Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I don't own it. I also made no money off this story, it's purely entertainment only.
Title : Gone
Summary : A seemingly normal case takes a dangerous turn when one of the team goes missing. Casefile.
Author's Note : Please be aware this story contains some minor language and does contain mentions of rape. Nothing graphic or explicit, but if it makes you uncomfortable please pass on this story. There is also minor violence. This story is PG - 13. I'll place warnings on chapters.
This story is complete, I'm in the process of editing prior to posting so updates will be Tuesdays and Fridays. There are 20 chapters in all, plus an epilogue.
This story has been quite a ride.
Please enjoy. I welcome any and all criticism, please keep it constructive.
Let's get on with it.
-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-
October 16, 2006 - 7:04am - Rock Creek Park, Washington, DC -
USMC Private First Class Jonas "Bubba" White inhaled deeply, allowing the cool October air burn his lungs as he led the early morning run. Since returning from active duty in Iraq last month, he was slowly returning to the normalcy of civilian life. Unfortunately, the transition was not an easy one. Most mornings, he awoke in a cold sweat, the sounds of bombs still ringing in his ears. He exhaled slowly, allowing the rhythmic pounding of his feet on the trail to soothe his over-active mind.
"Yo, Bubba! Slow down man, we can't keep up!" The breathless shout broke through White's calm and returned him to reality. Had he actually forgotten that he met two of his closest friends this morning at Rock Creek Park for their daily jog?
"Then y'all better run faster!" he yelled over his shoulder, easily increasing his speed.
Suddenly, White's foot caught on something and he tripped, falling hard on moist earth. Rolling over, he looked back to where he stumbled and saw a bare leg sticking out of the tree line onto the trail. He pulled himself to his feet and limped cautiously towards the edge of the trail. "Are y'all okay?" he called apprehensively as he approached.
"Yeah, - we - are. Didn't - think - you - were - stoppin' - this time, man." The taller of the two other Marines wheezed as they came up to White. The shorter just leaned forward, attempting to catch his breath.
"Bubba, what's going on?" The shorter man asked when White did not answer them."Bubba?"
He moved past White to see what rendered the usually talkative Marine speechless. Right by the trail, a young woman lay on her back with her blonde hair fanned beneath her. Blue eyes staring unseeing at the sky, her clothes and skin were viciously ripped open. He let out an involuntary gasp.
"Oh my G-d, I know her..."
-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-
7:26am - NCIS Headquarters, Bullpen-
The elevator doors dinged open and Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo winced at the sudden noise. Hand on his head, he plodded out of the tiny box and made the daily pilgrimage to his desk. This Monday morning, he certainly did not feel very special. In fact, he wasn't sure that he even wanted to be alive. He made his way slowly, each step requiring more effort than the last. A part of him wondered if his Ferragamos had always been this heavy on his feet. Perhaps, it was time for new shoes. But then, when wasn't it?
With a sigh of relief, he slid into his chair and settled in behind his desk. Checking his watch, it had only taken him 15 seconds for his cross-office trek even though it felt more like 15 minutes. He surveyed the bullpen, realizing all the empty desks meant he was the first one into the office this morning.
"Thank G-d," he said quietly and let his forehead rest on his desk.
"Sleeping at the office again, Tony?" a female voice sounded from in front of him.
The sound sliced through his ears and made him wish Gibbs actually understood the meaning of sick days. Mossad liaison officer Ziva David stood in front of him with her usual unreadable grin. As she went to her desk to set up for the day, Tony couldn't help but check out the way her butt filled out her uniform of cargo pants. He might wish he was dying, but he sure as hell wasn't dead. Ziva looked over her shoulder and Tony immediately looked at the ceiling. He wouldn't be long for this world, if she caught him.
"Why don't you use those bad-ass Ninja skills for a good cause...like creeping around on McGee?" Tony quipped, half-heartedly. Had the lights always been so bright in the office? Maybe he should have stayed in bed today.
"Are you okay, Tony? You look like death burnt over," Ziva queried, sounding concerned. "Have you been sick lately?"
"You mean death warmed over, Zee-vah! No, I'm fine. I just - ." The elevator door dinged and Tony craned his neck over the bullpen cubicle to view the newest arrival. Special Agent Timothy McGee was headed over to the bullpen, paper grocery bag in his arms. Jumping to his feet, Tony hurried over to the junior agent. "Did you get the stuff I asked for McGoo?"
The junior field agent stopped as DiNozzo wrested the bag from his arms. "Yeah, Tony. Though I'm not sure what you need Tabasco sauce, seltzer water, pepper and a lemon for. I had to go to two different markets to find the Tabasco sauce. I was almost - ."
Tony felt a sudden rush of panic.
"The egg," he moaned, one hand on his head, "please tell me you brought the egg..."
McGee reached into the pocket of his trench coat and produced a large brown egg. "One egg. The birds are cage-free and organic...though how are you going to cook it?"
Looking confused, the junior agent glanced around the office as if looking for a stove.
The senior field agent snatched the egg from McGee's hand and retreated to his desk. Pawing through the bag, Tony appeared to be taking an inventory. With a shrug towards Ziva, McGee pulled off his coat and began booting up his computers.
"Morning Ziva!" he called. She shot him a distracted wave and watched as DiNozzo began lining up his ingredients on his desk.
DiNozzo pulled a cup from one of his drawers and cracked the egg in it. He then began to meticulously add the other ingredients one by one while taking an exaggerated pause to smell.
"Tony. You are making some kind of drink, yes?" Ziva asked.
Tony held up his hand to quiet her. "Don't distract me! One wrong move and it will be ruined!"
McGee shot Ziva a mischievous grin. "Oh, I get it! You're making that family hangover recipe...what were you up to last night?"
"It's not a 'family hangover recipe.' It's the 'DiNozzo Defibrillator', meant to cure all hangovers with a single sip! The recipe has been passed down through the DiNozzo family for years...as to what I was doing last night...it was better than your dirtiest dreams, McMonk." McGee raised an eyebrow to Ziva as Tony stood up, animatedly reminiscing about the night before. "Half of the Brazilian Olympic volleyball team was in DC on a goodwill mission. I met them in a bar and who knew Brazilian beer could pack that kind of punch? It was like Beach Party, but only here in DC."
"I do not understand what goodwill a volleyball team could bring," Ziva stated. "They stand on the beach in bikinis and hit a ball. There is not real purpose to what they do."
McGee shrugged and Tony grinned through his headache.
"Ohhh...Zee-vah. There are some things about this great country of ours that you will never understand. One of them is that six wonderful women from the great country of Bbrrrazeel can bring all sorts of goodwill. Especially since these girls were," DiNozzo looked over at McGee and held his hands in front of his chest, "dddddefintely dddddelightful young - ."
Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and he felt a familiar fear rise in the pit of his stomach.
He sniffed, smelling coffee. Strong, black coffee that smelled like it had sat on a burner too long and probably held the consistency of sludge. He looked towards his teammates who had abandoned him in the midst of his story. Ziva was writing on a piece of paper under her desk lamp, looking like she was actively working on a report while McGee typed away on his computer, punching in letters like there was no tomorrow.
"He's right behind me, isn't he?" DiNozzo asked quietly. He braced himself and a sharp thwack to the back of his head rattled his brain. DiNozzo composed himself. "Thanks Boss."
"Sounds like you had a fun night, DiNozzo." Gibbs said as he strode into the bullpen to his desk. He clutched his normal coffee in his hand.
"Well, now that you mention it - ." Gibbs' glare stopped Tony's story on his lips. He dropped back into his seat and punched the power button to his computer on. While he waited for the machine to boot up, he turned back to his concoction.
As soon as Gibbs got to his desk, his phone chirped to life.
"Gibbs." Tony regarded his pause, as his generally cranky features darkened further. "On our way." He flipped the phone shut. "Grab your gear. We've got a dead Marine in Rock Creek Park."
The team burst to life. McGee and Ziva instantly reaching for their guns and badges, securing them on their belts and pulling their backpacks from next to their desks. They were halfway to the elevator before DiNozzo even processed the order. A case. Right now, a body. The sudden flurry of activity caused the pounding in his brain to return even louder than before. The only thing he wanted to do was stare at the computer screen, drink his Defibrillator and space out until he felt up to living again.
Damn it...
"Boss...?" Tony protested, gesturing toward his ingredient spread and feeling sick again. "Can I have a few minutes?"
Freezing midstep, Gibbs glared at Tony and returned to his desk. Opening the top drawer, he rummaged for a few seconds until he found a small bottle. As he headed toward the elevator, he dropped the unlabeled bottle of small white pills on Tony's desk.
"Boss?"
Gibbs marched into the elevator, where Ziva stood holding the door open. "Take two DiNozzo, then move your ass!"