Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. Wish I did. Though writers of NCIS, if you are reading this, I would like to see the return of Strong/Competent!Tony in Season 8. Thanks!


It was late at night as Jimmy Palmer entered the NCIS bullpen. It was almost empty, except for a man hunched over at his desk. The small lamp illuminated his crinkled forehead as he pondered the paperwork in front of him.

Jimmy had hoped Tony was there, but he would have accepted anyone on the team. Gibbs scared him, Ziva looked as if she'd be more comfortable shooting him than helping him out, and although he liked McGee, he was unsure McGee could confidently help him. Abby was out of the question due to the imminent danger, and besides, she had no idea about real field work; she could also kill him fourteen different ways without leaving a shred of forensic evidence. Ducky would immediately run to Gibbs after offering his long-winded advice and Jimmy would rather not look incompetent to either of his bosses. But Tony, even though he teased Jimmy mercilessly, was the right mix of street smart and physical strength to help him with his problem. Plus, Tony owed Palmer for all those times he used Jimmy as a sounding board for all his theories while Gibbs was away…and all those Jamacian Mochas…

"Hey Tony!" Jimmy called.

Tony jumped in his seat.

"Palmer! What are you doing here? It's-" he paused to look at his watch, "after nine o'clock. I thought you and Ducky finished that last autopsy hours ago." He said, getting up to stretch his stiff muscles.

"Yes, yes, we did. It's actually quite interesting…Our sailor died choking on a potato chip. What the wife didn't know was-"

"Palmer! I'd love to hear about it but I've got somewhere to be." Tony began putting his paperwork into his file folders, then into his desk drawer. Locking it, he looked up to see Jimmy still standing there, holding a thin file. "You need something?"

"Yes, Tony, I need your help."

"I figured as much, Palmer. Have you talked to Ducky?" Tony grabbed his gun from the other desk drawer and picked up his backpack, ready to leave.

"I can't. It's nothing he can help me with."

"Gibbs?"

"Well…uh…"

Tony turned around smiling evilly. "He still scares you? Come on Palmer! It's been six years! He can't still intimidate you!" The look on Palmer's face gave him the answer.

"Okay. How 'bout McGee?"

"I don't think he's suited for this."

"Ziva?"

"She doesn't seem like the helping type."

"Well, you got that right. Abby?"

"Don't want her involved."

"Ummm…Well…" Tony paused, trying to think of someone else to pass off Palmer's problem to and came up empty. He sighed wearily, looked at his watch again, and sat back at his desk.

"Okay Palmer. You have exactly one minute. What's the problem?"

"Um…well…Where to begin?"

"45 seconds…" Tony said impatiently.

The words rushed out in a torrent. "My girlfriend's been kidnapped and I'm supposed to steal a file from Records to ensure her safe return."

Tony snickered. "Did Ziva put you up to this?" He looked around the bullpen. "You can come out now Ziva! Joke's over!" He paused, seeing Palmer's grim expression.

"You're serious?" he asked incredulously, "You're just the autopsy gremlin! You don't have that kind of clearance!"

"I don't think they know that, Tony. I really need your help. I have the file. I'm supposed to make the drop in an hour. I don't know what to do. I don't have experience with this sort of thing-now if it were dead bodies, that'd be a different matter all together-" he returned to the matter at hand, as Tony opened his mouth to re-focus Palmer, "so I was kinda wondering if…if you'd go with me. Meena's only been gone twenty-four hours so I can't go to the police," he pleaded.

Tony was silent. "How do you know this is real?"

"They sent me a picture of her on my phone then erased it ten minutes later. She was holding a newspaper and her phone so I could see the time and date. Don't know how they did it. Maybe Abby could figure it out…"

"Where was she supposed to be today?" Tony asked.

"In New York visiting family. She hadn't checked in yet but her flight only landed an hour ago. Her apartment is in mint condition, no sign of a struggle. I visited as soon as I got the text," Palmer added after seeing Tony's distressed expression, not realizing he had disrupted a potential crime scene. "You've gotta help me!"

Tony contemplated the case, internally debating the pros and cons of the case. His friendship with Jimmy won out.

"Okay, where are you going to meet them?"


This was a bad idea. That mantra kept going through Tony's mind as he sat in Palmer's car on the way to the drop. Somehow, Palmer had talked him out of calling Gibbs. Still wasn't sure how that had happened…So here he was, sitting in Palmer's car, driving to the warehouse district. Really, for once couldn't criminals realize that warehouse districts screamed "There's something illegal going on! Come arrest me!" Why couldn't they ever meet in mansions, movie theaters, or food courts where he and Palmer could have picked up a pizza while they waited? His stomach growled to remind Tony that he hadn't eaten since-well, since breakfast, if you didn't count the bar from the vending machines as a meal, which it most definitely wasn't.

He was drawn out of the reverie by Palmer. "We're here," he said, stopping the car, "What can I do?"

Tony paused, unbuckling his seat belt, hand on the door, listening to the car idle. "Nothing until the other car shows up." He saw lights approaching, "Speak of the devil."

As Palmer turned off their engine, the other car pulled up across the pier, temporarily blinding Tony and Palmer in its brights. Tony prepared to get out of the car when he heard his car door open and he was dragged roughly out of the car by two thugs. The headlights of the other car went out and Tony looked over to see Palmer getting the same treatment he had, after his eyes adjusted. Tony also inspected the other car. Along with the cliché meeting place, the car screamed about illegal behavior. It was a black sedan, with darkly tinted windows, no front plates and no identifying marks.

Tony counted the number of men. No way that many car doors had opened, Tony thought. How had four men gotten out of the car and made it over to theirs before Tony could get out of the car? Damn. He had missed men hiding somewhere. He knew this had been a bad idea. His last case must've been more draining than he thought. Well, it had been over eighteen hours since he had slept. It was to be expected.

More car doors opened and the passenger got out, followed by the driver. Tony struggled momentarily, trying to get out of the henchmen's grip, but each had fifty pounds and three inches on Tony—and that was fifty pounds and three inches of pure muscle. He tried to get his gun unsuccessfully. His badge and gun were removed and handed to the man who was walking across the parking lot.

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS," the passenger said, reading the badge. "And who is this?" he said, reaching for Jimmy's ID, "James Palmer, M.E.? As in Medical Examiner? This can't be right!" Momentary surprise crossed his face. "Which one of you has the file?"

Jimmy looked to Tony expectantly. "In the back," Tony said, shuffling over as much as he could to block the door to the backseat, "Let's see the girl first."

He felt himself being turned around, followed by a hard punch to his gut. He sucked in deeply, trying to get air into his lungs. His knees buckled slightly and the thugs responded by throwing him hard against the car.

"You are in no position to give orders," the passenger, who was presumably the boss, said. "Get the file."

The driver went around to Palmer's side, grabbing the file out of the back and handing it to the leader. The leader smiled, opening the file. His joy quickly turned to anger. He flipped angrily through the file, pages flying everywhere.

He nodded to the men who pulled Tony away from the car. The leader approached Tony, punching him in the jaw. "Where is the file?"

Tony struggled to bite back a smart answer, unsuccessfully. "I confess. The real file's at home. That's just my updated bucket list. How stupid of me to not bring the real thing!"

The leader reddened and punched Tony in the gut again while Palmer looked on helplessly. Palmer had already tried to free himself with no avail. The guards let go of Tony who fell to his knees.

"Where's the real file?" The leader was livid.

"In your hand, you dimwit! That's the file you wanted," Tony answered once he could breathe again.

"No! It isn't!" the leader spat.

Tony took a deep breath and got to his feet, shooting Palmer an accusatory look.

"That's the file, Tony! I swear!" Palmer cried nervously.

The leader now realized his error. He had assumed Tony was the boyfriend of Meena, and now realized he was mistaken.

"Bring them here." The goons forced Tony and Palmer to the front of Palmer's car. They stood, backs to the headlights, shoulder to shoulder.

"Which one of you got the file?" the leader asked.

Tony could see this was going to get ugly-and fast. He'd looked at the file on the way here. It was your everyday hold-up with a marine, trying to act as the Good Samaritan, shot by an overanxious robber. He'd survived fortunately. The robbers had been caught on film. Open and shut. No reason to kidnap a hostage and ask for the file. Now he understood. "I-" Tony began.

"It was me," Palmer interrupted.

"This is the wrong file you nitwit! I asked for casefile 6C149207. You gave me 6C1492007," he said, pronouncing the end 'double oh seven'.

"How very James Bond," Tony remarked, earning another punch to the gut.

"Enough of your smart mouth!" the leader yelled, saliva flying.

"Get me the correct file in twenty-four hours or she dies!" he got right in Palmer's face. Then his face changed.

"You can't have the security clearance necessary to get me the document I need. So instead," he commented thoughtfully, turning to Tony, "you get me the file. Your friend's life depends on it-his girlfriend's too."

The leader nodded to the driver. Tony turned slightly to keep an eye on the driver, catching the driver's punch squarely in the face. The guard held him tighter as the leader approached, a syringe in hand. He felt a sharp pain in his arm and the world began to swirl. He felt himself being released and hit the ground fighting consciousness. As the world faded, he saw Palmer being shoved into the car. "24 hours," he heard faintly. "Do not involve Agent Gibbs." He heard the getaway car rev and pull away in reverse.

Tony's last coherent thought was that he was unable to read the license plate before his world went black.