutality of nature rubbed off on them; and less than an hour after the arrests, the whole area knew about it and was seventy-five per cent thankful. They also knew that Spencer was still at large, and would be dangerous, so it only took a few phone calls, a threat or two, and a short wait, before he had the information he wanted. An honest coastguard told his brother, a semi honest sea fishing charter boat owner, who told one of his deck hands...
A Fed had hit him... a lousy Fed... and tossed the ransom into the scrub somewhere. Spencer Holton swore viciously; the land was marshy and crossed with tiny creeks – he hadn't time to search it all before daylight. The Fed had been taken to the hospital in Atlantic City; good. How much trouble could one injured cop give him? This Tony was going to tell, or show him, just where he'd hidden that money, before he shot him and pushed him in a creek somewhere.
Under the noses of the two bored cops in the car, he snuck in the back door of his house, shaved off his beard, trimmed his hair and dug out his only suit, and left as quietly as he'd entered. Fifteen minutes later, he stood at the reception desk in the hospital, with a bunch of magazines and a bag of donuts, the picture of a concerned friend, only to be told that his pal had just checked out. Holton disguised his fury as chagrin. "Oh... I understood he was here at least overnight... well, er, Nurse Dowson," he gave her a winning smile, "d'you know, did he leave by car, or by taxi, or what? Did he have another friend with him? Where would I find him?"
"Ah, well now, dear, I can only tell you he didn't come this way, with friends or not. I'd guess he went via the parking garage – that's downstairs – but I have no idea how long ago. He'll be sorry he missed you."
"I'm sorry I missed him," Holton said, and because this was a hospital, where people made other people well, and because she was a healer, and intended nothing but good to the whole world, she didn't see the glitter in his eyes or hear the bite in his tone as he walked away.
NCISNCISNCIS
"I'll help you," Shay Bradbury said, as Gibbs disappeared again.
Tim smiled. "You've already helped me deal with this big lunk once tonight," he said.
"I heard that..." a sleepy voice said from the region of his knees.
The other two just grinned at each other, and Tim went on, "Hope you're feeling strong, young Shay."
"I'm up for it." The boy grinned, and drew one of Tony's arms over his shoulder. Tim got the other one, and with a bit of help from their victim, in spite of the jelly consistency of his legs just then, they ended up with Tony sitting on the edge of his bed, half awake.
He looked at them vaguely. "Thanks guys," he said with a smile that was half a frown.
"What's up?" Tim asked. "Did we hurt you?"
"Nah... just checking that damn duck's gone. D'you know its accent was just like Ducky? But Ducky would never have used language like that..."
"You remember, then?"
Tony winced. "Oh yeah... always remember when I make an idiot of myself. No more – I'd rather hurt all over than take any more of those damn things."
Shay looked at Tim blankly. "Tony doesn't take kindly to painkillers," the young agent explained. "His mouth runs away by itself."
"And my brain," Tony said gloomily.
"That's tough," Shay said seriously. "Hey – I brought your phone back. I didn't get it wet. Your Boss said I could come give it to you – and he says I can ride back to DC with you two guys – my Mom's going to NCIS to meet me. She'll want to thank you." A huge, watermelon grin split his lightly tanned face. "I should warn you... Mom's the huggy, kissy, demonstrative type."
The two men looked at each other and winced, then gave identical shrugs and said, "Worth it".
Tony sat holding the phone, wondering where to put it, when Ziva walked in. "Oh... I was told McGee needed help to pick you up off the floor, Tony." She sounded disappointed. "No matter... I found some spare clothes in the trunk of the car; just sweats and trainers, but they are dry. Gibbs also told me to bring an NCIS jacket, because you need to keep warm."
"Thanks, Zi. Where's Gibbs gone?"
"Apparently Spencer Holton escaped from the shed where you locked him; he used an old office chair to smash a hole in the rear wall."
Tony looked alarmed, and grabbed the clothes. "Did they find the money? Don't tell me Holton got to it before –"
"No, Tony, it was where you said it was. Gibbs has gone to co-ordinate the search for Holton. The money is safe at the Police Department HQ." She looked him over assessingly. "I am glad you are safe. I must go and help Gibbs. I will see you you back in DC."
Tony's expression was thunderous, as he scrambled into the sweats, oblivious to Tim and Shay's expressions as he tore the gown off and revealed the rainbow bruising all over his torso. "Damn... I should have cuffed him or something..."
"There wasn't time to think about that," Tim told him. "And if you'd hit him harder you could have killed him; that's not your style. Gibbs'll get him. Come on, let's get you and Shay back to DC."
The older man smiled wanly, winced slightly as he stood up, and Tim opened his mouth and closed it again.
"What?"
"I was going to ask you if you'd like a painkiller. Thought better of it." He smiled at Tony's expression. "Come on... the car's down in the parking garage."
He didn't miss the fact that Tony fell silent on the walk down to the garage; in the elevator he gripped the handrail and leaned his shoulder against the wall. Tim knew that was the down side of not taking the painkillers – every step hurt battered knees and shins; every breath hurt bruised ribs. He made eye contact with the senior agent, and raised an eyebrow, but Tony shook his head slightly. "'ll be fine," he mumbled, and fell silent again, looking forward to being able to sit down in the car; since he'd been facing the rocks as he was repeatedly flung onto them, his butt was one of the few bits of him that wasn't sore.
Looking backward later, he realised how fortunate his silence had been; if he'd been conversing normally he'd never have been able to be as convincing as he was when –
He was moving quite slowly as they approached their fedmobile, and Tim turned to wait for him; it was at that moment that Spencer Holton emerged from behind a tall maintenance van, grabbed Shay, and jammed a gun into his ribs.
"Uh-huh, Fed – keep your hand away from your gun, or I kill the kid, then you." Tim lifted his hand away from his side slowly; he didn't want to get his young helper hurt, and Holton smirked. "Good... take it out, kick it under the van. That's right... now, which of you jerks is To-nee... the one who rung my bell? And took my money?"
Nobody answered, and Holton jabbed the boy viciously with the muzzle of the gun. Shay squirmed and twisted, and tried to bite the arm around his neck, and his captor swore. "Little bastard... should have killed you when I had the chance." He poked the gun under Shay's jaw. "Last chance –"
"He is," Tim said quickly, afraid for Shay and wondering why Tony was still silent. Wasn't like him to endanger anyone else when he could charge head first towards trouble himself.
Holton kept his arm wrapped round Shay's neck, but pointed the gun at DiNozzo. "OK, To-nee... where's my money?"
Tony blinked, and reacted for the first time. "Money, money, money," he sang softly, then smiled at Holton and said "The snake'll get you."
Holton took a step towards him. "What? What ya talking about? I said where's my money? You threw it in the marshes somewhere – you're gonna tell me where, or I shoot the kid!"
Tony looked at him, nodding earnestly. "Got to be careful, you know. There are snakes in those marshes – " he made sinuous movements with his arms – "biiiiig snakes... the snake'll get you. He's all curled up..." he laughed idiotically. "He's all curled up and comfortable... but he'll get you..."
Tim understood, and went onto high alert. Holton peered at Tony and thought he understood. He drew nearer again. "You on something? What the f –"
"He's on painkillers," Tim said urgently, playing his part. He knew damn fine well his friend hadn't taken any more, and he knew what the snake was. "He reacts badly."
Holton swore again. "No matter. We're going to take a ride out there, and he's going to show me where he put it. He'll have sobered up by then. You're all going to keep the law away from me... Just my luck to get the junkie Fed..."
Tony nodded eagerly. "On someth'n... yeah... gooood stuff... snake won't get me..." he tottered, staggered and leaned against the maintenance van, admiring his reflection in its shiny side, wriggling and tapping his fingers. "Hey, Mr Moneymoneymoney... you want to know where your moneymoneymoney is?"
He beckoned conspiratorially, as if to impart a secret, and Holton hissed in exasperation. He shoved the teenager to the ground, and yelled "Don't either of you move or I'll shoot the pillhead."
The sheen of perspiration on Tony's face from the effort of holding himself upright reinforced Holton's opinion of him. He just went on grinning, and lowered his voice secretively. "You want to know what you'll get?"
"What?" Holton stepped nearer, to hear what he was saying.
Tony was grinning manically and muttering something under his breath, that finally resolved into "Sssss... zzzzzz... what you're gonna get... sssss... zzzzzz ZILCH!" He yelled the last word loudly and fiercely in Holton's face, and the man jerked back instinctively. "Zilch, zilch, zippo, ZILCH! You're gonna get zilch!"
He needn't have bothered beyond the first word, as Holton stepped into the loop made by a jet-wash hose that was hanging out of the back of the van, which was what Tony had been luring him to do, and Tim took his cue to grab the end of it and yank it up and back as hard as he could. Holton didn't even have time to aim his gun before his nose hit the concrete floor. A second later, Tim was kneeling on him and cuffing him.
Very slowly, Tony pushed himself off the side of the van, and even more slowly bent down towards him. "Told you the snake'd get you," he said cheerfully. "Nice work, McPerspicacious."
"Teamwork," Tim said modestly.
NCISNCISNCIS
It was Shay who took Tony's phone to let Gibbs know, grinning, that he could call off the search for Spencer Holton. "These guys are so cool," he said with feeling.
It was Shay who called his Mom off when her hug, of Abby proportions, threatened to send Tony to his knees. McGee was still reeling from his.
It was Shay who, a few weeks later, sent them a copy of a Creative English essay he'd written. The names had been changed, nothing else...
My teacher said it was a brilliant piece of creative writing; I had a very vivid imagination and was very good at expressing myself. D'you know how much she actually believed of it? Zilch.
The End
AN: Thank you again, ladies, for pushing my thoughts in this direction! Right; off to Bonnie Scotland, look out for a bit of Prosmuz1k... or even veeproz1k when the three of us meet up...